Chapter 32

Chapter 32

“Instinct is a marvelous thing. It can neither be explained or ignored.”

Agatha Christie

Unfortunately, the anxiety that we’d made a massive mistake didn’t waver when we climbed in the man’s faded pickup truck, mud splattered on each side.

“Don’t mind the mess, darlins’,” he said, pushing a pile of fast food wrappers and beer cans onto the floor to make room for us in the cabin. “When you’re on the road as often as I am, it’s a little harder to keep clean.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Scarlett said sweetly, and hopped right in the middle while I took the window seat.

Logically, I knew it was probably smarter for her to take the middle. If the trucker decided to pull something, she had the reflexes and the proximity to stop him.

And yet, it did nothing to make me feel any better about the situation.

The trucker hopped into the driver’s side, and with a long, whiny rumble, the truck churned to life.

My eyes caught onto a polaroid picture pinned to the rearview mirror. It looked to be a thirty-something woman with brown hair and a pretty smile. She was laughing at the camera.

“That’s my wife,” the trucker told me.

“She’s beautiful,” I replied, “Must be hard to be away from her if you’re on the road so much.”

An emotion I couldn’t read flashed through his eyes.

“It used to,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness, “But she died ‘bout three years ago. Now, the only solace I find comes from being on the road.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Scarlett said, and shot me a look that might as well have said: *See? He’s not a serial killer. He’s just a guy who lost his wife.*

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little bad about labeling him a creep, but I quickly reminded myself that it didn’t really matter.

Creeps and serial killers could have dead wives too.

Before the trucker’s revelation of a dead wife created too much tension, Scarlett quickly changed the subject and began to ask about the vehicle’s engine. That prompted several minutes of rambling about the truck’s new engine, which I promptly tuned out. Instead, I kept my eyes on the scenery, waiting for the tell-tales sign of human civilization.

After twenty minutes, I couldn’t stay silent anymore.

“...had to find a guy to replace it all the way down in Sacramento, but –”

“Shouldn’t we have reached the town by now?”

“Eh, we should be there soon,” the trucker shrugged.

“How soon?” I asked.

Scarlett shot me the side-eye. “Elsie, don’t be rude.”

“I’m not,” I deadpanned.

The trucker gave us a toothy grin. “It’s quite alright. I don’t take offense, I imagine both you girls are antsy to get back home.”

“We are,” Scarlett assured him. “My friend is just really tired. I think she forgets herself sometimes.”

“I’m not tired,” I argued, “I’m fully aware, which is why I’m not sure why we haven’t reached town yet.”

“I’m sure we’ll be there soon,” Scarlett said.

“We should’ve been there ten minutes ago,” I said, “You said town was ten miles away, and we’ve been going a solid fifty-five on these backroads. We’ve probably gone close to twenty miles since we’ve been on the road.”

For the first time, worry crossed Scarlett’s face. “Did we miss a turn or something?”

“No, no,” the trucker said, but I could see from the way his forehead creased that he was irritated. “I know where I’m going. I said we’ll be there soon.” There was an edge to his tone that only made me more uneasy.

Scarlett glanced at me.

I swallowed. The forest out the windows was no more than a blur.

“You can just let us out here,” I said. “We don’t need to go any farther.”

The trucker didn’t respond, but I watched the speedometer climb higher.

“Please let us out,” Scarlett pleaded. I could hear the gas engine revving – we were hovering at close to a hundred miles per hour now.

I stared at the door handle. Maybe we could jump out, but the speed of the truck made me nervous. Scarlett might be fine, but I wasn’t sure I’d make it out in one piece.

*But it might be worth the risk. A few broken bones could be a lot better than whatever this guy has planned.*

So quickly that both Scarlett and I almost jolted out of our seats, he slammed on the brakes, and swerved onto a dirt side road.

“See, I told you we’d be there soon, darlins’,” the trucker told us as the truck bumped and rattled down the narrow, dirt road barely big enough for the pickup.

This side street was even more isolated than the original back road, and there wasn’t a sign of life in sight. If this guy was planning to murder us, he’d found the perfect spot for it.

*Fuck it. I’m going for it.*

Squeezing Scarlett’s hand, I grabbed the door handle, pulled and –

Nothing.

I tried again, but the door didn’t budge.

My stomach sank like a rock.

*Fuck. Child locks.*

“Now, there’s no need to panic,” the trucker said when he saw my frantic attempts to open the door. “We’ve just arrived anyway.” With that, he pulled the truck onto the side of the dirt road and turned off the engine. “You two,” he pointed at us as he opened the driver side door, “Best not go anywhere or try any funny business.” And then he clicked the lock.

I whirled on Scarlett as soon as he’d shut the door. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” I said. “As soon as he gets close enough, you’re going to overpower him. Tackle him. Throw him to the ground. I don’t care, I just need you to incapacitate him long enough for us to get away.”

I could see the fear flickering in her eyes, and although I could feel the same panic trying to claw its way in, I knew I had to stay calm. Fear wasn’t going to get us out of this.

“Don’t be scared,” I said firmly, “He’s human, and you’re not. He thinks he’s got the advantage, which means you can take him by surprise.”

She nodded hesitantly. “Right, okay.”

That was all she got to say before the passenger side door had suddenly been pulled open. “Alright,” the trucker said. “Let’s g –”

Scarlett pounced.

To my human eyes, she was nothing but a blur of shapes moving too fast for me to follow, but it was short-lived.

The attack ended with the sound of a gunshot.

My body recoiled, my ears rang – but no pain followed.

I hadn’t been shot.

I blinked, trying to make sense of my surroundings with my ears buzzing, and my breath hitched with horror.

I might’ve been fine, but Scarlett wasn’t. She was collapsed on the ground, clutching her stomach, and groaning in pain. Still perched in the passenger side, it was hard to tell how much she’d been hurt.

Especially because, standing over her with a shotgun aimed in his hands, was the trucker.

“I said no funny business,” he said, and then he aimed the barrel of the gun at me.

I was frozen, like every muscle in my body had solidified all at once.

“Now, unless you want to end up like your friend here, I suggest you calmly and slowly exit the truck there, darlin’,” he commanded.

For once – possibly the first time in my entire life – words and logic evaded me. All I could see was the smoking barrel of that shotgun pointed right at my chest.

So, I did as he asked.

“That’s enough,” the trucker said after I’d taken two steps away from truck. “You can just stay right there.”

I didn’t dare nod, didn’t dare breathe – but I did allow my gaze to fall to Scarlett. Blood had begun to pool through her shirt.

*She’s a werewolf.*

*She’ll heal quickly, even from a bullet wound that looks as bad as that one.*

“I know what you’re thinking,” the trucker’s voice cut through my thoughts. “I bet you’re thinking that I’m stupid.”

“What?” I breathed, trying to stay completely still as he waved the shotgun around.

“Yeah, I bet you’re thinking I’m just some dumb human that doesn’t know any better,” he continued, his jaw set with anger. “But I do know better. I know exactly what you two are. I know you’re both werewolves.”

I didn’t speak for fear that anything I said might end with a bullet buried beneath my skin.

He cocked the shotgun, and I could’ve sworn I felt my heart lodge itself into my throat. “The bullets in here? They’re silver buckshot – personally made for dealing with your kind.”

Scarlett let out another painful whine.

*Oh, we are so fucked.*