Zero Avenue.
We took the highway that led to the border, through farmland and swaths of undeveloped properties. Cow shit and ocean scented the air. The driver turned off onto an unlit strip of asphalt. More farms, a gas station. We passed Matsqui prison.
Nearly half an hour later we made a turn onto gravel. The driver cut the headlights.
I’d asked Cody where we were going, who was at the other end of the trip. He didn’t speak. He kept his hand gripped over the pink plastic handle of the machete, favoring me with his best scowl.
The driver was South Asian, his head shaved and a thick beard covering his jowls. He glanced at his rearview constantly as if worried. Our eyes met. His showed something like pity.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Cody took it from me before I could answer.
“No phones,” he said.
The truck stopped and the driver exited. Through the windshield I saw him unlock a thick chain that was barring the road. It landed on the gravel, making a sound like spilling coins. He rejoined us in the truck.
We passed an unlit house as we headed into the heart of an untended field. Down a steep hill, over a black and corrugated landscape. The rain had stopped.
I’d assumed Dalton Hayes would be waiting for us, that he’d asked to see me. As the truck braked I saw nothing around but farmland. Cody told me to get out.
“And go where?” I said. “Where’s your brother?”
I wasn’t prepared for the kick. It caught me in the ribcage, doubled me over and jolted me into the door. I fell forward. A wet hand pulled me from the truck, dropping me onto the spongy soil.
Boots came down and I was told to stand up. Before my vision could clear, a fist caught me, the glint off steel the last thing I saw. I stumbled and collapsed into the mud.
“My brother asked you nicely, tell us where she is.” Cody’s boot struck my thigh, stamping down, grinding me into the dirt. “You fucking tell us. Understand? Do you?”
I needed five minutes to clear my head. Ten seconds, even. Cody made sure I didn’t have either. I was dropped and spun, prodded, hit where I couldn’t defend myself.
Mud and water and pain were constants. I thought I heard the crunch of tires. My eyes focused on a distant light, cut off, my vision spoiled.
It was an open field, the ground furrowed with long pools of rainwater. Cody was herding me away from the truck. I couldn’t tell where the driver was.
The flat disk of steel knuckles struck my collar bone. I turned over, staring face down into the water.
“Stay there,” said Cody.
I tried to disobey but my body didn’t give me a choice.
The sound of spilling liquid. The water near me took on a noxious benzene smell. I breathed and coughed. Heard the scrup scrup of a lighter being struck.
The puddle near my face exploded.
Cody was laughing as I spun away from the flames. “We can do this all night,” he said. “Get the answers outta you.”
“What answers?” I managed.
“Like you don’t know.”
Something struck my hip with more force than the other blows combined. I screamed, thrashed.
As I crawled backward I saw him clutching a baseball bat, strolling toward me, the trenches behind him burning.
He darted right, swinging the bat playfully, forcing me toward the fire. “Having some fun now,” he said.
A gunshot stopped us both.
The driver marched forward, hands held up like he was about to fall on his face. Behind him, Jeff Chen, holding a small black pistol to the driver’s ear.
He told the driver to lie down. After the driver complied, Jeff calmly stepped over the burning trench, holding the bunched-up tails of his overcoat with his free hand. He motioned for Cody Hayes to toss down the bat.
“Tailed you from the bus loop,” he said to me. “You okay?”
I could stand, though I wasn’t sure what damage I’d sustained. Everything hurt, which I took as a good sign.
“Where’d you get the gun?” I asked him.
“Bought it,” Jeff said. “Think I’d bring a kid into the world and not be able to protect him?”
In answer, I hunched over and threw up.