Aiden pulls the car in and parks it at the side of the gas station, where it’s not as easy to spot from the road. I reach into the back seat and grab my trusty toolkit out of my backpack.
Aiden opens the driver’s side door and hops out. “I’m gonna scout around a bit. Let me know if you need any help.”
“Will do.”
With the toolkit in hand, I head over to the pump. It doesn’t take long to get the faceplate off. Just a few screws are holding it in. The face is a little rusty, but I pry it off with the flat end of a screwdriver. Once it’s open, the whole mechanism looks straightforward. The gas line from the underground tank flows into a fuel pump. Shouldn’t be hard to override. I’m getting the gas line detached when Aiden shouts.
“Get down! Someone’s coming!” He frantically gestures for me to duck as he heads for cover behind our car.
Looking around, there’s nowhere to go, and I’m pretty exposed. So I ball myself up and scrunch behind the gas pump.
The throaty sound of an engine comes from down the road. I crook my head around the pump to get a peek. It’s a large pickup truck with extra-large tires and that damn FLA flag we’ve seen before.
Crap. CRAP.
But they don’t slow down. They go past the gas station. Maybe we’ll be okay.
The truck is almost out of sight when it stops suddenly, tires shrieking and smoke rising from them. The truck does a three-point turn and heads back. I have a tiny sliver of hope they didn’t see us and will continue down the road. But that hope evaporates when they stop right in front of our car.
My anxiety builds. I have only seconds to get control of it before I’m useless. With my eyes shut tight, I breathe deep and clear my mind. But in my mind, I’m surprised to see Aiden there. His calming touch. His gentle voice. How he helped me the last time. My panic has ebbed, and I open my eyes to face my fears.
Four tough-looking people pile out of the truck, each with a rifle. A guy in a camouflage vest and an orange hat yells. “Hot damn, this is the car all right. Just like that old hag said.”
I’m sickened as he shoots out the two front tires with a handgun.
A woman with short-cropped blond hair, wearing all-black military fatigues, yells at the gunman, “Jesus, Wayne, put that damn thing away. Remember, we need ’em alive.”
“Why can’t we just kill ’em, Tyra?”
“The boss said so, that’s why. Also, keep your eye out for a small silver box.”
I’m entirely exposed in my current spot. If one of them so much as turns their head to the left, they’ll see me. Aiden is hiding behind the car. It will only take a moment for them to find him. Our backpacks, propped in the back seats, poke up for all to see.
Aiden makes eye contact with me, his gaze a mixture of sadness and resolve. The box he carries is important to him. Maybe as important as his own life. My chest tightens as I imagine what he might do.
So I know what I must do. I make a couple of quick hand signals to him. First, I point at myself, then show my fingers running. Then, I point to him and mime his hands on a backpack. Aiden’s eyes turn wide, and his mouth gapes open. He shakes his head vigorously and mouthsno.
I nodyesto him with a solemn expression. This is what I have to do. The thugs are moments away from discovering Aiden, and the moment they see him, they’ll kill him. This is my last chance.
I jump up from my hiding spot and start running toward the forest, away from the men and our car where Aiden is hiding, yelling and making as much noise as I can.
Chapter Nineteen
Searching
AIDEN
When Zach jumps up from his hiding spot, it hits me like a punch in the gut. One second, I’m ready to fight for my life, expecting to likely die for that goddamn box. The next second, I’m fearing for Zach’s life.How could he do that? This isn’t his fight. It’s not his sacrifice to make. This ispreciselywhy I only work alone. But I’ve let my personal feelings get in the way, and Zach is paying the price.
Zach is steps away from the forest when he yells out to get the group’s attention. They all turn and start running after him. The man named Wayne holds up his rifle, pointing directly at Zach. I’m about to jump up, but Tyra knocks his gun down as it discharges.
“Alive!” Tyra yells. “No shooting!”
Tyra and Wayne run after Zach into the forest. The other two men hang back, but they’re looking intently in the direction everybody ran. As sick as it makes me feel, Zach has given me a slim opportunity.
I slide along the side of the car and peek over the edge. Both men are still turned away. With a soft hand, I open the back door and pull the backpacks out. The metal latches on the outsides of the pack hit against each other, making a clinking sound. Stopping in my tracks, I wait for the men to turn. I consider the rifle attached to the back of my pack. Using it is my last resort, a line I’ve never had to cross. And a one-way trip I don’t want to take.
But the men don’t turn. They’re too distracted to notice. Carefully, I sling a backpack over each shoulder and make my way into the woods behind the gas station.
