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Owen nodded. "Okay. Let's head back to the police department, and I'll start doing research on the machinery rentals."
"I’ll drop you there, and then drive back here and take the road to the north," May said. "I’ll talk to the locals and see if we can find answers that bring us closer."
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
He had her! Triumph surged inside the doomsday survivalist as he shoved her into the trunk, trussed her arms and legs, and slammed the lid closed. He'd done it. It had taken only a moment and he was sure he had not been seen. Nobody had noticed. It had been the first capture of this kind—a drive-by grab in broad daylight. But he knew now that he didn’t want it to be the last.
She was injured—groggy, with a wound in her head, but she'd been only lightly stunned. He couldn't risk her being out for too long, or being too badly hurt, to show the terror he needed. The terror that would allow him to exert control.
"Oh, my darling, my little sweetheart," he breathed. Without a doubt, this was his most valuable asset yet. This was the one that would ensure all the rest stayed in line, forever.
It was like an insurance policy.
"I've never believed in insurance, but I sure do now," he said. Another car rounded the corner, and he realized he'd been only just in time. Another minute and he would have been seen. He'd timed it perfectly. Without a doubt, luck had been on his side. This was meant to be. Fortune was favoring him strongly now.
Breathing hard, he jumped back into the car. He pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and his vehicle shot out onto the road. But with an effort, he controlled himself. He was euphoric, but he had to stay under the radar. Especially with an asset in his trunk.
The asset needed to get there safely, and it was a twenty-minute drive—probably, ten minutes until he was past the most risky, populated areas and then another ten on the dirt tracks and back roads, where he would be safer.
But it was hard to control himself, so hard. He felt his mind veering off at a tangent as if it was a wayward dog, tugging at aleash, looking to break free and run. To attack. That was how he felt now. As if he wanted to be on the attack.
The core of violence inside him was growing. He acknowledged this with wonderment, and something akin to excitement. Because soon, when the worst happened, when humanity was obliterated, it wouldn't matter. Then his violent urges could be explored without any restraint or governance, and he could do whatever he wanted to. No rules, no controls. Nothing to stop him or restrict him. What a joy it would be!
The survivalist couldn't believe how excited he felt about his future, a future without rules.
Thanks to this asset, he would have an obedient team. He chuckled, a sound low and evil. They would never break ranks. They would never leave. They would be too afraid to do so.
Who was it, long ago, who'd told him that the only ways to control a man were through love or fear? Perhaps it had been one of his schoolteachers, long ago, before he’d dropped out. An English or classics teacher perhaps.
He was on Team Fear all the way. Love meant nothing in his life. He didn't understand it. It didn't feature in his vocabulary.
As a boy, all he remembered was fear. The shout of a raging voice. The lash of a belt. At the time, he'd cringed away from it. It was only over the years that he'd grown to respect the harsh treatment that had turned him into what he was today.
A hard man, tough enough to survive what was coming.
There, he'd made it. With a sigh of relief, he turned onto the bumpy track, heading down it. There was more than one way to and from his secure bolt hole. He wasn't so stupid as to have only a single entrance. They were well hidden and carefully disguised. He'd thought everything through. He was absolutely sure, when he built it, that it would escape detection.
He had lived in these woods for most of his life, and ever since he'd gotten old enough to realize that he could escapethe belt, the beatings, and the abuse, he'd become an expert at hiding. At camouflage.
It was a skill he was proud of, and one that he knew would serve him well now.
All of his life, the survivalist had been working up to this, without knowing it. He hadn't realized the importance of what he had been learning. He'd thought it was just a way of avoiding punishment and staying invisible.
But it had been so much more.
He'd been doing the work that was necessary to save humanity. Preparing for this moment, seeking this goal.
Although, at the moment, his visions of saving humanity seemed to be smudged and blurred by bloody fantasies. He was having a strange difficulty in telling the two apart.
He pulled up by the hidden entrance. The track covered over by an array of fake brushwood. It was impossible that anyone would ever find it, even if they knew it was here.
The only thing that might alert someone was the constant small noise that the assets had learned to make. He hadn’t been able to stop them. The one who escaped had been the ringleader, he was sure of it, and then the others had followed suit. They didn’t sound like anything you could identify unless you knew, but all the same, any noise was a risk.
But after tonight, the noises would stop. He was sure of it. Once they’d seen his deadly example, there would be no more trouble.
He felt a small shiver of pleasure. He was glad he'd got this asset. She was young and pretty, and that would make what he planned to do even more impactful. He knew that the others would be terrified. Scarred for life.
The survivalist bumped along the hidden track and pulled up in the area that was totally concealed from view.
