Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He chain-smoked throughout their journey along dusty roads, but it wasn’t his throat that rasped in protest in the end but their engine.
They refused to talk even as it started gurgling. When the truck came to a halt on a hill, Nero wordlessly put it in neutral, and controlled it with the brake until they reached the bottom of the slope and gravity could no longer propel them forward.
Nero slid out and glanced toward the orange sky that made his green hair look as if it was on fire. “We could see the river from up there. Let’s find a port. Or steal another car, or something,” he muttered, breaking the long silence, and started walking off without checking what Miguel’s opinion was.
Miguel shook his head and pulled out a flashlight from his backpack. “Or maybe, you could have listened when I tried to tell you where to go. You know there’s predators around here, right?”
“There’s two of us and we’re armed,” Nero said, frowning at the shadowy contour of a Ferris wheel on the background of the colorful sky. Alongside it were other structures clearly belonging in an amusement park. But despite it being late, Miguel could see no lights, and no activity in that single proof of human presence.
“We’d be better off staying with the truck until morning and only then trying to work out where we are. The battery in this flashlight won’t last forever.”
Even though Miguel now didn’t care if he lived or died, he’d promised Nero to get him to safety, and he was set to deliver on that promise.
Nero sighed. “Why? There’s a full amusement park there. They’re bound to have some food, or a road, or something.”
“There’s no lights. It’s probably deserted like in some dystopian movie.” And yet, Miguel followed Nero, pushed forward by guilt that was gradually eating him up. Why was he feeling like this on the day he’d fulfilled his destiny by killing Raul Moreno? It should have been a moment of triumph, yet he didn’t feel relief. Because what was his purpose now that the one goal he’d been sharpened for was already behind him? A tool as dangerous as him was not appropriate for peeling carrots.
He’d outlived his usefulness.
“But there’s gonna be space for us to lie down, and they wouldn’t have built it if there was no good road, or a town nearby. And even if it’s now closed, we could find some packaged food,” Nero reasoned, speeding up as the low light started to tire Miguel’s eyes.
Miguel stayed one step behind him to avoid Nero’s gaze, but that didn’t solve the problem of them being stuck together on such bad terms. “Sure, long expired chips. Delicious,” he grumbled.
“Better than nothing. Besides, for all we know, it might not be abandoned, just closed for renovation, or something.”
It was wishful thinking, and they both knew it, but Miguel kept himself from making another comment as they walked along the sandy road cutting through pastures dotted by trees with wide-reaching crowns.
Not a single vehicle had passed them since they’d left the truck, and while Miguel could hear some in the distance, he didn’t hope for another easy carjacking tonight. But since navigating the uneven ground under his feet had tired him out, he was relieved to step on a road that was rather narrow, and peppered with holes, but at least made of asphalt. Beyond it, thick bushes spread on either side of the road leading toward the cluster of abstract shapes that were gradually blending into the darkening sky.
Trees, which must have been planted along the road to the amusement park, blocked whatever remained of daylight with their leafy crowns, and when Miguel shone the flashlight ahead, shadows took on sinister shapes. He wouldn’t dream of mentioning it to Nero, since his worry about what might be hiding in the dense plant life would no doubt lead to mockery. So he told himself it was just his imagination fucking with him and focused on the weeds growing out of cracks in the asphalt until they reached a spot where they could either keep going forward or turn right.
“What’s that?” Nero asked and pointed to the side.
Miguel turned to illuminate the area for him, and a scream tore out of his mouth when his abstract worries took the form of a giant clown face staring back at him. He dropped the flashlight and took a step back only to realize seconds later that he’d made an absolute fool of himself, because the clown was just an old, peeling painting on an arch inviting people to Funland.
“Is that… a thing? Are you one of those people who are afraid of clowns?” Nero asked, and in the dying light, Miguel could see a smirk on that handsome face.
With shame steaming his head, he picked up the flashlight, already knowing there’d be more red noses and massive, frilly collars in the land of horrors Nero insisted they enter. “No. I just don’t like their faces. What are they thinking? Are they really happy? Are they faking it? You just don’t know when they’re gonna stab you in the guts. It’s unnerving.”