Under Illusion: Day 20

Word Total: 120,021

Year to Date: 810,317

Summary of Events:

Having had all the necessary surgeries on his hand unless problems arose during physiotherapy, Trace was released from hospital to go back to Spokane. Because his wounded hand was his gear-shifting hand, Bentley offered one of his appropriately licensed men to drive Trace and his load back to Spokane, while Dallis was to fly back to St. Louis with her brothers. Neither of them were eager to part, even though they exchanged phone numbers, with Dallis actually bursting into tears that Trace tenderly soothed when they could no longer put off their separation…

Excerpt of the Day:

“But we should get going,” Trace said.

Dallis nodded and started to loosen her grasp around his neck.

Before she’d fully released him, however, she looked up at his face. She couldn’t let him go without saying it.

“I love you Trace,” she whispered.

Trace looked a little surprised, and even somewhat disbelieving. Before he could say anything, however, Dallis grasped his neck in both hands and pressed her mouth against his, which she could tell also caught Trace by surprise, but he responded favourably, drawing her close to him with his hand and pressing his lips back against hers.

Dallis savoured the moment, knowing that it would very reasonably be at least a week or two before she saw him again, not to mention, it was the first time she’d kissed a man on the lips since she given Papa good-night pecks on the mouth as a little girl, and she felt that it was everything she’d hoped it would be, and more.

Eventually, however, she was forced to withdraw, mostly because she felt like her mouth was getting tired. Trace looked at her affectionately as he drew back far enough that she could see his face.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “But I’d better get going or we’re going to need a room.”

Dallis nodded and released his neck, watching as he took up the handle of his suitcase and towed it after himself to his truck, where Bentley’s man who’d be driving it for him opened the door and loaded the suitcase in before standing ready to give Trace a hand if he needed it, but Trace got up on his own easily.

The driver then closed the door and went around to the driver’s side while Trace stowed his suitcase before taking the passenger seat and fastening his seatbelt. Dallis felt fresh tears come to her eyes as Trace made eye contact with her through the windshield.

She felt an arm come around her shoulders and turned to see Javor was the owner of it. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. She leaned her head against his shoulder and looked back at Trace, who was still looking at her, and looking like he might break down too as the truck’s engine roared to life.

Trace turned and gave the driver some instructions, it seemed, before looking back at her and not breaking gaze even as the truck slowly rolled forward, passing her and Javor, as well as Ratko and a small handful of other personnel who were in the parking lot watching it leave.

Dallis watched until the truck disappeared from sight, then she turned and buried her head into Javor’s shoulder. This was certainly not how she’d expected to feel once she’d completed her first solo job.

Next Post: 2 October

Under Illusion: Day 19

Word Count: 114,044

Summary of Events:

Bentley arranged for Trace to be taken to hospital, with Dallis accompanying him, where his hand was determined to have been quite damaged owing to the bullet's angle of entry, requiring several surgeries that kept Trace in hospital and under the influence of painkillers for a few days before he was lucid enough that Dallis could explain what had happened since to him, starting from when the shooting had all happened…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Oh,” Trace said. “Then what happened?”

“The two men holding you were loyal to Bentley, so they moved Litton and Pancho out, as well as bringing you and Bentley down to the main floor,” Journey replied. “You and I were then taken to an alley and an ambulance and police were called.”

“What?” Trace asked. “Taken to an alley?”

“Yes,” Journey replied. “Bentley doesn’t want his gang to get found out, so he had two of his men feign a gunfight and I told the police that you and I had been innocent bystanders who’d fled into the alley for refuge from the shooting, but you’d accidentally been hit by a stray bullet. As far as they know we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, just so you’re aware of that.”

Trace nodded. He liked that thought.

“Outside of that you’ve been in surgery,” Journey replied.

“What about your brothers?” Trace asked. “You said they were in Tucson.”

“I did tell them to come as we were taken up to where we found Bentley,” Journey replied. “They ended up being hit by somebody who’d run a red light up in Tucson and their car got wrapped around a tree, but they’re fine, the rear of the car was hit, so they got another car and came down.”

