When I wake up, the boys are still asleep. Tank is sleeping upright with his head leaning against a box, snoring loudly. Each of us got a couple of pillows, which Wolf was kind enough to grab along with the explosives, but Tank gave his to me. Wolf is sprawled across the open space, leaving only a tiny corner where Pretty Boy is curled up. He looks innocent when he’s sleeping, handsome features relaxed and open. I don’t feel an uncomfortable attraction to him like I used to, nor do I feel embarrassed or hurt or spiteful. I just feel sort of neutral, which is nice.
I sit up and stretch, cracking my shoulders and back. The crates didn’t make the most comfortable bed even with a few pillows stacked on top, and there’s a weird kink in my side, but I feel rested. Dolly’s absence makes me curious enough to forgo more sleep. The doors are opened a tiny crack, and I can’t see where she is. I slide off my crates and carefully step over Wolf. It’s a challenge getting to the doors without stomping on some part of him, and I have to hop from space to space to reach the exit. I squeeze through and shut them behind me.
Dolly is just outside the truck, beside the ashes of last night’s fire. Guns and boxes of ammo are spread out on the ground. She’s kneeling in the middle of it all, inspecting a small handgun. As I jump down from the truck, the small sound of impact makes her instantly turn the gun toward me. I freeze and she lowers it again.
“Morning,” I say cheerfully, and take a few steps closer. I place my hands on my hips and look down at all the weapons. “Wow, that’s a lot of guns.”
“It’s enough,” she says.
I crouch next to one and pick it up, handling it delicately and making sure not to point it at myself or Dolly.
“Do you know how to shoot yet?” she asks.
“Well, I mean…” I shrug. “Kind of?”
She nods, stands, and holds out the handgun she was inspecting.
“Let’s practice.”
“Practice?” I repeat. “You mean practice shooting things? I don’t know, that seems a little…” Dangerous is the first word to come to mind. Embarrassing is the second. I’m not exactly the best with guns. Hell, the Queen was right next to me and I still managed to goof it up, getting knocked over like that. I hesitate. Dolly doesn’t budge or react whatsoever. She simply stands there, gun held out to me, until I give in and take it.
“Good,” she says, and grabs a pistol for herself.
We find a spot several yards away from the truck where there’s only open wasteland and no danger of me accidentally shooting anyone. Dolly sets up the target: a pyramid of empty tin cans, the remains of our meal last night.
“So should I try to shoot it from… what, here?” I ask, standing a few yards away. Dolly shakes her head, places a hand on my elbow, and leads me back quite a bit more. “Seriously? There’s no way I can hit that!”
“Try.”
I look doubtfully at the gun in my hand and back at Dolly. When she doesn’t say anything, I sigh and plant my feet, assuming what I think is a good shooting pose. Behind me, Dolly laughs quietly.
“What?” I ask, turning around.
“Nothing. Go.”
“Right, right…” I turn back to the target and raise the gun. I suck in a deep breath, blow it out, do my best to steady my shaking hands as I focus on the target. Ready, and… pull the trigger.
Nothing happens.
“Safety,” Dolly says.
“Oh, shit.” I’m turning red already and I haven’t even managed to fire yet. Silently cursing myself, I click the safety off and raise the gun again. I’m already frazzled, heart thumping nervously. I don’t know why it’s so important to me to impress Dolly, but it is.
I fire.
I’m not sure where the bullet goes, but it’s definitely nowhere near the target. A defeated sigh leaks out of me, and my arms fall slack at my sides.
“It’s useless,” I say. “I’m never gonna—” Before I can finish, Dolly places her hand on my lower back and steers me forward a few paces.
“Again,” she says. When I raise the gun, she reaches over and grabs my hands, repositioning them slightly. “Like this.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I shoot again. The bullet dings off one of the outside cans and ricochets into the dirt.
She takes me closer, and closer. She corrects my grip and helps me aim again and again until, finally, I manage to knock a can off the pyramid. I let out a triumphant yell—and am promptly surprised by the sound of smattering applause behind me.
I turn around and find Wolf, Tank, and Pretty Boy sitting on the ground nearby. All the blood rushes to my face as I wonder how long they’ve been watching me shoot at nothing. Wolf looks thoroughly amused. I’m too flustered to say anything.
“Nice shot,” Tank says.
“Yeah, you killed the shit out of that can!” Wolf says, not quite as sincerely. Pretty Boy says nothing, but smirks.
