I stopped and blinked in confusion. She was behind the wheel of my own personal truck now, leaning out the open window, her elbow draped over its gleaming white side. I hadn’t expected to ever see my truck again. Someone must have been driving it for me at the front of the caravan.
Later I might be mad about some stranger driving my baby. Right now, it was like discovering my favorite floatie while I was drowning in an ocean.
I changed direction, heading straight for the driver side door. “Scoot over.”
I expected Tarah to argue about my hurt shoulder and how I shouldn’t be driving yet. Instead, she silently slid across the seat so I could get in.
I slammed the door too hard, rocking the truck as I started it. The familiar curve of the gear shift in my hand as I shoved it into drive was like coming home. But even that couldn’t remove the crushing weight on my back and chest. After everything that had happened over the last few hours, being back in my own truck’s familiar surroundings with the GPS’s calm voice calling out directions felt unreal, like I was still asleep in the military truck and dreaming all of this. But then two louder engines roared to life as the military trucks fell into line at our rear, reminding me that this was anything but a dream. It was real.
Lost in thought, I tried to steer with my left hand, and my shoulder zinged me a little reminder that I was still recovering from being shot.
I’d been shot.
I’d broken over a hundred prisoners out of an internment camp.
I’d just helped cover up the murder of a cop.
Muttering a curse under my breath, I switched back to driving with my right hand, ducking my head so I could gingerly scrub my gritty face with my left hand instead.
What was I doing?
I checked the GPS screen. Ten hours to go. All we had to do was get to South Dakota without getting caught. Then everyone would be safe and could figure out where they wanted to go next. We could do this.
The silence stretched out, filling the cab like a thick but invisible fog that ate up all the oxygen in the air between Tarah and me. It was probably better this way, though. If we started talking, then I’d start thinking. And thinking wasn’t a good idea right now, not after everything that had just happened. Better just to stay quiet, stick with the plan, don’t overthink it, maybe listen to some tunes to kill the awkward silence.
I reached for the radio.
Tarah sighed. “Want to talk about it?” Her voice sounded shaky and tight.
“Not really.”
“A cop’s dead back there. You must have some feelings about that.”
“Let me guess, you were going to become a psychiatrist just like your mom.”
“Uh, no, more like a journalist like my brother.”
“How is Jeremy? I heard he’s overseas covering the war?”
“He is. And quit trying to change the subject, because you suck at it.” She stared at me with those big, dark, all seeing eyes. “Come on, Hayden. I know you’re sick about what just happened too.”
“I thought you said I’m just a cold blooded serial killer. After all, I killed seventeen people, including my own brother. And no telling how many guards at the camp. What’s a dead cop to me?” That weight I couldn’t seem to shake was growing on my shoulders and chest.
“I did not say I agreed with that theory about all those deaths last summer. And all those guards were still breathing just fine when we left the camp last night.”
The weight eased up a bit. I glanced at her. “They were? You’re sure?”
“Yes. Pamela checked on them to be sure they wouldn’t need any life saving healing. She didn’t want their deaths on her conscience, either.”
I cleared my throat. “Good. That’s good.”
She continued to stare at me. After another minute of silence, she said, “Hayden, just stop with the macho act already, okay? I know you care. And I know you didn’t kill all those people last summer either.”
“Actually I did.”
Her mouth dropped open, closed, opened again as she struggled for a response. “You…you did?”
I nodded once, shifting as the invisible weight grew by a couple more pounds on my shoulders.
“What happened?”
“Does it matter? I was there. People died because of me. End of story.”
“Of course it matters. Accidents happen a lot when outcasts are first learning to work with magic. If you—”
“It wasn’t an accident, Tarah. I meant to use my abilities that night.”
Her mouth snapped closed. Then her chin jutted out. “I know you, Hayden. You might have intended to use your abilities that night when the anti-magic guys showed up and started a fight, but you never meant to kill anyone. You were probably just trying to help protect your brother and his friends and lost control. It happens.”
Her blind faith stunned me, actually rocked me back against the seat. I looked at her. She meant what she’d said.
I didn’t know what blew me away more—that she was so determined to believe in my innocence, even when I’d just told her I was the bad guy—or that her guesses about what really happened that night were so dead on. How could she still know me so well even after all these years?
But in the end, it didn’t matter what she thought of me. I would never be able to escape the fact that even accidentally killing a whole bunch of people didn’t make them any less dead. And their deaths would always be on me.
My throat got so tight it felt like invisible hands were choking me. “Thanks for the faith, but I don’t deserve it. I’m not the white knight you’re making me out to be.”
“Yes you are. Look at what you did last night! You just marched right into that camp and saved all those people—”
“No, I saved you. All the rest of them were just an accidental part of the process.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You are so full of crap. Why don’t you want to tell me the truth about that night?”
“Because I don’t want to talk about it at all.”
It hadn’t been long enough, and even thinking about it still sucker punched me in the gut. Remembering that night made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive. Damon was the one who should have survived, not me. His destiny was to lead others. Mine was to always come in second best at everything except maybe basketball.
But mostly, I didn’t want to talk about it because I just wanted to forget it ever happened.