“Wow,” Trace said. “They’re all conspiring together to get the load?”

“No,” Journey replied.

“But, why not?” Trace asked.

“Bentley isn’t interested in forging the alliances Litton wanted to forge with the cargo,” Journey replied. “He’s got a man lined up to drive you and your load to Spokane once you’re released.”

Trace couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Journey replied.

“But didn’t he give you the orders?” Trace asked.

“He made the arrangements with us in St. Louis,” Journey replied. “But only because Pancho — who was with him — would’ve killed him if he didn’t. He chose us because he hoped we’d be able to help him get free of Litton, and we have, so he’s giving us extra money.”

“Oh,” Trace said. That had to be nice.

“Trace,” Journey said, reaching a gentle hand up to turn his face to look at her. “I’m not keeping mine.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Trace asked.

“I’m going to pay your medical bills,” Journey replied. “Not only here, but if you need anything further done in Spokane.”

Tears came to Trace’s eyes unbidden. He had no words. He looked away.

“It’s the least I can do,” Journey said, sounding emotional for herself. “I mean, I got you into this mess, after all. And, like I’ve said before, I don’t need it. Besides, I know you’re trying to get ahead, and you’ll probably have lost your job because of me anyways, so I might as well try to make up for it if I can.”

Trace nodded, turning to look back toward Journey, whose face was blurred in his tears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Journey whispered softly.

Under Illusion: Day 18

Word Count: 108,034

Summary of Events:

Dallis supervised as Pancho and two other gangsters searched Trace's truck for a key to the lock on his trailer, but found none — which didn't surprise Dallis — before trying to break the lock and the trailer, but finding they didn't have the tools strong enough to do either. The blond man, very upset, had Trace taken to a room to be tortured for the truth, where Dallis was surprised to see a battered Bentley, as she followed to see what was going to happen to Trace, who continued to protest his innocence and civilian status, to the rage of the blond man, who struck him across the face with a stick in anger…

Excerpt of the Day:

“How dare you insult Litton Kane!” the man shouted.

“He’s not a gangster,” Dallis spat. “He’s just an ordinary citizen.”

The blond man stalked toward her, looking intent to use his stick on her.

Before he could get into arm range Dallis struck him with a solid kick to his ribs that caused him to crumple to the floor in pain, where Dallis kicked him a couple more times.

“How you ever got Al and Bentley to work for you I can’t begin to imagine,” Dallis spat.

“Al was never in allegiance with us,” Pancho said.

“Litton is my uncle,” Bentley said.

Dallis turned and saw Bentley had managed to get himself leaned back against a wall, although he still looked and sounded to be in more pain than when she’d entered the room.

“Paternally, obviously,” Bentley continued. “They never got along. Dad was older, more charismatic, better organised, taller, stronger.”

“Was?” Dallis asked.

“Nonetheless, Dad gave Litton a place in his gang, and a pretty good one too,” Bentley continued, ignoring Dallis’ question. “But that wasn’t good enough for Litton. He needed the power for himself, so he struck out on his own to build a competing empire, which is a little bit easier said than done, especially considering his superiority complex. So he decided to go the hostile takeover route and killed Dad, threatened to murder and otherwise destroy all the women and children in order to get Dad’s men to do his bidding, and means to sell the cargo of the truck to Mexican cartel lords he wants as allies for a smuggling operation in order to give himself greater glory than Dad ever achieved. Or so he thinks.”
“Or so I think!?” Litton shouted, surging up from his crumpled heap on the floor.

He drew a pistol from somewhere and fired it at Bentley, missing wildly. Dallis could tell Litton wasn’t aiming at all as he fired, thus only a few of his shots grazed Bentley, while the rest embedded around him.

“You have the aim of a Stormtrooper,” Trace said.

Immediately Litton whipped around and fired with a similar wildness at Trace, except that his bullet made a more significant contact with Trace than any he’d fired at Bentley had, as blood immediately started flowing down the back of Trace’s hand and a look of significant pain came over Trace’s face.

Dallis immediately drew her gun and fired two shots, one into Litton’s gun-holding hand, the other into his hip, prompting Litton to crumple to the floor in pain. She then turned to Pancho, whom she saw had his gun out as well.