Dolly pats me on the head. It makes me feel a bit better, but I’m still embarrassed. I hand the gun back to her.
“I’m done,” I tell her. Louder, to the boys, I say, “Show’s over, get outta here!”
After I stand there for a while and make it clear I won’t be shooting again, they lose interest and find something else to do. I sigh, push sweaty hair out of my face, and go to pick up the can I knocked over. When it’s in my hands I inspect where the bullet hit. A knot forms in my stomach. If I had this much trouble hitting an unmoving can, there’s no way I’m going to hit someone trying their damnedest to kill me. I’ve been trying to feel optimistic about this radio tower plan, but anxiety is creeping up on me. I can’t leave the others on their own, no matter how little help I may be, but I’m starting to realize the chances of me making it out are slim. I mean, hell, they’re slim for all of us, but most of all for me.
“Are you okay?” Dolly asks, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“Ahh, yeah,” I say. “Just a little worried, I guess.”
“You’ll be fine,” she says. I nod halfheartedly. “I’ll make sure of it,” she says, and places the gun back in my hand. “Practice more. I’ll watch for the boys.”
I bite my lip and look down at the gun.
“All right, all right…” I take a few paces away from the target and stop. “But I’m starting from here this time.”
We practice for at least an hour or two. I get better, but not by much. We take a break when the others announce it’s time for breakfast, and after that Wolf decides he wants to help, too.
“If you don’t hit it this time, I’m gonna hit you,” he says, leaning up too close behind me.
“What? No!” I lower the gun and turn to him. “That’s not helpful, Wolf!”
“’Course it is. I learned like this. C’mon, just shoot.”
“Well, now I don’t want to…”
“You have five seconds before I hit you.”
“Wolf!”
“Four… three… two…”
I raise the gun frantically and fire. It misses. I try to duck, but Wolf smacks the side of my head before I can get out of the way.
“Ow!” It didn’t really hurt that much, but it’s still annoying. I frown and rub the side of my head. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Aww come on, don’t be a pussy. I’m tryin’ to help you out here.”
I fold my arms over my chest and shake my head.
“Fine, fine. How about something a little more realistic?” He leaves my side and walks over to the stacked cans.
“What do you mean a little more—” A can flies through the air toward my face. I narrowly dodge it. “What the hell?!”
“Moving target! Shoot it!” he yells back, throwing another. It hits my shoulder this time.
“Ow! Wolf! Stop it!” I look around frantically. “Where’s Dolly? I want Dolly’s training back!”
“Fuck you, I’m way better at this!”
The next can hits me in the head and sends me reeling, and I decide it’s about time to change tactics. I drop my gun in the dirt, turn away, and start running.
“Get the fuck back here, Kid! That’s cheating!” Another can whizzes past me. I run back to the truck and climb inside. The others are sitting there, having a conversation that stops the second I arrive. I duck behind Tank, panting.
“So I’m guessing training didn’t go well?” he asks, smiling down at me.
“No. He’s throwing things. He’s crazy. Hide me.”
Wolf clambers noisily into the truck a few seconds later, breathing heavily. He leans one hand against the wall and spits on the floor. The spittle lands dangerously close to Pretty Boy, who wrinkles his nose and scoots away.
“Fast little fucker, ain’t ya?” Wolf says. “Knew there was a reason your dumb ass managed to stay alive for so long.” I poke my head out from behind Tank and grin at him.
“You must be getting out of shape, Wolf,” Pretty Boy says. “Or maybe just old?”
“Shut up!” Wolf aims a halfhearted kick in his direction, but Pretty Boy dodges it. “The only reason you’re in shape is you’re always runnin’ from the fight.”
“Maybe you only stay because you can’t run fast enough.”
“I said shut up. I don’t need your shit right now.”
Pretty Boy shuts up, and Wolf sits down.
“All right, enough fucking around, we gotta get going soon.” Wolf takes out one of his maps and smooths the crinkled paper against his knee. “So, there’s a road leading straight up to the radio tower… but we ain’t gonna use that, ’cause we ain’t that stupid.” He uses one finger to circle something on the map. Wanting a better look, I come out from my hiding spot behind Tank and sit between him and Dolly. Wolf has the map angled so all of us can see it. “Instead, we’re gonna go around here.” He draws a path leading to the tower from behind.
“Right, they’ll never expect that,” Pretty Boy says dryly. Wolf ignores him.
