The Toll {Book 2}

2. Sun City of Ètrevay- Ferdinand

I thought my foot might fall off my leg with all the walking. It hung heavy after my ankle, burning with pain each step I took. Nadia did her best to help, but I still put as much weight as I could on my own legs, trying to spare her. When a wooden shack came into view on the edge of the road, I breathed out in relief.

"What is it?" Nadia asked, following my gaze to the flat board roof and the muddy floor.

"A bus stop," I replied.

I steered us across the road and to the open side of the shack. Inside, a plank fastened to the walls served as a bench, and she lowered me down. I grimaced and finally checked on the ankle. It was the one I had landed hard on when we were leaving Rumonin, and it was at least sprained— if not broken. At the least the bitter cold took care of some swelling, but it still damn hurt.

Nadia stood by the front of the shack, looking out toward the hazy outline of the very tops of the homes that marked the outskirts of Ètrevay. We were only a few minutes drive away from the city, which made my skin go clammy.

"Do you think they're still running the bus routes?" she asked, staring down the pocked road that looked dishearteningly abandoned.

"Why wouldn't they?"

She twisted a hand around one of the thin supports keeping the roof up. "With everything going on in Rumonin, they might not want ways for rebels to get into their cities." She glanced back at me. "They blocked off the trains to the Triplet Cities."

"It doesn't come that close to Rumonin. The other end of the bus line ends at the Flauns border," I said. "Besides, even if they thought that was too close to Rumonin and the others, they wouldn't have it shut down this far inland. What would the workers do who live out in the country?"

"Move to Ètrevay?"

"Well, I'm sure they don't want their capital city suddenly flooding with people. Keeping the bus routes open is easier to manage."

She sighed, but didn't argue anymore. I wanted her to. She'd done enough silent agreeing back with that devil in Rumonin. If she wanted to tell me I was an idiot, she should. But, I couldn't bring myself to tell her. Even that felt like scolding, and she didn't deserve it.

We waited a few hours in the shack, watching as the sun rose high in the gray sky and thawed the frozen mud. I leaned my head against the wall, watching Nadia wrap a hand under the scarf around her hair and tugging it loose. Her dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders, frizzy with humidity and clumped with dirt and grime. But I still wanted to run my hands through it, marvelling at how long it was. She glanced back at me and I held out my hand. Crossing into the shadows, she locked her fingers around mine and curled onto the bench, tucking her feet under her skirt.

It had been so long with nothing on the roads but a few scattered birds, that I doubted myself about the buses. But finally, the sound of an engine rumbled through the air and the shine of sun on a glass windscreen flashed over a hill toward Ètrevay. I pivoted up by leaning onto my food leg and limped out of the shack and to the edge of the road. The mud sucked at my boots and a chill wind made me squint. As I watched the green bus draw closer, Nadia pressed up beside me.

The driver spotted us and slowed his vehicle down. The brakes groaned, and I took a step back to allow him to pull close to us. I felt a small pit of panic flutter in my stomach, wondering if we could trust the portly man with his large mustache and dirty hands. He glared at us and my mind leaped to images of him grabbing a gun from his jacket and levelling it at us. It felt so real, the glint of gun-metal and the sneer of his face as he pulled the trigger, that I had to blink rapidly to get my mind to see that he was merely sitting there, empty-handed and staring. There was no gun. He was not sneering. My heart slammed against my ribs and sweat beaded along my upper lip.