Melissa la Cruz - Frozen

Nat shuddered as Wes stared out at the snow-covered landscape. “Look, I wouldn’t think less of you if you wanted to turn back,” he said. “We snuck you out, we can sneak you back in. You can have your credits back, less a percentage for our trouble, of course.”

“I’m not turning back,” she said, annoyed. Was this his way of trying to scare her out of the trip? Get her to change her mind? Pop-cans didn’t scare her like her nightmares did.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked again, his voice gentle.

She realized then that he wasn’t trying to wriggle out of the job, he was simply being decent; she felt another rush of affection for this impulsive, good-looking boy.

Nat gripped his forearm and nodded. “I’m not scared. I’d rather take my chances with what’s out there than go back.”

“All right then.” Wes sighed. He put a hand on top of hers and held it tightly. “Nothing wrong with being scared, you know. I’ve seen a lot of things that have scared me on this side of the fence.”

She nodded. His hand was warm on hers, and it lingered there for a while before he took it away. She wasn’t sure which one of them was more embarrassed about that tender moment.

He cleared his throat and addressed his team. “I’ll drive. We take the back roads. It’ll be a five-day drive to the coast, but once we hit the Pacific we’ll pick up speed and we’re back by Christmas. Okay?” He waited for anyone to argue.

No one did, but then again, no one looked convinced either.

THEY DROVE STRAIGHT THROUGH THE night, moving deeper into the Pile, and as day came, the sky turned a lighter shade of gray. Underneath the snow and twisting through the garbage, Nat could see bursts of color—green vines, improbable tiny white flowers. She blinked and they were gone. She looked to the boys to see if anyone noticed, but half the team was asleep in the back and in front of her, Farouk was driving, while next to him Wes was studying his screen with a concerned look on his face.

He looked so serious that she felt a sudden impulse to reach over, sweep her fingers though his hair, and tell him everything was going to be okay. Feeling her gaze on him, he turned around and caught her eye. He smiled and she smiled back, and for a moment they were just an ordinary boy and girl in a car, neither runner and client, nor mercenary and thief, and Nat saw a glimpse of how normal things could be. The voice in her head was quiet, and for once in her life, she felt as if she were just like anyone else.

The truck hit a bump and the moment passed. Wes went back to what he was doing and Nat turned her attention out the window, unsure of what she was feeling. He’s handsome and brave, and any girl with a pulse would be attracted to him, she thought, but he’s nothing to me, a flirtation, maybe, someone to pass the time with, to make the trip more interesting. Remember what the commander said, she told herself. Remember what you are.

The trash was heaped on either side of the road, and it felt as if they were burrowing through a tunnel. The piles were skyscraper-high on either side, but it was a smoother ride, as if the road was newly plowed. “Wait a minute—if the snow’s plowed it means there are people are living out here,” Farouk said with a start.

“Of course there are,” Nat said impatiently. What kind of crew had she hired that he didn’t know that? Then she remembered that Farouk had mentioned he had never been past the fence before.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, ’Rouk,” Wes mocked from the passenger seat, grinning at her. No one was allowed in the wastelands. There was nothing out here but death and decay, or so they had been told. But they knew better. The government lied. They lied about everything.

The piles receded in size as they moved down the road, and they drove in tired silence for a few hours. “What’s that?” Farouk asked suddenly, pointing to a monumental cliff that loomed over the area. “I thought Hoover Dam was the other way.”

“And you thought right,” Wes said.

Nat felt the voice in her head rumble awake, aware of the danger; she had known there was a chance the journey would take her past this place, but was unprepared to see it again so soon. There was an edge to her voice. “That’s not Hoover Dam.”

“No, it sure isn’t,” Wes said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been out here before?” he asked lightly.

She frowned and didn’t answer, feeling goose bumps forming all over her body. Had she escaped only to be sent back here? She didn’t know who he was or what his intentions were. Most runners will sell you down the river as soon as you get out of New Vegas, toss their cargo, rob you of your credits. Maybe Wes was one of the good guys, but then again, maybe he wasn’t.

Farouk was right, it did look like the old photos she’d seen of the Hoover Dam, its massive concrete walls towering over the valley, holding back the immense pressure of the river beyond. As they moved closer to the sheer rock face, it became clear it wasn’t stone at all but concrete painted to look like stone, several feet thick, and it wasn’t a barrier, but a building, stretching to the sky, a row of windows at the very top, with one panel, Nat knew, that had recently been replaced. Tall fences topped by razor wire ringed the perimeter.

“Let’s get out of here,” Shakes said. “That place always gives me the creeps. It’s why I hate taking these back roads. Seekers can suck it.”

She exhaled slowly, relieved to find out it was just a coincidence. The truck gained speed when a trail of black smoke flashed across their windshield.

“What was that?” Farouk asked nervously.

“I’ll check it out,” Wes said, and popped through the moon roof, goggles on. “Something’s going down.”

There was another black flash, and puffs of smoke, a crackling sound that rippled across the snow banks, and from afar he saw three figures running. Wes fell back to his seat. “Breakout. Looks like a few convicts are trying to escape tonight.”

“Breakout? It’s a jail?” Farouk asked.

“No, loser, it’s a hospital,” Daran sniggered. “You never heard of MacArthur Med?”

“You mean one of the treatment centers? For the marked?”

“Bingo,” said Zedric with a cruel smile.

Wes stood back up through the open hatch and looked around. “Two patrols chasing, one on either side of us, running parallel. We’re pinned in here.”

Shakes called up to his friend, “Let’s just run between them.”

Wes nodded.

“What are you doing?” Nat asked, twisting her hands in her lap.

“Just pretending we’re one of them. At this distance, we look like another patrol. If they don’t get too close, we’ll be fine. Relax.”

Gunfire rang in the distance, along with the sounds of shouting and screaming. The Slaine boys took their places by the window, guns trained on the horizon.

Wes slid back down and tapped Shakes on the shoulder. “Drive slowly—let them inch away from us.”

The truck moved forward and the atmosphere inside was tense. Patrols still flanked them on both sides as they made their way past. Wes cursed suddenly and they all saw why.

In the distance, the fences along the perimeter narrowed on both sides toward a checkpoint; the path they were taking was leading them right to the guardhouse. “Double back, Shakes, double back,” Wes said.

“It’s a long way back,” said Nat. “Won’t it look suspicious?”

“It will, but we’ve got no choice.” He pointed the way to Shakes. “Take us back.”

Shakes turned the truck, which kicked up more snow, spinning its tires in a mush of icy, wet dirt. The sound of gunfire grew louder. They heard a scream and saw the sky turn black with smoke again—their only escape was taking them closer to the prisoners.