Darius clutches his hands to his chest as he stumbles backward, hitting the door as he cries out in surprise.
I stand, albeit wobbly because my feet are still bound. “This is for treating women like pieces of shit.” I aim at his temple.Bang.
He drops to the ground, then falls to the floor like a sack of shit.
I take a breath, tipping my head back as I tell myself to keep moving forward. I’m not out of the woods yet. I see a knife sticking out of a sheath on his belt and I hop towards his lifeless body. Blood leaks everywhere. I’ve just enough time to grab it, and his Glock before I get my feet covered in his blood. Ew. I also snatch his phone, and then wrestle with his jeans pocket to find a set of car keys. Handy if I want to get the fuck out of here.
I use the knife to help loosen the restraints, and when my feet are free, I breathe a sigh of relief. Pain hits me from all sides, and my ankles and wrists sting like a bitch.
“Thanks, Darius.” I kick him in the face, just because I can. “Have fun on your one-way trip to Hell.”
Clare’s gun still has two bullets in the cartridge, and Darius’ has four. Not many, but enough if I need it, I hope. Also, nobody has come running in to investigate the noise. However, this looks and feels like an airtight container, so the container might also be soundproof.
I secure all of my weapons, holding Clare’s gun out in front. I inch forward, out of the cell and into the open space. It’s not huge, maybe sixty feet. It’s musty, the smell only just permeating my nostrils. I didn’t notice it before, then again, I had shitheads to deal with and was fighting for my life.What is that?Tobacco?
I edge toward a large stack of containers. Even though my eyes have adjusted to the darkness and I can’t see much, I know cigars when I smell them. The Hellions have a famous tobacco shop called Cigar Haven, it’s not illegal or anything, but cigars are apparently a hot ticket item on the black market. Cuban cigars, that is. The fines and jail sentences are hefty, so these people are truly pushing their luck with contraband.
You killed two people with your hands and feet bound, maybe you should smoke one.I laugh to myself. Maybe it’s the first sign of madness, or maybe I’m just pleased that I got out of that situation all by myself, but I’m far from excited to exit this chamber of horrors. I don’t know what’s out there, orwho’sout there. If this is a two-person operation, then where is everybody else? Clare said it wouldn’t be long before the transportation arrived to take me. I need to get out of here pronto.
I push forward toward the door, gun drawn, ready for battle. I try the handle and it opens — I crack the door slightly, expecting to be blinded, but it’s almost dusk. The sun has set, and the temperature is dropping, and I feel a slight chill on my skin. I don’t see anyone, but we’re in a yard surrounded by other shipping containers. Fucking great. I also see a truckparked right out front. Since I was knocked out cold before I was transported here, I sure as shit hope this is Darius’s vehicle. I also risk not knowing how deep this yard goes, if there is someone manning the gate, or anything. So, I decide to creep around the side of the container to see if there’s anyone else around. There isn’t. Well, at least not on this line, anyway. Being inside the truck is better than being out here like a sitting duck, but I can almost bet that someone will man this place thoroughly if those were Cuban cigars back there. Men with lots of guns, guns bigger than mine.
I make my way back to the truck, half jogging, half limping, and climb in. I fumble with the keys because my fucking hands are still numb. How I aimed perfectly at Darius I’ll never know, but luck was on my side. Once I finally get the key into the ignition, it slides in perfectly and I start it up.Yes!
It’s easy to let my head run away with my escape, but I know I’m not out of the woods yet. I also know there could be a way to get out of this if I play the game. Turning to the back, I spy a coat on the backseat and grab it. I don’t want to wear Darius’s disgusting clothes, but I also have blood running down my arms and hands, and that is a little suspicious. I pull the thing on, then put the truck into gear, securing my seatbelt. Safety first.
I’m leaving. I’m really fucking leaving this place.
My merriment is short-lived. When I make it to the end of the row, then I have to turn. I’ve no idea where I am, so I follow the line until I see what looks like the entry. Sure enough, there’s a fucking gate along with a booth. I glance up at the higher post. Great, there’s nobody up there with a rifle, that’s something, I guess. In my rear vision mirror I see a guard patrolling.Holy shit!
I have to make a split decision whether to gun it—an impossible feat because the gate is made of steel, plus there’sanother wire fence a hundred feet after that. That’s where you enter, and I guess the guards inspect the vehicle…
I smooth my hair down as best as I can until I come to a stop. I hope the guard on duty doesn’t know Darius, Clare, or this damn truck.
I wind the window down as he frowns at me. “Just have to grab a few things,” I say. “Stupid me, I forgot the zip cables.”Why? Of all the things I could say.
The dude’s narrowed gaze loosens just a little. “You’re with Darius, right?”
I nod. “Yep. Asshole is back there doing god knows what to the hostage, but hey, I told him, that shit’s on him.”
He snorts. “He’s a sick bastard.”
I smile. “That’s why I need a break from the guy. I’ll be back to assess the damage.”
The gate starts to roll back.Oh, my god.But Mr. Chatty still wants to talk. “If you’re gettin’ some snacks, I’m for that.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I almost gag.
“Play your cards right, and we’ll see.” I smile.
His eyes flick to my hands, and I freeze.Shit.Even though I tried to cover them as best I could, they begin to shake. And he must notice the blood. “Is that?—”
I gun the accelerator, knocking the side mirror off as I barely scrape past the metal gate — it’s only partially open. I press my foot to the floor and pray. “Here goes nothing,” I say, hearing shots being fired behind me.
Haze. I love you.
I smash through the wire fence just as a tire deflation device pops up out of nowhere. I lose control when I try to swerve, but the car doesn’t stop. The truck flips and seconds go by, but it feels like a lifetime. The truck pounds into the asphalt and I jolt as my whole body ricochets like a rag doll from the impact andthe speed. More gun shots. I slam back into the seat as the airbag meets my face. My vision goes blurry.No!
“Haze?” I whisper. It could just be me, but I swear to god I hear the beautiful sound of straight pipes.
Haze
