Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I go up the stairs, acutely aware that Collin and Amon are minutes away from killing Riggs, and don’t even hesitate at the top. I come out into a house. A very nice house, actually. But it’s dark, and silent, and empty. I close the door behind me and press Collin’s contact again.
Beeps. Nothing but beeps because there’s no service.
Of course, Ike knew this. If he thought I could just call it all off with a phone call, he would’ve said that. But he didn’t. He told me to find his horse and ride down the mountain.
I go outside, pause, but only briefly, to make sure no one is out and about, and then take off running down the road in the direction of the stable.
When I enter the barn, I trigger the lights and the horses start making noises. I figure it’s close enough to dawn that they think I’m here to give them breakfast, and their excitement makes me nervous. Because clearly, this is Blackberry Hill and that means this village is filled with people just like Ike Monroe. People who do not know that he told me to take his horse and rescue my man.
So I hesitate, peering outside to see if anyone’s coming. Because if they are, fuck the horse. I’m running.
I count to sixty, then turn back and walk the aisle, looking for the buckskin. He’s massive. And snorty. And by the pawing he does, I’m like a hundred-percent sure he’s a stallion. Because that’s the kind of horse Ike would own.
I talk to him for a moment, acutely aware that I’m wasting time here and Riggs is gonna be dead before I even get tacked up. So I grab the bridle, skip the saddle, and go into the stall.
He’s a massive horse, but Ike would not have told me to take him if he didn’t think I could do it. So I say, “Head down,” in a soothing voice and he does just that. He lowers his head, accepts the bit, and follows me out of the barn. There’s a mounting platform just outside and when I swing my leg up and get on him bareback, he takes off running, heading straight down the hill.
I haven’t ridden in years and I bounce along, grabbing hold of his mane for dear life. But he’s got a nice smooth gallop and he’s fast. So for the first time tonight, I have hope.
I hold the phone out in front of me, praying for a signal to appear as we race down the hill.
CHAPTER 30 - RIGGS
The fog fades like it was never there and I realize that Amon gave me something to counteract whatever drugs were in my system. Suddenly, I am acutely aware of everything.
Collin lets out a breath and squats down a little so we’re eye level. Those eyes. So much poison inside them. They narrow down into slits, like the serpent he is, as I stare back at him. “They told me you were dead, Raleigh.”
“They lied.”
“They told me you died from a vaccine.”
“They lied.”
“They told me that if we didn’t do what they said and drink their stupid fruit cocktails every week, the rest of us were all gonna die too.”
I lean forward, closing some of the space between us. “They fuckin’ lied, OK? How many times do I gotta say it? They lied.”
“So you say, Riggs.” Collin sneers my name. “But what I’m not gettin’ is why. Why the fuck would they tell me you were dead? That’s what I wanna know.”
“Why?” I laugh. It’s normal now that the drugs have been flushed from my system. “Fuck you and your why. You’re the liar here, Collin, not me. Because I was on the run and you sold me out for a bonus. That’s what really happened. Tell him.” I nod my head to Amon. “Tell Amon what you did.”
Amon walks around to my left. “What the fuck is he talking about?”
“Just more lies,” Collin says. He never breaks eye contact with me.
“Lies?” I ask. “No. I spent six years in darkness over what you did to me.”
Collin stands up. “I didn’t do shit to you. You, on the other hand, were part of some big ol’ conspiracy, right? Some underground military city thing? You infiltrated my team, pretended to be our friend, and then sold us out. What were you lookin’ for, huh? Why did you join up with us? And who sent you?”
I scoff. “Why did I join?” Then I laugh. “Let’s start with the who. My defection coordinator’s name was Clayton Boseman. At least, that’s what he was calling himself when we met. He’s the one who turned me into Raleigh Winston. It wasn’t my idea. He recruited me, I escaped from Hattie, and then he sent me in for an interview with you.”