Page 59 of Finding Fate

"Wh-what's going on? What did you do?" I stammer, scooting farther away instead of obeying his direct command.

"My army now," he says with an evil smile. The hand on the wheel tightens and rotates, the hard plastic squeaking.

"But... why?" I stare at the gun still in his hand, resting on the pleather seat.

"They want him. You next. After. They never find you."

There’s no need to guess or ask what he means by “after.” This is my only chance to survive. It's either get raped and murdered or go down fighting.

Gathering the courage stored in thousands of books, I steel my spine and decide that today he will not decide my fate. I'm not going to die.

He is.

He’s too busy paying attention to the road to notice me quietly formalizing my attack plan. If I nail his arm with my foot, it could cause us to veer off the road, hopefully into a river or off a bridge, or straight into the portal of Hell for all I care. It's the only option with my lack of real badass skills.

All right. Three.

Shit.

Two.

Shit. Shit.

One.

I force my foot across the cab as hard as I can, slamming into his forearm just as the truck hits a pothole or root of some kind. With a curse, he grabs at the wheel with both hands to regain control, the large gun rattling to the floor beside my knee. Realizing his mistake, he cuts his eyes to mine and then the gun just as I'm leaning forward, reaching for the deadly piece of metal.

I wrap my fingers around the grip like the instructor told me weeks ago and aim at his chest. Before pulling the trigger, I slam my eyes shut.

But instead of a deafening bang, nothing happens.

Again, I pull the trigger. Again. And again.

Above me, the man laughs and reaches for the gun.

Damn fucking piece of shit. Fine. If it won’t work, then I’ll go to plan B.

Rearing back, I launch the pistol at his head, striking his temple. With a roar, he lets go of the wheel and lunges at me. My scream cuts off when I'm rocketed forward and the world rotates. And rotates.

I have no idea how many times we roll before rocking to a stop. Metal creaks and groans while the hiss of steam or something crackling somehow sounds through the pounding and ringing in my ears. Blood drips from my forehead, down the bridge of my nose to my hands.

Warmth spreads along my now bare foot, biting at my toes. I push up against the crunched metal as the heat builds and licks at my skin. I can't stop my soft whimper from pushing past my lips. First I thought I would be raped and killed, and now my fate is to be burned alive somewhere in the middle of Africa.

What in the hell did I ever do to deserve all this?

The generals’ body leans half out the shattered window, blocking my only escape option. Every inch sparks blistering pain, but I keep moving. I gag at the sound of ripping cloth and skin as I push the body out the window to make room for me to wiggle through. Peering over the door, I don’t find ground. Well hell. Of course the truck landed along the edge of a shallow gully. The drop won't kill me, but going down feet first is the only option.

The edge of the door presses into my ribs; I cry out in frustration and pain but continue to haul myself over. My fingers grip the edge, the rest of my body dangling outside the truck. I glance down one more time, summoning courage.

Before I can release my grip, a bloodied hand shoots out the window and wraps around my hair.

I shriek in pain and shock. The bloody face of the general’s second emerges, hatred and anger overtaking his features. In slow motion, I see his free hand reaching for the length of my neck.

No. I didn't get this far not to live.

Despite the immense pain this will cause, I shove against the truck with my feet and fling my head back. Down, down, down I fall, but I land on something soft enough to only have the wind knocked out of me instead of breaking my neck. I don't turn around to see what it is—I already know.

The short relief of surviving the fall fades at the sound of creaking metal. Snapping my attention back up to the truck, I find the general’s second slowly climbing out the same way I did.

Run. I need to run.

Shoving off the body beneath me, I turn and bolt into the depths of the jungle.

Not caring which direction I go, or who I'm running toward, I just run.

And run.

And run.

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