Author's Note & Thanks at the end.
Tess ached all over. She couldn't move without some part of her body informing her that it was in dire need of ace packs, or antiseptics, or Vicodin. Moreover, her mind was wont to wander and it felt . . . loose, like a Jell-O mold that had been shaken to smithereens. It was an uncomfortable feeling to say the least. What she wanted to do more than anything was to go up to her room and sleep until she woke like Rip Van Winkle and found the entire world changed around her. But she couldn't, and she realized this as Carlos delivered her to her bedroom door.
"What are you going to do with him?" she asked, most of her hysteria having passed. Even so, she caught the sharp glance Carlos threw her; undoubtedly, the question had been the last thing he wished to hear from her.
"That is none of your concern, querida. You have served well and have earned your rest. Now go."
Despite her firsthand knowledge of what would be gained from her defiance, Tess did not "go." This had to be settled first. "What are you going to do with him?" she asked again, her voice stronger this time. "I think I have a right to know what is being down with the remains of my work."
"I think an empty field is more than good enough for that basura." His eyes and voice were equally cold, giving her more than fair warning that he wouldn't allow her to pursue this topic for much longer.
"A field?" No. Dumping him like so much refuse simply wouldn't do. "There is a solitude of space," she murmured under her breath. "A solitude of sea/A solitude of death –"
"Teresa?" His look was now concerned.
As well he should be, the voice hissed as Tess shifted her weight from the wall onto her right foot.
Not yet. Now is not the time. Patience is a virtue.
Soon. You cannot avoid us forever. He cannot avoid us forever.
I know. Soon. Just a little bit of business to take care of first.
"Teresa?" It irritated Carlos to repeat himself, but the glassy look in Tessa's eyes disturbed him. It disturbed him even more when it left as easily as someone would push open a curtain.
"He deserves proper burial, Carlos. I don't care who he was in life. In death all men are equal. I would hope that someone would be kind enough to do the same for me." Oh, he did not look convinced at all. Not at all. "It's early still," she pressed while maintaining a façade of subservience. "Just give me a single man to dig a proper grave. I'll recite the last rites over him myself. Besides, if there are too many unexplained bodies in this area, la policia will become interested. An unmarked grave goes unnoticed for far longer than a sun-bloated corpse." Please just let me out of the house. One more chance for escape is all I ask. If I fail this time I deserve to be here.
Carlos studied her for a long time as if judging her reasoning and motivations. She passed all resentment on to the Others, knowing she'd pay for it later, but also knowing that it could get her killed now. Finally he nodded, and waved a hand in a gesture of semi-royal indulgence. "Very well, querida. You have a soft heart, but I to hope that if I were to meet our interloper's end," his tone made that sound more than doubtful, "that someone would argue for me as you have for a man you must hate."
She bowed her head, and murmured, "Thank you, Carlos." The words had too be forced out, and she had to steel herself from flinching when he claimed a kiss, but when he left . . .
When he left, she felt fierce triumph and protectiveness fill her. This was going to work. She was going to make it out. She'd be allowed her freedom and a last farewell at the same time.
Half an hour later when Tess had finally been able totter to the front terrace, she found that her plans for escape had become that much more complicated by the presence of her cousin. Carlos obviously had other things to deal with, but he had thought nothing of assigning Neva to this grave-digging detail. By the look on her face, it was not a task she relished.
That makes three of us. Did you bring enough?
Tess thought about the weapon in her purse, considered how long it'd take to reload after shooting one cartridge before she could fire another, and considered just how fast Neva was with her gun. Or the man with the shovel for that matter. It wasn't anyone she recognized, but this close to the date of Carlos' attack, it was idiotic to think that he wouldn't be armed.
"I hear this is your idea, ratón," Neva challenged as Tess limped to the car.
"It's the human thing to do," the battered woman replied, refusing to be cowed. There were only two things they could do to her that they hadn't done already. And death was starting to look attractive in a reluctant sort of way. "Isn't it enough for you that there will be no headstone and no one will ever be certain of what became him?" Once again Tess stood by as her words were weighed, although Neva was much less likely to accept them at face value than Carlos was.
The arrival of a two more men lugging a column of dead weight between them interrupted her musings. "I don't trust you, amante de la paz."
"That's alright," Tess replied softly as Neva walked away. "I don't trust you either." Neva paused, but she showed no inclination to further debate the issue, which caused Tess to relax a great deal. Putting the argument out of her mind, she instead focused on the way the two men hauled Sands' body over to the car. She was surprised when Neva opened the backseat door for them and they slung his unresisting mass inside. The man who was with them to do the actual labor slung his shovel into the trunk. He then climbed into the driver's seat while Neva took the passenger seat, leaving Tess to squeeze into the back with the body. Understandably, she hesitated, not wanting to become that acquainted with his clammy skin.
