The hours are long and I have motion sickness, but we manage to catch up to them at dawn the next morning in the wastelands.
TheBeetlestands on top of a hill, invisible.
“There are a dozen caravans and a few bikes,” Griffin says.
He can see much farther than I do. All I can see are little black dots on the horizon. We’re both standing on top of theBeetle.
Since our departure from the forest, he has turned quiet. Or, at least, quieter than usual. He doesn’t even make a sound as he climbs down the ladder. It’s as if the beast within is ready for the hunt.
I find him in the living room, pulling his swords out of the chest.
“Do you have a gun for me?” I ask.
Griffin frowns. “You’re not coming.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
“Why do I want to come?” I say. “I want to come because I’m a pretty decent shot. My mom taught me well. And because you shouldn’t fight a small army on your own. You rescued me from the slavers; I want to help rescue people now.”
And I intend to show him that I’m not just a damsel in distress that he had to save twice already. I can pull my weight.
“But I don’t require your help,” Griffin says.
I groan. “I don’t doubt it, but you’re getting it nonetheless.”
There’s an audible click, and the drawers that contain the guns open one by one, courtesy of Beet.
“Thanks, Beetle goddess of my heart,” I say, grabbing for a gun. There are boxes of ammunition at the bottom.
“Anything for you, pet,” she says.
Griffin watches me warily. But then he goes down to the storage room and comes back with a bag over his shoulder.
“Put that on,” he says.
In the bag is camo tactical gear. Chest armor, arms and legs protection, and a helmet.
I raise an eyebrow. “You really do have everything on board.”
“My family was thorough when they prepared theBeetlefor travel.”
Byfamily, he means the scientists who raised him. He still hasn’t told me how they died. How come he’s living alone on a vessel that was created to host six to ten people?
He walks to the hatch with his two swords and his hood up.
“You’re not wearing any gear?” I ask, putting mine on.
“I don’t need it. I have thick skin.”
I believe him. Oliver was a tough motherfucker, too. But he still bled.
We jump out of theBeetleand close the hatch behind us. It disappears into vague shimmers. The bracelet is secure around my wrist.
“Stay behind me,” Griffin says. “And whatever you see, know that I won’t hurt you. Have no fear.”
He’s avoiding my gaze as he says that. What could he do that would scare me? I already know that he’s a killing machine with those swords.
