Page 89 of Martyr
She drew paths on a paper map for us. My eyes bugged out when she pulled that from a random drawer in the apartment. It sits on the seat beside me, held down by two boxes of ammo and another rifle.
There’s a circled spot on the map where I need to meet them, and I should have about fifteen minutes to set up before they arrive—if it goes smoothly.
While they cause chaos, I’m going to head straight there. Apparently, as the only one who doesn’t have a lot of bike experience, I got vetoed from the chaos squad. Instead, since Idohave experience with bombs… amongst other things… I got delegated this job.
I shake my head and climb out of the truck. I make a beeline for Artemis and gesture for her to take off her helmet. She does, her dark hair ruffled. She squints at me, confused, until I catch her face and slam my lips against hers.
This isn’t really agoodbyekiss, but it damn sure is astay safekiss. I lick at the seam of her mouth. Her lips part, and I take a taste of her that will have to last me until we get back.
Because we’re all going to get back in one piece.
She finally pushes me away with a smile and a shake of her head. She touches her lips, then puts her helmet back on.
I grin.
“See you on the other side,” I call to them.
I follow the main road in North Falls west. I drive slow, my headlights off, and coast to a stop whenever I see another car. I avoid detection past the house Kade rented, past the dunes that mark the northwest edge of the town. From there, the road curves south. The forest on my right is thick and dark. To my left is West Falls, but there are no visible houses from here.
Artemis explained this road is used mainly as an access road for delivery trucks to get easily from the harbor in South Falls up to the businesses along the boardwalk. There’s a turn-off for the reservoir on my right, and a driveway that leads up through the trees to an old, abandoned church. Or something. She was fuzzy on those details—not that it matters.
Saint seemed uncomfortable at the mention of that, too.
I pass those and check the map. I compare it to the map on my phone and nod to myself. My nerves are wreaking havoc, but I take a deep inhale and blow it out long and slow.
It’s going to be fine.
I park and kill the engine. The windows have been down, just in case, and the faint sound of another engine pricks at my ears.
I sit perfectly still, straining to hear.
It gets louder.
Half a mile down the road, a truck slows to a stop at the intersection of this road and theirs. Their headlights shine onto the trees across the road, everything about the vehicle meant to be loud and abrasive.
“Don’t turn this way,” I mumble. I fold up the map and shove it in my back pocket, then quickly strap on the rifle. I drop the ammunition into the small space behind the passenger seat and haul out an old blanket. With as small movement as possible, I cover the boxes on the floor of the cab.
The truck turns in my direction.
“Shit.” I slide across the bench seat and crack the passenger door. I hop out and close it as quietly as possible, crouch-running into the woods in the darkness. I have no idea if anyone saw me, but I keep going, scrambling uphill until I can only barely see the oncoming headlights.
The rumbling engine is the giveaway. I press myself to a tree and peer through the darkness.
The truck pauses alongside mine.
A door opens and slams, then another.
“What the fuck is this?” a man gripes. “Was this here the other day?”
“I wasn’t on patrol out here,” another answers. “It’s been a week since I’ve been this way.”
“Aw, you were doing so good at getting out of the doghouse.”
The second man scoffs.
“Admit it, you’re an asshole. You say things at inopportune times.”
“Was I supposed tonottell the boss that his fly was down?”