She shot his gun out of his hand and then fired a second shot into his shoulder before turning to the men holding Trace, who both immediately raised their hands, releasing Trace, who crumpled to the floor, clutching at his hand. 

Under Illusion: Day 17

Word Count: 102,045

Summary of Events:

Trace was disheartened to not reach Tombstone — where he'd hoped to be able to escape with the help of locals, and especially law enforcement — before being required to turn onto the next part of the route to the ultimate destination of Fairbank, a ghost town, where they met the gang leader, whom Dallis was surprised and wary to observe wasn't Bentley, or Al, although he did look like a relative. Both of them were rather astounded that the gang leader seemed to think Trace was also a gang leader, although Trace was grateful to merely be herded into the backseat of a car instead of shot as he'd feared. Dallis, however, was forced to endure the company of the gang leader, whom she didn't like at all, as they drove to Nogales, with a gang member driving Trace's truck after them to a warehouse, where the gang leader wanted to inspect the load…

Excerpt of the Day:

They walked up to a loading bay, against which the rear of his truck’s trailer was pressed, the overhead door that sealed the bay having been raised out of the way. Two men were standing by the closed doors waiting.

“Why isn’t it open?” the blond man demanded.

“We don’t know this lock,” one of the men replied. “It doesn’t have a keyhole.”

“What?” the blond man snapped. “Pancho!”

The grey-haired man walked up to the door and examined the lock critically for a long time.

“What is it Pancho?” the blond man demanded. “You know locks!”

“My guess is that it must be some sort of an electric lock,” the grey-haired man — Pancho, apparently — replied.

“An electric lock?” the blond man asked. “What is an electric lock?”

“That’s the only way I can figure it,” Pancho replied. “I would suppose that some sort of electronic, or maybe even magnetic, charge is required to be applied to the lock before it can open.”

“You don’t even know!?” the blond man demanded, sounding upset.

“No,” Pancho replied. “I didn’t realise there was such a thing as keyless, buttonless locks.”

“Even my lock expert hasn’t seen a lock like this,” the blond man said. “Why are you my lock expert?”

“Because I know locks,” Pancho replied. “But surely our driver has the key, even if it is not a key by convention.”

The blond man turned and looked at Trace. “Where is the key?”

“I don’t know,” Trace replied.

“You have to have the key!” the blond man snapped.

“I didn’t load the trailer,” Trace replied. “I don’t even know what’s in it. I just know it’s loaded, and that the load just about maxes out my GVW limit.”

The blond man scoffed profanely. “You, of all people should know what’s in your truck and how to access it!”

“I’m not a gangster,” Trace replied. “I’m just an employee of ESM. I know nothing about what they do.”

The blond man shouted his profane disagreement, stalking toward Trace, which revealed he was hardly taller than Journey. “I will not be lied to!”

“I’m not lying!” Trace exclaimed.

Forcefully the blond man slapped Trace. “You will not fool me!”

“Seriously?” Journey asked.

The blond man whipped around to look at her.

“You seriously believe he’s a gangster?” Journey asked.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” the blond man demanded. “He had gangsters protecting him.”

“What?” Trace asked.

“How do you know?” Journey asked.

“My men know what gangsters look like,” the blond man replied. “Every single man they liquidated was a gangster.”

“What!?” Trace exclaimed. He wanted to exclaim further in his disbelief of what he was hearing, but he didn’t know what to say. All of the men in all of the black cars that’d been following him around and forcing him around were gangsters? Was that why he’d never been told what he was doing? Because he worked for the front of a gang?

