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“It’s not bravery. It’s about not letting the bastard win. Years ago, I fled and went running like a dear in fear for my life. He won back then. I wasn’t going to let him this time. I had ten years to hate him, and that hatred just grew, determined that if it happened again, I would need to fight back. I’d rather die knowing I tried to fight than die and let that bastard get away with it again.”
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“Not a freaking clue.” My eyes scan everywhere for an area of road, somewhere that might lead us to civilization.
“Well, obviously, this is the desert, your neck of the neighborhood, so to speak.”
“No, it’s not,” I counter, gazing across the plateaus where colossal faults jut out, thrusting rocks upward like the spikes of a dragon emerging from the depths of the underworld.
“This is definitely not the Mojave,” I remark, scanning the unfamiliar landscape.
“Deserts look all the same to me.”
“No, they don’t. For starters, the absence of the Joshua Tree is pretty unique to the Californian Mojave,” I explain.
We’re navigating through a massive canyon that screams America.
“The vegetation here is another big giveaway that we’re not in my neck of the desert. So honestly, I think we’re still in the US, but I have no clue where,” I conclude, feeling a sense of uncertainty about our location.
“We arrived by helicopter, I have no clue when they brought you. But the flight took about an hour and a half.”
“What happened, Brittney? I mean at the restaurant.”
“Well, it was all chaotic. You threw me against the crowds; I couldn’t understand why. But then Ed….Victor appeared. I didn’t know it was him at first because he was fully masked, but I heard his voice, and he told me it was a terrorist attack and he was there to rescue me. He told me his men already had you, and like an idiot, I believed him. He said he was a scientist who worked for the government. I thought he had inside info or something!”
I tsk at her and shake my head.
“You’re such an idiot.”
“I know, and it gets worse,” she says shamefully.
“Shit like that only happens in movies, and you’re currently filming a series that’s associated with US espionage. Don’t you guys have to research stuff?”
“For fucks sake, Eden, are you going to let me finish?”
I shake my head once more and continue driving in silence.
“I kept asking about you, but he kept avoiding answering my questions. That’s when I started to suspect he wasn’t who he said he was and that maybe he was the terrorist. That’s when I became more alert to the situation. When we got to the facility, he kept me inside that room where they brought you in, but prior to that, I heard him onthe phone. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but it sounded like it was his superior or something, and I caught the name Victor, which he answered to. So I realized his name wasn’t Ed. I stayed quiet because he wasn’t threatening me at the time, and I was trying to work things out and get him to take me back home. Then I saw him switch his computer screen to a security camera, and when I saw you in that cell, I screamed in panic.
“That’s when things went sour for me. I realized I wouldn’t be going home. I kept questioning him what he was doing with you, but well, you heard his bullshit. He fed me the same shit.”
Brittney suddenly goes quiet, and a sound goes off in the front panel. A red light goes off, and the jeep begins to slow down.
Fucking electric shit is losing power.
“It’s run out of juice,” I say just before it slows to a halt.
I jump out and open the back, hoping there might be a spare battery. There’s a long black case attached to a holder. Upon unclipping the hooks, I open it to find the metallic gleam of an automatic rifle catching my eye. It’s nestled in a cushioned interior, its sleek and lethal form silently waiting for purpose.
Taking the gun, I pick up the fully loaded magazine and insert it into the weapon. Once in place, I chamber a round by pulling back and releasing the charging handle, bringing a cartridge from the magazine into the firing chamber, making it ready to fire.
“Check the glove compartment,” I instruct.
“How did you know how to do that?” Brittney asks, a little scared and amazed.
“I’ve had instructions. One doesn’t live alone in the desert without learning how to protect themselves.”
In case he ever returned, I needed to be ready.
