Page 97 of Juniper Unraveling

“Gordy,” one of the women says from behind. “You ain’t killin’ this man in front of the boy.”

“Shush, woman!” he snaps, and turns his attention back to me. “Why would Legion listen to ‘im? He ain’t nothin’ but a scavenger.”

“He is. But they know he’s a friend of mine. He can intercept them. Tell them I’m dead, and you got away.” I exchange a nod with Zahra’s father. “You don’t have much time.”

A short pause follows, like they’re deliberating.

“I’m worth more than her, right? Adult female. Clean.”

“Gordy. We don’t need Legion on our asses,” one of the dark-haired men says to the ginger. He waves his hand toward the women. “Pack this shit up. We’re getting out of here.”

Two of the men approach, still holding their guns on us.

I twist toward Zahra’s father and lower my voice, “Take the truck. The guard at the wall is Denny. Tell him where I am. Hurry back.”

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. “Thank you.”

The cage flies open, at the same time a harsh grip pulls me forward. The man I hit with the rock snarls at me, and his eyes trail up and down my body. “You owe me for the rock, bitch. I’ll be taking that punishment out in trade, later.”

“Fuck you.” I hock a gob of spit in his face, and his snarl turns into a growl.

A cold slap smarts my cheek, tingling with pain. He yanks me around, securing my hands with rope.

I glance back to see Zahra and her father led out of the camp by one of the other men, before my head is pushed toward the ground and I’m shoved into the cage.

“We’ll get a pretty penny for this piece of ass.” The redhead pats rock boy on the back. “We’ll be eating like kings when the Skulls get their hands on her.”

“’The hell are the Skulls?” I grit, pressing my back into the wall of the cage, as the man I hit crouches in front of me.

“Sweetheart, you’re about to see a whole new side of hell.” His smile widens to reveal crooked, brown teeth, hanging on for dear life from his swollen gums.

I glance down to my satchel in his hands and back to him. “We’ll see.”

* * *

The man watches me from across the bed of the truck, my truck, gun set across his lap, as the dirt roads jostle us through the desert to a location where I’m certain the guards will never find me.

If they even bother to look for me.

The only thing that would conceivably prompt a search is if Legion soldiers, Albert in particular, had a chance to shed some blood. And since the marauders sent Zahra and her father off without the truck, it could be hours before anyone finds out I’ve gone.

With the sun setting off to the right of us, my hope for being rescued dwindles.

* * *

After an hour of traveling, the truck pulls off to the side of the road, where the abandoned remains of an old motel sit in all of its decayed glory at the foot of a mountainside.

In the same strip of buildings stands a gutted trading post, with broken windows, and a stone Native American plastered in black graffiti.

“What’s your coordinates?” comes a distorted voice, and Ginger holds a walkie-talkie to his mouth, standing alongside the truck.

“Old trading post off of fifteen.”

Not that it’ll serve me much, but it’s nice to know where the hell I am.

“You’ll be happy with this one,” he adds.

For the next hour, we sit on the side of the road, under a tarp one of the men set out to shield me from the sun.