Chapter 16: Aftermath
The world narrowed to the ribbon of asphalt and the shrinking speck of the patrol car ahead. Gus’s jaw was a knot of granite, his eyes fixed on the target. The rig’s engine screamed, a sound Will had never heard from it before—a deep, mechanical roar of fury.
“Gus,” she said, her voice thin.
He didn’t look at her. His hands, those big, calloused hands that had held her with such gentleness minutes before, were locked on the wheel. “Seatbelt,” he grunted.
She fumbled with the strap, the click echoing in the cacophony of the engine and the wind screaming past the windows. The desert became a tan blur. He closed the distance with a terrifying, relentless speed. The cop car grew in the windshield, no longer a symbol of authority but a metal box containing the source of a sickness that had seeped into her bones.
They pulled alongside. Will could see Deputy Miller’s surprised face turn toward them, his mouth a round O. Gus didn’t hesitate. He wrenched the wheel to the right.
The sound was a sickening crunch of fiberglass and steel. The rig’s massive grille kissed the patrol car’s rear quarter panel, a love tap of immense force. The smaller vehicle slewed sideways, tires screeching. It fought for traction for a heart-stopping second, then gave up, launching over the shoulder and slamming nose-first into a weathered concrete culvert with a final, bone-jarring thud.
Dust plumed into the air.
Gus brought the rig to a stop fifty yards down the road. The silence that fell was profound, broken only by the ticking of the overheating engine and a faint, steady hiss from the wreck.
He killed the engine. “Stay here.”
Will didn’t. She climbed out, her legs barely supporting her. She followed him, her steps slow and unsteady, drawn toward the wreck like it was a dark star.
The patrol car was folded around the concrete. The front end was obliterated, the engine block shoved back into the cabin. Steam rose from the radiator. And beneath the car, a dark, spreading stain of gasoline began to pool on the dry earth, the smell sharp and toxic.
Inside, Miller was moaning, trapped by the steering column. Hayes, on the passenger side, was clawing at his crumpled door, his face a mask of blood and panic.
“Help us,” Hayes choked out, his eyes wide with animal fear when he saw Gus approach. “Get us out.”
Gus stopped a few feet from the spreading pool of fuel. He didn’t say a word. He reached into the breast pocket of his denim shirt and pulled out a soft pack of cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter.
The click of the lighter was unnaturally loud.
Miller’s head lolled towards the sound. “No… wait… please…”
Gus lit the cigarette. He took a long, slow drag, the ember glowing bright in the shade of the wrecked car. He exhaled a plume of smoke that hung in the still, hot air. His eyes, cold and flat, found Will’s over the hood. He held her gaze for a long moment, a silent question in the depths of his own storm.
In that look, she saw the offer. The chance to stop this. To be the better person. To call an ambulance and let the system, the same system that had just failed them so catastrophically, handle it.
The memory of the gritty paint under her palms, the tearing pain, the taste of salt and coffee, flashed through her. The feeling of being erased.
She gave a single, sharp nod.
Gus turned back to the wreck. He took one last drag.
“You shouldn’t have touched her,” he said, his voice low and devoid of all emotion.
He flicked the cigarette.
It tumbled end over end, a tiny, arcing comet. It landed in the center of the petrol slick with a soft, almost delicate hiss.
The world erupted in a soft whump of igniting vapor. The fire raced across the pool, surrounding the car in an instant, then eagerly licking up the doors and windows.
The screams started then. High-pitched and terrible, cutting through the crackle of the flames. They beat against the glass, their forms distorting behind the rising curtain of black smoke.
Will watched. She didn’t flinch. She let the heat wash over her, let the sounds etch themselves into her soul. This wasn’t justice. It was something older, something simpler. An eradication.
Soon, the screams stopped.
Gus put a hand on her shoulder, his touch pulling her back from the edge of the inferno. “Let’s go.”
They walked back to the truck in silence. He helped her up into the cab, his movements still careful, still gentle. He climbed in, started the engine, and pulled back onto the highway. He drove at the speed limit, just another rig moving through the endless desert.
In the side mirror, a black pillar of smoke rose into the pristine blue sky, a dirty mark on the horizon.
Will leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The shaking was gone. The hollowness was gone. In their place was a cold, hard certainty. She looked at Gus, at the focused intensity on his face as he drove them away from the pyre he’d built for them.
“Where now?” she asked, her voice steady.
He glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Somewhere else.”