Page 15 of Burn

“You’re right,” he continued almost conversationally in a low voice that said it probably didn’t carry. “You have no reason to trust us. It’s why I want you to see how we handle everyone else. If you decide even after that—well, we’ll take you to an airport. I’ll even buy you a ticket.”

“Why an airport?” I asked the question in English without giving a thought to the slip. The man seemed to understand that I understood him.

“Because airports have security checkpoints. Harder for someone to reacquire you there. We’ll have to get you some ID but we can do that.”

Oh. That made a lot of sense.

“You in?”

I blew out a breath, then glanced to where the woman wept openly on Alphabet’s shoulder and he offered her comfort without touching her. Just like the man talking to me. They weren’t invading anyone’s space.

Maybe they really did know.

“For now,” I conceded. Since he mentioned it, I didn’t want to be reacquired by anyone. I had to get home. I had to get home and see Am.

If she wasn’t there, then I had to be the one who went to find her. None of that could happen if I didn’t make it.

“All I’m asking,” the other man said. “I’m Lunchbox, by the way.”

What kind of names were these?

“I know, it’s weird. But it works for us.” He gestured to the chairs. “Want to take a seat? I can grab you some coffee if you want? We still need to talk to a few more so we can work out how we are going to move everyone out.”

“I’m fine,” I murmured and retreated to a chair away from all of them. Instead of following me or pushing me for more, Lunchbox left me alone as he went to speak to one of the other survivors.

Alphabet and Lunchbox.

Definitely weird.

Chapter

Six

ALPHABET

It took us a solid thirty hours to get the majority of these people to the various shelters, homes, and more. Human trafficking was the purview of dirtbags and scum. People were not property, nor should they ever be bought and sold like they were.

They’d been hauling men, women, and children around like cargo. It disgusted me. When Doc called and asked for a favor, the last thing I was going to do was tell our old companion “no.” Bones had been finishing up a job and we just had to wait for him and Lunchbox to return. Voodoo had put together a list of supplies and gone to pick up transpo.

It was pure dumb luck we’d been down the coast when Doc called us. Then again, it wasn’t the first time dumb luck saved our asses. Once we got there, we made quick work of sorting through the people who could go and the ones who needed more medical care.

For those that would need more time, Voodoo reached out to a couple of shelters a few towns over. They worked with the displaced. Not everyone on that truck had been illegal, but some had been. Those who needed legal assistance would get it.

Those who just wanted to go back to where they’d been taken from, well we’d get them there too. It was just a matter of resource management. Voodoo would take care of that. Bones was going over security with Doc. Some of the survivors were going to have to stay here. We’d rather leave one of us with Doc, but he said he had it.

Lunchbox took in all the details with me. He identified who would need new identification. It helped that he was good with people. The pixie in the corner hadn’t said a word since she’d retreated. If she told Lunchbox her name, he hadn’t deigned to share it yet.

No matter who I was speaking to, though, my attention return to her again and again. Something about her was off. I couldn’t put my finger on either what it was that was off or why it was off. I worried over it like a hangnail.

Eventually, we were ready to take a trip. Voodoo was also back with a tour bus. An honest to god tour bus. I stared at it and then at him. “Do we want to know where you stole this?”

“Acquired,” he informed me. “And no, it’s fully loaded, and comfortable. We’ve got a place in the back we can crash when we need if we take it in shifts. There are places for them to ride and spread out. It also has a bathroom. Say thank you, Voodoo, and get your ass onboard.”

“Thank you, Voodoo. Get your ass onboard.” I deadpanned the delivery and he just smirked at me. The sound of soft laughter came from behind us, but when I turned, I couldn’t see who had found the comment funny.

It aggravated me a little that I couldn’t identify where the humor came from. These people were so browbeaten and gray with exhaustion, that a little laughter would go a long way.

Switching to Spanish, I invited them to come aboard. “We’re going to be on the road for a few days. We will make stops for food, drink, and to stretch your legs. Some of you will be homesooner than the others. But if you trust us a little longer, we’ll get all of you there.”

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