"What's wrong, ratón? Rethinking your mission of mercy?" The mockery Neva's voice contained sent the rebellious factions in Tessa's head into a fury. They reminded her that she'd completed her studies as a medical examiner, that she'd planned this, that she was not weak, that death appealed to her. It was none of these that her into the car though. What got her into the car was more than a decade of proving her entire family wrong; a perverse need to do the exact opposite of what they expected from her.
Moving slowly for more reasons than her protesting ribs and shoulders, Tess climbed into the care. Her gentle hands picked Sands' head up as she sat down, and just as gently laid it back down. Just because he wouldn't feel any pain now didn't mean she had any desire to be rough. The opposite was true; he looked so peaceful that apart from the cool, pale, clamminess of his skin, she would have assumed he was asleep.
Neva watched all this with indifferent eyes, cursing her brother for a fool. The perra was obviously still smitten with the American. And he was a corpse. If Carlos couldn't manage to beat a dead man for Tessa's affection, then he'd never be able to get them at all. But that was Carlos' foolery and no concern of hers, so she turned to the driver and told him to go.
Apparently even with an unmarked grave there was a proper distance to go, through Tess wasn't sure what it was. All she knew was that after the first half hour, Sands' skin started to warm under her fingers. Unsure of what was happening, she moved them to just beneath his jaw – there was a faint pulse.
She wanted to scream in relief. Earlier she'd been too out of things to be sure if she'd grabbed the right bottle, and her eyesight had been too blurry to check. The vial she'd grabbed was in the same cabinet as all the poisons Carlos had insisted she have, but she'd hedged her bets. Killing wasn't something she could do, or at least cold-blooded murder wasn't, but Carlos wouldn't insist on the poisons unless he intended to see them used. By her. So the logical thing to do – in her mind – was to buy a black-market drug that slowed a person's respiration and pulse to mimic the effects of death. Of course, too much of the stuff would kill someone just as surely as digitalis . . . and she hadn't been paying attention when she'd given it to Sands. Until this point, she hadn't know if Sands would wake up or not. But she'd gotten him out of the building all the same. And she was here with him to try to keep him alive long enough for them to escape.
Now, if the car would stop before he woke up, that would be a good thing.
Tessa's tension climbed with every mile they went without stopping. They were far outside city limits by now, far from any houses or fields. Just dry land and scrub could be seen from the windows.
What do I do if we don't stop?
Easy. Just get Neva first, force the driver to stop, get him, and then unload the bodies.
That was too dangerous in her mind. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't get shot before she could reload. And if she was shot, Sands would die, she'd be taken back to the compound, and Carlos patience in her would most likely give out. She'd be dead before the sun rose.
It was another fifteen minutes before they pulled off the road and the driver took them off-road for awhile. When Neva judged they were sufficiently distant from the highway and anyone who might come by, she ordered the man to stop. He did and immediately got out of the car, and retrieved his shovel. Neva and Tess stayed where they were.
Too long, too long. You realize that, don't you? This is taking too long. You should have just let them dump him. He could have made his own way back to civilization.
We don't know that.
Neva turned in her seat and disturbed the mental debate. For a long few minutes, she and Tess did nothing but stare at each other, Tess growing more and more uncomfortable and Sands growing warmer and warmer.
Don't move. Please don't move. Don't wake up yet. Her hand tightened on his shoulder.
"Well," Neva finally said. "I always knew you were a cold perra, Teresa Barillo, but that does not explain why you're clinging to a corpse." Her eyes were suspicious and filled with loathing.
Calm now. Don't spook her.
Thank you. I knew that much. Wetting her lips, Tess said quietly, "It was better than having him bouncing all over my lap, Neva. Perhaps I'm just more accustomed to death than you are though."
"You!" She laughed. "You turn green anytime someone dies. The only reason you killed him was because Carlos had a gun to your head."
He did? I must have missed that. "You're wrong, Neva. I had no idea Carlos even had a gun."
"Then why is he dead?"
"Because it suited me for him to die." She studied his pale, blood-covered face – this time from a broken nose – and remembered cleaning his face of blood once before. She'd been gentle then, aware of the madness inducing pain he had to be feeling. On the grand scale of things, a broken nose was better than dying or torture, so she didn't feel too guilty.
"You lied didn't you? About loving him?" When the gun had appeared in her hand, Tess didn't know, but she watched as Neva used it to gesture towards the body in her lap.