“Problem is, we got no idea if there are roads back there, or what the terrain is like. Might not be able to bring the big truck o’ explosives around this way, which would be shitty because it’s hard to blow stuff up without explosives. So, a few of us will go ahead in the jeep and scout it out first, and the rest will follow a ways back in the big truck.”
“And what if the truck can’t make it?” Tank asks.
“We load the jeep up with everything we can take and pile in.”
“That sounds shitty.”
“I dunno, it would make a pretty fuckin’ good entrance to charge in there in a jeep full of guns and explosives…”
“We’d probably blow ourselves up,” Pretty Boy says. “Nothing ever goes right for us.”
“Yeah, why the fuck is that?” Wolf asks.
“I blame you. You’re in charge.”
“Shut up, Pretty Boy.” Wolf folds up the map and shoves it back into his pocket. “So, who wants to go in the jeep?”
“I guess I will,” I offer. “I like the jeep.”
“And I’ll drive,” Wolf says. “Pretty Boy, you come navigate for me.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Did I say you could talk?”
“Fuck you.”
Wolf only laughs.
“Tank, Dolly, you two get the truck then. One of you stay on the radio in case anything goes wrong, and watch out for other cars. We don’t know if Saint has patrols in the area, and we can’t get ourselves spotted.” They nod. “All right, let’s get going.”
It doesn’t take long for the ride to get bumpy. Off-road, the ground is uneven and rocky. The jeep can handle it, but after a few big bumps send me a couple inches out of my seat, I decide to put on my seat belt. Wolf’s driving makes it worse. I swear he’s hitting big holes on purpose, not to mention ramping off uneven ground and trying to catch air. Pretty Boy keeps yelling at him to drive more carefully, but eventually he gives up and fastens his seat belt as well. If our route is so rough, I can only imagine how the big truck is faring behind us. I keep turning around to make sure they’re still following us. They manage, albeit slowly. I stay in contact with them via walkie-talkie, since I don’t have anything else to do.
After a few rolling hills, we reach a stretch of land that’s open and flat.
“Thank God,” Pretty Boy says, relaxing in his seat.
“This should be easier,” I say into the radio.
“Aww, this is no fun at all,” Wolf says, immediately looking bored. He jams his foot down on the gas and the jeep jerks forward. After the rocky hills, this speed feels like we’re flying. The wind whips through my hair and drowns out the sound of Wolf and Pretty Boy yelling at each other. I close my eyes and smile at the familiar sensation. It reminds me of the first time I was in the jeep with Wolf and Dolly, how I didn’t know where I was going but was just happy to be going somewhere and—
An explosion.
My eyes fly open as the jeep jerks violently. My head slams into the headrest, and my body lifts from the seat. A chaos of noise and movement surrounds me, and I squeeze my eyes shut again. I lose sense of all direction as the jeep tumbles sideways, rolling over once before coming to a stop upside down. The frame of the windshield held, miraculously, and manages to prop the jeep up—the only reason we weren’t crushed.
I stay with my eyes shut and my hands clenched tightly on my seat belt. I smell gasoline, hear it dripping. I force myself to take a few deep breaths and slowly open my eyes again. The world is confusing upside down. I slide my eyes from side to side.
“Wolf? Pretty Boy?” I croak out. My clumsy fingers fumble with the seat belt for a few seconds before I manage to escape and fall to the ground. I crawl out from beneath the wrecked jeep, my whole body shaking. I try to stay calm despite how disoriented I am. Once I make it a few yards from the jeep, I stop and look back. I can see Pretty Boy, just now unfastening his seat belt. Wolf isn’t in the jeep or anywhere near it. I sit up and look around, and see him lying on the ground a ways away. He must have been flung from the jeep when it rolled.
“Wolf! Wolf, are you okay?” I slowly get to my feet, legs trembling, and move toward him. The walkie-talkie is sitting in the dirt nearby, and I scoop it up on the way.
“Kid, stop!” Pretty Boy yells from the jeep. I stop and turn.
“What is it?”
“Don’t move,” he says. His voice is getting tight and anxious, his eyes darting all over the place as he crawls out from beneath the toppled vehicle.
“Why?” I ask, but Wolf catches my attention with a groan. I look over and see him sitting up groggily, holding a hand to his head. There’s a gash on the side of his face, and he looks pretty out of it, but I’m just glad he’s still in one piece, somehow.
“I really can’t fucking afford to lose any more brain cells,” he says loudly, wincing. “What the fuck was that?”
