I don’t really know. Another one of my shiny buttons gets handed over in barter.
Who knew those damn buttons would come in handy like this? But a good button is like gold in a place like this.
I’ve got four left, along with the watch on my wrist. I’m saving that to secure a room for the night.
If we stop, that is.
The watch is nonfunctioning for what I need. The timepiece works, but all the fancy gadgets Mitzy embedded inside are defunct. Not that I’m terribly worried. There’s a chip in me that will lead the Guardians right to me, with time.
And that’s the kicker.
It takes time for all that fancy tech to kick in. We’re in a race against who will find us first: Benefield or the Guardians. All I’m doing is keeping Eve and myself moving, making it harder for Benefield’s men to track us.
I’m supposed to take two of the white pills, one of the blue, and do it again in the morning. God, I hope we’re out of this place by then. I’m not going to feel good until Skye Summers, the Guardian’s doc, takes a look at the red and angry wounds. It would be nice to get that bullet out too.
Each step becomes more difficult, but I’ve endured far worse. Like I told Eve, pain is but a state of being. I’ll get through this like I’ve gotten through all the rest.
The good news is transport is on the way. The bus comes once a day as the sun goes down. I feared it would only come once a week. We aren’t exactly in a populated region. But we’re in luck.
After I sit down on the boulder, Eve gets to work on my arm. Using a brightly colored scarf, she somehow obtained while I was haggling over the pills, and a bottle of cloudy water, she gently cleans the wound.
My skin’s angry red around the bullet wound, but there’s no pus. The infection remains superficial at best.
But for how long?
I place my faith in the pharmacy skills of the villagers and swallow down the second white pill with a grimace.
“Come, sit beside me.” I hold out my hand and love the way Eve settles in beside me. The gentle smile on her face is nothing short of beautiful, and the way her sea-green eyes sparkle with affection is heart-stopping.
God, I hope there’s more than simple affection, or worse, gratitude, in those eyes.
I ache for her in the worst possible way. First chance we get, once I get her to a safe place, I’m laying claim to her.
Eve’s mine.
No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
We shift over to a shaded spot, where I allow myself to fitfully doze. One of the things I’ve learned over the years is how to catch sleep where I can. Eve sits beside me, alert and watchful, as I let my body get some much-needed rest.
Sometime later, the deep roar of an oncoming vehicle pulls me to instant alertness. On my feet before Eve can react, I’m already stretching out a hand for her to get up. We jog the short distance to the road.
One of the things about riding a chicken bus is they don’t always come to a full stop when taking on passengers. Sometimes, they don’t stop at all.
American ideals of safety go out the window. This kind of public transportation is not like anything else in the world. It’s dangerous, terrifying, and hair-raising, but surprisingly efficient.
A colorful pimped-out bus comes chugging down the lane. Bright yellows, reds, blues, and greens meld together in a garish display that’s hard on the eyes but somehow seems to work perfectly.
We’re remote enough that the bus doesn’t look packed to the gills. Nobody appears to be getting off, which means the driver isn’t slowing down. At least, not until I step out in front of it waving my arms over my head.
The bus slows, and I gesture for Eve to climb on board as the hydraulics hiss with the opening of the door. I run around to follow suit, and by the time I get to the door, the driver’s already moving out.
We’re lucky.
One bench seat in the middle of the bus is empty. Eve sits next to the window with wide eyes and white knuckles as the bus takes off.
These buses are built to last. There’s no car, truck, or other bus it can’t overtake with a roar of its engine, and the drivers push their vehicles to the limits on the rutted dirt roads, climbing steep mountains and navigating around hairpin curves.
There are no seatbelts. We bounce along, catching air with some of the bigger bumps. Each impact makes me cringe as the jarring jolt sends shooting pain through my injured leg.
Eve glances around, wide-eyed, a little bit terrified, but trusting enough of me to believe we haven’t placed our lives in the hands of a madman.
She points to the driver. “Is that a monkey?”
Our driver is a happy man with a potbelly, a cigar protruding from between his lips, and a wide sombrero with red tassels hanging from the brim. But that’s not what grabs Eve’s attention. It’s the tiny white-faced capuchin monkey sitting on the brim of the driver’s hat.
It wears a studded red collar with a leash integrated into the hat. The monkey chitters to the driver, peeking over the brim of the hat, until the driver takes a nut out of a cup in front of him and hands it to the monkey. Its tiny hands grasp the nut and it scampers onto the top of the hat where it stares out the front of the bus, happily munching on its treat. All black, except for chest, throat, and face, he’s cute, but obnoxious.
“Sure is.” I take Eve’s hand in mine and place it in my lap. “And that’s not all.”
“What do you mean?”
I point to the luggage rack across from us where a small wicker cage holds a red-feathered chicken.
“You don’t say.” Eve leans against me until the next bump in the road bounces her head off my shoulder.
Chicken buses are definitely unique. I’m not going to say anything to her about safety, accidents, or what the rest of this ride will turn into once people start cramming onboard. There is no such thing as a maximum capacity on these things.
I’ve ridden squashed in like a sardine and prefer it to an empty bus. Right now, every bump and jiggle is noticeable. When the bus is packed like sardines, all those bumps get absorbed as the bodies of others cushion you.
I lean forward and adjust the rifle on my back. I took Eve’s sidearm from her. It’s currently shoved in the front of my waistband, while mine is easy to reach at my back.
Two Americans traveling in these parts are certain to draw the attention of the locals. Add one who carries a rifle, and people take notice. Throw in a drop-dead gorgeous brunette, and the news will spread like wildfire.
This is good and bad. Good because it’ll make it easier for my team to find us. Bad because it leads Benefield directly to us as well. I’m counting on Knox getting to Alpha team, and back, before Benefield tracks us down.
If Benefield finds us first, that’s okay.
I’m ready for war.
I wipe at the beads of sweat on my brow and feel the heat radiating off my forehead. I’ve yet to look at the wound on my leg, but if it’s anything like the one on my arm, our stint in the jungle did me no favors.
“How’re you doing?” I take Eve’s hand in mine.
The seats are small, made for the asses of children headed to school, not two grown adults, and most definitely not for a man of my size. Fortunately, I bracket Eve between me and the window, minimizing the bone-jarring bumps for her as we rattle down the road.
“Terrified.” She pinches her eyes closed as another bump lifts us off the seat and slams us back down. “I haven’t decided if it’s better or worse with my eyes open or closed.”