Under Illusion: Day 16

Word Count: 96,018

Summary of Events:

Dallis was woken in the night by some men from Bentley's gang who needed her to help them disable the GPS tracker on Trace's truck. The following morning, as a result, the black car duels behind them came to an end, as Dallis suspected Trace's employers no longer knew where Trace was once their car had been forced off the road. She and Trace travelled through New Mexico into Arizona, where Dallis was instructed that they were to leave the I-10 and head south on Arizona State Route 80, toward Tombstone, with signage of a monastery approaching causing Trace to suggest that maybe they should get some prayers said for their souls before they died, which Dallis didn't think was necessary — mostly because she didn't want to die…

Excerpt of the Day:

She watched silently as the signage telling them where the monastery was — hidden behind trees that Dallis supposed subsisted off the precious water they got when the San Pedro River ran, as if there was any groundwater it was probably far too deep for their roots to reach — passed without Trace decelerating and pulling in to get the monks to offer prayers for him.

If she was honest, Dallis wasn’t really sure what good it would’ve done. She didn’t know all that much about most religions, but she did know that most religions inspired a significant amount of devotion from their followers, if they didn’t outright demand the devotion, which meant that it probably wasn’t likely that any deity would really appreciate people trying to get the perks offered to the religiously devoted only at the last minute.

Part of her wondered if Trace had come to the same conclusion, and thus had elected to carry on past the monastery. Either that or he’d probably thought of the car that was still following them, and probably wouldn’t have been too pleased if they’d turned into the monastery.

“I would’ve preferred my sister killing me than this,” Trace said, his voice sounding a little emotion-choked.

Dallis looked at him, his eyes looked glassy. “Why?”

“She would’ve killed me in my sleep,” Trace replied. “I would’ve had no chance to suspect it. This… knowing is killing me.”

“I don’t want to give up hope that it won’t happen,” Dallis said.

“Why?” Trace asked, sounding somewhat upset.

“Because,” Dallis replied, tears coming to her own eyes. “Because I couldn’t bear it. I would feel like a failure. I would’ve done what I was told, but not what I wanted.”

“You really care that much?” Trace asked.

Dallis looked at him to see he was looking at her with almost desperate tear-filled eyes.

“Yes,” Dallis replied. “I’m not supposed to care for you, I know, but I can’t help it. I don’t even care if my brothers think me crazy, but I’d get them to come help me to get you out of there alive if I can’t do it on my own.”

“What good is that going to do?” Trace asked.

“They’re in Tucson,” Dallis replied. “They’re probably not really all that far away.”

“Do you think they’d come?” Trace asked.

“My older brother’s been fussing over me worse than my father ever did,” Dallis replied. “He’d come in a heartbeat. Then he’d call me crazy when he gets here and finds out why I want him.”

“He’s scared you’re going to get hurt?” Trace asked.

“Very,” Dallis replied. “But considering that this is the first time I’ve done something like this at all — forget alone — I’m not really surprised.”

“And you think they’d do what it takes to keep me alive for your sake?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“Do you think they’d succeed?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“I hope you’re right,” Trace swore.

Dallis nodded. She hoped she was right too, but she didn’t honestly know how much resistance she and her brothers might find themselves up against.

Under Illusion: Day 15

Word Count: 90,020

Summary of Events:

Dallis and Trace continued their journey into the increasingly desertlike landscape, making a stop at Pecos for fuel, as well as lunch. While Trace was fuelling his truck, Dallis was called by Ratko, who told her Al's wife had called in distress, speaking a mixture of Spanish and English before her call had been cut off; it had Ratko concerned, but neither he nor Dallis knew what to make of it either. Trace sensed something was up over lunch, and so asked Dallis once they were on the road again, where she told him some of the details, and the two went on a bit of a rabbit trail about the fact that neither of them knew Spanish…

Excerpt of the Day:

“That can be true sometimes,” Trace agreed. “But now that we’ve found the rabbit I guess we go back to the call from that lady, which I’m presuming was incoherent because of the Spanish.”

“Well, and her distress,” Journey replied.

“So what does it mean then?” Trace asked.

“We have no idea,” Journey replied. “But it’s not really good, because either things have gone completely south on the whole, or the people we were counting on to have our backs are no longer there.”

“We as in you and me?” Trace asked. “Or we as in you and your brothers?”

“We as in me and my brothers,” Journey replied. “But it was my hope that those who’d have my back would allow me to get you out too.”

“But now there’s not so much chance that either of us are going to get out of it?” Trace asked.

“I don’t know,” Journey replied, sounding on the cusp of frustrated tears.

