Chapter 24 #2
The white noise lingers before they respond, when a crisp voice says, “Please hold for instructions.”
There’s a pause, a muffle through the line.
“Faulkner, please disclose your location,” an unfamiliar voice says.
“I’d like to speak to the man in charge before we proceed,” he says, and I can’t help but chew my lip.
The dial tone changes, sounding as if the device has switched to another line. A fresh voice descends through the phone. “Faulkner, this is the man—the man in charge. Please disclose your location.”
“Sir, I need some assurances before I transfer over the prize,” Leon says, rubbing his beard.
There’s a low noise, similar to a growl. Through the call, the scrambling of people fumbles down the line. “Mr. Faulkner, don’t disappoint me. The terms of our arrangement are not up for negotiation.”
“Sir, this is not a negotiation. I request to meet on neutral ground, away from your community. We will not be leaving the target with anyone who is a threat to their welfare.”
Zeke nudges me with a smile.
There’s no reply, but it is not silent either. Slight noises filter in from the background. There’s more than one person in the room, and it sounds like they’re conferring.
This is not going right.
“Faulkner. If you refuse to cooperate, we will hunt you—”
“Listen!” I say, snatching the phone from Leon, while my mind bursts from my mouth. “All we want to know is who you are and what you want with me. It’s not a big ask. We are on your doorstep. Now, let us stay together, let us keep our weapons, and we’ll decide if we’re coming in or not!”
I don’t realise my body is trembling until I stop for breath. Leon cradles his head in disbelief, and I can’t believe what I’ve done either.
“You are not authorised to be on this line,” the voice says. “But your request will be granted… Hold for instructions.”
The line buzzes as it transfers to another device, but it feels like a mini victory. We look at one another, slightly confused and silently celebratory. It seems like we’ll be getting our way.
After receiving the instructions, we peer at our unfolded map on the wooden bench, navigating our path to the set destination. With minds only full of what-ifs, we have no more words to say, and even Zeke is speechless.
We travel steadily, our heads turning and watching for signs of an ambush, avoiding empty towns and forest-dense corridors, keeping our landscapes open.
We meander towards the river, flanked by vast open fields beneath the scorching sun.
The long, bleached grass rolls like waves with the cool breeze, but it isn’t enough to ease the heat from my skin, and at this point, wearing leather is an inconvenient necessity.
The open sky bakes the yellow dust road, and the illusion of water on the horizon flickers in the distance with waves of rising heat.
The river runs wild beside us with its wide channel, and I wonder if we will cross it at some point when we pass broken bridge after broken bridge.
Their twisted iron frames weigh into the river, with their cement surfaces crumbled and long lost in the current below.
We slow as we enter a ghost town, creating a sense of eerie emptiness.
The storefronts are looted and broken, with nothing left but the ghostly remnants of what used to be modern civilisation.
I could burst with the unease that creeps in, while Atlas and Zeke ride on either side of us, hands poised by their holsters.
One building stands apart from the rest with windows and doors still intact: the laundromat.
We have been told to meet here—the common ground—and wait inside for our escort before they lead us to the last location.
Understandably, the employer is reluctant to disclose their exact position over the phone.
But no one is in sight.
A flock of ravens meanders over the town, morbidly circling, while a couple scavenge upon the remaining pink scraps of some small animal, their sharp beaks pulling the meat away with gory satisfaction.
The guys rustle through their saddlebags, loading their pockets with ammo and other items. Zeke and Atlas go inside, sweeping around with raised guns and checking that all is clear before signalling us in.
The walls are lined with laundry machines, and every coin tray has been smashed open.
“The back door is boarded up. It’s a single point of access,” Atlas says, standing at the large glass storefront and cracking his knuckles as he peers up and down the street.
There’s some discussion about whether we feel safe with the single access and exit, but with the large window front, we can see up both sides of the street for any vehicles or mobs of men.
Between the crackling of Atlas’s knuckles and the tapping of Leon’s foot, I sit on a bench, pressing my forehead against my rigid fingers.
Their focus never wavers while they stare through the window, and as we reach the thirty-minute point, Zeke comes to sit on the bench beside me.
“You know, I can’t stop thinking about that dog.”
I squint at him. “What … what dog?”
“Those marauders’ dog. We should have taken him. I’ve always wanted a dog.” He smiles with wandering eyes.
“Well, Boomer isn’t the dog for you.” I smile back as I realise he’s come to distract me. “I’ve always wanted a dog too. Shall we get one? When this is all done?”
“You’d best be serious!”
“Absolutely! Except … we need to agree on a name.”
He sits up straight, blurting, “Mercury! Marley! Oh, ohhh—Morrison!”
“Oh, wow. All the M’s,” I say sarcastically.
“Hey. They’re my favourite frontmen. They’re not bad … maybe. I dunno.”
“Shhh!” Atlas waves at us.
The ravens have taken flight, causing the joy to drain from my body as I stand, stepping towards the window, but Leon gently pushes me back and whispers, “Stay with Zeke.”
A faceless figure steps into view, wearing black with a balaclava, striding to the front of the store with surrendering palms.
“I’m the escort! I’m alone! I’m unarmed!
I’m stepping towards the door!” the figure bellows, inching forward with his empty palms. His arms are raised as he turns, displaying his lack of weapons.
Leon and Atlas’s hands remain poised beside their gun holsters.
The stranger comes before the door and lowers his hand over the handle.
Zeke steps before me as the figure raises another hand.
I expect him to pull the door open, but he halts instead—and a lock clicks.