Night Resurrected (22 page)

The trees were close and the leaves

thick, but he could see pretty well in a

circumference of two miles. Nothing. No

sign of movement. No sign of Remy.

A twinge of conscience pricked at

him and he pushed it away. He’d done

the right thing.

Instead of dwelling on that, he

climbed down and landed on the ground.

It was daylight and he had time to go

back to the truck rig. There were several

things they’d left during their unexpected

flight. After retrieving them, he meant to

catch a wild horse and be on his way.

But just as he turned to start back

along the overgrown road, he heard a

bark.

A very familiar bark.

Chapter 11

R
emy was relieved and surprised when

Ian insisted that Goldwyn give her

something to eat and keep her arms

unbound. She was tied by her ankle to

the table leg, however, and her captor

made certain to keep his weapon in full

view.

Ian pulled Goldwyn aside and got in

his face, hopefully telling him, in his

low, sharp tones, not to touch her. Then

he and Lacey left without another glance.

Despite the soreness and pain of her

injured face, Remy managed to eat the

beef jerky and hunk of bread she was

given and gulped down three glasses of

water. Her captor sneered every time

she asked for a refill, but whatever Ian

threatened him with must have been

serious, for Goldwyn capitulated.

Nothing like feeling as if she were

the calf being fattened up for later. A

little shiver ran over her shoulders when

she

remembered

Lacey’s

cold,

promising smile. As she refueled, she

looked around the small room, hoping to

find some inspiration for escape. But she

saw nothing optimistic. The space was

windowless except for one high, small

opening she’d never be able to get to.

Goldwyn sat between her and the only

door, eating his own meal. Her leg

shackled to the table gave her only a

small radius of movement.

By the time she finished eating, Remy

hadn’t come up with any possibility for

escape. The aches and pounding of her

head had eased with the water and food,

but she was exhausted and still in

significant pain.

With nothing else to do but wait, she

pillowed her head on the table, injured

side up, and closed her eyes. She didn’t

expect to fall asleep, but realized she

must have dozed off when something

jolted her awake.

A hand closed over her mouth,

something metallic and cold pressed into

her neck.

“Don’t make a sound.”

She was terrified and startled and at

first she didn’t realize who was holding

a gun against her neck. But when he bent

to slice away the plastic cord binding

her to the table leg, Remy realized it was

Ian.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low

and taut. He yanked her up off the chair,

half dragging her against him as he

hurried to the door.

She caught a glimpse of Goldwyn in

a pale heap on the floor as they passed

him. There was no way of knowing

whether he was dead, but she didn’t see

any blood.

Not that she cared either way.

And, she guessed, if he were dead,

there’d be no reason to hurry or be

silent.

With the gun pressed into her ribs,

Ian hustled her outside and into the

Humvee. He was none too gentle as he

shoved her into the truck from the

passenger side, then used the gun to

gesture her all the way over behind the

steering wheel.

“Drive. Now,” he ordered, the

firearm still aimed at her as he looked

back toward the building.

Remy’s hands shook but she found

the small compartment under the steering

wheel well and, still stunned and

confused, managed to push the ignition

button. The truck leaped forward when

she pressed the accelerator and she

gripped the wheel tightly as it careened

over the rough, uneven terrain.

“Double-crossing your friends,” she

said once she had the vehicle under

control. “Nice.”

Ian lowered his weapon and buckled

himself in. “I wouldn’t call them

friends.” He lifted his hips to tuck the

gun into his jeans. Apparently he didn’t

consider her a threat any longer.

Or maybe he never had.

“That’s true. Lacey definitely thinks

of you as more than a friend,” Remy

said, swerving to avoid a sheet of rusted

metal. “And vice versa.”

“Fuck,” he said, his voice filled with

loathing.

Remy couldn’t hold back a humorless

chuckle. “Exactly.”

“And here I thought you might show a

little gratitude. She had plans for you.”

Remy couldn’t hold back a shudder.

She didn’t want to imagine what Lacey

would have done to her. “And what

about you?” she retorted. Even now,

after the confusing events of the last few

hours, she didn’t know whether to thank

him or despise him.

“I have plans for you too,” he said.

“Just not the same ones.”

Her throat went dry. There was a

note of promise, a little bit of rough

desire in his voice . . . or maybe not. It

was hard to tell with Ian. And she’d just

witnessed the man seducing that skanky

woman, which, apparently, was not top

on his list of pleasant things.

Or so he wanted her to believe.

Remy wanted to shake her head to

clear it. She was so damned confused.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” she

demanded.

He swore as the truck slammed into a

massive hole, then lurched forward

without slowing its speed. “Mine.”

She chanced a look at him. “Well,

finally. A bit of truth from you.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

Remy snorted. “I find that hard to

believe.” A thought struck her and she

slammed on the brakes, causing Ian to

jolt violently.