“I’m sorry, don’t cry,” Trace said. “I’m just probably being too nosy. I’ll stop now.”

“My brother said they might come down for backup,” Journey said. “He said he’d let me know, though.”

“They’re not sure that they will?” Trace asked.

“Well, with not knowing really what the call meant,” Journey replied. “They’re concerned, and I’m pretty sure they’re probing for answers already, so hopefully we’ll have a better picture before we get there, but… as if it wasn’t going to be challenging enough.”

Trace nodded. He couldn’t say what Journey had shared was all that comforting. If anything, it proclaimed that the situation had gotten bleaker, and it made Trace really wonder if he should’ve turned back.

“Do you think maybe we should just go to Spokane then?” Trace asked. “Maybe even escape to Canada together?”

“I don’t have a passport,” Journey replied. “And I’ve heard the process for those isn’t exactly swift, even if you were to put a rush on it.”

“I mean, Spokane has a decent amount of wilderness around it, or we could go into Montana,” Trace said. “We don’t have to hide in Canadian bush. We could even go up to Alaska and hide in the dark all winter if we wanted to.”

“But we’d be hiding forever,” Journey said. “And I wouldn’t really want to cut myself off from my brothers.”
“So you’re committed to going wherever we’re going even if it happens to be the mouth of an angry dragon?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Journey replied.

“Why?” Trace asked.

“Because there’s not enough unknowns for me to believe that whatever may be wrong is so bad as to be inescapable,” Journey replied.

“That’s got to be nice,” Trace said dryly.

“Nice to know you expect me to put in a lot of effort to get you out of there,” Journey snapped bitterly.

“Why should you?” Trace asked. “I’m supposed to be an expendable.”

“Yes, you are supposed to be, but I can’t see you that way anymore,” Journey replied. “Losing you wouldn’t be collateral damage to me. It’s supposed to be, but I can’t let it be.”

Under Illusion: Day 14

Word Count: 84,015

Summary of Events:

Trace, having turned back south, drove to Abilene for the night, doubts and misgivings coming up as he drove and starting to make him question if he'd made the right decision. Dallis, observing signs of them, tried to do what she could to assuage Trace's fears before they went to bed. The following morning they set out again to head for a city in southern New Mexico that neither of them had heard of before after they had breakfast…

Excerpt of the Day:

“So I go west?” Trace asked, sounding reluctant.

“Yes please,” Dallis replied. “You’re not fully committed to doing this, are you?”

Trace shrugged as he steered his truck to follow the curve of the road that would merge them onto the I-20 westbound.

Dallis sighed. If there were some way for her to get Trace out of this, she would’ve, but she didn’t have any ideas, and she doubted that Ratko and Javor would be inclined to assist her.

“I just feel like I kind of convinced myself I could be a hero yesterday, keeping you alive by making sure people didn’t get angry enough to kill you, but… I don’t really know what’s so good about that when I’m not going to survive. I’d have a better chance of survival if I just went home because I might have enough time to pack up my stuff and get into Canada and hide in some wilderness cabin somewhere long enough that it’d either be forgotten or I’d be able to get the paperwork to change identities.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Dallis said.

“But you can’t guarantee that I won’t,” Trace countered. “I know that you’re confident with a gun, and a knife, and that with full hands your feet are pretty effective, but you’re one girl, against a bunch of gangsters who’ll all have guns, and probably won’t be the sort that would be disposed to being reasoned with either.”

Dallis wanted to say something to give Trace hope, but in the face of what he’d just said, she didn’t have answers. Sure she knew Bentley at least to see him, and knew Al a bit better than that, but without knowing Bentley and Al’s relationship, an appeal to Al might backfire from the off.

On top of it, an appeal to Al could backfire anyways because of the fact that he might not be any more inclined to believe that Trace was harmless, and wouldn’t tell any of their secrets.

Sure she’d be able to convince them that she had means necessary to blackmail Trace — whom she’d certainly not want to hear her say that, as she wasn’t wanting to use it that way, she just wanted Bentley and Al to believe she would — but she couldn’t be sure that they’d trust her to be able to do it, considering she lived in St. Louis, Trace lived in Spokane, and Dallis couldn’t say she really wanted to move, nor was she sure she’d be able to convince Trace to do so instead.

