The Last Mile by Tim Waggoner Page B

be as good as dead—or worse. So with an effort of will, she squashed her fear, jammed it down deep inside until a calming numbness settled over her. Only then did she trust herself to speak.
    There were so many questions she could ask, but the first one that popped out was, “Why didn’t you put tape over my mouth?”
    Her captor didn’t reply at first, and she thought that either he didn’t hear her or intended to ignore her. But then he said, “What?”
    “You taped my hands and feet, so obviously you don’t want me to go anywhere. But why don’t you care if I talk? I’d think it would be distracting, having a captive chattering away in the backseat…”
    She couldn’t believe what she was saying! Was she still dazed from the blow that had knocked her out? Had she suffered some sort of brain damage? The last thing she should be doing was annoying her kidnapper!
    The man paused, as if considering his reply, but when he finally answered, he sounded tired rather than annoyed. “I’m not allowed to put tape over the mouth. It…muffles the screams.”
    She almost lost it then, but she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Pain flared bright and she tasted blood, but the panic receded once more. You can make it through this, she told herself. Just stay cool, stay smart…
    It wasn’t easy bound as she was, and with a head that felt as if something with razor-sharp claws was trying to dig its way out of her brain, but she managed to sit up in the backseat, though she paid for her small triumph when nausea twisted her gut. It didn’t help that she’d swallowed a mouthful of blood from her cheek wound. Despite the chill air inside the car, she felt suddenly feverish and feared that she was going to throw up.
    Careful now…you don’t want to piss him off by puking on the upholstery.
    The thought that her life might hinge on whether she could choke back her vomit struck her as wildly funny, and she felt a wave of laughter building inside her. She wondered which would come out first—puke or laughter—or if she’d blow chunks the same instant that she started braying like an insane donkey. In the end, the competing impulses canceled each other out, and she was able to sit there quietly. Her head even seemed to hurt a little less.
    Score one for hysteria, she thought.
    She turned to look out the right passenger window to get an idea where she was, but the view wasn’t much help. Yellow-fog sky, smooth gray ground, the damn thorny weeds that seemed to sprout through every major road in the world now, almost as if they were there to make travel more difficult. She wasn’t in town anymore, but other than that, she couldn’t say where she was. She supposed what really mattered was where she was being taken.
    I’m not allowed to put tape over the mouth. It…muffles the screams.
    She decided she didn’t want to know where they were headed. Not yet.
    “Your car doesn’t sound too good.” A major understatement. From all the rattling, chuffing, and banging, it sounded as if the damn thing was going to shake itself apart any minute.
    “It’ll get us where we need to go. We’ve only got a mile or so left.” His tone was flat and emotionless as before, but Alice thought she detected a trace of doubt in his voice.
    So, Leather Jacket’s car was on the verge of breaking down. If it did, that might work to her advantage, providing an opportunity for escape. But escape to where? Town was dangerous enough, but out here… She’d rarely been outside the city limits since the arrival of the Masters, and even then she hadn’t gone far. But she’d heard stories of what it was like. Everyone had. And even if only a fraction of the tales were true, she might live longer—and her death might be easier—if she remained with her captor.
    Alice was still pondering what, if anything, she could do to save herself when she saw a dark blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. Something large and swift slammed into the