Nirvana Effect

65



Callista heard the crackle of the radio. The Onge kept speaking in their strange tongue. She couldn’t see Edward’s jeep anymore. He’d gotten so close. She had no idea what sort of training the Jesuits had put him through to be able to do what he did, but she was glad. The Onge had been beating her and he’d saved her.

Her head spun. A while back, just before Edward had come, she’d felt warmth on her temple. She was glad to feel it dry up.

The Onge chattered nervously. The two in the back seat, one on either side of her, kept their guns pointed erectly behind them from the Jeep, as though Edward might swoop out of the sky at any moment.

Her arms were bound behind her, which made it hard to stay in her seat during the bumpy ride. The ropes weren’t fitted very well around her. She’d been re-tied hastily in the jeep. She worked busily at loosening them further. At present, it wouldn’t do her a bit of good with a hulking Onge on either side of her, but she never knew what circumstances would present themselves.

There was a part of her that could not remain as cool as her outward appearance. That part was screaming at Edward, screaming for Edward, grieving and resentful. That part wanted her to throw herself out of the Jeep. It was the part that kept telling herself, You’re going to die. They’ll keep beating you. They’re going to sacrifice you. They’re going to rape you. You’re going to die. It was the part of her mind she couldn’t rest.

She contained it, though, and occupied herself with the rope. She watched the Onge. She was encouraged by their edginess. Even though she didn’t know a word they were saying, she could tell they were racing toward a finish line, that they were running from her Edward.

She prayed that Edward could win.