Subject Number 67

Chapter 5

We’d been driving for three days.

I knew this, because the strip of the light shining through the small gap in the truck door allowed me to gauge when the sun was out and when it wasn’t. Three days, three nights. I hadn’t even made a dent in the beef jerky barrel, and that was including the amount that I’d managed to shove into my pockets for when I did get out of here. The amount that we’d been driving nonstop led me to believe that we were at least a few hundred miles away from the West Coast Dome. I’d give it one more day before I jumped ship, just to be safe.

At least, that’s what I was planning on, before the truck stopped.

My heart froze in my chest. Shit. Why were we stopping? Had the truck broken down? Were we already to the East Coast? Had I just escaped one Factory only to be dragged back to another? 

I sat, waiting with bated breath, trying to listen to the truck driver through the thin aluminum walls. “I just need to take a piss. I figured there’d be a bathroom in an abandoned supermarket, no?”

I almost laughed, but I quickly put a hand over my mouth to contain the noise, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through my arm. My cut was still bleeding from when I’d cut the tracer out. It was beginning to worry me, but it was on the bottom of my priorities list. The important thing was that we had stopped—at a supermarket of all places. This was exactly where I needed to be.

At this point, I knew the only decision I could make would be to jump out now, and knock down anybody that tried to stop me.

I waited until the truck door slammed shut before I jumped to my feet. The muscles in my legs were stiff from being bunched up for so long, and I quickly shook them out making sure I was limber enough if I needed to start a fight. I stood at the back door, waiting to build my courage up. I sent a quick prayer to the heavens before I raised the back door and hopped out, landing lightly on the balls of my feet in a crouched position. I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. 

The first thing that hit me was the heat. It was dry, but there was hot wind ruffling my ponytail; it felt like a convection oven. The sun shone brightly overhead, so I gauged the time at around noon. Since my truck was the last one in line, I had the advantage of being able to see the other drivers before they saw me. I gripped the handle of the knife I’d grabbed from the hardware store back on the West Coast, holding it by my hip, ready to spring into action.

I tentatively poked my head around the side of the truck, spotting the alleged supermarket that I heard my driver talking about. It was attached to a gas station that had definitely seen better days, but I didn’t care. There was food in there (hopefully), and whatever it was, had to be better than beef jerky.

I took a few steps away from the truck, spotting the other drivers standing in the same vicinity of each other in a cluster, not paying attention to where I was standing. I could make a break for it, trying to outrun them to the supermarket, or I could jump them and try to dispatch them all, or I could wait and bide my time until they left…

“Well have my prayers been answered or what?” I heard a gruff voice behind me. I turned to see a portly truck driver leaning against the opposite side of the truck, regarding me with dark, beady eyes. I took a defensive step backward.

“Here I am, hoping for a pretty young thing to join me on my long, tiring journey, and here you are,” he continued, smiling at me to reveal broken, yellowed teeth. His hands moved to the belt in his pants. “So let’s get this thing started, shall we?”

“If you touch me, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to you,” I growled, flashing my knife.

He stopped, but just enough for him to laugh at me. “Is that all you have to defend yourself with?” He threw his head back and howled, no doubt drawing attention to us. Without hesitating, I launched my knife at his chest, turning and bolting towards the gas station.