At Your Service (Book Two)

Chapter 12: Convoy

The morning sun arrived quickly. Vicência started to open her weary eyes. She leaned a little bit too comfortable to the point where she didn't want to get out of her sleep, but the usual morning instinct kicked in so she knew she had to get up. So she did, fading away the dark void that covered her vision and after a blurry while, the first thing that entered her sight is a vase that stood on top of a nightstand beside the bed.

Vicência removed herself from the bed's surface, taking in her surroundings and starting to familiarize herself with it. Of course, she woke up at the motel room she and Swift booked into yesterday, one residing beside a freeway in the middle of the desert. He said to her, "The convoy won't be passing until the next morning. So, I took the liberty of staying the night here."

According to Swift's intel who she was told goes by the name of Carter, a mysterious convoy of trucks are leaving the Sinaloa state. Said trucks were unlabelled and appear to be just regular cargo trucks, but after some more intel from the analyst, one of the identified individuals coordinating the convoy is a Vanderbilt associate. How quickly the intel was given, Vicência was surprised.

Speaking of Swift, Vicência realized he wasn't in the room. That sleep felt like it lasted for five seconds. She could've sworn he was just in the same room a moment ago. After putting on some clothes and freshening herself, she went out the door, finding herself in the upper floor hallway, greeted by the morning sky light.

She looked over the balcony, and there Swift stood. He stationed still in the middle of the parking lot, over a cruiser motorcycle painted in slick black, looking out to the flat and empty desert wearing his usual black jacket. In addition to that, a pair of shades to block out the sun. Vicência then took notice of how she never saw him out of that jacket. She met him wearing that, and he still does now. The only difference is, it seems like he has his jacket zipped up this time.

Vicência leaned over the railing of the balcony, "Where'd you get the bike?" She shouted.

Swift turned his head after hearing her voice. With that question, he stuttered, answering her nervously. "I borrowed it." He lied, noticeably letting out a chuckle. Vicência shook her head smiling. "I have no idea who this belonged to, this arrived this morning."

"Are they near yet?" Vicência asked.

"They should be here any moment now, been waiting for an hour." He replied, still supervising the freeway for the convoy. Swift turned to her again, "Good sleep?"

"Surprisingly, yeah." She nodded.

Swift nodded back, "Yeah, me too." Vicência then smiled again at him.

As they shared glances at each other, another voice that didn't belong to any of them broke through the wind. "Ey!" The male voice called out with a peeved tone. It was directed to Swift who turned to face the man.

The man had biker attire on, it almost resembled Zeno. Even Swift was close to suspecting the man to be the same person, but he noticed the height and body build difference. He also had his helmet in hand.

"¿Qué haces en mi moto?!" (Translation: What're you doing on my bike?!")

"Nada! Nada, señor! Es para una foto!" (Translation: Nothing! Nothing, sir! It's only for a picture!) Swift stuttered again, coming up with an excuse as if he was one of those insolent millennials searching for fame on the internet.

Just as tension rises between him and the owner of the motorcycle he's on, Swift's ear catches the sound of a loud truck horn going closer and closer. He turns away from the man to look at the freeway, followed by sounds of heavy metal rattling as a truck emerges from the horizon. A convoy of three trucks, each of them carrying a trailer, drives past the motel Swift and Vicência stayed in.