Page 48 of Citadel

We wait in silence for quite a while. It feels ridiculously long for me, but it’s probably only fifteen minutes. Every few minutes, Breanna straightens up to peer out the window, but no one else comes into sight after the main gang has passed over the last hill we can see from this position.

“Okay,” she says at last, pushing up to her feet and brushing off her jeans. They’re in even worse shape than mine, shredded at the knees and worn nearly transparent at the back of one thigh. She pulls out her pistol from the belt holster she wears whenever she leaves town. “I’m going to check things out. I’ll be back shortly to get you.”

“Okay.” I gulp. I hate that she’s leaving, going out there on her own, even though I know perfectly well she’s always been good at taking care of herself. “How long will you be?”

“Five minutes. Ten at the most. I just want to check to make sure the highway is clear.”

I nod, biting my lower lip to keep from asking if I can please go with her. I don’t like being on my own out here, but I hate her being alone when there’s a possible threat even more. “Be safe.”

She flashes me her dimple before she ducks out the door. “I always am.”

* * *

I don’t have a watch, so I have no way of keeping accurate time. I can only guess as minutes pass by. After a short time, I get antsy and start to count out seconds.One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four…

I’ve made it to sixty Mississippi nine times when I really start to worry.

There’s no sign of Breanna. Not a glimpse or a flicker of sound.

It’s got to have been more than ten minutes. She told me ten at the most.

Something’s wrong. She’s not coming back when she’s supposed to. And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

I wait several more minutes, as near as I can estimate, and then I simply can’t sit still. I’ve got to do something.

I don’t have a gun. I was taught to use one, but I’ve always been bad at it. I can see fine for normal purposes, but my distance vision isn’t all that great. The glasses I used to have as a child have long since broken. They wouldn’t fit me anymore anyway. Because of my limited vision, I can’t accurately hit a target that’s too far away. I’ve tried. Practiced. Attempted to figure out methods of accommodating my sight so I can use a gun to defend myself. But it’s no use, and everyone who’s tried to help me has agreed it’s more dangerous for me to carry a gun than not.

The most likely scenario is that I’d hit someone I didn’t intend.

So I don’t have a weapon any more threatening than my knife. But I can’t just stay here and futilely hope Breanna will show up again.

So I take a step out the door, scanning in all directions before I continue in the same direction she left.

I head down the hill, skirting the town like we did before. When I reach the highway, it appears empty. I peer out from a group of trees until I’ve satisfied myself that it’s safe.

No Breanna. That can’t be good. But I don’t see anyone else either.

So I step out onto the road.

I’ve made it halfway across when I jerk to a sudden stop.

Someone has moved out of the shadows on the other side of the highway, and it’s definitely not Breanna.

It’s a man. Maybe in his thirties. With long, greasy hair and dirt smudged on his face and both arms. A ridiculously large rifle propped against his shoulder.

He’s grinning, and I know that look.

Fucking hell, I know that look.

My throat tightens. I grow ice cold. Despite the tidal wave of fear, I have enough sense to turn quickly on my heel and start running away.

If he shoots me, he shoots me. I’m not going to stand there and wait for it. And I’m definitely not going to let him do whatever that creepy smile was threatening.

I’ve made it only four strides when another man appears in front of me. He’s bigger and darker than the first man but looks equally dangerous.

Darting instinctively away from him too, I barely take a full step before he’s grabbed me. His grip is fierce. It bruises. I struggle anyway, kicking and flailing against him and not making a single sound.

Maybe I should scream. In a miracle world, someone decent would be nearby and hear me.

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