Under Illusion: Day 13

Word Count: 78,109

Summary of Events:

Frustrated to the point of wanting to destroy something, and hopelessly lost, Trace pulled over his truck to stop the black cars from forcing him around and sent Dallis to get lunch because it was lunchtime. Dallis did so, and refused an offer from a man from one of the black cars to replace her. Trace plotted a route out of Dallas with the goal of reaching Amarillo and carrying on to Spokane, but when Dallis noticed, she asked Trace to change his route, telling him that not only would he still run the risk of getting killed if he ran away, but she and her brothers might also be killed for their failure to deliver, as well as promising to do what she could to keep him from getting killed and admitting that she had feelings for him…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Exactly,” Journey replied. “You’re more than a toy to play with, or a doormat to walk on, or a brute to disarm… from the moment I first saw you I doubted my ability to follow through on this whole thing, and every time you’ve touched me it’s not been either disgusting or unworthy of notice… it’s been something I’ve both wanted to never stop feeling, but also been unable to stand.”

“Are you basically trying to say you’ve fallen in love with me?” Trace asked.

“I don’t know,” Journey replied. “But I couldn’t possibly hurt you, or stand by and let you get hurt, and I especially can’t stand the idea of you possibly dying.”

Trace unfastened his seatbelt and got up from his seat, turning toward Journey, who looked at him with a touch of nervousness. He beckoned her to get up. She unfastened her seatbelt and rose.

Gently, Trace drew her into an embrace.

“There’s still a part of me that doesn’t want to trust you, and wants to hang onto the anger and resentment at your betrayal,” Trace said softly. “But, at the same time, you’ve been honest with me… more honest than I expected, and I don’t think there was necessarily any glibness or impulsivity about you last night. You made a choice, with a full consciousness of the consequences, and… honestly… it was an act of trust. You were fully vulnerable, and even though I took advantage of it more than I should’ve, I still could’ve gone further, but I don’t dare.”

Journey’s body trembled with shaky breaths, and he could feel the fear within her. He released her so he could look in her eyes, so beautiful and blue.

“I’m sorry for having been so rough with you last night,” Trace said. “I was upset at you, but I still shouldn’t have behaved that way.”

“I’ve been horrible to you,” Journey replied, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks.

Trace raised his hands and stroked the tears aside with his thumbs. “That doesn’t justify what I did.”

“I brandished a gun at you,” Journey said.

“You don’t know if I have one,” Trace replied.

“I searched your truck once you fell asleep in St. Louis,” Journey replied. “You don’t have a gun.”

“And even if I did have one at home it wouldn’t really do me any good,” Trace admitted dryly.

Journey offered a small smile at him.

“Is El Paso our final destination?” Trace asked.

“No,” Journey whispered, shaking her head. “If he lives close to his father there’s probably at least another day and a half of driving yet. Probably two days from wherever we’ll stop tonight.”

Trace nodded.

“I should stop manipulating you,” Journey said.

“I’m making this choice as consciously as you made yours last night,” Trace replied. “I don’t want to see another beautiful, young life snuffed out if I can prevent it — and since the forces that would snuff it out are external, I have a better chance of stopping them.”

Under Illusion: Day 12

Word Count: 72,099

Summary of Events:

The following morning Dallis and Trace went to a restaurant for breakfast that they both thoroughly enjoyed before they set out, with Dallis and Trace both quickly noticing a lot of black cars lurking on the streets and following them out of the parking lot as they started on their way out of Dallas…

Excerpt of the Day:

Taking up her cellphone, Dallis consulted it and gave Trace the next directions he needed.

“I don’t know that I’m going that way,” Trace said warily as they reached the point where he was supposed to turn.

Dallis looked and saw that several black cars were blocking the way, and two of them had rear passenger windows open with guns poking out.

“Well… then…” Dallis said, looking to her cellphone. “Try and find I-twenty. We’re supposed to spend most of the day on that before taking the I-ten to El Paso.”

