There are two armored trucks sitting directly outside the building, hiding under the narrow shadow that’s cast by the clay bricks. I place my shoe up on the texture footstep on the driver’s side and lift Honey up with me, struggling from the lack of water in my body. I feel like my legs are made of mashed potatoes, and the air is made of tar. Every move I make takes excruciating effort.
I rip open the door as Amy rushes to the passenger’s side, and I let Honey’s body fall between the seats. There’s enough room for her to fit there without getting in the way, but I honestly wish she would wake up. It’s terrifying how long she’s been out already.
I slide into my seat as Amy slams her door shut, and I search the cabin for keys.
“Where are the keys?” I ask to no one in particular.
Honey’s hand falls into my lap, placing a key there. I look toward her as she blinks up at me.
“Are these for the truck?” I ask, surprised by her sudden revival.
“I think so,” she says, sitting up. Her eyes are glosses over, and I don’t think she knows what’s going on.
I stick the keys into the ignition and turn them. The rumble of the engine sends a wave of relief through me. We’re going to make it. By god, we’re going to make it.
“Find some water,” I say to Honey. Then, I toss my gun to Amy. “Shoot anyone who gets close to us.”
Amy nods, and Honey begins rummaging around in the cabin, looking for water. She comes up a second later with a flask, handing it to me.
“You’re very useful when you’re not acting like a sack of potatoes,” I joke, unscrewing the flask as I back the truck away from the jail building.
Honey stares up at me dreamily. She definitely hit her head harder than I did.
“Here they come,” Amy shouts, placing her gun out of the window and aiming for a stream of men pouring around the corner. She pulls the trigger, pumping bullets into the air with hopes of hitting as many of them as possible.
I step on the gas as I gulp down the cold water in the flask, double tasking the two most important things to me at this moment – hydration and escape. The truck roars toward the entrance of the compound, where several more men have gathered to stop anyone from leaving. That’s tough for them because I’m not fucking stopping.
“I love you,” Honey says, her eyes still wide and dreamy like we’re on a date in some exotic location instead of being chased down by homicidal zealots.
“Not really the time for this, Honey,” I say, gripping the steering wheel while we speed toward the group huddled around the entrance.
“But I love you,” she repeats, louder this time.
“I know, but-”
“Carter, I fucking love you.”
I look toward her just as we’re about to hit the group. “Honey, I promise, I love you too.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Honey
My brain is fuzzy, but I feel good. I feel victorious like I’m cruising through some awesome wonderland with the man of my dreams and a woman wearing a rice sack for clothing.
Where are we?
I don’t know, but I think I just admitted to Carter that I’m in love with him.
Blood splatters over the windshield, and the squishy thud of limbs smacking against the bumper tells me that we aren’t really in a wonderland. I’m not really sure where we are or how we got here, but Carter looks like a hero to me, and I want to tell him that. He’s my hero.
“Baby, you’re my hero,” I say to him, a smile spreading across my face.
“You hit your head, Honey. Drink some water,” he replies, thrusting the flask out to me.
“Water?” I reply, taking the flask from his hand and looking into the dark interior. “I prefer coke.”
“Honey, just drink the damn water.”
“Alright, alright,” I huff. “No need to get an attitude.” I remember that Carter is kind of a grumpy guy, but I like that about him. He gets stuff done, and he gets it done right. He would make a good husband.
Wait, isn’t he already my husband?
“Are we married?” I ask him as the truck flies out into the desert landscape.
“Drink your water, please,” he replies, his eyes laser-focused ahead of him.
I take a sip from the flask, finding the cold water to be quite pleasant in the back of my throat. I drink a few gulps before looking back up at Carter. “Are we married?” I ask again.
“Yes, Honey. You’re my wife,” he replies impatiently.
“Your wife. Wow,” I say. “Then that makes you my husband.”
The woman in the rice sack laughs.
I don’t see what’s so funny, but she looks like she got ran over by a car, so I don’t say anything to her. I’m still trying to figure out where I am and why I’m here.
“You have a concussion,” Carter explains as he drives. “We should probably get you to a doctor.”
Well, that explains some things, especially the throbbing pain that’s developing between my eyes. I feel like my head is going to explode from the ebb and flow of the pressure. I place my hand on my forehead and take another sip of water. This is no longer fun.
“What happened to Henry?” the woman beside me asks.
What is her name? Amy? Yes, that’s right. She’s Amy, and Henry was that guy in the van with Dean.
I grit my teeth and turn my head to her. “I have some bad news.”
“Oh god,” she says, her eyes welling up with tears.
Carter stays silent as he drives us toward the city. I’m aware now that we’re leaving Bheka’s compound. I think he’s dead, but so is Henry, Dean, and many others. We’re the only
