Page 16 of Empowereds

16

C harity leaned against the counter, waiting for Speedy to return. Finding the right drugs was taking a long time. Ten minutes plodded by, so she logged into one of the city’s bookstores to see what was available. Unfortunately, all the books were government-approved ones, and she didn’t feel like reading a story where the Empowereds were always, always the villains.

Perhaps Speedy would know of a place that sold black market books.

Enzo watched the newsfeed, which said something about his faith in the news. He didn’t know that everything on the feed was propaganda.

She slipped her phone into her pocket and reviewed the shopping list. They would still need to go to another grocery store, a tire shop, and someplace that sold truck batteries. Supposedly they were easy to find in the city, so Milo wanted some backups on hand, but no one had told her what stores sold those.

“Where can we get truck batteries?” she asked Enzo.

“ Hell ,” he muttered.

“I hadn’t planned on driving that far.”

He didn’t laugh. He was still staring at the TV screen. She turned her attention there. A newsfeed showed tanks rumbling over a road.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“The Southern Plain States launched an attack. The government thinks they’re trying to retake Wichita. We’ve got to leave.”

The urgency in his voice didn’t make sense. “We’re not near Wichita. We’ll be okay. We still have other things to buy here.”

Enzo shook his head. “Every hoodlum in the area who sees the news will know that the government has called the city’s military reserves out to the border to help fight. That means no one will be patrolling the roads that lead from the city to the outer settlements. Crime there will spike. We don’t want to be on the road when that happens.” He glanced at the front door. “We should leave now.”

“We haven’t gotten our drugs yet.”

“Each minute we delay makes traveling more dangerous.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin. “We’ve either got to leave now or stay in the city and wait out the fighting. That could take weeks. Maybe longer.”

Was he right? “We don’t have the money for a motel for more than a night or two.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking. Traveling out of the city would be more dangerous, but that didn’t mean they would be affected. “I think we’ll be fine.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you think that?”

Because her father hadn’t warned her of any danger. When she’d asked why they needed two guns, he’d said he was only giving them two for her peace of mind. He would have given her some sort of special instructions if she was going to run into criminals. “I don’t think the government would move so many reservists that they’d put the city at risk.”

He stared at her, speechless for a moment, then turned toward the backroom door. “Hey Speedy,” he called, “you’re not living up to your name.”

The door banged open, and Speedy dawdled over, a bag in one hand, a half-eaten burrito in the other. “Oh, so sorry. Did waiting inconvenience you? Couldn’t be helped.” He took another bite of his burrito.

Man, the black market wasn’t big on customer service.

Speedy handed the bag to Charity. She opened it to check the contents. Before she’d completely gone through it, Enzo grabbed her elbow and towed her down the aisles toward the door.

“I need to make sure everything is here,” she protested.

“We have a truck full of goods,” he said. “We’ll be prime targets.” He cursed again. “Hurry.” He took hold of her hand and picked up his pace. She nearly had to run to keep up with him.

Once outside, he continued pulling her down the sidewalk.

“How dangerous is this?” she asked, more worried. “Maybe we should stay in the city until it’s safe.” Her mind went to Callum’s parents. They’d said they wanted to help Charity, but they were likely staying in a hotel themselves. “Do you know anyone who can put us up for a while? Friends? Family?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t be a harvester.”

“How bad was this data entry mistake you made?”

“Bad enough that I’d rather take my chances with the criminals on the road.” He slowed his pace back to a quick walk. “But I don’t have the right to unilaterally make the decision. If you’re afraid to go, we’ll find a way to stay. We’ll think of something.”

Staying in the city would mean the two of them would be together for days, perhaps even weeks. Just the two of them. Maybe that was supposed to happen. Or maybe Enzo would realize he wasn’t going to be arrested for whatever he’d done, and he’d decide to go back to his old life. Or, worse, maybe he’d be caught and arrested.

Outguessing fate was difficult.

After a few minutes, they reached the parking garage. “I’ll ride shotgun,” he said and tossed her the key. “If you want, we can use the rest of the money your father gave us on a motel. I know of some cheap ones that don’t ask a lot of questions.” He slid into the passenger side.

The thought of spending the rest of the co-op’s hard-earned money on a motel made the decision for her. She couldn’t waste it due to fear of the roads.

She climbed behind the wheel of the truck. “We’ll head home. If things look bad, we can always turn around and come back, right?”

“Only if this truck can outrun the other vehicle.” Enzo took his gun from his pocket and laid it on his lap. “It’s got a chance. The slavers like to drive fast vehicles, but we’re carrying extra weight.”

“How well do you shoot?” she asked. “Because if you’ve never practiced, you should be the one driving, and I should ride shotgun.”

“You drive,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”

He was either optimistic about his aim, assumed waving a gun would be enough to keep them out of trouble, or data entry clerks had more interesting jobs than she’d previously supposed.

They left the city without a problem. An older woman sat in the security booth, checking the paperwork of the vehicles that left. Some of the booths had been closed. Was Enzo right and more of the military had been moved to fight at the border?