"No. I didn't. I don't love him because I chose not to. But would you tell Carlos anything less than what he wanted to hear if he was mad at you?"
That made Neva shut up, at least for a moment. She checked on the progress of their digger, and then looked back. "Why did you come back, Teresa? We know all about your life in New York." Tess paled. Did they know? No, they couldn't, or Neva would look more than curious. "We know that you were blackmailed into coming here. But what was it? Just what did the government have over you to get you to come back when you so obviously hate us all?"
Let me tell her. Please let me tell her. I want to see her face when she realizes that you're crazier than a loon and much more dangerous.
No. Resisting the urge to put a hand to her forehead to return the pressure the voice was exerting, Tess said, "If it was used as blackmail once, why would I tell anyone else? You don't need to blackmail me at the moment, but you're right, I don't trust any of you."
Com'on, Sands! Wake up, you lazy bastard.
For some reason, Sands had expected death to be more . . . peaceful. He'd been close enough to dying before to know the cold, still embrace of death, he'd even gone so far as to welcome it as an alternative to the feverish pain that'd overcome him after the loss of his eyes. But this . . . what he was feeling now was cold, but it most certainly was not still. And it was not peaceful. It didn't even feel stationary.
Annoyed by this lingering sensation that something was wrong, and feeling mildly irritated that he wasn't just being allowed to die, Sands tried to discover what was going on. His thoughts were sluggish and incoherent as he tried to open his eyes. He couldn't. For the few seconds before memory surged, he panicked, thinking that everything since flipping off Ramirez in that alley had been a pain-induced dream. But then he realized that while he could feel his body, he couldn't move anything. He was cold, but there were two points of fiery heat on his neck, and his shoulders were warm.
Tess, he remembered. She gave me something, the little bitch. Why aren't I dead? What are they planning? Moreover, why couldn't they just make up their minds and let him die? It was all very annoying. Perhaps he'd tell them that in a little bit.
"Come on," Neva said, climbing out of the car. "Let's get this done with." Through the windshield, Tess could see the driver coming towards the car. Her muscles jumped to attention as her door opened and Neva hauled her out of the way so they could get Sands' body out. She stumbled, nearly fell to the ground, but regained her balance. The purse in her hands had never had a chance of falling since her fingers were locked in a death grip around it. If she dropped that, the game would be up. And she was so very close to winning.
While Neva stood back to allow the man to grab Sands roughly under the arms and haul him out, Tess watched and slipped her hand into her purse to pull out her weapon. She couldn't help but feel that Sands was starting to become aware by now, even if he'd done nothing to reinforce her belief. But she knew the drug – or at least the papers that had been written about it and its effects – an she knew that it should be starting to wear off by now. It wouldn't fully work out of his system for a few days, making his reflexes slow, his eyesight blurry, and his head throb, but it was still better than what her family had planned.
When his nose started to trickle blood again as his posture changed, Tess kept her face impassive. If anyone noticed and asked, she'd just say it was blood that was running downhill now that his head was raised. No one asked. By the time they had him out of the car, it didn't matter anyway. She had bigger worries.
As Sands' legs were pulled free of the car and his feet hit the ground, he must have been aware enough to know that something was going on, because he let out a small moan. Everyone froze, Neva and the driver asking themselves if they'd really heard what they thought they had, and Tess slipped a cartridge into her air gun.
Traitor. Neva whirled on her cousin, gun coming up just as Tess raised hers. Their eyes met and Neva actually hesitated at the expression of gleeful savagery in Tessa's eyes that was so at odds with Tessa's serious face. Tess used that brief pause to fire her first sedative dart. It hit Neva in the arm, instantly injecting it's load before Neva had a chance to rip it out. As Neva fired her gun – the bullet shattering the car window and grazing Tessa's ribs – the driver dropped Sands and pulled his open weapon. Tess winced to hear Sands' grunt of pain, but if she didn't drop this man, his pain wouldn't last long.
She ducked behind the car, making it look as if she'd been too weak to stand and that taking down Neva had been her last defiance. Almost certain that the man had orders from Carlos not to kill her, she reloaded her weapon and fired through the window the moment the man's beefy shoulder came into view through the broken window. He dropped like a stone.
Tess stayed huddled next to the car for a few long, agonizing minutes, wondering if she'd actually succeeded or if everyone else was just waiting for her to come out with her guard down. Her mind played images of her stepping out from behind her shelter and either the driver or Neva springing up and gunning her down. Out of dying eyes she'd watch as they advanced on Sands and did the same to him. He'd never know that she'd tried to help him, that she'd done everything in her power to keep from hurting him. She would die a failure.
