Page 56 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

“A little.” Her voice was barely a sigh, but he heard the exhaustion in it. Most people would have complained, but she didn’t—doing her part to help, to get them clear.

Finally, night fell. Peter climbed the stairs, cleared the debris away from the opening and took her hand.

“This way.” He led her toward the street, releasing her hand as they reached the pavement. She fell in behind him, automatically putting two paces between them, as any woman in this part of the world would. Two short paces. At the corner they stopped and checked for traffic. They were in luck. No trucks, tanks, or troops were within sight. The rumbling sound of engines weren’t far off, however.

As soon as they were across the street Peter turned his head to talk to her over his shoulder as they half walked half ran.

“It sounds like traffic has picked up. We won’t make it far before we get stopped by someone, so we’re going to have to steal something ASAP. Keep your eyes open.”

“Ok,” she whispered back, darting quick glances all around nervously.

Peter caught her agitated expression. He didn’t want to get caught either and he took a good look at the buildings on the street. All were dark and boarded up. They needed a neighborhood where people lived. Where there were people, there would be wheels. Getting out of this deserted, fire-ravaged section of the city and into a populated area was priority one.

“This way,” he told Georgia, leading her between two blackened, crumbling brick buildings. Just as they reached the deep shadows between the structures, a truck carrying several soldiers roared past behind them. Peter stopped and pressed his back to an uneven wall, putting a hand on Georgia’s shoulder, forcing her to do the same. “And we’ll have to stay off the streets from now on.”

“Ok,” she said, too quickly, her voice almost too soft to hear.

Peter looked sharply at her. “Are you all right?”

She just looked at him for a moment, then blinked. “You actually want an answer to that question?” Her tone was loaded with sarcasm.

He chuckled. “No, I guess not.”

She shook her head. “Men.”

He ignored her comment. The truck was gone.

“Let’s go. And follow close.”

Her disgruntled, “Yes, sir” convinced him more than anything that she was holding up, holding on.

They snuck through dusty, rock-strewn alleys and past empty houses—or what was left of them—for several blocks. Numerous times they had to stop, hunker down, and hide from the roving tanks and trucks that patrolled the area. Gunfire echoed around them, mostly from a distance, but occasionally close enough to put Peter’s teeth on edge. If it bothered him it sure as hell had to bother Georgia. But she didn’t complain or let it slow her down. She kept her focus on him and followed wherever he led.

Eventually, after a couple hours of constant moving, they reached an area where the streetlights still worked and there were lights in the windows.

Peter paused in the shadows of an apartment building. Two men were climbing out of a parked truck. He grinned. Finally, the kind of luck they’d needed last night. He waited as the men entered the building, talking animatedly.

“What were they saying?” Georgia whispered.

“They’re complaining about all the soldiers on the roads and how many times they got stopped.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He waited another couple seconds before moving. “Come on.”

Peter hurried toward the driver’s side of the truck, expecting it to be locked tight. It wasn’t. “Get in.”

Georgia slid across the ragged seat and Peter hopped in behind her.

“Do you know how to hotwire one of these?” Georgia asked glancing at the apartment building nervously.

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