A Girl Called Fearless (28 page)

“See anyone following us?” Magda asked.

It was hard to tell through the tinted windows, but none of the drivers or passengers around us looked like they were checking us out. “I don't think so.”

“Good. You know how to drive?” Magda asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Well, you've got six hundred miles in which to learn.”

“Where are we going?”

“Idaho. I know a place we can hide.” Magda pulled a pair of men's sunglasses from under the seat and tossed them at me. “Put these on and pull your hat down. We don't want anyone looking at us twice.”

Her voice had changed. The polished, elegant tone and diction she had upstairs was gone. She was an entirely different person. The strange thing was, I couldn't tell which Magda was the real one.

64

The two-lane highway ran straight, and we were the only ones on it when Magda told me it was my turn to drive. We didn't stop. The truck was charging along at seventy. Magda clutched the steering wheel and lifted up so I could slide into her spot. I shoved my foot on the accelerator, and she dropped into the passenger seat.

Seven thousand pounds of steel and power in my hands and I was
driving
. I checked the mirrors like I'd seen Roik do. Adjusted the seat. Felt the tires vibrate through the wheel.

I couldn't see Magda's eyes behind her big aviator shades, but she sat facing me, her arm over the seat, scanning the road in front and back of us.

I was glad I had to watch the gas gauge and the speedometer and the mirrors, because every time my thoughts drifted, they skidded into imagining the Retrievers hauling me out of the truck cab. They'd be careful with me, because they had to return me in perfect condition, but it probably didn't matter how much they roughed up Magda.

Why are you running with me?
I wanted to ask. Magda could have just turned me over to the Retrievers. She barely knew me. I wasn't one of her girls.

About an hour outside of Vegas, I finally remembered Sparrow's message for Magda. I needed to give it to her now, not when we were in the middle of a face-off with the Retrievers.

I pulled up the message
FOR MAGDA'S EARS ONLY
, and shoved the phone at her. “Here, it's for you from Sparrow.”

Magda glanced at the display and then turned her back to me. She put in earphones, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her fingers play and stop and replay the recording.

Play. Stop. Replay. Play. Stop. Replay.

Finally, she pulled out the earphones and handed the phone back. Her mouth was a thin line. “Did you listen to it?”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered and I realized she didn't believe me. “Put that phone where you can't lose it,” she said, unzipping her duffel bag. Then she loaded both her guns and put them in the glove compartment.

I stuffed the phone into my jeans.

Magda didn't intend to hand me over. Clearly, I'd seen too much, men in high places selling the country's soul, and Magda and the Cast listening and recording it all. She didn't trust me out in public, even though Hawkins would make sure I wasn't out in public at all.

Night fell and we kept going.

We tuned through the radio, picking up satellite signals of sex jockeys and evangelists. We went back and forth between music stations until we gave up on finding anything decent, and let the basketball games run one after another.

I'd never seen anyplace so black or so empty as Nevada. Pinpricks of light in the mirror grew larger and larger until headlights thundered up alongside and then charged past.

Magda put her hand on the glove compartment each time one went by. If a driver came alongside and didn't pass, I was to brake hard and duck. Every time one sailed by and didn't look back, we'd both let out our breath. We'd lucked out that time.

Our luck changed after we crossed the Idaho border.

“That's weird,” I said.

“What's weird?” Magda leaned over to look at the dash in front of me.

I pointed up at the mirror. “Somebody was behind us for miles and then they just disappeared. They didn't turn or pull off. They're just gone.”

Magda rolled down her window. “Slow down a little and listen.”

We weren't alone. There was another truck out there, its engine churning in the dark, but the headlights were off.

“It's pitch-black. How can they see where they're going?” I said.

“Night-vision goggles. Speed up, but do it gradually.” Magda pulled out her phone. She didn't even say hello to the person who answered, just, “They found us. Just south of Twin Falls.”

