Page 30 of Flames and Blood

It holds against the first pull.

Not the second.

The door flies open.

Eyes like fire stare back at me.

Chapter 7

Kalli

The brakes come on hard and stay on. Not the long, easy slowing of every stop before this one. The floor bucks under me, the chains pull tight, my shoulder hits the wall, and we’re stopped in the middle of the turn, in a place where there’s no reason to stop.

The radio on the older escort’s shoulder crackles. One word comes out of it. I don’t catch the word. Both men are on their feet before I’ve pushed myself off the wall, and the younger one puts the compartment light out.

“What’s happening?”

“Down!” He’s got his hand on the door, and he’s not looking at me.

“Is it the road or is it people?”

He doesn’t answer that either.

“You could tell me. I’m chained to the floor. What am I going to do with it?”

The younger one has his hand on the light switch and his eyes on the older one, waiting.

“Stay down and keep quiet,” the older one says. Then he goes out. So does the younger one. The lock throws behind them.

Right. Fine.

I’m alone in a locked box. They just left me alone in the dark. Whatever’s out there matters more than I do.

Two heavy sounds on the gravel, close together.

Bodies dropping, I’m certain of it. Doors open. Muffled curses.

Another engine comes up close and cuts out. Then boots, and then shooting.

The first is off to the left. The second is closer. The third one hits the transport, a flat bang against the outside wall higher than my head, and I’m face-down with my arms over my skull before I’ve decided anything, cuffs tearing at both wrists.

Shit!

I sneak a glance up. The wall held.

I don’t know what this wall stops. The next round might go through.

Breathe. In, out, slow.

It’s the drill I built in that place, back when I was afraid all the time.

Then I get my back against the wheel-well and work the cuff. Wrist rolling into the give I’ve made, the same movement I’ve done ten thousand times without anyone seeing. Now I don’t bother to hide it. I twist and wrench. The cuff moves, and then stops. Not far enough.

Come on!

I try it the other way. Same. I try it with my thumb folded under my palm until the joint complains, but the steel doesn’t budge. I keep working it anyway, because the other option is sitting in the dark listening.

I hold my breath and try to pick up what’s going on outside. The shooting is moving away from me.