Page 40 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

And perhaps, finally, a path of our own choosing.

Chapter Thirty-One

Maya

The maintenance truck’s engine whines as I push it past ninety. We’ve lost our pursuers in the maze of industrial park roads, but I can’t shake the feeling we’re still being hunted. These people are too single-minded to give up. Finding someone who might hold the secret to immortality can incentivize people to risk life and limb.

Damian sits perfectly still beside me, only his eyes moving as he tracks the night landscape rushing past. The desert stretches, endless and dark beyond our headlights, broken only by the occasional glint of reflective markers.

“We need to ditch this truck soon,” I say, scanning for patrol cars. “They’ll have the plate number by now.”

“How far to safety?”

“Missouri’s about twenty hours away.” The distance feels impossible. “But first, we need new transportation and supplies. And…”

“And?”

“And you need to learn to drive.”

His slight frown would be comical if our situation weren’t so desperate. “Like a chariot?”

“Sort of. But with more horsepower than you’re used to.”

“Horse power,” he repeats dreamily.

A flash of headlights in my rearview mirror sends my heart racing, but it’s just a semi moving on the parallel frontage road. Still, we can’t be too careful. I take the next exit, heading deeper into the desert on smaller roads.

“There.” I spot what I’m looking for—an all-night truck stop, far enough from Vegas that it might be safe for a brief stop. “We need water, food, and I want to check something.”

The lot is half-full of semis, their drivers catching government-mandated rest. Perfect cover. I park between two big rigs and check my burner phone—the new one I grabbed from my gym locker before the fights.

“Back in ten minutes,” I tell Damian. “Stay alert.”

Inside, I grab essentials while keeping one eye on the lot through grimy windows. Water, protein bars, and basic first aid supplies. When I pay, the cashier barely looks up from his phone.

Back in the truck, I recheck the burner phone. One new message from an encrypted number. I read out loud. “Thrax’s partner, Skye, is a tech genius. She’s on the dark web, and those fuckers have put a bounty on you. Keep a low profile.”

“It’s from Laura?”

“Yeah. At least we know they’re okay and still trying to help.” I delete the message and power down the phone. “But we’re on our own for now.”

I assess my energy level and know I’ll never be able to keep up this pace without some rest.

“Time for your one and only driving lesson.” I start the engine but head away from the highway.

I pull over when I figure we’re deep enough into the desert that no other lights are visible. The truck’s high beams illuminate nothing but scrub brush and sand. Perfect.

“Your turn.” I pull to the gravel and kill the engine.

Damian’s expression stays carefully neutral, but I catch a flicker of uncertainty. “You wish me to control this machine? It goes fast.”

“If we’re going to make it across the country, we both need to be able to drive.” I open my door. “Come on. Driver’s side.”

We switch places. In the dome light, his massive frame looks almost comical behind the wheel. But his hands settle on the steering wheel with familiar precision—a warrior adapting to new weapons.

“The pedals control speed and stopping,” I explain. “Right for power, left for brakes. Like controlling a horse’s gait with pressure.”

He absorbs every detail with intense focus as I walk him through the basics. Accelerator, brake, steering wheel, gearshift. His quick mind makes connections to things he understands—the responsiveness of a well-trained horse, the balance needed for chariot racing.

---