Magda set both guns on the seat between us. Dashboard light slicked the barrels. I had a crazy sick thought that maybe Magda got them out for us. Kill the witnesses. Save the movement.

“Why don't you just drop me off?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“The Retrievers don't want you. They want me. You can leave me in the middle of the road. Drive away. Avoid the whole dying-in-a-rain-of-bullets thing. I can keep quiet about Jouvert.”

She rested her hand on one of the guns. “It's not that simple.”

“Yeah, I get that I saw things I shouldn't, but I know how to keep secrets. And Jes Hawkins will have me locked up in Malibu. I won't be a threat.”

She didn't answer me. Her eyes were riveted on the road behind us.

And right then all the weird pieces fell together. “Those aren't Retrievers, are they?” I said.

Magda didn't waste time looking guilty. “No, they're not.”

“So who are they?”

“Federal agents, I'm guessing.”

I tried to breathe against the crazed spinning in my chest. I'd stumbled onto crimes some powerful people did not want exposed.

“You lied to me,” I said. “You knew the whole time who was chasing us.”

“So what if I lied? Would you have acted differently?”

“No-o, but that's not the point. I've been lied to half my life.”
Truth matters
. “They're going to kill us, aren't they?” I said.

Magda stuck her hand under the seat and pulled out a bunch of keys. “I'm not sure. Assume their job is damage control.”

Damage control? “You mean yes! Why don't you just say it? Yes, they want to kill us!”

She twisted a key off the ring. “All right, they might kill us, but not until they know what evidence we've got and where it's hidden.”

“Like the wall hangings.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I know stitch-code.”

“Right, of course you do.” Magda tore off her jacket. “Listen. I'm going out that back window, so hold the wheel steady and when I yell ‘Now,' you hit the gas. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She crawled over the seat and slid open the back window. I held my breath as she slithered into the truck bed.

The other truck was still out there, and it sounded like it was getting closer. Magda crouched in the back. The truck's running lights caught on the lid of a big, steel box she'd opened. She tossed things out of the box, the lid slammed, and I heard the scrape of metal.

Magda sank down until she'd disappeared, and the metal box inched toward the tailgate until it was right up against it.

The other truck thundered behind us, then light suddenly blasted into the rearview mirror, half blinding me. I glimpsed Magda's hand on the tailgate, and she yelled, “Now!”

I slammed the accelerator and the truck took off. The tailgate burst open and the steel box soared into the air.

Brakes shrieked behind us. The box crashed on the pavement, bounced, and flew, lid open like a giant steel moth throwing itself at the coming headlights.

The other truck swerved, but too late. Tires squealed and metal screamed.

“Keep going!” Magda yelled.

I pushed the accelerator to the floor. Magda crawled back through the window and over the seat. She pulled on her jacket, her whole body shaking. “You did great back there, but let's change places,” she said. “I'll drive the next section.”

“Do you think they're gone?” I said when Magda had the wheel again.

“No, we slowed them down, but we didn't stop them.”

“What do we do now?”

“We keep going.” She stared out into the dark. “I know there's someone you care about. Here's my phone,” she said, pushing it at me. “Call him.”

“But you said—” I didn't finish.

My eyes filled with tears as I tapped in Yates' code. Good-bye. I could feel my heart tearing from my body. How could I say it?

The phone rang three times, and then a slight click and silence. I swallowed, afraid of who might be on the other end. “Yates?”

“Avie! Are you okay?”

Scenes flashed through my mind. Yates waiting for me by Mom's grave, showing up at my house with his friend's dog, laughing with me at Riding Buddies, disappearing after Becca's death. He'd always been a part of my life.

“I'm in trouble.”

“You sound like you're hurt.”

I'm not hurt, I'm going to die
. “We're on a highway in—” I stopped myself, guessing his phone could be tapped. “Some guys are chasing us.”

“Jeez, no!”

“We're trying to outrun them, but—”

“Hawkins can't keep us apart. I love you, and I'll find a way to get to you, even if he hires a hundred guards.”