The road in front of the city stretched clear of trees and tall brush for a mile in all directions, a measure of precaution. But after that, trees, bushes, and the occasional abandoned building blocked the view and provided places for vehicles to hide. Enzo took a pair of binoculars from the glove box to search the area ahead. “The first five to ten miles will be the most dangerous,” he said. “Raiders will stay close to the city to catch cars before the roads branch off in too many places.”

Charity’s gaze darted back and forth across the road. When Milo had driven to the last market, slavers had boxed them in. At the first sign of a roadblock, she would turn and head in the opposite direction.

They drove five miles without incident. No sign of trouble. Maybe they would be fine. Maybe all their worry had been for nothing. Then she passed by a large dark shape partly hidden in some trees. It didn’t look natural. She caught sight of movement in her rearview mirror. Enzo turned in his seat. He’d seen it too.

A brown truck emerged from the trees and pulled out onto the road behind them. Raiders.

“Pick up your speed,” Enzo said.

As if she needed to be told. She hit the gas. They were close enough to the city that the road was still fairly smooth, but the things in the truck bed rattled and bounced. The raiders’ truck had huge tires, and some sort of engine add-on perched on the hood. “Is that a speed booster?” she asked.

“Yes.” Enzo gripped his gun and turned to face backward.

Through the rearview mirror, she could make out two men sitting in the front seat. “Are they slavers?” She didn’t expect an answer. He couldn’t possibly know. Her heart beat in overdrive, and her hands began to sweat.

“Our truck probably has bulletproof glass,” Enzo said, his tone soothing. “The slavers would’ve installed that. We should be okay.”

Probably wasn’t much reassurance. The raiders were gaining on them. The speed booster sounded like a chainsaw, grinding angrily.

A voice from a loudspeaker on the truck called, “Pull over and get out, or we’ll shoot.”

Enzo rolled down his window far enough to stick his gun out. He fired two rounds at the driver. Both only made small cracks in the brown truck’s windshield. “Blight,” Enzo cursed. “They’ve got bulletproof glass.”

A stream of swear words came over the raiders’ speaker, intermingled with threats of amputation and disembowelment. “No more warnings! Pull over!” The guy on the passenger side waved his short-barrel shotgun so they could see it.

What should they do? And why hadn’t her father warned her that she would be in danger during this trip? Her mind was blank from panic.

“Don’t slow down,” Enzo said. “Our truck is the most valuable thing we have. They don’t want to damage it.”

That wasn’t true. If they were slavers, she and Enzo were the most valuable thing. Although, in that case, they probably wouldn’t want to kill them. They would hurt them, though. They’d beat Enzo and… She couldn’t bear to think what they’d do to her. Her hands shook on the wheel, and she had to grip it tighter.

Enzo’s gaze swept from the road behind them to the road up ahead. “Do exactly what I say, and I’ll get us out of this. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“Open your window halfway.”

That would take away any protection offered by bulletproof glass. “Why?” she asked.

“You said you’d follow my instructions. I don’t have time to answer every question.”

Fine. She would trust that he had a plan and knew what to do. She pushed the window button. The roar of the wind filled the car and sucked tendrils of her hair outside. With one hand, she picked up her gun. He was going to tell her to shoot. Most likely at the speed booster. If she damaged it, they had a chance of getting away.

From behind them, the speaker blared, “I’m counting to five, then you’re both dead!”

Enzo turned to face her. “When I say now, pull over to the right and slow way down.”

They were coming to a wider part of the road with gravel and a gentle incline on the right side. Did he mean for her to turn around there? Could they make it back to the city?

He lifted his gun, pointing at the open window. “Also press yourself against the back of your seat as hard as you can.”

Wait, that meant gunfire. What did he?—

“Now!” he barked.

She jerked the truck to the right, hit the brakes, and flung herself backward—no easy feat, since momentum carried her forward. The brown truck sped past them on her side. A man nearly leaned out of the passenger side window, his shotgun pointed at them.

Enzo fired past Charity into the raiders’ open window. Two rounds. Deafening bangs. The man with the shotgun lurched sideways. A flash of red exploded near his head. Had the driver jolted to the left to avoid his companion or had he been shot too?

She couldn’t tell. It happened too fast. Whatever the case, he didn’t straighten up.

She kept braking until she stopped. The brown truck continued forward for a hundred yards before running off the road. It bounced down the side of a ditch and smacked into a small tree. The branches shuddered in protest, the trunk cracked, and the top of the tree fell to the ground.

She jabbed at the button to roll up her window. “Did you shoot them both?”

Enzo lifted the binoculars to his eyes. “Not sure.” He handed her the binoculars. “What do you think?”

She didn’t want to look through them, didn’t want to see any of it closer, but she wouldn’t let herself be frozen and useless. With trembling hands, she peered through them.

A smear of red covered half of the back window. The driver rested, limp and unnatural, against the door. There was no sign of the man on the passenger side. No movement came from inside the truck.