But if she stayed here, then she lived a coward, and that was just as distasteful. "The distance between insanity and genius," she murmured, leaning forward to crawl instead of trying to walk, "is measured by success." And with that, she poked her head around the car door.
Neva was well and truly asleep, more relaxed than Tess had ever seen her. It was strange to see her like that – as if by looking she was stealing something – so Tess adverted her eyes and looked towards Sands. At first she wondered if she'd been hiding longer than she though, and if he'd gotten up at left, because she certainly didn't see him. Then she realized that the reason she didn't see him was that Neva had fallen across his legs, and the driver was lying face-down, covering the rest of him.
Oh dear. There was no way she was going to be able to move the two of them on her own. She didn't like it, but it looked as if she was going to have to sit around and wait for Sands to wake up and help her.
Painfully, Tess crawled through the dirt to sit by Sands. The driver's shoulder was over his face. That was bad; she needed to be able to see him. Using her right foot to brace herself, Tess pushed, hissing in pain as the exertion made her back scream.
She was weak from her own blood loss, broken bones, and the shock of having been beaten, but she was determined. Have to see Sands face, she told herself as she gasped down a breath and pushed some more. Have to. Have to. Have t– The body flipped over and Tess recoiled in terror. He neck and lower face were coated in blood. She'd killed him.
What? How. . . ? No. The entire point of the darts had been to keep from killing anyone. She didn't like killing. "I don't, I don't," she assured herself, unable to look away from the blood that now stained her hands as well. "I didn't mean to. Oh god, I didn't mean to."
You must have shot the dart at an awkward angle, the voice whispered treacherously. It must have torn through his jugular. He would have bleed to death very quickly.
But I didn't want to –
It doesn't matter now, does it? Now, who's driving the getaway vehicle, Bonnie? Clyde won't be able to. He's going to have a hard enough time seeing straight. And you need to check on him. Forget the corpse and focus on the living.
Right. Living. Tess took several deep breaths and forced herself to look at Sands. I already knew I had to drive, she protested. That part I knew. The voice wasn't convinced, but Tess ignored it and checked Sands' pulse with shaky hands instead. Despite the man collapsed on top of him, he was breathing just fine, and his pulse was stronger.
After another ten minutes of waiting for something to happen, she decided that they didn't have anymore time to waste. Sands was going to have to wake up whether he liked it or not. With that decided, she reached out and shook his shoulder.
Nothing. He didn't ever so much as growl as she disturbed him.
No, no, no, no. This will not do. Unreasonably, Tessa glared at the unmoving bulk of man she was trying to wake. If I don't get to sleep, you don't either. "Sands?" she called, shaking his shoulder again and wincing as the muscles along her poor, abused ribs pulled tight. "Sands, you have to wake up now. This isn't a safe place to sleep. It's not even a clean place to sleep." She looked down at the dust covering the legs of her pants. "Now I need to wash my clothes," she muttered, momentarily distracted from her task. "See? You need to wake up so we can go somewhere where I can wash my clothes. And yours. You're dirty too." Why isn't he talking to me? Is he mad at me? "Please, wake up, Sands. I'm sorry I had to lie. Don't be mad, please don't be mad. Everyone is mad at me. I'm lonely. You need to wake up so we can leave. I want to go home. Please wake up. Please. . . ."
Someone was talking. It sounded like he was being nagged, and he could only imagine who would have the audacity to nag him when he was doing his best to die silently. It took a great deal of patience to do so, and he was doing a very good job of pretending to be accepting of all this, but some female wasn't letting him.
Female. The concept wouldn't leave him alone, just like that voice wouldn't shut up. It pulled at his attention, forcing him to wonder what importance it had. Why would he care about a word? Especially that one? Women were nothing but trouble, and they certainly weren't worth worrying over. He should know. He'd met lots of women, most of whom he could no longer stand. So why didn't that damn feeling just leave him alone? Maybe if he listened to what was being said. . . .
"You have to get up. You're getting all dirty, and the man bled on you, and you'll get the car dirty, but that can't really be avoided I suppose because you have to be in the car. Right? Oh, you're still not talking to me. I'm sorry. I know I said it before, but I'm sorry. It was the only way out. You see that, right? But we can't stay in the desert. They'll come looking, and these two . . . well, I suppose she'll wake up. I didn't mean to kill the other one. It was an accident. I don't like killing. You know that. Please just wake up." Whoever it was, she was not making much sense. That realization triggered another memory of its own: a dark woman with sad eyes and a blank face, moving around a room and cleaning things up.
