Page 96 of Slow Burn

“There?” Velvet squinted at the rusty sign. “Highway Department. Why the hell not?”

The gates were open, and the lights were on in one of the huts, but it was locked. She banged on the door, kicked it in frustration when nobody answered.

“They’re all out icing the roads. Shit. Shit! Here, let’s work on this.” She wiggled the nail scissors back under Robby’s sleeve again and began to cut. It was slow work, and her fingers cramped with cold and pressure. Robby’s shivering got worse. “How you doing, kid? You with me?”

“Y-y-yes. F-f-f-eel better.” She didn’t look better, she looked frostbitten. Velvet cut through the last inch of Spandex on the sleeve and got Robby’s arm free.

It was covered with a raw-looking red rash. She transferred the scissors to the other sleeve and started sawing.

There were still a few cars moving—one was coming slowly down Industrial. Velvet watched the approaching lights nervously as she cut. She freed Robby’s left arm, grabbed the bodysuit in front and back, and rolled it down.

Robby’s skin was flushed red all over, like a terrible sunburn. She’d worn a pair of panties, no bra. Velvet wadded up the Spandex and tossed it in a trash barrel, stripped off her coat, and wrapped it around Robby’s shivering bare shoulders. Nothing she could do about the handcuffs yet.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay now. You’re okay.”

Robby sank down on the ground, still shivering.

“Thought I was dying,” she said. Velvet sat down next to her and huddled close for warmth.

“Yeah, I’d want to die if I had a rash like that.” She watched the car’s headlights slow and stop be-hind the Camaro. “I hope to hell that’s not the cops.”

It wasn’t. It was a Mercedes, sky blue.

Velvet grabbed Robby’s elbow and squeezed.

“Stay low and follow me.”

The highway guys had driven out every truck except one at the far end of the yard—it had a full load of sand, but one tire was flat. She slithered underneath and pulled Robby after her. She couldn’t see Julian anywhere.

“What’re you doing?” Robby hissed. Velvet tried the truck’s door. It opened. The dome light came on.

“Shit! Get in there!”

She boosted Robby into the cab and climbed in after her, slammed the door, and locked it. Robby twisted and tried to push the button down on her side with her head; the coat slid off her shoulders.

“Could you—”

Velvet readjusted the coat and reached across to press the lock. Outside, everything was quiet, nothing moving. No sign of Mr. Julian, except for the blue Mercedes parked on the road behind the Camaro.

“Now what?” Robby’s breath made a thick white cloud in the still cold air.

“I’m thinking!” Velvet slapped herself on the side of the head. “The gun! The gun’s in your pocket!”

“Gun …” Robby twisted as Velvet dug in the coat’s pockets. She came up with the automatic and smiled in triumph. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, fuck that. He tried to kill me.”

Something slammed into the back window, shattering it into a thousand glittering pieces; Velvet screamed and threw up her hands to cover her head; the gun fell to the floor. She hit some button on the dash, and the engine started up with a grinding roar. Cold air blasted out of the vents. Robby curled into a ball on the seat.

Mr. Julian reached through the ruin of the back window and unlocked the door on Velvet’s side. She lunged for the gun on the floorboards, but it skittered away under Robby’s feet.

The door jerked open. As Velvet got her fingers on the gun, an iron bar slammed into her arm. She screamed so loud she almost didn’t hear the bone break, but she felt it, all right, felt it even more when Julian grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her out of the truck. He hit her again, this time in the side. She fell flat and rolled, and the bar hit gravel instead of her head, where he’d aimed. She rolled under the truck and crawled desperately for the other end of the truck. Where the hell was he? Getting Robby? Beating her? Shit, shit—

She crawled out under the truck’s bed and rolled to her knees.

He came around the truck and swung the iron bar again. She overbalanced to avoid it and fell flat on her back. He grabbed her ankle and pulled, grinning. Winning.

“You fucker!” she screamed, and kicked at him. Useless. He stepped back, breathing in deep foggy gasps, and raised the bar over his head.

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