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Yet the chances are strong you’re turning people into cannon fodder for no good reason.
Evil prevails far more than it should. The world is not fair.
And right now, neither am I.
When we reach the surface, the sun is starting to set, the chopper there, the pilot turning on the blade. We board, Paigelynn familiar with the complicated seatbelts, a testimony to the scattered skills she possesses. Someone’s brought a dog carrier, and I place Winnie in it, securing it.
Before we lift off, the pilot turns around, introduces himself, and hands us each a small candy.
It’s the same peanut butter chocolate protein bar Paigelynn told me about. The kind she stole from Guido, her bodyguard. Paul’s surveillance team listens to everything.
“Oh!” she looks at me. “You found them! The same kind I used to steal!” Peeling the wrapper off eagerly, she devours the small little bar, chewing with a bliss that makes me dead inside.
I don’t eat mine.
I know better.
Because within ten minutes, as we’re spirited across the desert, her head lolls slightly, then Paigelynn is asleep.
Passed out.
Knocked out.
Drugged.
The helicopter takes us on a fast track to hell.
Because hell is our best option right now.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Paigelynn
Dry.
So dry.
Wheeze.
Air.
Cold.
Bright.
Sand fills the edges of my eyelids. Dry ice pounds the back of my throat. Metal bangs against my canine teeth.
I itch all over.
My hands are in my lap. Feet feel like rubber. Nose smells fine perfume and cologne. Ears ring.
Music. Soft jazz. Clarinet.
“So creamy,” says a man’s voice.
I try to breathe in through my nose, but air makes me cough. When I cough, my teeth rattle against metal. I gag, eyes filling with tears.
“Shhh,” someone says behind me. “Don’t you dare throw up.”