Tessa. This was all her fault. If she'd only been in her room, all this could have been avoided.
"Oh look. I got some blood on you. I'm sorry. I was brushing at some dirt . . . if Father saw me now, I would be in so much trouble. And that's why you have to get up. We need to go somewhere and get cleaned up before anyone sees us. Sands? Can you hear me?"
Yes, damnit. He could hear.
Tess had just about lost hope when she reached down to shake Sands' shoulder for the fifth time in less than ten minutes. They really did need to go. If Neva woke up before Sands did. . . . She shuddered. Neva was unbearable before she'd had a cup of coffee to wake her up.
"We have to go now, Sands," she murmured urgently, shaking his shoulder, then jumping back as he groaned. Did I imagine that? she demanded, not caring who answered. Am I hallucinating?
I wish. The grumpy answer was muttered as Sands' eyes fluttered as he tried to open them. Tess sat breathless, watching him, still half convinced that she was conjuring this all up. You could always just ask him.
Oh. Yes. I suppose I could. Tentatively, she reached out an arm and brushed his shoulder. "Sands?"
His head turned, and once he was done wincing from the pain the move created, his eyes focused on her. He frowned. "Fuck. Why can't I move?"
A spill of giddy laughter that had nothing to do with humor spilled from her mouth before she clapped her hands over it. Tess forced herself to calm down and lower her grimy, bloody hands. "They're lying on you. I didn't mean to do it. They just kinda fell there."
"They who?" he asked patiently, silently cursing as he become conscious of the fact that he was missing a contact.
"Neva. And the driver. I don't know what his name was. It's rude to kill someone when you don't even know their name, don't you think?" Her mind felt as if she'd spent the last half-hour riding a tilt-o-whirl; her mental balance was off.
Sands shrugged. "It happens. Help me move them." Whatever it was that she'd given him – and they would talk about that later – had left him as weak as a kitten. Tess didn't seem to understand that though, because she just sat there and stared at him blankly. "Well, get up and help me," he said irritably as the sensation of being penned down made his skin start to crawl.
"I can't," she murmured pathetically. "My ankle is broken. I thought you did it."
"Me?" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, not realizing until it was too late that it was broken. His yelp seemed to make Tess even more miserable. "Never mind," he hissed, using his arms to help him sit up. "Just help me push them off." This time she nodded and together they rolled the dead man onto the ground. With that weight gone, it was an easy enough matter for Sands to slip his legs out from under Neva's dead weight.
"Is there a car?" he asked as he climbed to his feet, weaving for a moment until the world around him steadied. Damn. This whole missing one contact while having the other was irritating. His depth perception was out of whack.
Tess nodded and clambered to her feet, noticing that Sands didn't offer to help her up, and not particularly caring. She was a big girl. She could take care of herself if she had to. Up until last night – was it last night or the night before? – she'd been doing a good job of it considering the circumstances. So she tilted her chin up with all the pride that'd been taught her as the daughter – wanted or otherwise – of a powerful man, and took a step forward. Her pride didn't keep her from crying out as she felt the broken ends of the bones in her angle rub together under the weight she was forcing on them, and it didn't keep her from almost falling flat on her face.
Sands caught her before she landed, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her against his side. The pain from this maneuver almost caused her to swoon. "Stop," she hissed, trying to arch away from his arm and his body at the same time. "That hurts."
Of course it does. Sands remembered the sight of her bruised and swollen face back at the hacienda and wondered how much color a few more hours had given her cheeks. Stooping, he picked up a fallen rifle and examined the stock.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Tess stuttered, inching away. He wasn't going to shoot her like one would shoot a lame horse, was he?
"Relax, niña. Does this thing have a light on it?"
"You're going to smoke? Now?"
Sands rolled his eyes despite his headache. "A flashlight, Teresa. Does it have a flashlight?"
"Can't you see it?"
Her words caused a wave of ice to sweep down Sands' spine. More than anyone else, she should know better than to ask him questions like that. Of course, she hates me now, so why not point out my vulnerabilities and rub my face in them? "If I could see it, pequeña, I wouldn't have to ask, would I?" His voice was tight despite the drawl he spoke in. "Although I suppose you did answer my question in a roundabout sort of way. Stand still." His searching fingers flipped the light on and he shined it in her face.
Tess winced as the light hit her eyes, not noticing until that point that it was well and truly dark out. With the light in her hands, she couldn't see Sands at all. He was nothing more than a black, man-shaped blob against the dark grey background of the distant mountains. "What are you doing?" she asked again, forcing herself not to give ground to her companion. If this was another test, then she'd pass it. Part of her fondly remembered the days when he used to test her often; the voice told it that it was crazy. Tess agreed.