I licked away a tear at the edge of my mouth. “It's not Hawkins. These aren't Retrievers.”

“Then who the hell is it?”

“We're not sure, but I got caught up in something huge. Father G was right—what's happening, it goes way beyond the Paternalists. The Vice President's involved.”

“The VP! You think those are government agents chasing you?”

I nodded, the yes stuck in my throat and Magda squeezed my arm. “Say good-bye. Now.”

“I love you.” My voice shattered. “I'm sorry. Good-bye.”

“Avie!”

I broke the connection. If I was going to die, I didn't want Yates to die, too.

Magda's eyes darted from the road to the rearview mirror and back. “Pull the card on my phone and bend it in half. There are pliers in the glove compartment.”

I did as she said.

“Now toss it.”

I cracked the window and the little plastic and silicon card was swept out of my fingers. Phone numbers, addresses, and who knows what else Magda didn't want those agents to discover.

“We'll get rid of yours, too,” Magda muttered. “But not yet.”

Hearing that, I realized she hadn't given up completely. There was a slim chance we might survive.

65

Magda and I turned away from each other. Stared out into the dark. I felt as empty and cold as the night we were driving through except for the sputtering flame of knowing I didn't want to die like this.

We drove with the windows open, even though it was freezing outside. We didn't talk. Didn't play the radio. We listened hard for the sound of an engine.

Magda's guns lay on the seat between us. I set my hand down on one without looking at it. Flashed back to icy steel on my cheek. My heart pounded, but I didn't take my hand away. I saw myself shove the gun into the guy's ribs. Bam.

“Teach me how to shoot,” I said.

“Not now.”

“I want to live.”

“This isn't the movies. If I try to teach you now, you'll only end up getting hurt.”

“As opposed to being totally defenseless and getting killed?”

Magda didn't answer. She pointed at two sets of lights up ahead, one right on the other's tail. The one in back hugged the first so closely I didn't see why it wasn't pulling out to pass.

“Why are you smiling?” I asked.

“Because I love welcome parties.” She crammed a gun into her belt. “Get your stuff together.”

I had no clue what was going to happen next, but I did what she said.

The two trucks slowed down up ahead. Magda blinked her lights and yelled, “Brace yourself!” She wrenched the wheel, and slammed on the brakes.

“What are you doing!” I screamed.

We skidded past the trucks and sailed off the road. Dirt exploded over the hood. The truck hurtled through the brush, rocks pelting the windshield.

We banged to a stop.

“Get out!” Magda grabbed her bag and threw open the door. I jumped out into the cloud of yellow dust.

Flashlight beams swept through the haze. Magda was running for them and I ran after her.

Up on the road, one of the trucks idled while the other was turning around.

The men behind the flashlights were scrambling down the embankment. “Maggie, you okay?” one of them called out.

Magda raced up and threw her arms around him. “Still in one piece. Let's get out of here.”

He helped us up to the road while the other man got on his phone. “Sheriff, we ran into an abandoned vehicle down on Highway—”

We crawled into the truck bed and slid under a tarp lashed to the sides. I lay down on the hard plastic liner, the tarp stretched over us like a coffin lid and the truck took off, heading back the way it came.

They called her Maggie.
That's got to be her real name.

Her friends in the other truck were covering our tracks. Pretending to be concerned citizens, waiting for the local sheriff. But how far ahead of the bad guys were we?

The pickup roared up the highway. The truck bed stank of manure and cement dust and the raised diamond pattern on the liner bit through my jacket and jeans. I could feel Maggie's gun lying beside my thigh. Ready.

Wind banged the tarp over us like a drummer. “How long before we get there?” I yelled.

“Couple hours. Maybe more,” she yelled back.

“It's freezing back here.”

“It's only going to get colder.”

She wrestled with a metal box, then slapped something small and folded against my chest. “Wrap this survival blanket around you—and cover your head.”