Page 68 of I Will Mend You

I nod against his chest, not daring to speak, and suck in a noisy breath to ready myself for the impending run.

Grunt’s muscles tense, and his breathing quickens. With a low growl, he bursts from the undergrowth and sprints through the courtyard.

Sunlight drenches my vision. My hay fever is so bad that I couldn’t break free even if I wanted. Grunt’s heavy boots pound against the hard, uneven surface. My heart races in double-time to his footfalls. Xero runs at our side, his large hand on my shoulder.

Someone shouts, ordering him to stop, but he only quickens his pace. A gunshot rings out. Grunt flinches, his hold on me tightening as he stumbles.

My heart lurches. I squeeze my eyes shut and clutch his shirt tighter.

Grunt rounds a sharp corner, his footsteps skidding. Then, with a metallic screech, the bus door lurches open. He stumbles inside and drops me to the sun-warmed floor with a hard thud.

Before I can even get my bearings, the doors hiss closed, and he starts the engine.

Outside, the air fills with shouts and gunshots. Bullets hit the vehicle’s sides like hailstones. I lie on the aisle, not wanting to rise even an inch above seat level in case I get shot.

The diesel engine rumbles to life, and the bus lurches forward, making me skid across the floor and collide with a bolted seat.

“Hold tight,” Xero yells.

I reach out with trembling hands, wrapping my fingers around the seat’s steel posts.

The engine roars louder, and the bus picks up speed. My body thrums like a raw nerve, both from the bus’s vibrations and the adrenaline surging through my veins. I listen out for gunshots or the sound of chasing vehicles, but all I hear is the engine and the rush of wind.

I raise my head and stare out to the front. Through my blurry vision, I can make out Grunt sitting in the driver’s seat with the sleeve of one arm soaked in blood. Up ahead are the asylum’s open metal gates.

As soon as we pass them, I collapse on the floor, overwhelmed with relief. The bus roars down a seemingly endless road. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, so I settle for wheezing.

“Stay alert, little ghost,” Xero growls.

My attention snaps back to the present, and I hear the wailing of sirens growing louder and then fading into the distance. My heart sinks. Did we just drive past the police?

A fresh set of tears fills my eyes, washing away the pollen. I sniffle, forcing down a wave of despair. After all that shit I went through trying to escape, I’m still not safe.

Warm hands thread through my hair, making me crack open an eye. Xero lies beneath one of the seats, his outline a blur of platinum and white.

“A man like Delta would have bribed the police anyway. You might have a better chance of escaping Grunt.”

My gaze flicks to the large man driving the bus. I blink away the tears, my vision sharpening. Grunt is no Delta, but he also isn’t someone to take lightly. It’s hard to tell if he views me as a prisoner, a plaything, or a replacement for Dolly. None of these prospects sound appealing.

I sneeze once, twice, three times, clearing my sinuses, my determination hardening. Grunt is not a savior. Once the danger clears, he’ll realize I’m a witness to his involvement in snuff movies. He’ll make sure I never get a chance to report him to the police.

“Or use you as leverage against Dolly and Delta,” Xero adds.

Shuddering, I pull myself up onto my elbows.

“How’s the hay fever?” Xero asks.

“Still there, but at least I can breathe.” I release my grip on a metal post, resisting the urge to rub my eyes.

If I had the mental bandwidth right now, I would scream, but I need to keep it together. It’s only a matter of time before Delta assures the police he’s making an innocent documentary on abandoned asylums, and they drive back to their precinct, leaving us swarmed by attackers.

Grunt might not even have a plan for leaving the island. If I don’t want to end up the victim of another perilous situation, then I’d better work out a strategy to escape Grunt.

“What are you thinking?” Xero asks.

“At my second school, some girl escaped the bus on a trip.”

He gives me an approving nod. “A bus is a large target. It’s going to take the others much longer to spot a lone woman running through the wilderness.”

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