Chapter Six

But did she want to climb into that van? The one driven by the huge guy who was doing something deep in the woods at midnight that was surely suspicious? Walking on over and casually asking him for a ride was clearly not an option, so she’d have to sneak into the back while he was standing way over at the fire and hope hard that she didn’t get caught.

How smart is this?

Not very. But let’s keep thinking about it.

The man had gone back to the crackling fire now. Carefully, walking with her whole foot flat on the ground to minimize the noise, Iris snuck over to the side of the road to look at the vehicle more closely… and that’s when she saw that the van door was a little bit open and a tiny crack of light was spilling out from the back. She also saw the license plate.

Colorado.

A free ticket out of the state and no goddamn breadcrumbs to follow.

That’s it. I’m out of here and I’m all in.

Thirty seconds later, she was under a pile of blankets, wedged tight and snug between a wooden box full of tools and the back wall of the large van.

Waiting for the man to drive her away from the hell of the Garden and Gideon; waiting for him to stop for food or coffee in a few hours, so she could creep out of the van and start her new life.

Wherever that turned out to be.

****

It was hours later – Iris didn’t know how many hours, obviously, but it was many many, like enough for her to have dozed and woken up stiff and sore and cold – and she was starting to think that this guy couldn’t possibly be human. Who didn’t stop for a bathroom break or a coffee or to just stretch their legs? Who just drove and drove endlessly, singing along with the radio in a surprisingly melodious voice? Robots, that’s who and God knows, this mystery man was about the size of a damn Terminator.

She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, stretched her legs in front of her and tried to point her toes. She stared at the weird shape of her calves all wrapped up in scarves and at the ugly huge boots sticking six inches off the ends of her small feet; she truly looked like a lunatic, and now that she thought about it, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. If the large man caught her sneaking out of the back of his vehicle, maybe Iris should drool a bit, talk to an invisible pet iguana, ask him for directions back to the mother ship. Maybe if he thought she was an amiable wandering crazy lady, he’d just back up and let her make her escape.

But first he had to stop the damn van.

Suddenly and as if she’d made it happen just with her thoughts, the van turned sharply right and then stopped. Like stopped hard enough to knock Iris’ breath out of her and knock the back of her head against the wall. She froze, totally sure that the guy must have heard the sound of flesh and bone making impact with metal… and that was when she realized that for the first time since walking out of the women’s dormitory, she was actually scared. God knows who this guy was, really, and what if he took one look at her hidden in the back of his van and got angry? Like, even angrier than Gideon could get? And now that she thought about it, wasn’t a van the serial killer’s vehicle of choice?

She held her breath, as if that would make any difference at this point, and waited. She counted her heartbeats and when she reached thirty, she slowly exhaled. Listened hard, then jumped when she heard the driver’s side door slam. She only started to relax when she heard footsteps crunching away in what must surely be snow.

He was leaving the vehicle. This was her chance.

My only chance, I’m sure.

Slowly she got to her feet, wincing as pins and needles started up in her feet and moved up her legs, and waddled over to the door. Another pause as she strained to hear any movement or voices outside, and then she reached for the door handle. Turned it down and pushed.

The door didn’t move.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Other way, idiot.”

But that wasn’t the right way, either, and so she stood there locked inside the freezing cold van surrounded by boxes and tools and a huge steel barrel that reeked of smoke and something awful, and suddenly realized that she was trapped with zero control over what happened next. She had no idea how she’d failed to realize that the man would probably lock the van door from the outside – for some idiotic reason, she hadn’t thought beyond getting into the van and getting anywhere but where she’d been. Now she wanted to simultaneously kick herself unconscious and collapse into a distressed heap on the floor.

For the first time Iris fully understood – like really, really got it – that she had actually left the Garden, left her sisters, left everything that she’d known for a year. She’d been so desperate to just disappear into the woods, she hadn’t really considered that she might very well be jumping headlong from the frying pan straight on into the roaring, raging fire.

The question she asked herself now: was this impulsive choice going to end up being a mistake? And if so, was it a fatal one?

Maybe literally.