“I’m sorry,” he said to the ground. “That was unnecessary.”
“I’m sorry, too.” She waited until he lifted his face to her. “Not for—I’m happy now. I really am.” She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “He may be insufferable, but he makes me happy. I am sorry you were hurt. I thought you’d made your choice, Jackson, and it wasn’t me.”
Jackson shrugged. “Guess I should’ve been more like Alex.” A world of resentment welled up in the tight words.
She snorted and shook her head. “I fell for you because you weren’t like him. Which is ironic now….”
A flash of something crossed his face. Disgust? Regret? Lena wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure whether it was aimed at her or at himself.
“Mmmm,” he agreed. He swiped his finger over the dust on his boot. “And then I lost you for the same reason.” He took a deep breath then swallowed. He met her gaze for a second before his swerved away. “It’s fine. I understand. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I always know what I’m doing.”
“Like running away from your boss and jeopardizing everything?” He shook his head in disapproval. “I get that he’s obnoxious. My understanding is he’s also vain, egotistical, and stupid. That’s why Alex was able to finagle you a spot. It would be a shame if everyone’s hard work came to nothing because you couldn’t deal with a difficult personality for a few hours.” Jackson bounced twice on the balls of his feet, working his knees, before he rose to continue his patrol.
She picked at her dinner. Why had he bothered to say he understood, to apologize for Dust’s sake, if he was just going to swipe at her?
What the Dust did Jackson know anyway, she seethed. He had the job he’d always wanted, and he’d used her to get it. He had no idea how much it had hurt. That she’d gotten over it and found unexpected feelings and happiness was irrelevant. He had no idea what she’d been through in the last few hours, either, and he felt perfectly free to criticize her for wanting a harassment-free dinner.
What really infuriated her, though, was that he was right. She shoved the last of the stewed pork into her mouth, even though it had lost its flavor, then hauled herself to her feet to carry her plate back to the kitchen. She grabbed her fry bread, scraped the rest of her dinner into the bins, and then stacked her plate for washing.
She trudged back through the darkness to Domenico’s kitchen car. Tomorrow, tomorrow night, the next day, she told herself, counting down to her actual escape and the revenge she’d waited for so long. You can do this. She finished the last of the fry bread and wiped her hands on the back of her pants. One last deep breath of cool night air fortified her before she slid the door open.
“Oh! Has my wayward charge actually returned?” Domenico’s voice, dark and still angry, twisted its way down the aisle to her. “I should make you sleep outside with the bugs for your disrespect!”
You can do this.
***
The Councilor always slept through breakfast, so they were officially off-duty for the morning meal. Three’s senior staff had to eat with the rest of the rabble or go without. Lena and Domenico made their own light breakfast, as they had the day before on the road. In spite of the uncomfortable night, she found she had energy to spare as she buzzed with secret excitement. By that night, she’d have an accomplishment to show the memory of her parents.
In the afternoon, Fort Nevada agents would flow down over the caravan, creating a distraction while Lena went for the Councilor. By the evening, there would be no more Three. There would be one less corrupt Councilor ordering behind-the-scenes torture and death. Her girls would be one step closer to safe. As they got back underway, she lost herself in fantasies of how she’d do it. Suffocation? Little heart attacks? Stroke?
First they had to make it around the wastelands. She had been to Albuquerque and seen the charred areas where the pipeline still smoldered beneath the city. But nothing had prepared her for the Black Lands of Colorado.
The caravan made its way past what had been Denver, the caravaners tense and ready for attacks by Neo-barbs or Scavengers. The annual caravan made too attractive a target, and the rocky forests of Colorado were ideal for ambush staging.
The smell struck her first, an acrid, choking burn sneaking into the cars through cracks in windows and doors and catching in the back of the throat and nose. Domenico, a veteran of many Council trips, had already dampened a cloth and wrapped it around his face. She followed suit. Of course, where Domenico had a beautiful custom square of fabric, Lena had a dishcloth.