Melissa la Cruz - Frozen

A hard thud shook the truck, followed by footsteps scrambling on the roof of their LTV. Through the windows Nat saw a trio of escapees headed for the cover of the nearest snowbank, all wearing the familiar gray pajamas. Then one of them fell, facedown, a bullet in his back.

“Don’t shoot!” Wes ordered his boys.

“Wasn’t us!” Zedric yelled.

“We’ve got to help them,” Nat whispered urgently, catching Wes’s eye. “Please.”

Wes snorted. “Help them? Unless you’ve got a pimp roll full of heat credits, you’re the only cargo I’m taking on.” He looked at her closely. “What do you care?”

Nat turned away, willing the tears in her eyes to stop; she had revealed too much. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. He didn’t know anything about her, and she swore to keep it that way from now on.

Do not despair. They will find their own way, the voice murmured, but Nat felt her stomach twist: Here she was, in the safety of the truck, while outside, her friends—her friends were dying. People like her, hunted and killed.

“Shakes—just plow through the fence—look, there’s a hole over there—we’ll just rip it through,” Wes ordered.

The truck barreled through the nearest fence, ripping through the metal with an ugly screech, but soon they were back on the road, and moving at a fast clip, taking them farther and farther away.

Nat didn’t look back.

THE BACK ROADS TURNED TO OUT TO BE more of a challenge than Wes had expected. The smooth snow-covered landscape concealed many obstacles. The ice hid tree stumps and posts, guard rails and ditches. There was no way to prepare; he only figured it out when the wheels hit them or when the hidden junk crashed against a side panel. He’d made the offer to take her back so that the boys could know he was looking out for them, but also because he wanted her to know the exact nature of the dangers they would be facing. The night had brought another blizzard and they were traveling in complete darkness again, with only the headlights of the LTV to guide their way.

He wondered about the girl next to him. It was obvious she knew about MacArthur, as well as the people living in the wastelands, which meant this wasn’t her first time at the rodeo. He guessed she’d probably tried to get out of the country before. She was a liar and a thief. Wes had pegged her correctly from the moment she had hired them and yet he couldn’t help but admire her anyway.

Nah, you just think she’s pretty, he chided himself. But, really, she’s nothing special. There are lots of pretty girls back in New Veg. Jules had been one, for sure, but his memory of Jules—of her thick, brown, almost russet-colored hair and smoke-gray eyes—had faded a little. All he could think about was Nat. The way they had smiled at each other earlier, the way she had placed her hand on his arm . . .

Which got him thinking—if she did like him or at least liked the looks of him—he might have an opening there; maybe he could use it to his advantage. That stone she wore around her neck was awfully pretty. It was all so messed up: He liked her, and he wanted her to like him, but only so he could use it against her later. Definitely messed up. But what choice did he have?

She had taken the chips without caring what happened to him. Could he do the same to her? He would have to at some point.

“Hey, come on, let me take a shift,” Nat offered. “You’re still healing from that shot.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, switching places with her. He massaged his shoulder. “Thanks, by the way,” he added, to be polite. He noted there was a distance between them again and was relieved at that.

Nat drove while Wes kept an eye out for drones in the sky or any sign of a seeker team. He was glad for the distraction; it kept him from thinking about her and he was already thinking about her too much. But as they drove, Wes found he wasn’t cut out for silence either. The Slaine boys weren’t talking to him, giving him the cold shoulder to make it clear they didn’t care for the mess back at MacArthur and his decision to travel off-road. Shakes was asleep, and Farouk was resting.

“Hard to believe this was all desert once,” he said, deciding a conversation would be harmless enough.

“Desert—what’s that?” Nat joked. “I grew up in Ashes.”

He grunted. The city was one of the coldest outposts in the country.

“Ever seen pictures of what it looked like Before? Rolling dunes, cacti?” she asked. “You know what it used to be called right?”

“Phoenix,” he replied. “But the Phoenix is gone, and all that’s left is Ashes.”

“Poetic,” she said.

“Told you, there’s more to me than meets the eye.” He smiled, flirting with her again, in spite of himself.

“Can’t be much,” she said slyly.

“Want to find out?” he said playfully.

“Maybe,” she said, and his stomach flipped.

“Ever seen photos from Before? It’s like another planet,” she said, changing the subject. “Can you imagine what it’s like to be that hot?”

“Nope, I surely can’t. Can’t imagine ever being warm outside,” he said. “Supposedly deserts still exist somewhere.” Seeing the look on her face, he quickly explained lest she think him a dolt. “Not here, obviously, but in the enclosures.”

“Desert enclosures?” Her tone sarcastic.

“Yeah. Messed up, right? Fusion hogs, most like. I heard they have beaches in them, too. Man-made ones, of course,” he said. “I’ve been to the beach once. When we were stationed in ’Tonio, there was a little bit of it left when we went over to Galveston. Couldn’t swim in the water, though. Not unless you want your kids to have three legs.”

“What was Texas like?” she asked.

“Freezing,” Wes said tersely, suddenly unwilling to say any more. He didn’t know why he’d mentioned it; he never wanted to talk about what happened in Texas. “Just like everywhere else.”

“You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?” Her voice was warm, and sitting next to her in the truck, it felt as if they were alone, as if it were just the two of them left on earth.

This was his chance, he saw, to tell her about himself, to earn her trust. Maybe he didn’t have to flirt with her. Maybe he could just trick her into being friends. Maybe then she would tell him why she was on her way to New Crete, tell him what Old Joe had handed her right before he disappeared. Tell him what he needed to know so he could figure out a way to take it from her.

“I’ve seen enough,” he said. “When my parents died, I joined the service. They sent me everywhere. You name it, I’ve patrolled it.”

“What were your parents like?” she asked as the truck crunched over the ice-covered road.

“They were all right, you know, for parents,” he said. He didn’t say any more.

“Do you miss them?” Nat asked. “I’m sorry, it’s a stupid question. Of course you miss them.”

“It’s okay. Yeah, I miss them, I try not to since it’s too hard, but there you go. I had a sister, too,” he said, almost as an afterthought.

“Younger? Older?”

After a while, he finally answered. “Younger.”

“What happened to her?”

He shrugged. Outside, the blizzard had stopped, and the air was clear again. Wes fiddled with the music player, switching through songs until he found one he liked. “I’m not sure. They took her away.” It was hard to talk about what happened to Eliza.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Nat gaze out at the endless mounds of garbage buried underneath another layer of snow. “Took her away?” she asked. “Who took her away?”

“Military family, higher-ups,” he sighed. “They said it was better for her. My parents didn’t have the license to have a second kid. So they came to collect.” The memory of that horrible day was still seared in his memory. He wasn’t ready to tell her the truth about Eliza. Not yet. He turned up the music a little and the cabin filled with the sound of jangling guitars and a thin, reedy voice singing over a harmonica.