I pressed my face to the wall to follow Neven as she flew out of my range. The truck headlights caught the back half of her body, revealing a third troll and a trail of blood running from her thigh to her heel. Then she was out of my sight.
My chest clenched with worry.
I’d asked her to keep the truck clear. I’d asked her to put herself within reach of the trolls again and again. And now Neven—and the driver—
I couldn’t count on her to help me. I didn’t want her to help me yet, either. I had weapons and walls keeping me safe for the time being; that truck driver needed her help more than I did.
I was on my own.
God, I hoped the others were having better luck.
Abruptly, my view of the outside was blocked. An ugly troll face hovered outside the hole. I stumbled back and almost tripped over a rod. Pain flared through my calf. I choked back a scream.
From near the door came the chittering-scratching-grinding of trolls. One of the bigger trolls—its shape blocky and uneven—wormed through the entrance. Deliberately, it stepped around the metal on the floor. Even when it accidentally brushed past the steel, it only jerked away, grunted, and continued.
Fear lodged in my throat. Without looking away, I crouched and grabbed the rod I’d nearly tripped on. As far as places to be trapped with aggressive trolls went, “truck full of steel” was a good one. I should take advantage. The Powers That Be would appreciate that, right? Mettle? Ingenuity? They’d better be paying attention.
With trembling hands, I sliced bits of metal off one tip. I left the rod a razor-sharp spike and leveled it at the approaching troll. “Don’t murder me? Please.”
The troll made a gnashing sound. Similar sounds echoed from outside the truck. Slowly, the troll stepped back, eventually exiting into the evening air.
The troll’s scrawl of a mouth spread. It slipped out of sight.
I kept my eyes on the entrance. No sign of the troll—of any troll. The field was open and empty as far as I could see.
This could be another trap. They could be pretending the coast was clear, wait for me to step outside, and—
The truck shook. Metal clanged against metal. The tarp crinkled.
“Neven?” I called, half hopeful and half fearful, and stumbled to the wall to steady myself. Around me, metal started to slide toward the back of the truck.
The truck wasn’t just shaking. It was tilting.
“Neven!” My voice caught. “Is that you?”
Still no answer.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I whispered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The floor tilted farther, the cab rising upward. A massive spool of steel wire came rolling at me. I dove at the wall. The spool missed me by a hairsbreadth, tumbling toward the narrow opening, where it crashed into the rest of the cargo. I braced a foot against a slat in the floor to keep me standing. The spike fell from my hand.
Another jerk.
We were almost vertical now. My foot slipped and I hit the floor, falling more than sliding, and grabbed a strap in the wall at the last moment. My arm almost lurched from its socket.
The last of the light faded as the truck stood fully upright, the opening pressed against the grass.
I dangled from the strap, panting. I gripped the strap so tight my knuckles felt like they’d snap. I couldn’t let go. I was only a few feet above the heap of cargo, and I knew with certainty that one of the topmost items was a steel spike sharp enough to go right through me.
My feet scrabbled against the wall for a foothold. I swallowed grunts of pain.
The truck wavered, then shook. I held on tighter. The truck rose from the ground. Metal clattered onto the grass below. Slivers of evening light played across the steel. Another shake. Rods tumbled out. Something dragged the truck across the grass to an emptier spot. Another shake, and another, to and fro and up and down, every single shake yanking at my arms and cutting into my palms and sending me thudding against the wall.
Either I would fall out, or all the steel would, giving them easy access.
Either way, I was screwed.
The truck shook another time, forward and back, then—
It fell.
I was weightless for a moment, and then we crashed, the truck on its side again. I hit the ground like a rag doll. The metal heap that’d gathered by the narrow exit collapsed and bounced every which way.
I lay there, dazed, as faint light slanted inside. My cramped hands finally released the strap. It left deep imprints in my palms. My leg screamed at me, the pain pulsing as badly as when I first got injured. I needed to get up, to run, to . . . to . . .
I squinted at the roll-up door. No movement. Too much steel remained in the truck for the trolls to easily pass. What were they playing at?
Even after I’d climbed to my feet and found my sharpened rod, there was no movement by the opening. The only sounds were rustling and the occasional low, grinding keen.
I peered out the hole I’d cut earlier. The trolls were still there, nearly as many as before. They looked different, though. They were no longer pacing in aggravation, or lying in wait, or analyzing the truck for the best way in. Instead, a couple were fighting off to the left, circling each other and lashing out. Their movements seemed slow. One stumbled as it attacked.
Farther away, trolls hobbled toward the edge of the field. The tall grass almost swallowed them whole. Another group was pacing, seeming more confused than anything. And there, to the right: a troll head as big as the truck cab itself. My heart froze. I’d seen trolls
