Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Thirty-Five

Lucas

The men gotinto the front of the truck and drove off.

“We’re heading back to home base?” one of them asked, his voice still carrying over the road noise.

“Yeah. We have to account for those losses,” another responded.

Account to who?I couldn’t help but wonder.

I thought about the events that had unfolded, had seen the level of skill and professionalism that the men had shown.

Trained, that was certain.

But working for who?

That was less certain.

I had seen nothing that resembled a government response, and these guys didn’t give me government feel.

But not militia either.

Private contractors, maybe?

As good a guess as any, but I couldn’t figure that out now, and more importantly, I didn’t know if it mattered.

What mattered was that we were in a bad, bad situation. And it was up to me to get us out of it.

The truck rolled along, the night finally fully giving way to morning.

There was a faint chill in the air, and my stomach dropped.

Even without this delay, our trip would have been cutting it close, the late summer soon to give way to deep fall and winter. The longer this took, the more arduous the journey would be.

No matter.

I’d deal with that when I had to, but for now, I would focus on the situation at hand and getting us out of it.

But I still didn’t look at Angel. Because if anything was a threat to my focus, it was her.

And seeing the disappointment, the fear, in her face was something I didn’t want, something I didn’t know that I could withstand.

It made me feel weak to avoid it, but I did. At least I did until I heard her shuffling in the back.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, not lingering, and saw that she had moved closer.

She sat as close to me as she could, the now-familiar warmth of her body next to mine making me feel good, despite myself.

She didn’t say anything, and I wouldn’t have been able to hear her anyway, not over the howling wind that had gotten louder as the truck had picked up speed.

But she did reach over, putting her cuffed hand in my hand and giving it a squeeze.

The touch was both devastating and elevating.

Devastating, because her having to comfort me was only more confirmation of how much I had let her down.

Elevating, because even now, in the midst of all this, her touch calmed me in a way that nothing else ever had.

She gave my hand a final squeeze and then shifted back to her original position.

I looked at her then, and her dark eyes were locked with mine, the expression in them the calm determination that I had seen so often.

And yet again I vowed that I would not fail her.

That thought in mind, I tried to clear my head, be ready for whatever came next.

Didn’t have long to wait.

About ten minutes later, the truck slowed and then came to a stop.

“What you got?”

“Found two,” one of the men in the truck said.

“Open ’em up,” a man said, followed by three quick pounds.

I looked through the truck window and saw that we were in front of a tall gate, one that had been haphazardly reinforced.

It swung open, and the truck drove through.

I looked back as it closed, saw that the back of the gate had been reinforced with wood and iron, and that two lookouts were stationed in perches above the gate.

I took in other things, too—a row of houses off to one side—and tried to follow the gate to see what area it covered.

I couldn’t tell, but it looked large, several dozen acres if not more.

There was another cluster of small buildings, converted metal storage containers from the look of it, to another side, then a small group of modular homes.

This was clearly some kind of encampment.

At my quick glance around, I spotted about thirty-five people, and there were probably more inside.

It was quiet, quieter than I would have expected with this number of people, but everyone seemed to focus on some task or another and move without conversation.

I also didn’t miss the men who stood sentry at various points, all armed, all watchful.

I took it all in and then focused when the truck came to a stop and someone got out.

“Get down,” he said as he opened the tailgate of the truck.

I stood, then stepped down, watched as Angel did the same.

I resisted the impulse to help her, not wanting to give anything away, and though her movements were rather clumsy, she made it down with some measure of grace.

“If you could head this way, ma’am,” he said looking at her.

She said nothing, just began to walk in the direction he had pointed.

As she did, the man looked at me, put his hand on the butt of his gun, and nodded in that same direction.

I followed the unspoken command and walked behind Angel, trying to survey the place without looking too obvious.

We reached one of the metal buildings, one that I had noticed was locked from the outside, and he opened the door and gestured we go in.

Angel went in first, I followed, and he came behind.

“I can take those cuffs off if you like,” he said.

It was dark, almost pitch-black, but I saw Angel nod.

He undid her cuffs and then looked at me, his face half in light, half in shadow.

“I think it’s best if you keep yours on,” he said.

I said nothing, just stared at him, hoping my face gave nothing away.

“Someone will be back to talk to you in a minute. Until then, make yourselves comfortable,” he said.

He slammed the door then, cutting off almost every source of light.

I didn’t care.

He was gone. And some of the tension that had knotted my stomach loosened.

That wouldn’t last, but I could use the break, the adrenaline from earlier leaving me feeling worn down, but also wired up.

“Hey!” I whisper-yelled when Angel bumped into me.

“Sorry, didn’t see you,” she said.

“I didn’t say I minded,” I responded, feeling myself smile.

“Good,” she said.

The next moment she brushed against me, wrapped her arms around me, and hugged me. It was an almost desperate embrace, one filled with more emotion than I could ever recall being directed at me.

“I was so worried about you,” she said.

I heard a tremor in her voice, heard the fear, the angst, that I hadn’t seen her eyes.

She had been holding that all in, and I was humbled by the thought that her concern was for me.

“No need to worry about me. Ever,” I said.

Those words from a man who was once again handcuffed, but I meant it.

I didn’t need Angel to worry about me. What I needed was for her to be okay.

I wanted to squeeze her back but couldn’t.

Still, she clung to me for a moment longer, pressed an almost chaste kiss against my lips, and then stepped away.

“What do you think this place is?” she asked, her voice low.

It was probably smart to whisper. We didn’t know what was outside, if someone was listening, but I risked responding.

“A prison,” I said.

“It has that feeling, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Oh, it looked dissimilar enough on the outside, but I had experience with these matters, and knew that whatever was happening here was something I didn’t want any part of.

“So we’ve got to get out here,” she said, the words a statement and not a question.

“As soon as we possibly can,” I responded.

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out.”

“And I’ll be ready,” she said.

I believed her.