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We’re joined in the back by Sam’s uncle and the other guy, Ed. I tamp down the unsettling feeling of being surrounded by so many strange men with the thought that, if they wanted to rape me, or worse, they could’ve easily done so by now. Seems a moving truck would pose more of a challenge.
But then again, what do I know?
The truck’s engine roars to life, and my body jerks as it lurches forward.
“You’re comfortable?” Sam keeps his arms wrapped around his propped up knees. “Could’ve let you have the front cab with my Pop and Otis, but I figured back here would be better than listening to those two bicker the whole way.”
“I’m fine. This is fine.” My attention shifts to the two men across the bed of the truck, who don’t so much as look at me.
“You should get some sleep. The convent is a few hours away yet.”
Not a chance.
“I’m alright for now. If I get tired, I’ll sleep.”
With a shrug, he reaches for something at his side, stirring my paranoia, and as if on instinct, my muscles lock up. “Suit yourself.” He pulls out a white cloth and opens it. Inside are strips of what looks and smells like jerky. “Hungry?”
The last time I had venison jerky was when my father returned from a trip to the Deadlands. He always brought back small treats and gifts for Grant and me. On a shaky exhale, I accept the proffered meat, the smell of the pepper seasoning bringing back memories of sitting out on the porch, sneaking the treats. My mother called it food of the savages, and did her best to dispose of it, the moment my father left for another mission. So I began hiding the food in my room, and sneaking it when she wasn’t around.
I can’t bear to imagine what my father might think, what a man of his training and stature might do, if he were in my position right now. What I know of him, knew of him, I imagine he’d tell me to do whatever I had to, in order to survive. As would any father.
But to what extent?
Would allowing Father Parsons to violate me on an alter qualify as a means of survival? Would bedding men for the next five years? I certainly could’ve avoided the near-death encounter with a Rager, if I had. Or the fear of the unknown, as I head north with a group of strangers whose intentions I find obscure.
Would he call me a fool for my decisions?
I can’t imagine so. But then, if he could counsel me now, his advice would be coming from a man beyond the grave.
A man who’s already felt the cold breath of death on his neck.
Maybe he’d tell me the worst is yet to come.
* * *
“Thalia, can you hear me?” My father’s voice is a warm blanket against the cold wind that rushes over my skin.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“You need to wake up, sweetheart. Wake up!”
The anger in his voice startles my muscles, and my eyes shoot open to blinding sunlight. I glance around to find the bed of the truck is empty. Neither Sam, nor the other two, are anywhere in sight.
I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, and slept long enough to wake with the sun.
The sound of voices reaches my ear, and I sit up, looking around to find we’ve come to a stop in unfamiliar surroundings. Rubble is piled over cracked concrete, overgrown with grass. Houses too close together, boarded up and sprayed with all variety of obscenities. Some kind of rundown, abandoned neighborhood, with fancy mansions, like the ones on Phase Three back at Szolen.
Not a convent.
“You promised two. Therefore, you’ll get half of what we agreed.”
At the sound of a woman’s voice, I drop low and peer around the cab of the truck, and spy a pudgy, older woman, older than my mother, with graying hair and all kinds of jewels hanging off of her. The sight of her has me mindlessly reaching for the delicate gold chain still at my neck.
“You haven’t even shown me the goods. Christ, she could be some grotesque little scab you picked up off the side of the road. Infected with every disease known to man.”
“She’s clean. Virgin Daughter of Szolen. My contact assured me.”
The sound of Sam’s voice sends a jolt of rage through me. Not that I’m surprised he betrayed me. In fact, any other outcome would’ve been more surprising. Keeping my eyes on the group, I back myself toward the tailgate, but get stopped short, and a glance down at my wrists shows a loop of a rope through the chain of my shackles, both ends of it disappearing over the edge of the truck.
