Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The thing squelched under him, but Dane managed to ignore his initial disgust and pulled at the front of the mattress before transferring his whole weight onto it. Air rushed into his face as gravity and his own weight dragged his vehicle down the slope.
The sun blinked into Dane’s eyes, making him squint as the impromptu sled gained speed. He kept himself from screaming even as his stomach traveled up to his throat when the front end of the mattress nudged something, making Dane lean back. But his sled didn’t topple over, and stopped a few steps away from the junk mountain. He got up, trying to ignore the laxness in his knees, but it took patting himself to make sure he was still alive.
Jag might be starting the hunt any moment, so Dane wasted no more time. He jogged, hoping the path he was on would take him closer to the fence. He grabbed a small but sturdy pipe, in case he needed a weapon, and as he pulled it out from under a broken sink, a swarm of cockroaches rushed out from the pile of bricks and tiles it laid on.
He hadn’t realized he’d screamed until his voice echoed between the mounds, sending his brain into a frantic spin.
Fuck.
A dog barked somewhere beyond the rubble ahead. The noise it made resonated through the quiet landscape of metal and rubber, and Dane froze as soon as he backed away, leaving his chosen weapon behind. A part of him wanted to call out or run toward the animal, but his mind filled with images of strays on the prowl for fresh meat.
And the people who lived here? Rob had brought him here, to the owners of the junkyard, for disposal, so what guarantee did he have that whoever was out there, would be safe to approach?
Dane couldn’t take the chance of being caught by someone who had less mercy than Jag. While deranged, at least Jag was sweet to him, he cared the same way someone would for a stray cat they found in the street. For all he knew, the people in that house might be vultures who lived off corpses.
So he turned right and ran away from the barking while trying to keep in mind the general direction of the fence. He didn’t need to get to any particular gate, or even outside the junkyard, just to the fence.
How much time had passed? Was Jag still waiting for his turn to join their game, or was he already on the move and about to emerge at the top of the hill with a triumphant cry? An anxious glance back confirmed Jag hadn't caught up with him yet, but the man knew this place way better than Dane—down to every secret passage and shortcut.
The ten-minute head start Dane had demanded now seemed laughably short, but it was too late to change the terms of their agreement, so he jogged past a fallen school bus, only to return and climb inside when he realized it cut through a hill and could be exited through the back.
The short tunnel was full of rusty metal, so Dane was careful not to cut his hands, but once he emerged in the shade, the sight of several shipping containers gathered around a bare area in the middle in a parody of a Stone Age monument made him halt.
What fuckery was this?
One of the containers was open while the others remained secured with heavy padlocks and chains. He should focus on finding his way out of this godforsaken place, but curiosity got the best of him and he ran across the site, peeking into the big metal box.
The blue barrels congregated inside would have been creepy enough, but his stomach dropped when he spotted a human-sized cage in the back. Oh, he should have dashed past this fuckery. This was none of his business. In fact, he didn’t even want to know what went on here, so he found his way through a narrow passage between the containers with his heart punching his throat.
A piece of debris rolled down a slope somewhere behind Dane, beyond the containers he’d left behind, and the bright sunlight that had earlier allowed him to see his goal and traverse the junkyard in relative safety, now felt like his greatest enemy. Was Jag so close behind him?
Had he already caught up with Dane, ready to throw him into the dirt and mount up, like an animal that had just won access to a breeding partner? Or was it someone else? Someone dangerous in whose interest it would be to end Dane’s life and hide the body? They certainly wouldn’t struggle finding places for that here.
His senses scrambled from trying to decide whether he heard footsteps behind him, so he dashed forward in growing desperation. If someone found him here, and locked him in that cage he’d seen, the heat inside the container would have boiled him alive within a day. Just like that, he forgot all about his race for the fence and focused on looking for a place to hide from whoever was after him.