“A mine!” Pretty Boy says. He steps closer to me, frantically looking around in every direction as if expecting another one to jump out at him. “This is a minefield. We are so fucked.”
“Oh, shit,” I breathe. I plant my feet and slowly raise the radio to my mouth while shifting my body as little as possible. “Guys, don’t come any closer,” I say into it. “We hit a minefield.”
“That Saint fucker is way too clever,” Wolf says. “Why isn’t this on my map? Goddamn townies. We should go back and blow the place up for this.” He clambers to his feet, and I cringe at every careless movement he makes.
“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Pretty Boy asks, edging on panicky. He stands so close that he’s practically on top of me, his elbows and feet invading my personal space. I’m too nervous to either move or push him off, and keep trying to stay as still as possible.
“We can go back the way we came before we hit the mine. That should be safe, right?” I say.
“Do you remember the path we took? The exact path?”
We all pause to look around. The silence speaks for itself.
“So what do we do?” Pretty Boy asks again.
“Why the hell are you both looking at me?” Wolf asks, glowering at us. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. He looks almost… nervous. My stomach tightens as I realize he has no idea what to do. If even Wolf is scared, that’s bad news for us.
“You’re supposed to be the boss!” Pretty Boy practically shouts.
“Well, fuck, I don’t know nothing about no fuckin’ minefield.”
“Wolf, please, focus,” Pretty Boy says, looking like he’s desperately trying to keep a level head. “What are we supposed to do now?”
I stand where I am and stare around me, also awaiting his answer. Wolf takes his sweet time wiping blood off his face and brushing off his clothes.
“Well… we gotta make it back to the truck.”
“Obviously.”
“And I guess someone will have to go first and check it out.”
“Who, exactly?”
“Not me. I’m clearly the most useful person here.”
I stare down at my feet. Out of the three of us, I know it has to be me. I’m the weakest link in the group, everyone knows it. I open my mouth to volunteer, but before I can make a sound Pretty Boy speaks again.
“Right, of course, it’s me. It’s always me. Who gives a shit if I get thrown under the bus, right?”
“Pretty Boy—” I say.
“No big deal, there shouldn’t be too many mines in one area, right?” Pretty Boy continues, not even noticing my attempt to talk to him. I fall silent and meet Wolf’s eyes. Neither of us says anything. I look back at Pretty Boy, who is chewing his lip nervously and looking at the stretch of land between us and the safety of the truck.
“What’s happening?” Tank’s voice crackles over the radio.
“Pretty Boy’s gonna try and find a safe path to you guys,” I say.
“Tell him to be careful.”
“Tank says be careful,” I say. I bite my lip. “And I second that.”
“Right, I’ll keep that in mind.” Pretty Boy lets out a long breath and runs his hands through his hair. “All right, all right. I’ll be fine. Easy.”
He starts to walk in the direction of the truck. At first he moves at a snail’s pace, taking laughably small steps and pausing to verify his safety after each and every one. Eventually Wolf shouts at him to hurry the hell up and he moves faster, pausing every so often to search the ground in front of him. I’m not sure if the mines are even visible, or if they’re buried deep enough that this is all a matter of luck. I chew my dirty fingernails and try to commit his path to memory so I’ll know where to go when it’s my turn. It’s a little difficult, because he does some strange snaking route that seems pretty random.
Every step makes me wince. Every pause lasts minutes. Every time he stops I’m sure something is wrong. Maybe he sees a mine; maybe he heard a telltale click of warning beneath his foot. My heart is already racing; I can’t imagine how I’m going to cope with trying to cross the field myself. My eyes stay glued on Pretty Boy as he makes his agonizingly slow way toward the truck.
Something cracks. Pretty Boy and I both nearly jump out of our skins, and he freezes in place.
“My bad,” Wolf says. “Just cracked my back. S’nothing. Go on, Pretty Boy, you’re almost there.”
Pretty Boy lets out a shaky laugh.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay.” I think he’s trying to reassure himself more than anything. He’s still frozen, nerves all riled up again.
“You’re doing fine,” I yell out to him. “You’re almost there!”
With visible effort, he forces himself to take a step forward. And another. Another. The truck isn’t far now. He starts to regain confidence, walking at a near-normal pace. I can see how eager he is to get back to safety, keeping his eyes on the truck ahead of him.
“Holy shit,” he says, looking over his shoulder at us. “I hope you guys watched me, because I am not trying this aga—”
Boom.
I scream.