“So I guess we’re having tacos tonight then,” Trace said.

“Tacos?” Dallis asked.

“Yeah,” Trace replied. “You know, the company that make the taco seasoning and sell the jalapeños, taco shells, nachos, and salsa and stuff. They’re called El Paso. Always the yellow labels with the tile roof above the kind of rusty-coloured words.”

“Oh,” Dallis said. “Well, I don’t think we necessarily have to have tacos.”

“So long as there’s no hot peppers on them it shouldn’t be too bad,” Trace said. “I can do a little bit of spice, but I’m not one of those guys who eats hot peppers like candy.”

“Yeah, I’m not really the biggest on spice either,” Dallis agreed. “Oh!”

Even though she was far above the car that had startled her, Dallis drew her hands up to her face and lifted her right leg away from the door.

“I won’t drive against the traffic no matter how little there is thank you very much,” Trace said tersely. “Nor will I get shot at. I don’t believe I’m carrying anything explosive as I’m sure I would’ve been told even if I’ve got the training to haul that kind of stuff safely, but I don’t want to find out by going ‘boom’.”
“No, no, definitely not,” Dallis said.

“I’m pretty sure they’re legally required to put special notification things about such on the trailers too, and my little sign-holders are empty, so I don’t think I am,” Trace said. 

“Even still, getting shot isn’t the sort of thing I’ve ever thought might be a good time,” Dallis said.

“Yet you’d shoot me,” Trace said.

“No,” Dallis replied.

“So then all the gun brandishing you’ve been doing is an empty threat?” Trace asked.

“It wasn’t to start with,” Dallis replied.

“So then are you saying that I did seduce you into changing your mind?” Trace asked.

“I don’t know what I should do anymore,” Dallis replied, tears rising to her eyes unbidden.

“What do you mean?” Trace asked, his tone softening.

“I don’t need the money,” Dallis replied. “I have plenty of money. My dad left me and my brothers a lot of money. But the person who asked us to do this is kind of a friend, I think. His dad and our dad were friends, really good friends, so I don’t want to upset him, but…”

“Your heart isn’t in it?” Trace asked.

“No,” Dallis replied. “It isn’t.”

Under Illusion: Day 11

Word Count: 66,026

Summary of Events:

Arriving in Dallas, Dallis and Trace went for supper before checking into another motel, where Trace was called by his supervisor, who was irate to have ostensibly been told by one of the company staff following Trace that he had a passenger with him, which was expressly forbidden by the company. Angry at his supervisor, and also angry at having been forced to lie by Dallis, Trace ranted at Dallis after the call before sitting down and finding a baseball game to watch on TV, which Dallis joined him in watching, struggling with guilt at having betrayed and upset him…

Excerpt of the Day:

“You never answered my question before,” Trace said.

“What was it?” Dallis asked.

“What would you have done if you would’ve been faced with a guy twice my size?” Trace asked. “Whether brawny or fatty.”

Dallis didn’t really know what she would’ve done, but she knew what she would’ve felt.

“I certainly would’ve found any other type of man to be vastly less attractive,” Dallis replied. “If not outright appalling and disgusting.”

Trace’s eyebrows lifted subtly. “Are you aware of what you’re implying about me?”

“I’m aware of my implication, and if you’re not aware of it then you’ve got to be loaded on some powerful stuff,” Dallis replied.

“It would ruin my appeal to be vain about it,” Trace said. “But I’m aware of the kind of effect I have on women. I rarely am left yearning for female company when I want it, but I told you yesterday that I am not letting you seduce me, considering how grossly you’ve betrayed me, and how guilelessly you’ve lied to me.”

He turned his gaze back to the TV, the commercial break was over. Dallis looked at the TV for a moment herself, but she wasn’t inclined to give up.

“What would it take for you to reconsider?” Dallis asked.

“Nothing,” Trace replied succinctly.

“Not even if I said I was sorry for lying to you?” Dallis asked. “Or that I regretted it, and that I didn’t want you to be mad at me?”

Trace’s eyebrows rose subtly again and he looked toward her with scepticism. “Do you really feel that way?”