The light brought the ugly swellings on Tessa's face to bright relief. Sands stared for a moment, wondering why a man who professed love for the woman in front of him would abuse her so thoroughly. Not that for a moment he believed that Carlos actually loved Tessa. Desire he'd buy, but not love. But it was better that Tess didn't realize he was imagining his hands around Carlos' throat.
"Looks like you've been clumsy again, niña. What'd you do? Throw yourself into someone's fist a few times?"
Incredibly, she blushed. "No. I fell down the stairs. I saw that bimbo at the hacienda and lost me temper."
Alright. That was close enough to an apology about her hysterics about that blonde bitch. He wouldn't bother to squeeze anything else out of her at the moment, at least not on that matter. "Where else?"
"Head, ribs, back, ankle. However, I can see straight which is an advantage over you. I'll drive, but we have to get going. Traveler, embrace the morning light, but do not take the hand of night. We have to go. I'm sure Neva was supposed to report back by a certain time, and when she doesn't, they're going to send out cars to search for her and for me. And you, if anyone finds her soon."
Sands gave in to that reminder, and after collecting all the guns he could find from the two bodies on the ground, he followed Tess towards the car in silence. Too much had happened for them to talk to each other now. Perhaps too much had happened period.
And if leaving her had been the idea from the start, why did it leave a bad taste in his mouth now?
They'd been on the road for little over an hour, but they hadn't gotten very far from the place they left Neva and the dead henchman. It seemed that one of those lingering effects of the drug Tess had given Sands was a propensity for motion sickness. They'd had to pull over three times so he could first empty his stomach, and then dry retch on the side of the road. On two of those occasions, Tess ending up throwing up as well, but after that she was simply too weak to bother with her upset stomach.
It was after the latest of these stops as Tess sat in the car trying to enjoy the cool night breeze as Sands worked off the last of his nausea, that the events of the past forty-eight hours hit her like a brick. She was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. All she wanted to do was cry for a good hour, take a long, hot bath, and then sleep for a week. In the middle of these thoughts, Sands clambered back into the car, and she took note of his own wearied movements.
"If we don't hit a town in the next forty-five minutes," she told him quietly, "I'm going to find a good place for us to pull off the road. If I drive for too much longer, I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel, and that would be a really stupid way to die after everything else." Sands nodded his agreement, either of her statement or her plan, but didn't say anything.
Not that I expected him to, she thought as she turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear. Her words had been the first sentences spoken since they'd gotten into the car – Sands' strangled sounds of gastrointestinal distress didn't count.
The appointed fort-five minutes came and went, leaving Tess to scan the passing countryside for a likely place to stop. Unfortunately, the seemed to be driving on some sort of elevated section of highway that crossed a ravine. Trying to descend here would be difficult even if her reflexes and eyesight were perfect, which they weren't at the moment.
"Alright, I can take a hint," she muttered, leaning forward in her seat a bit to take some pressure off her back. For the fifth time inside the hour, she adjusted her rearview mirror . . . and cursed. Vehemently.
"What?" Sands asked, perking up a little out her outburst.
"Lights."
"Where?" He squinted through the windshield.
"Not ahead, CIA man. Behind us." She knew it was the last thing she wanted to do, but Tess couldn't help but accelerate a little.
"If we passed a town, why didn't you. . ." He trailed off as he realized what kind of lights she'd seen behind them. "How far behind?" he asked, reaching down to double and triple check the rifle and the two handguns he'd pilfered.
"I don't know. It's hard to tell in the dark. Maybe half a mile."
"Alright. Just drive, niña. Don't speed up yet."
What does he think you are? A moron?
Not helping. Tess checked her mirror again and saw that the car had reappeared over whatever rise it'd been hidden behind. They've hit the same stretch we're on, she realized uncomfortably.
And they're speeding up.
They are? How could the voice tell when they were looking out of the same exhaustion-muddled eyes?
Yes.
"They're speeding up," she told Sands. "So –"
"So they're either really desperate to pass us, or to catch up with us." Briefly letting go of one of his guns, Sands reached up and removed his other contact. The disparity between his eyes was only a hindrance at the moment. He'd proven that he was just a good a sight blind as visioned . . . he just hoped that was still true when the world was nothing but a blur. If worse comes to worse, I'll just close my eyes. "Niña?"
"What?" she responded shortly. God help him if he said something disconcerting now.
"Whatever happens –"
"Sands," she said warningly.
