I laugh.
I had a few people that I called friends over the years, but I never stayed in one place long enough. And the rare ones I made died, eventually. Except Oliver. But I guess Oliver was neither a friend nor a lover. He was my jailer. He owned me for two years, body and soul.
Friends just meant heartbreak. The weeks with Griffin made me realize how lonely I’ve been in recent years . He made me want something more than survival. And Jude feels like a gulp of fresh water after crossing the desert.
When Griffin finally finds us, I’ll ask him to take Jude with us, just long enough to put him somewhere safe where we’ll be able to stay in touch. Or when we finally get to Washington…
Washington. I try not to think about leaving theBeetle. I don’t know what’s in store for Griffin and me. It’s too soon. I need more time to figure it out.
Well, if I can get out of here alive.
When the slavers announce that we’re finally going to land a few hours later, hope fills my lungs. They tie us together in teams of four prisoners and walk us outside. After spending almost a week in the artificial light of the cramped storage room, my eyes water from seeing sunlight.
The yacht is entering some kind of bay. There is a bridge over our heads, broken in the middle. The cables that used to hold it together fall sadly into the water, and the pillars maintaining it are bent, as if something huge rammed into them. They’re a rusty color, almost red…
“You must be kidding me…” I whisper. “Is that the Golden Gate Bridge?”
Jude follows my line of sight and nods. “Yeah.”
We’re arriving in what used to be San Francisco. I’ve seen that bridge on so many old magazines, book covers, and postcards. It was magnificent. One of the major landmarks of the United States. I wish I could have seen it back in the day. Now it’s just another broken memory of a past I’ll never know.
I’ve never traveled through these parts.
“But wait, wasn’t San Francisco Bay Scylla’s territory?” I ask quietly. The slavers don’t want us talking.
Scylla got her name from Greek mythology. Although she doesn’t have six heads like the old myth, she does have six arms that help her crawl out of the water occasionally and wreak havoc on land. She looks like a nightmarish version of a hermit crab, with an armored back and pincers. She’s slow but unstoppable.
“She moved to the South a while ago,” says Jude. “To the Gulf of California.”
“Good to know…”
My eyes fly over the shore, looking for another kind of giant. TheBeetleis nowhere to be seen. Disappointment tastes bitter. Traveling by land is much slower than by sea. They might not be here yet.
“Looking for your friends?” whispers Jude as they lead us to a motorboat.
“Yeah. But they’re not here yet.”
“They could be hiding, waiting for an ambush,” he says.
“Yes.”
TheBeetlemight be in invisible mode, but I’d rather not expect it. I’m not a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. I’m a survivor. I better work on our escape. We can still come back later with Griffin, once he finds us, to release the other prisoners.
I haven’t told Jude about theBeetleyet. She’s Griffin’s home and his secret. If we survive and don’t get separated, he’ll know.
The slavers push us into one of the boats without care. Since the four of us are tied together by a chain, as soon as the first one falls, the other three follow. My shoulder hits the bottom of the boat, and I wince. A little higher, and I would have dislocated it.
The fact that it’s not just Jude and me puts a dent in our plan to escape. The other two might very well turn out to be a hindrance. They put us with a middle-aged man and a young woman with mousy hair. Both are wide-eyed as they look at the water surrounding us. They might be wondering where Scylla is, too. I hope Jude is right.
Two slavers come on the boat with us and give us paddles. There is an outboard motor, but it appears they don’t want to use it. I can’t blame them. Jude and I exchange a quick glance before we start rowing. This is our chance.
We row until we’ve traveled halfway to shore. One look from Jude, and we both swing our paddles at the heads of our two captors. One falls into the water, but the second one hangs on.
“Start the motor!” I shout at the prisoners tied to us.
The man cowers at the bottom of the boat, but the mousy-haired young woman throws herself over to the motor to start it. When I turn back, Jude has the slaver in a chokehold with the chain. The man is turning purple, but he’s also threatening to break Jude’s ribs with his fists. Jude might be ruthless, but he’s half his weight. I pull as much as I can on the chain and punch the man in the face as hard as I can. His head snaps back, and they both fall into the water. Thankfully, our captor has lost consciousness, and I can pull Jude back on board with the chain. The woman starts the motor right on time, as the other slaver is trying to get back on board from the other side. He screams as he’s dragged underwater, and drops the army knife he had in hand. I hope he cut himself on the propellers.
We hurtle at full speed through the bay.
