Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

12.2 Garages

We waltz beyond the office space into a cavernous array of vehicles. My eyes fill with details I haven't seen in years. Mirrors, fenders, shiny windscreens. We weave past five trucks with canvas covered backs for moving several tons of people or goods and then an assortment of functional and beastly four wheel drives.

"If you wanted to go undetected for longer the four wheel drives are the best bet." Finley offers in a hushed voice.

"Mhm. And where would I find the keys?" I spin around on tiptoes, trying to get a good view of the walls, but it's like a forest of cars.

"Back in the office. Did you see the glass fronted case?"

I hadn't. I'd been thoroughly distracted by the glaring Huntsman. Is there always a warden watching the place?

"There is." Finley answers and I close my mouth before I get a chance to ask my question aloud.

"But they're not always in the office. They're responsible for maintaining the vehicles too, so they might be out in the ranks, or collecting fuel."

I trail a hand along the side of a slate grey monster. This is an interesting trip.

A wall looms ahead Finley, studded with folding garage doors. He pauses beside a silver car with softer lines and opens the door. An SUV, I think. He gestures for me to get in.

I pause, measuring the empty space between the silver model and the door. Then the space between Finley and the steering wheel. I have an aching sense of suspicion.

Get in, Finley whispers, buzzing with excitement. I step into the smell of ageing leather and lean back against the cool seat.

Finley slips in to the passenger seat as I eye the steering wheel doubtfully.

"I guess we should talk now," I sigh.

Finley shakes his head. "Shut the door."

I swing it closed, confused by Finley's outward composure. He feels jittery... Or maybe that's my own nerves getting to me.

I turn back to question him and find a set of keys dangling from his fingers. I can't tell if he says it aloud or if its only in my thoughts.

"None of it matters if you decide to go. You can leave it all behind."

The keys swing, teeth catching the light. I bite my lip, trying to fight the warm, teary sensation running up neck. I have to check.

I snatch them, heat rising in my chest too. I fumble the big key into the ignition, craning my neck around the steering wheel. It slides into the lock like a magnet sliding home. I sigh, tipsy on the bubbly feeling of disbelief.

I rest my head against the steering wheel, breathing in the scent of lemon air freshener. I open my eyes to make sure it's all real. I don't know what to say, so I just look up at him, something I never really do. A beautifully designed face, really. Like a poster, only it moves and talks and-

He frowns, "Don't do that."

It's my turn to frown. What? I sit upright again, fingers still resting against the key in ignition. My touchstone.

"Look at me like I'm some sort of myth." Finley says.

I glare out windshield. I really wasn't-

"You were the one who showed me how to do this. How to exhaust every possibility when it comes to what's most important."

I gulp, the praise bringing back that teary sensation.

And I think you know what's most important to me. He whispers, unsettling a flock of butterflies in my belly.

I allow myself another glance at his face. He looks like he just swallowed a giant pill. So he hadn't meant me to hear that last bit. I rub my palms on my skort.

"Is this the part where you convince me to stay?" I choke out in an odd monotone. I had meant to make it a joke, to lighten the mood, but the air hangs heavier still.

Finley chuckles anyway. "No. You should go. You deserve it. You almost died twice over, three times if you count the bloody ladder."

This wrings a laugh from me.

"Alright." I nod. There's just one problem. The other girls are due for termination in two days. This is the realisation that has been looming ever since I woke up. The doomsday deadline that had seemed so important before. Could I just leave them?

Foreboding and depression rise within me.

It's all too hard. I ache to see my family. My every bone vibrates with the need to be loved like that again. To be supported and understood, every single fricking day. How am I going to survive if I let this chance go? How am I going to get through another minute, knowing I might never see them again?

I'm just minutes from freedom. "So all I have to do is drive out that door?" I ask.

The weeper in me would take that choice in an instant.

"That's right. The door opener's right on the keyring there."

I take in a big steadying breath, eyeing the steering wheel more seriously now.

"And then just drive across the desert. No stops, no checkpoints?"

"Nope. Just follow the road. Take the first left by the big stone, then just follow the signs to Alice Springs. You'll be there in no time."

Hell, a fighter would snatch this chance in a heartbeat too. It's not emotional, just the survival instinct. Seize your chance.

Still I can't quite put a hand on the steering wheel.

"And by no time you mean, what? One hour? Two?"

"Four, probably more since you don't know the road."

That decides it. I place one hand on the gear stick, and another on the steering wheel.

"I... don't know how to drive." I admit, tasting the salty tang of my own disappointment.

I see Finley squeeze his eyes shut from the corner of my eye. "Right of course." he says.

I wait for the baboom baboom of my heart to calm down in the quiet of the car, but it just won't quit. It wants to be out that door just as much as I do.

"I can take you." He says, placing his hand on the steering wheel too, looking to me.

"No," I reply, the words feeling tacky in my mouth. I sense his confusion, see his mouth opening to protest, but I cut him off.

"I can't leave them here." My eyes lock onto his, ashamed, just for a second.

I don't know what part of me it is that's unable to leave Amy and Laura and all the others behind. Maybe some weak, misguided vestige of the girl I'd been before I was kidnapped. It doesn't matter what it is though, just that its strong enough to wrap up all my aches and logic and common sense and squish them into a tight, hungry ball that hurts inside my chest.

Finley brushes his fingers against my hand but I barely feel it. The ball of hurt in my lungs is all consuming, draining my focus in to that point. I think again, how am I going to survive if I let this go?

"You can do this." Finley urges, "You are not alone."

I breath in a big ball of air freshener, and slide the key from the ignition. The keyring clinks into my tightening fist and I throw it across to the passenger side. There's a lot to do. So much to do.

So I open the car door and take the first painful step back into the Huntsmen world.