"– keep your eyes on the road." Tess could hear the smirk in his voice. "Were you expecting something else, chica?"
She muttered and checked her mirror. "They're coming up fast. You should be able to see them in your mirror."
"Can't see that much at the moment, sugarbutt. Just keep watching the road as I climb into the backseat." Despite the tension of the situation, Sands heard Tessa's snort of exasperation, and it almost made him smile.
"Put on your seatbelt," she snapped, just knowing that he found her anxiety amusing.
"Tessa –"
"No arguing. Put on your seatbelt. If you haven't noticed, there's no guardrails around here, and if we go plunging down the ravine, I'd prefer knowing that at least you are going to go flying through one of the windows."
"I –"
"Sands!" she interrupted yet again. "Don't make me stop this car." There was incredulous silence in the back seat for a few seconds, but then she heard the sound of a seatbelt locking.
"Tyrant," he muttered.
"Thank you."
The time for talking was over. Sands rolled down the window on the left side of the car and the sound of wind filled the small space. Surprise was always an excellent tactic, so he slouched in his seat and waited. Anticipation had replaced his embarrassingly weak stomach, and he waited with baited breath for the other car to catch up with them; he watched the headlights grow closer through Tessa's side mirror. He couldn't see the writing from here, but he knew what it said: Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Not close enough though.
When the car started to speed up, he made a low sound. Tess must have heard it over the wind because she slowed down again. Good girl. It must have been days since she'd been allowed to take her medication, but she was handling all this remarkably well. Sands admired that kind of self-control.
"Oh no." Tessa's words floated back to him.
"What?" he asked, wondering what else could have managed to go wrong.
"There's a second car. It just came into view . . . and it's coming really fast." Her hands ached from where they were locked on the steering wheel. Terror was fighting to take her over, to slam her foot down on the gas pedal; to make her stop the car, get out, and run for her life. The Whisperers were getting excited by the total lack of control she was feeling, and the only thing that stood between her and meltdown was the voice.
You owe me for this, it whispered. You owe me big time.
I owe myself some anti-psychotics. The car directly behind them had caught up with them and seemed content to simply travel behind them for a moment, and the car behind it continued its mad race to catch up. If it kept traveling as fast as it was, it would in just a minute or two. Are we being boxed in, or is that just some innocent behind us? she wondered, one hand twitching down to set the cruise control as she should have long ago.
"The second car is coming up," she said, trying not to panic.
"What's the first one doing?"
She watched. "It's just sitting behind us." Without having to ask, Tess knew Sands was thinking the same things she had earlier.
The only thing he said though, was, "Don't let them force you off the road."
How encouraging. "Okay, the second car is just a few seconds behind us, but I don't think –" Whatever she thought became irrelevant as the first car turned on its blinker and slid into the other lane as if preparing to pass. "The first one is passing."
Sands stole a peek out the window. She's too naïve. "Not it's not, chica. It's shadowing us. When I tell you, hit the gas." Tess wiped her palms on her jeans then resettled her hands on the wheel. Miraculously, she wasn't tired anymore. "What's the second car doing?"
"Tailgating." She hated her family! All she wanted was a quiet life. She didn't want to be involved in any of this.
"Alright, when I say go, hit the gas. Understand?" The back of her head moved as she nodded. Sands watched as the front windows of the first car drew even with his own. If they caught up with Tess, that would be bad. "Go." Their car jerked forward as Tess hit the accelerator at the exact same time the second car tapped their bumper. As Sands was thrown forward by the force, he was very glad that Tess had insisted on the seatbelt.
Tess watched the speedometer as it crawled past 70 mph, to 80, then 90. . . The accelerator was pressed against the floor, but the engine was sluggish to move past the 95 mph mark. That was fast enough though; Tess had never driven this fast in her life, and she discovered to her chagrin that the car had a tendency to want to steer itself depending on the whims of the road. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grip and winced as she watched the other two cars gain on her.
Hmm, they must have newer models. Tess didn't dignify that with a reply.
"Go faster," was the advice from the backseat.
"I'm trying," she replied tightly, her hands – she was sure – leaving permanent grips in the steering wheel. "They don't send the nice cars out to haul corpses."
"Gee, thanks for that information," Sands muttered as he adjusted his grip on a pistol. He couldn't really see anyone in the cars, and sound didn't help him locate their position, but he could lay down random fire if he had to. "They're coming up on your left again."
"I see them." Yes, she saw them, but there wasn't much she could do about it. This gully went on for miles apparently, because she still didn't see an end to it, and that was amazing considering the speeds they were traveling at.
