Nolan cried silent tears as he barreled out of the parking lot and blew through the gate. He cried quietly as he tore through town, his foot pressed on the accelerator. He was still crying several hours later when he ran through the first tank of gas and pulled over on the side of the road to refuel from the cans in the back.
It was dusk. He'd been driving for four, maybe five hours. His neck was stiff and his arms buzzed with fatigue. He lifted his head and surveyed the terrain. A desert landscape covered the world for as far as he could see—cactus and rocks and harsh sand. The buttes burned russet red as the sun sunk low. Despite the desert's unforgiving beauty, Nolan felt like lying beside the road and waiting to die. He'd lost everything—his dah, his friend, his home. Beside him lay a girl that looked close to death. And the Breeders were hunting him, so where in the hell was he supposed to go? He looked up in the sky, tears streaming down his face.
“God, why? I’ve always done what you bid me. You say you won't give us more than we can bear, but this is pretty much more than I can.” He buried his face in his hands. “What good is all this? We're just going to die in the goddamn truck.”
He punched the dash. Then he hit it again and again. His knuckles split against the hard plastic, but he didn't care. What good was saving the girl? He should've just lain beside his dead father and let the dogs come for him.
The glove compartment jangled with the next hit. The little door dropped open like a jaw, spilling papers onto the floor. Inside was an envelope with his name on it.
He reached for the letter with quaking fingers. Seeing Samuel's chicken-scratch brought warmth into his chest for the first time in hours. He began reading.
My boy,
I'm sorry I couldn’t tag along on this exciting journey! One of us will have to stay behind to deal with the trouble we dug up and I’ve already elected myself. No tears for me, son. The devil’s spine had already cored out the best of Samuel Hormsly. So I’m setting you up, along with the girl, to get the freedom I never had. I'll be ginning big on you from somewhere. Don't you worry about that.
I'll stock the truck with enough food and water to get you clear of the Breeders' long reach. Use the syringe to wake the girl. Then drive south, lad. There's a rumor of a free civilization in White Sands. You'll know it when you see it. All I ask is one thing. When you think of me, think of the brave man who set this plan in motion, not the old fool sucking on spine. I'd happily give what little is left of my life just to have you think of me that way.
I love you, Nolan. Take care of the girl and let her take care of you.
Samuel
A fresh wave of pain surfaced in his chest as he pressed the letter to his nose and inhaled. Faintly, he could smell Samuel lingering there. The old man had planned this whole thing. Had planned to give up his life. An image of Samuel charging at the guards floated up in his mind. Brave. Redeemed. He'd do as Samuel asked and remember him as a hero. When the girl awoke, he'd tell her of her savior. Samuel, the man with the plan.
That is, if the girl awoke. She lay beside him on the bench seat in the fetal position. Her hair hung over the right half of her face like a golden waterfall. Nolan reached over and slid the hair aside. Her beauty made his heart flutter. Where was this syringe Samuel was talking about?
He found it in the glove compartment—a syringe filled with blue-tinged liquid. Nolan lifted it and stared at the contents. Where should he put it? What if he did it wrong? Her thigh, as white and smooth as a lake of cream, lay beside him on the bench seat. He swallowed hard, gripped her leg and slowly inserted the syringe. When he pushed the plunger and released the blue liquid into her body, his heart was pounding.
“Wake up,” he whispered. The blue veins still twined up her limbs, but color had returned to her cheeks. He only hoped whatever they had been doing to her in the hospital was reversible. He couldn't stand to lose anyone else in his life. Never again. “Wake up.”
She stirred and her mouth twitched. Then her hand clenched into a fist. Eye lids fluttered.
Her body jerked. Her arms flew out. She began seizing, sharp flailing gestures, her mouth contorting, her muscles clenching. Nolan watched the violent contractions of her muscles with terror in his heart.
She stopped moving. Nolan waited, panicked. When she didn’t move, he jumped to his knees and hovered over her.
“No, no, no!” He placed two fingers to the vein on her neck. Nothing. “No, God! No!” Fumbling in his mind with what to do, Nolan remembered an image from long ago—his dah breathing into the mouth of a boy they’d found buried under garbage. Nolan’s pulse slammed into his ears as he leaned down and pressed his mouth over hers.
Her lips were smooth, her breath sweet, but his panic didn’t allow him to enjoy a single moment. He exhaled air into her mouth and felt her chest rise. He waited a beat and did it again. Then he sat up and looked at her.
When she didn’t move, he positioned his palms, one over the other, on her heart and locked his elbows.
Her eyes began to flutter.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, pulling his hands back, shoving them into his hair. He held his breath and watched her lids for movement. When they opened, he saw her eyes were hazel. The same color as his dah’s.
The girl’s gaze floated to his face. As she zeroed in, her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open in…what? Fear? Surprise?
“I-I-I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what he was apologizing for. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her chest heaved beneath her hospital gown as she studied him. “You,” she said with trembling pink lips. Nolan nodded, unable to speak. A smile crept onto her perfect face. “I dreamed of you.”