“What the hell!”

“I want to go back and find Dantès.

I’m not leaving him in the wilderness by

himself. He won’t have gone far from

where I was, even if you sent him off.”

Ian didn’t look happy, but to her

surprise he capitulated without further

argument. “Only because it’s on the way.

Head northwest. If he isn’t there, we’re

leaving.”

“And then where are we going?”

His lips tightened as he pressed them

together. “Just fucking drive.”

Remy was unsettled, but at least he

seemed willing to allow her to retrieve

Dantès. And with Dantès in the truck, if

she was lucky enough to find him again,

she’d have a modicum of protection.

She’d already decided she had to get

to Envy, with or without Ian, with or

without the Humvee. Wyatt had the

crystal, and surely that’s where he was

headed.

You’ve got to take that crystal to

Envy. We can’t let the Strangers get it.

Whatever you do, get to Envy.

That was what he’d said to her, in

those last moments before he shoved her

off into the wild jungle.

Those last moments . . . when he was

slipping the stone from her pocket, the

bastard. She grimaced and felt a twinge

from her sore lip.

Then it occurred to her. He could be

sending her to Envy while he took the

crystal and went in a totally different

direction, to a totally different place. For

what? To do what? She’d never locate

him.

She couldn’t tighten her busted lips

so she gritted her teeth. She had no

choice. She’d find a way to give Ian the

slip and she’d get to Envy. At least

Elliott was there. Maybe he, at least,

would help.

It took more than an hour of slow,

bouncing driving, but at last they came to

the overgrown clearing with the old

school building. Remy leaped from the

Humvee, calling Dantès before her feet

hit the ground. She heard a joyous bark

in the distance and her heart leapt as she

called him again.

Moments later the dog burst from the

dark forest and barreled up to her so

crazily he nearly knocked her over.

Crouching next to him, she buried her

face in his fur and allowed him to kiss

her chin.
Thank God.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up at Ian

with watery eyes.

He was watching impassively, but he

also had the gun back in his hand. Now

he gestured with it. “The dog goes in the

back, or he doesn’t go.”

Remy froze and rose to her feet.

“What do you mean?”

“He goes in the back of the truck,

behind the screen, or he stays here. I

can’t have any loose cannons. Let’s go.”

Her mind numb with questions,

feeling a skitter of nerves, Remy walked

over to the truck with her pet. Ian opened

the back and ushered Dantès in, then

closed the door. So much for the added

protection from her dog.

She was about to climb into the

driver’s seat when Ian took her by the

wrist. “Remy,” he said, backing her up

against the door of the truck.

Her throat closed up and her heart

stopped. But he merely took her gently

by the chin, turning her face to the side

so he could look at her injuries.

“Who did this?”

“Your friends,” Remy replied tightly.

“Who did you think?”

“I assumed. But there was the slight

possibility you hurt yourself running

from the zombies.” His jaw was tight,

shifting as he looked down at her. With a

light touch, he traced the side of her face

that was swollen and tender. “You could

use some ice.”

“I’ll be all right.” She started to ease

away, but he tightened his fingers around

her wrist.

“I got there as soon as I could,” he

said. For a moment she thought he was

going to kiss her, but then he abruptly

released her. He tilted his head as if

listening, then whipped around to look

behind him. After watching the jungle, he

turned back. “Let’s get out of here.”

A little shaken, still uncertain about

him and his role in this mess, Remy

climbed back into the truck and started it

up. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Envy.”

R
emy navigated the Humvee for many

more hours than she wanted to. It was

rough

going—both

mentally

and

physically. She still ached from her

injuries, and the constant jouncing and

jolting only made things worse.

“Time to stop,” she said at last. It

was just easing into twilight and one of

the headlights on the Humvee was catty-

wonker, offering little help in the way of

illumination, while the other was hardly

more than a glow.

“Another mile farther and we can

stop,” Ian said. “There’s a place to hide

the truck.”

She followed his directions, which

led them to a tall, slender, brick

building. Even in the dim light she could

see the masonry crumbling and covered

with ivy. There were no windows, but

there was an entrance large enough to

drive the Humvee into. She decided the

structure must have once been a fire

station.

Inside, it had a high ceiling and one

large space into which the fire trucks

had presumably been parked. Ian had her

drive the truck deep into the building and

to the side, where shadows would help

conceal it.

“There’s a creek nearby,” he told

her. “If we’re quick, we’ll have time

before the zombies come out.”

“To do what?”

He grimaced. “Lacey. My skin is still

crawling. I want to wash up . . . and you

could do the same for your injuries.”

“Or, in other words, you won’t leave

me here alone while you go.” She eyed

him coolly. “Well, I can’t blame you for

wanting to get rid of the remnants of that

skank. I couldn’t believe you went with

her.”