Both cars inched up until they once again boxed in the two fugitives. Tess suddenly knew that there was going to be no mercy shown. They were not just going to be escorted somewhere where they could be rounded up and taken back to the hacienda. This was for keeps, and the losers were going to die.
On the heels of that thought, the car behind them bumped into them. Tess gasped as their speed worked against her and the car almost went out of control. Jerking the wheel to the left, she swerved into the car at their side. It swerved back, trying to push them over the edge of the embankment. "Sands!" She didn't know what he could do, but his name and the plea for help escaped her anyway.
"I see." Not bothering to aim, he pointed his gun at the other car and fired. Whoever was driving decided that Tess wasn't as helpless as she appeared and they pulled away. The car behind them took advantage of the distraction though and rammed into the back of the car. Once again, Tess had to jerk the wheel to keep from flying off the road.
Moving in tandem, the two cars worked to force Tess and Sands off the road. Fed up, Sands aimed for the darkest blotch he could see in the car next to him and fired . . .
. . . his shot killed the driver . . .
. . . the car went out of control and slammed into theirs . . .
. . . Tess tried to swerve back onto the road, but the car next to them didn't move. All it took was a nudge from the car behind, and she lost control of the vehicle.
. . . She screamed as she felt the car tip onto its two right wheels . . .
. . . the world was nothing but dark, spinning confusion . . .
. . . and then pain.
Author's Note: alright, alright. I confess: I like being evil. No, that was not the last chapter. Yes, I liked hinting that it was. Some of you were absolutely right in your reviews about what Tess really gave Sands, and I assure everyone that should I ever decide to kill him, he'll go out with much more of a fight. Again, I am accepting angry rants for where I ended, but I really must get a chapter of my Secret Window fic out. I'll try to make it quick.
Next chapter: final confrontation with Carlos.
Quotes: Emily Dickenson; James Bond: Tomorrow Never Dies; Sabriel, by Garth Nix
Thanks: many, many thanks to my irate reviewers, who include LadySparrowJack (If you can see what I do while writing, then I'm more than pleased. Sometimes I struggle with expressing myself, but its nice to see that it's all worth it.); CaptainJackSparrowsGirl (Yes, I'm evil. I accept that. And see? I was a good girl – kinda – and relieved some of the suspense. So, no dying until I finish this story. Or FS. By which time I will have started the From Hell fic. And I might start the PotC one before I finish the FH fic. And then I might write another OUATIM fic. So…no dying for awhile, capische?); Merrie (insert reply here Yes, I was very happy with myself, and if I encouraged you angsty-ness, then I'm more than pleased with myself.); velly (You're right. Ending there would have been cruel, and while I'm not the nicest to my characters, I wouldn't just leave Tess hanging there with all those dangling threads and no one to get her out.); normal human being (lol – wow. I am apparently too convincing for my own good. holds out wrist to be slapped The ending is not quite upon us – there will be some closure between Tess and Sands – but I expect in three chapters or so.); Takada Saiko (See how I respond to my reviewers? Really quick updates after I've pulled an evil trick. not that I'm sorry for the trick, of course Sands father might come in at a later date and fic. The two men don't get along, so Sands kinda avoids him.); Cayenne Pepper Powder (It doesn't end there. Of course, by this time, you've figured that out. Thanks so much for the complements – especially when I look at Miss Becky's work and think "OMG, I still have so far to go." And don't feel sorry for Tess quite yet. She's going to hate me in a bit.); quick29 (The ending – or at least the climax before the closure – is still a few chapters away. I'm just evil and wanted to worry everyone. looks angelic Glad you're enjoying FS. I'll get to work on that one next.); zukie (no, I just made everyone think I had killed Sands. You should try it sometime. You get some rather strong reactions. ); lieke (you're right – that is a totally anticlimactic ending for the story, and I wouldn't end there in a thousand years…but you're all so much fun to play with. When the real ending comes, you won't have any questions because you'll know. It'll be the right place to end it.); Kontara (Yes, I do realize you hate me. That was sorta the point. You're still free to hate me after this cliffhanger.); Raven (Well, I wasn't sure you were around or not, so if I didn't see a review from you by the time I posted this, I was going to e-mail it to you. Which I will do if you don't review by the time I get the next chapter up. Where are you that you're required to do a stint in the military? And you're right – life is hard, and that seems to be the point of my little ficlet. I accept all accusations of being evil, and say, "yep." Carlos is a bad one – Barillo was simply abusive. Carlos is almost attempting emotional rape. And Sands…Sands wasn't sure what would happen if he showed any concern over Tess, and it's not his way to be overly demonstrative with his emotions anyway.)
