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Bam. Bam.I duck down, even though the gunfire hadn’t been directed at me. It’d been directed at the rusty truck sitting twenty feet to my right. No doubt Justice is in that truck.
What was it Salma had said about destiny? I couldn’t have gotten closer to where Justice hides if I’d been airlifted in. She’s not firing back. Either to conserve ammo or because she’s out of it. Either way, we have limited time before the bad guys close in or the authorities show up.
Belly-crawling, I dig my elbows into gritty soil until I’m beside the truck.
The crunch of tires on sand and the flash of headlights has me dropping flat. Another truck rolls into the street. Reinforcements or the authorities? Or some gang here to clear their territory?
A man with a spotlight hangs from the passenger window, sweeping the area.
The authorities.
The light hits the men crouched on the other side of the street. The guard calls for them to show themselves. The men reply with something I don’t catch.
Gun still in hand, one of the camp police gets out of the truck and waves to the men—a little too friendly for my liking.
I begin to inch forward, then stop as the truck door opens and Justice drops out of the cab, nearly on top of me. She points her weapon. I raise my hands. “It’s me. Sandesh.”
She lowers her gun.
Wordlessly, I get up and lead her around the corner, then point out our ride. We jump in on either side of Salma’s waiting vehicle.
Heart pounding, I rotate in my seat and back up at full speed, lights still out.
A spotlight hits us. I don’t look. Don’t need to. I know the authorities are following us.
“Don’t stop,” Justice says.
No kidding. The boundaries between who works for the government and who works for themselves are murky at best.
At the crossroad, I spin the wheel hard, sending up dust, before throwing the truck into drive. We lurch forward.
Bam!The back window erupts into shards. Tear gas hisses into the cab. “Throw—
My sentence isn’t even out of my mouth, before she reaches down and tosses the tear gas out the window. She’s fast, but not fast enough to prevent the reaction. Even with the windows open, we both start to hack. Wiping at my dripping nose, I swing down a side street. It’s impossible to hide here. The whole thing is a grid.
Turning in her seat, she raises her gun.
“Careful. Civilians,” I say, the warning in my voice obvious.
“I got this.” She fires through the broken back window. Once. Twice. There’s a shattering sound, and the spotlight winks out.
Nice shot. I take another turn. This is a shitty place to try to escape. Penned in like a damn prisoner on all sides, where people could pop out anywhere.
Sinuses burning, I tear down the road, straining to make out any movement from behind or ahead. Everything has gone remarkably quiet.
“Fucking contacts.” Eyes tearing, Justice bends over and pulls out her contact lenses, then spits into her hands and tries to clear her eyes. “We can’t go out the main gate.”
“Agreed.” A little respect or aThank youwould be nice. “Where’d you get inside?”
“Not far from here. I can show you. One sec.” She slides to her open window and checks the area. “Slow down.” She coughs into her hands. “They’re not following.”
I pull over. A glance behind us tells me she’s right. Confused, I look to her. Her face is half-lit from a streetlamp and half in shadow. “Why aren’t they chasing us?”
“Probably because we aren’t making it easy. That shot… Things are getting messy. People will talk. Ask questions. And, like you said, people here could be hurt. Better to wait, then try to ambush us.”
“Ambush how?”
She holds up her wrist. “I’m pretty sure they’re tracking me. There’s a device under my skin.”
