Conflagration

XXIII

By the time the truck reached the Troop Bryce's hands were shaking and his head was bobbing over the steering wheel. Droplets of blood and long red divots were dug into his arm. One on the side of his face.

Crystal was leaning over the center console facing the back bench where the girl was curled up. Her wrists ankles and mouth had been taped over. The barrel of the AR was pointed squarely at her chest and although she had fought them early she had resigned herself by then to a kind of silent exasperation. Both eyes showing something between fear and rage.

When he pulled her out of the Camry she was still delirious from the crash. He managed to drag her into the truck and get her hands before she did much damage. The feet were next. By the time they saw the Jeep coming after them she'd been more or less taped solid and that left an opening for him to fire off a few rounds.

Bryce could feel the adrenaline fading and the sensation coupled perfectly with his come down. The two had been up now for over thirty hours and needed another fix or else they would go into a hibernation that would keep them in bed for a full day or two. Couldn't have that. Not now.

He pulled the truck up to the back of the big tent and killed the engine. The Reverend was sitting across from a girl that looked no older than sixteen. He was speaking to her quietly with his hand on her shoulder dressed in all black save a white neck collar. A black boater hat rested on his head.

"Whatchu say, Wyrick."

The Reverend looked up and removed his hand. "If you'll excuse me," he told her and followed Bryce back out into daylight.

"Call me Reverend in front of my women."

Bryce looked back at him, confused. "They don't know your name?"

"They know my position. That's enough."

"Got you something." He opened the driver door and slid the seat forward. "Go on take a look. She's a real money maker. Gunna bring in cash hand over fist."

The Reverend leaned into the cab and then stepped away from it. His head shaking. "Oh," he said. "Oh lord. What in God's name have you done?" He looked up at his sister sitting in the passenger seat but she only stared back at him. Black patches around both eyes. He stumbled back a step and ran his hand through his hair.

"What's got into you?" Bryce asked.

It took a moment for him to answer. "My son," he said. "I think you've just killed all of us."

"Whatchu mean? All you gotta do is whore her out. What's the problem?"

"Where did you get her from?"

"Spotted her drivin. Got her pulled over and yanked her out."

"Do you have any idea who this girl is?"

Bryce eyed him suspiciously. He realized at that moment that he had not once considered who the girl was. Dark revelations poured into his mind, filling the void left by the powder.

"Looky Wyrick. We're in a bit of a pinch. Lost some money we were supposed to fence out for the Sheriff. Figured we'd try to earn him a bit of cash while we find that fool who took it."

"You did this. For the Sheriff."

"Thought he might give us less of a hard time."

"Oh no. I'd say that you can count on a hard time."

"How's that?"

"You have his grandchild bound and gagged in your backseat. I can't imagine that would inspire sympathy."