Rae Stone drove her father’s white pickup truck through the desert town of Pirtleville like a drunk teenager, skidding around intersections. In the rearview mirror, two black SUVs and a black Porsche tailed her. Out of habit, she reeled the seatbelt around her with one hand and leaned into the turn while she swerved the truck at breakneck speed over the hot asphalt.
She sped by the Dairy Queen, the Sonic, and the True Value hardware store. In the parking lots, no one even looked at her.
In the rearview mirror, the dusty stores and red traffic lights turned away from her, shutting her out. The SUVs and the sports car chased her, but she didn’t want to talk to them.
Within minutes, she reached the desert.
The sun was setting over the mountains, streaking the blazing desert with the rich plum and navy blue of a deep bruise. Cacti and tumbleweeds shielded her from the far away homes and businesses and cross-streets and people and any reach of civilization. Fire-orange sunset light glared through the windshield. She squinted, trying to see through it.
She spun the truck left. Angry sunlight poured in the passenger-side window.
The church was, even now as she drove away, going through the process to disfellowship her, so now she was a pariah in her hometown.
She ran away from them all.
Her family who had let it happen.
Her mother who had cried instead of defending her.
Her father who had writhed in rage rather than helping her.
Wulf.
He was moving out of the country in two weeks, just to rid himself of her.
They were gone, all gone, and Rae was alone in the world. She felt like a seedling bitten off its roots.
As much as losing her scholarship had been terrible, as much as compromising her morals to work at The Devilhouse for tuition money had upset her, all this, losing everyone, hurt.
The pavement ended, and Rae drove the truck at breakneck speed onto the dirt trail, rooster-tailing pebbles and dirt. The shocks bounced the truck over rocks, and Rae kept a tight hold of the jumping steering wheel with one hand while she wiped her eyes with the other.
She didn’t know where she was going. She certainly had nothing to go back to.
In the rear view mirror, the black SUVs were farther back, and the Porsche was nowhere to be seen. Wulf had given up on her rather than go boonie-bouncing in his pretty car. He might have sent his security men after her for a while, but they wouldn’t leave Wulf unprotected for long. She had to respect that they had followed her that far. Only a native could navigate the wild desert or was stupid enough to try.
She knew this fang-tipped desert better than she knew Pirtleville. She could lose them all.
Eventually, Rae could find the highway and drive back to college, where she could stay in her dorm with silent Hester, if Hester came back after that sermon. Rae could work in The Devilhouse and try to build her autism clinic somewhere else, because no one in Pirtleville or the Border region would darken her door now, even if they needed help for their child.
Even Aunt Alana and Daniel.
Especially them.
Everyone would know that she had been cast out, and no one would even nod if they passed her on the street.
Rae could do it all alone, without her family, and without Wulf.
That last thought caught in her throat, and she mashed the accelerator. The truck peeled out in the dirt, leaving a plume of empty dust hanging behind her.
She glanced in her rear view mirror. The two SUVs were farther back, more than a mile behind her in the wild desert. The SUVs looked different. Boxier, maybe.
It was probably a trick of the harsh setting sun glaring on the black paint. Who in their right mind drove black cars in the desert heat, anyway? It didn’t matter. When she got to the foothills, she would lose them.
Ahead of her, the mountains neared. The sun blazed in the passenger window, so she didn’t look out there. She felt like driving as far as she could and then sprinting up the mountain so she could lie in the cool snow of the sky islands up there and just go to sleep, but suicide was stupid. She had a long, lonely life ahead of her.
The sun fell further, and Rae shielded her eyes with her right hand as she drove. Desert sunset glared off the inside of the windshield. Sometimes it blazed white. Sometimes, Rae could see the reflection of her own tear-streaked face in the glass.
A black pickup truck sped across the road ahead of her, and Rae swerved hard to avoid crashing into the flame job on the side.
Her pickup skidded and leaned sideways on two wheels, throwing Rae. The seatbelt held her chest, but her head snapped around. The tires boiled rubber smoke that stung her nose. The truck fell back and threw Rae the other way. Her head smacked the driver’s side window.
Pain spiked behind her ear.
Darkness cleared.
The truck was stopped.
Breathing hurt her chest.
Pain lanced behind her eye.