“I don’t know.” She gave the binoculars back to Enzo and picked up her gun. If one of the men was still alive, heading past the brown truck would be dangerous. The man might be waiting to exact revenge.

“Should we take the brown truck?” Enzo asked, far too calmly. “It’s probably still functional.”

That’s what he was considering right now? “Dead people are inside.”

“I’ll dump them out beforehand.”

He said the words as though they were obvious. And maybe they were. She couldn’t think clearly. She stared at Enzo and yet saw the explosion of red from the raider’s head repeat in her mind. The smell of gunpowder still clung thickly to the cab. She took deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself.

“If we’re driving in different trucks,” Enzo went on, “and we come across more trouble, you would need to be able to shoot while you’re driving. Can you do that?”

She had to say yes. She couldn’t be so freaked out that they passed up a truck. She nodded. Words weren’t coming to her.

His eyes narrowed, and his gaze went over her. “Maybe we better not risk it. You don’t look like you’re in a state of mind to drive, let alone shoot.”

“I can drive,” she insisted. After all, she drove home after the slave market, and that had been worse than this. Granted, she hadn’t been worried about more marauders on the road.

Enzo shook his head. “You’re hyperventilating. Your life is worth more than another truck. Let’s just go.”

“No.” She worked to control her breathing. “I won’t be the weak one. Go take the other truck. I’ll be fine.”

“I might believe that if you’d blinked sometime in the last minute.”

She blinked, just to show him she could. “See, I’m fine.”

He shifted in his seat and unlatched his seatbelt. “Ok. We’ll take the truck.” He pressed his lips together. “I’d feel better if you drove the one with the speed booster and the bulletproof glass, but it’s a mess and…” He cocked his head. “Are you shaking your head no or just trembling?”

“Both.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave the truck?”

“We have to take it. It’s worth more than anything else we’re bringing back.” A half-laugh, half-gulp escaped her throat. “Plunder from criminals. When you joined our co-op, you thought we were peaceful harvesters, but no, we’ve become Vikings. We keep going shopping and coming back with more vehicles. The next time we run out of laundry detergent, we’ll be rich.”

He sighed. “You’re in shock.”

“Then it’s a good thing I know how to drive when I’m in shock. I’ve had practice.” Another laugh. This one veered toward tears. And she couldn’t stop.

He leaned toward her. At first, she thought he was going to take the key fob from her, but he enfolded her in his arms and pulled her into a hug.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured into her hair. His arms felt so warm and secure. She wanted him to hold her tighter, so tight that her trembling stopped. “Raiders probably won’t attack two trucks on the road. We’ll be fine. I’ll drive the brown truck ahead of you, so if we do come across any more trouble, I’ll be able to handle it first.”

Charity shut her eyes and buried her face into his shoulder. “You think I’m a wimp, don’t you?”

“No. I think you still have your humanity intact. That’s a good thing.”

She didn’t feel like anything was intact right now. How could he be so calm?

He pulled away from her, his eyes on the road and not her. “We need to get going. Drive slowly up to the raiders’ truck. I’ll make sure they’re dead.”

She took a breath that did little to fortify her, gripped the steering wheel, and edged closer to the truck. The raiders’ engine ran in a soft thrum. Nothing moved inside the cab.

Enzo slid out of the truck, his gun raised. Keeping low, he crept to the passenger side of the raiders’ truck.

A fresh lurch of unease hit her. Any moment now, one of the men would spring up and shoot Enzo.

Still no movement from the cab.

Enzo inched his way toward the door and peeked inside. After a pause, he straightened and put his gun away.

Which meant there was no question as to whether the men might be alive. He opened the door and dragged one of the bodies out. She shut her eyes, didn’t need to see more images that would remain seared in her mind.

She kept them shut until she heard the thud of the second man being heaved onto the ground.

Her gaze went to the blood splattered on the back window. She would have to stare at it for almost two hours before they reached the farm. How was she going to keep her mind off that?

Enzo pulled off his shirt. She blinked. Yes, she’d really just seen him take off his shirt, revealing his tan muscled chest and back. She wasn’t having some sort of shock-induced hallucination. He climbed into the cab and wiped the back window with his shirt. Each stroke erased the reminder.

Her mouth dropped open. How had he known the blood bothered her, that she needed it gone? Tears came to her eyes again, this time in gratitude, in amazement.

When he’d finished, Enzo emptied the contents of a water bottle onto his shirt to rinse it out, then put it on the seat to dry and backed the truck out of the ditch. The front fender bent inward, dented, but besides that, the truck seemed undamaged. He twisted in his seat to check on her and pulled onto the road.

His backward glance reminded her there were other reasons for cleaning the windows. Most likely, he’d done it to see out of the glass, not because he was thinking of how the blood would bother her. She felt an unjustified disappointment at this realization.

She followed after him, picking up speed.

His voice came over the truck speaker. “Since I have this thing at my disposal, as soon as we get a safe distance from the city, I’m going to use it to tell you every joke I know. Most of them won’t be good, but they’ll give you something else to think about.”

She smiled. He was thinking of her after all.