She’s a good partner to have for an escape.
Before I believe it’s possible, we’ve reached the motorcycle. We clear off the brush I used to hide it and pull it back into position on the overgrown trail.
“Do you want to shoot or drive?” I ask.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Drive.”
I let her get on first and then straddle the seat behind her. We both have to hike our skirts up to our hips to make it work. Then she starts the engine and accelerates, dirt flying up from the spinning of the wheels.
“Have we done it?” she asks as she drives us through the trees and onto the road.
“I think maybe we have.”
I can’t believe we managed it without incident, but we’re driving now. We can outpace anyone chasing us.
Maybe we really have gotten away from that nightmare compound.
We drive down the hill on the trail until we reach the road that heads north along the river. The sun is well up from the horizon now. It’s a couple of hours after dawn but still foggy.
Because we don’t have a very clear view into the distance, we’re not ready when the road straightens from its tight curve around the bend of the river to see a vehicle directly in front of us.
It’s a pickup truck. I see that much before the motorcycle starts skidding as Burgundy tries to veer out of the way of the truck.
Both vehicles are going too fast to make the maneuver easily. The truck cuts into a ditch on the side of the road, and the motorcycle almost topples. I jump off to keep from falling.
“Sorry about that,” one of the men calls out from the driver’s side window. “You girls okay?”
“We’re fine,” I say as Burgundy manages to straighten up the motorcycle. “Thanks.”
“Where are you girls from? You shouldn’t be out on your own this way. Come with us, and we’ll take you tosafety. We’re from that big compound not far from here. We’re coming back from a mission and heading there now.”
Shit. They’re Holy Rollers. That’s all we need.
“We’re fine,” I say again, hurrying back to hike up my skirt and straddle the motorcycle seat behind Burgundy again. My rifle is strapped to my back, so I discreetly pull out the guard’s gun from the small saddlebag where we put it. “Thanks though. We sure appreciate the offer.”
The driver must have really looked at us for the first time. “Wait, where are you from?” He’s eyeing our sack dresses. They’re really quite distinct.
“We’re headed home,” I say. “Thank you!”
“Wait, wait!” It’s a different voice. From the passenger seat of the truck. The man leans over to peer out the driver’s window. “Who is that?”
I know that voice.
Iknowit.
I suck in a gasp, my whole body tightening.
Jesse.
Jesse!
He didn’t go with the group that broke off from the militia to join the drove like I always assumed.
He joined the Holy Rollers.
Of course he did.
I see his face when he recognizes me.