The sun touched the mountains. Shadows crawled toward the dead truck.
“You!” Jim Bob Mulligan’s face was scarlet behind his orange hair and stubble as he leaned in the passenger door at her. Blood vessels laced the whites of his eyes.
Rae recoiled, but he pushed closer. How did he get in her truck? She must have been knocked out for a second.
His hand gripped her wrist. His breath blew chile-hot on her face. He shouted, “They disfellowshipped me! Because I knew about you, they disfellowshipped me!”
“So they didn’t cast me out?” Rae said, even though his face kept blurring into red and orange smears like jumping fire. Her head hurt worse than where he was bruising her wrist.
“Oh, yeah. They struck you first, then me. Those sanctimonious sons of bitches. You’re the whore, and they shunned me!”
“Let me go.”
“Hell, no. ‘Thou shalt not suffer a whore to live.’ You got me thrown out, you bitch.”
That Bible quote was about witches, Exodus 22:18. “I didn’t do anything to you.”
“Sure as Hell you did.” He yanked her arm and, finding her seatbelt still attached, unlatched the buckle and dragged her across the seat with him. “Mayor Harding stopped doing business with me after that Dom called him, and now no one will. Those fucking warehouses are fucking empty! You cost me money, so I’ve got to get some of that money back. Get the fuck out of the truck.”
“No.” She struggled with him, but pain squeezed her head. She couldn’t concentrate on fighting him. A small part of her wanted Jim Bob to kill her, just so she wouldn’t have to think anymore and so the searing pain in her head would go away.
He jerked her arm again. She fell toward him and caught herself on the dash.
Black SUVs pulled up beside the truck. Wulf’s security guys would drag Jim Bob off of her.
Jim Bob hauled Rae across the seat and out the passenger door.
She fell head-first out of the truck and caught herself on the ground, skinning her palms on the gravel. Her hair on the left side of her head felt hot and wet. Her hand came away sticky with blood.
Rae looked up at the SUVs, ready for Wulf’s security guys to rescue her, but different guys got out of the truck. They had darker complexions than Wulf’s Germanic staff. Maybe Hispanic.
The guy who got out of the driver’s door sneered at her. “Es esta la puta?”
Rae couldn’t understand him. Her head hurt so much.
“Yeah,” Jim Bob said. “Glad you could get here on such short notice. She’s a natural redhead, even when she’s not bleeding. They’ll pay to fuck her. She’ll make a lot of money for you.”
The man snickered.
“Hey puta,” the man said. “Mamame la polla.”
Rae’s Border Spanish clicked in through the pain. Puta meant whore. The man had said, Hey whore, suck my cock.
“I wouldn’t have her suck you off just now,” Jim Bob said. “She might bite. She’ll take some breaking down.”
Jim Bob had sold her to these men. She was about to disappear into a prostitution trafficking ring, and no one would know because her family would assume that she had run off.
Pain wracked her head. Dizziness swirled her around.
“Jim Bob,” she pled. “How could you? You’re my cousin!”
Jim Bob yanked her arm, trying to haul her to her feet.
Rae grabbed her wrist away from him and flung her arm around and up, catching him under the chin with her fist. She threw another punch and slammed him in the nose. His face crunched under her knuckles.
Rae stumbled and ran.
Behind her, Jim Bob screamed like a rabbit in a coyote’s jaws.
Desert thorns snagged her skirt. She stumbled, trying to run through the brush. Her useless shoes tripped her.
Mean laughter echoed on the mountains in the gathering night.
She ran. Sharp branches caught her long skirt and long-sleeved blouse, tore the fabric off her, and ripped her skin. She ran harder, fighting through the bushes that clawed her clothes.
A bang hurt her ears, and splintered rock peppered her arm.
They were shooting at her. Jesus, she was just going to be another whore, dead in the desert. No one would find her body out here. No one but human traffickers and drug mules wandered this part of the wild.
Another shot. Dirt sprayed her legs. She ran as fast as she could, trying to get to the mountain shadows so she could hide. Her white blouse glowed against the shadows.
More shots blew rock chips at her and kicked up dust beside her running feet. Behind her, the men jeered.
She pumped her legs and ran toward the mountains’ thick shadows.