The Girl With The Crimson Eyes

57: Family

Remnya

The sun faded behind the horizon, and the first street lights began to glow orange, shifting the welcoming atmosphere of the village. Remnya and Merle crossed the market street, where all the merchants gathered by sunset with their food carts. The smell of fried meat lingered in the air, and people flooded the streets searching for the best meal.

Despite the distractions, Remnya focused on her surroundings, scanning every corner for the men with horns. Merle advanced in front of her, wearing a ridiculous fedora and drinking from a large liquor bottle he had bought at a tavern.

They turned into a narrow street, where the appetizing smell of food was replaced by the reek of alcohol and cigarettes. Kids and elders vanished, and menacing gloomy faces emerged from the shadows. Prying eyes scanned Remnya from different corners, making her skin crawl. Arriving at an intersection, she noticed several pubs and brothels on each side of the street.

Merle halted in front of a pub and scratched his chin, scanning his surroundings. Finally, his eyes landed on an old truck parked nearby. Remnya read his intentions as soon as he stomped toward the vehicle.

"Are you serious?" Remnya questioned, her heart racing in her chest.

"Stay quiet and do as I say." Merle scowled and stood next to the truck. He glanced left and right, making sure no one looked his way, and then placed his hand against the driver's window. His skin glowed, and the crystal began to melt, opening a hole. Merle shoved his hand through it and unlocked the door. Those seconds felt like hours for Remnya, who noticed two drunk men and a lady looking their way.

Unfazed, Merle sat on the driver's seat and gestured at Remnya to get inside. Shunning away the conflicting emotions lurking in her head, she obeyed, hopping in the vehicle and closing the door. The truck smelled of dust and dampness mixed with old diesel and oil.

"This is stealing!" Remnya shouted, feeling cold sweat prickling at her skin.

"We're just borrowing it." Merle used the wires under the steering wheel to start the engine.

"How many times have you done this?" Remnya asked, glancing everywhere, fearing the owner would show up at any moment.

"I grew up among cars, this is a piece of cake." Merle released the handbrake, and the truck moved, its old motor roaring as it released a trail of thick black smoke.

Merle honked and insulted a drunk man limping along the street and accelerated recklessly. Remnya's heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach, thinking about what the witnesses would say about her. Yet, she was relieved no one dared to confront them about their crime; Merle's intimidating appearance was enough to deter any fool from trying to play the hero.

They turned left onto a dirt road and sped up through the twilight. A green sign on the side of the road read: 'Crysalton 567 KM'.

"This road should take us to the main highway," Merle said, then pointed at the travel bag where he had put his bottle. Remnya grabbed the liquor and handed it to him, who, smiling, rushed to chug it. She wondered if they would make it to Crysalton alive.

Resigned, Remnya sighed and adjusted her seatbelt. She leaned her face against the stained window and tried to focus on the landscape. A tenuous beam of sunlight still peeked at her from behind a wall of Redwood trees that spread along the roadway, building a fortress of crimson, home to countless animals.

The soil was of an orange tone like clay, soft and slippery, which caused the truck's tires to lose traction as Merle sped up aggressively around a narrow curve, ignoring bumps and holes. The ride fell like a rollercoaster of sand and clay.