They leave the warehouse, and I can finally have a moment of peace to assess my situation. Nothing feels broken, yet every part of me hurts. I can barely open my left eye, and my ribs sting when I try to take a deep breath. My bindings are too strong and secure, meaning I’m going nowhere.
I try to come up with a story I can tell Clint to make him believe me, something that will explain how I came to possess a deadly substance that can apparently dissolve human flesh and bone. But I can’t concentrate through my pain and fear.
If this is my end, I hope it will come quickly, but that isn’t how Clint and Bobby are going to handle this. I wish to be braver, but I have never been more scared and alone.
*
“Wake up.”
I crack open my eyes, not sure where I am. Then the pain washes over me like an angry wave, as well as the stench of my unwashed flesh. I look around, but I’m alone in this wide and dusty warehouse. Based on the sun’s rays coming through the gaps in the roof, I figure it’s around noon.
“You’re injured.”
I look to my left, realizing the voice is coming from the floor. The yellow substance looks grayer than I’ve ever seen it.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m dying. I used too much of my remaining energy yesterday.”
I feel guilty and ashamed. She agreed to help me, and my recklessness is killing her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Can you try calling for help?”
“I no longer have the strength to communicate, but I did alert the others of your failure.”
I sigh. “Thanks.”
“Those men are going to kill you. You should escape.”
I pull at my bindings, my shoulders numb. “I can’t.” A dark thought floats in my head. “Can you kill me quickly?”
“Kill you?”
“I’d rather it be quick than whatever they’re planning.”
“I would rather my final act not be killing a friend.”
The puddle shifts on the ground before growing into the shape of a woman, barely eight inches tall. Instead of being surrounded by the glowing yellow substance, the color is now a dull gray, like dirty water. She comes closer and holds the iron bindings in her small hands. I feel the pressure around my wrists loosen, and then I’m free.
I sit up, grunting in pain. “Thank you.”
“The door is locked,” she says in a faint voice, then walks clumsily to the wall and places her small hands against it. Seconds later, dust falls as the wall begins to shake. The substance turns darker until I can no longer see the woman inside it.
“I think I remember my name,” she says. “It is Rose.”
The wall crumbles on top of her. I cover my face from the cloud of dust, coughing when some of it sneaks through my nose.When it finally settles, the gap in the wall is big enough for me to pass through. I stand up carefully, dizzy and nauseous. Once it feels like I won’t pass out, I carefully make my way to a nearby desk where my clothes are scattered next to a bottle of water. I drink and get dressed, wishing to clean the dirt from my face, but I’ve no time for that.
“Thank you, Rose,” I say before stepping through the hole in the wall.
Based on the silence outside, I’m guessing that this place isn’t close to the city center. There’s an unpleasant scent of grease in the warm air. I hobble to the edge of the warehouse and peek left and right. There are more warehouses around and the faint sound of people talking. I don’t trust anyone out here to ask for help. Should I go back to my house? They must have taken everything, leaving me with no money and weapons. I should return to the stable where I left my horse, then get the hell out of Denver. I’m not going to find Caden in this state, and now that I know he’s alive, I’d best return to Florence and regroup with the others.
Before I start my journey on foot to Westwood, I notice a sharp piece of metal on the ground that can be used as a weapon. I pick it up and slip it into my back pocket. As I walk down the road between the mostly abandoned structures, I search for a spot to see the city’s skyscrapers so I can figure out which direction to go. I wish to walk faster, but my ribs are killing me, and there’s a nagging pain at the center of my head.
Through a gap between two structures, I finally locate the skyscrapers. From this distance, I’m looking at at least a two-hour walk, which might take longer in the state I’m in. That alsomeans I’ll be exposed on my way, and if Clint and Bobby were to head this way, I’m fucked. Before I can decide what to do, I notice an old jeep driving toward me. I recognize the green color of the local guard force, so it can’t possibly be Clint. If I get them to stop and tell them I was attacked, they might drive me to the stable to take my horse.
I wave when the jeep comes closer, and whoever’s driving slows down to a stop. At the sight of me, two armed guards climb out.
“What happened to you?” the older of the two asks.
“I was attacked last night. Can you please take me to Westwood so I can take my horse?”
