The Flesh Cartel #9: Trials and Errors

stumbling run.
    Over his harsh panting, he thought he heard that keening sound again, except this time he was certain it wasn’t him. Wait . . . no. That wasn’t keening, that was the sound of a car.
    That was the sound of a fucking car driving on a fucking highway . No crunch of gravel, that sound Mat remembered so clearly from when he’d been taken here. Oh no, that was the sound of a good ol’ public road. And public road meant friendly strangers, meant a sheriff’s car, even. An ambulance. A fucking bus full of nuns, it didn’t fucking matter. They’d flag down whoever it was, and hopefully Dougie would be together enough to ask to be taken to the police. But fucking hell, even if he didn’t speak a word, what else was there to do but bring them to the cops or the ER? They were bleeding. Half-frozen. One of them naked but for a blanket and gag, the other crying inconsolably.
    All they had to do was make it to that highway. Hope another car passed by soon.
    Free. We’re going to be free. We’re going to go to the cops and I’m going to tell them everything and I’m going to bring this whole fucking operation down. The thought made him downright giddy.
    Even if Dougie hates me for the rest of his life, at least he’ll be free.
    But maybe, just maybe , Dougie wouldn’t hate him. Because when he took a second to think about it, he realized he wasn’t dragging Dougie anymore. Dougie was running with him, beside him, just like old times, and when Mat stole a glance at Dougie’s face, he saw . . . God, was that hope ? Excitement, even? Had he heard the car too and realized there was another answer, another way out of this mess?
    Or was Mat just projecting his own wants and needs onto a half-second look in the near dark at his brother’s moving face?
    Whatever. Didn’t matter. Road. Car. Freedom. That was what mattered.
    They were both panting hard when they breached the tree line and emerged out onto the gravel shoulder of the two-lane highway, Mat struggling anew not to choke around the gag, to take in enough air through his running nose. It was quiet and dark, no sign of any vehicles, but that was okay. One would pass by soon. All they had to do was stay out of sight for now, pick a direction and keep walking until a car came from the east. If anyone was driving from Nikolai’s house, they’d be coming down the mountain, from the west just like Dougie and Mat had. Mat wished he could communicate all that to Dougie, but the kid looked too shell-shocked and dazed to be signaling anyone of his own volition, anyway. He’d follow Mat’s lead.
    Because in his eyes, with Nikolai gone, you’re the master now.
    You even beat him like one.
    No. Stop thinking about it.
    He reached out and took Dougie’s hand as they trudged along the shoulder. Held it tight. Dougie’s fingers were as stiff and cold as his own, even half-stuffed in his jacket sleeves as they were. They’d ask whoever they flagged down to crank up the heat, and Mat would hold Dougie’s hands to the vent. Prove he cared, that he wanted Dougie to be safe and well and comfortable. Prove he loved him, more than Nikolai ever had or would, because he didn’t expect anything in return. Nothing at all.
    I just want you to be safe. I just want to protect you.
    He wished he could say it. Wished he could say anything at all, even if it was just Holy shit, it’s cold out here, hey kiddo? Would they ever have a normal conversation like that again?
    Don’t think about the future. Keep your eyes on the road. Mat peered to the east, into the impenetrable darkness. Sometime during their little escapade, the moon had set, but there was no hint of the sunrise yet, either. And no streetlights on this windy mountain drive, so remote from civilization. No light pollution, either. Too remote. Nikolai had chosen well; he was like a civilized Leatherface, or something.
    And wouldn’t that suck, if they got this far only to freeze to death on the side of a highway, waiting for a savior who never came? Keep walking, just keep walking. You won’t freeze if you keep walking. At least no snow had fallen yet.
    He squeezed Dougie’s hand. Dougie didn’t squeeze back, but he kept pace beside him, and he didn’t pull out of Mat’s grip. Hard to make out his features, but the whole angle of his body, the set of his shoulders, told Mat that his hope was gone—if it’d ever been there in the first place, if Mat hadn’t just been seeing what he’d wanted to see.