Page 21 of Scarlet Wars
Amy grinned, but the amusement didn’t quite reach her whole expression. I could tell she was still processing everything, but for now she wore her calm as armor, and I wasn’t about to pry it off.
I leaned back in my seat, exhaling shakily as I stared out at the quiet Vermont roads, the faint light of dawn painting the horizon.
“So,” Amy said, breaking the silence. “Where exactly are you planning to cross the national border? You didn’t mention that part back in our cozy cellar.”
I bit my lip, as I tried to remember the safest route. “Norton Stanhope,” I said finally. “It’s remote enough, and the terrain gives me the best chance to cross on foot without being seen.”
Amy nodded, her focus on the road. “Makes sense. But you’re not making it there in one go on foot. I’ll drop you off somewhere close.”
“Where’s ‘close’?”
“There’s a spot near Brighton,” she said, glancing at me with a knowing look. “It’s still a good ten hours on foot to Norton Stanhope from there, but it’s out of the way. Quiet. You can slip into the woods without anyone noticing.”
I hesitated, the knot in my stomach tightening. Ten hours. My ankle throbbed just thinking about it, but I knew she was right. I couldn’t afford to draw attention, and the farther she stayed from the national border, the safer she’d be.
“Brighton works,” I said, steadier than I felt. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered, her tone light but her grip on the wheel firm. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”
Hours later, the truck rattled to a stop right outside a small gas station on the outskirts of Brighton.
Amy jumped out first, her movements determined, while I hesitated, scanning the quiet street. A few people milled about, their gazes lingering on us a beat too long. I couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or small-town curiosity, but it made the hair on my neck rise.
Amy was already grabbing supplies: water, protein bars, anything lightweight and portable. She stuffed the items into a bag, her confidence unwavering, and I envied her calm.
After three more stops, we finally rolled into Brighton.
“This is it,” Amy said softly as the truck came to a stop on the edge of a cracked two-lane road.
She shifted into park but didn’t move. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I stared out at the aging storefronts, the diner across the street, the sidewalks too quiet to feel right. “Yes. I have a new life waiting, and you have an old one to get back to.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned in her seat to face me, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. “I don’t know how to thank you. Or even say goodbye.”
I gave her a sad smile. “I didn’t do shit. You got us out. I only brought the insanity required to pull it off.”
Amy snorted, then smiled. “Can I hug you?”
I didn’t hesitate, leaned over and wrapped my arms around her, and held her tight. “Be safe, my friend.”
“You too.”
I opened the door and stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel as I closed it behind me. Amy gave me one last look—searching, maybe memorizing—before the truck pulled away, tires spitting dust into the still air.
I watched until the taillights disappeared around the bend, only then realizing we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Or even last names. Maybe it was for the best. I wasn’t sure she’d want to keep in touch with someone who reminded her of the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
As I turned to the woods, I felt it before I saw it: stares. A group of people near the diner had stopped mid-conversation. Mouths parted, faces tense.
My pulse kicked up.
Then a voice rang out across the street. “Hey! That’sher!”
“Call the cops!” another yelled.
Chaos erupted as more people joined in. “She’s that human-killing witch!” a man bellowed, his face red with fury. “She murdered her own parents!”
The words hit me like a sledgehammer, the agony ripping through my chest so suddenly I nearly doubled over. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as my parents’ faces flashed in my mind. Blood. Screams. The truth I could never outrun.
