Page 14 of Factory Thief

He’s not wrong. I decide we have to get moving, but then I notice something which chills me to the bone. The clerk is staring at us. His eyes nervously flick to the television screen, and then he puts on a strained smile.

“Have a nice night,” he says as we head out the door.

“That asshole is going to call the cops the second we hit the road. Move.”

“They betrayed you.”

“Shut up.”

As we trundle off down the highway, I can’t help but wonder if he’s right. What if the Factory did set me up for a fall?

I shudder, and not from the cold.

JACK

The sun dawns without an ounce of cheeriness. It lurks behind a shroud of misty gray, a drab balloon hanging in the air. My eyes feel tired and sore, but otherwise I can’t say I’m tired. There’s been far too much excitement, and I’ve yet to come down.

Victoria spends most of the ride staring at the rearview mirror as if she expects to see police lights behind us at any moment. Even when an hour passes since our departure from the gas station, she still doesn’t relax.

“I don’t think they’re onto us yet.”

“This truck is hot. We’ve got to lose it.”

“Really, you can chill out—”

“There’s cameras all over those places. They probably got our license plate number.”

I sigh. “Are you listening to me? If you don’t relax, you’re going to snap like a rubber band pulled too taut.”

“Then I’ll snap, because I’m not letting my guard down for shit.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

Victoria narrows her gaze on me for a long moment. When her scrutiny grows to be too intense to bear, I speak up.

“What? What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.” Her lips twitch a sneer. “Okay, I want to know what makes you think you’re so Goddamn important you warrant a frame-up job.”

“Are you starting to believe me?”

“Fuck no. I just need to stay awake, and listening to your prattle should serve well enough.”

“You’re not exactly Miss Congeniality, are you?”

“No, I’m Miss Bitch Who Has A Gun Pointed At Your Fucking Head. Spill your guts, one way or another.”

A hard, hard woman. I have no doubt if she feels she has to, she’ll pull that trigger. Only the fact that her bosses at the Factory—allegedly—want me alive have kept me safe so far.

“All right. I used to work for the Xtera Pharmaceuticals Corporation as a data analyst.”

“What’s that?”

“A data analyst? Well, long story short, I read reports and crunch numbers so I can interpret raw data for whomever happens to employ me.”

“Sounds like a desk monkey job. If you were an executive or something, maybe I could believe you were worth a frame up. Not a wage slave, though.”

“Hey, I made a decent enough salary.”

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