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“Why?” Trace asked, even though he didn’t look like he believed her.

“I don’t know,” Dallis replied. “I just do.”

Trace said nothing, prompting Dallis to look toward the TV to see what was holding his interest about the baseball game, as she didn’t suspect that he was a fan of either the Athletics or the Diamondbacks — the two teams participating in the game.

“It seems to me that you’re not really the gangster you’re trying to lead me to believe you are,” Trace said. “Real gangsters don’t have consciences, or any sense of guilt.”

“That’s only true in Hollywood,” Dallis snapped.

“Did you miss the part where I told you I spent my teenage years on the fringes of Spokane’s toughest neighbourhood?” Trace asked. “I had friends — including my best friend — who lived in that neighbourhood, and whom I spent time with in that neighbourhood. As a result, I met some former, current, and even future criminals and even gangsters, some of whom were even relatives of my friends, and in my observations, all of them had some measure of remorselessness, a lack of sympathy, and even a predisposition to brutality, which you seem to suggest that you’re lacking.”

“I’m not a gangster,” Dallis replied shortly.

“Then what are you?” Trace asked.

“Somewhat of a mercenary,” Dallis replied. “Like my father was.”

“But no longer is?” Trace asked.

“I didn’t lie to you when I told you about my parents,” Dallis replied. “My father really was murdered.”

Under Illusion: Day 10

Word Count: 60,043

Summary of Events:

Black cars continued to follow Trace and Dallis, engaging with each other in duels for the spot immediately behind Trace's trailer, to the point that Trace actually started finding it annoying. When Trace stopped for fuel in Louisiana, one even followed him to the station, and Dallis observed while Trace fuelled up that it contained men she was sure were subordinate to Bentley who monitored Trace as he filled the tank and paid for the fuel before getting back on the road westward, with the black cars continuing to duke it out behind him…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Do we need to stop in Shreveport for any reason?” Trace asked.

“Fuel?” Journey suggested.

“How close is the next city after Shreveport?” Trace asked.

He saw a black car swerving wildly in his rearview mirror. It was practically miraculous that he’d not yet been hit by one of them, which suggested they were genuinely good drivers, even if they were driving like lunatics as they tried to ram each other off the road for good like modern-day gladiators of sorts.

“There’s one about forty five minutes away that’s reasonably big — but there’s probably even gas stations in between,” Journey replied. “And then there’s another decently large place about thirty or so minutes from there.”

“Is one of them our destination?” Trace asked. “It’s getting fairly late.”

“We’re stopping at Dallas,” Journey replied.

“Is one of those Dallas?” Trace asked.

“No,” Journey replied. “Dallas is probably about two hours away from the further one.”

“So you mean I’ll be driving more than eight hours?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Journey replied.

“By nearly an hour too,” Trace said.

“Yes,” Journey replied.

“There’s no place we can stop between whatever the further place is and Dallas?” Trace asked.

“Oh, I’m sure there are places between Longview and Dallas,” Journey replied. “But you’re stopping at Dallas.”

“Why?” Trace asked.

“Because that’s what my directions say,” Journey replied.

“And you can’t change them?” Trace asked.

“I was sent these directions from my superior,” Journey replied. “And I’m sure he’d be at least as displeased as your superior — maybe even more so — if I didn’t follow them.”

“Is he going to be waiting for us there?” Trace asked.

“No, we’re just spending the night,” Journey replied.

“Are you serious?” Trace asked. “If you’re going to kidnap me, why don’t you live closer to where you’re kidnapping me from? I’m probably not going to get reimbursed for any fuel I’ve taken on since Charleston, nor am I likely to get my wage — forget overtime for this extra hour or so of driving I’m doing today — like, are you trying to run me into the ground?”

He looked at Journey pointedly, then back at the road to make sure he was staying between the lines, then back at her again. Her shoulders were sagging. She looked almost sad.

“Don’t try and make a sob-story out of it,” Trace snapped. “Honestly.”

“Considering where my superior lives, he had to get you at Charleston in order for you to get where he lives in a suitably swift and efficient fashion for his pleasure,” Journey replied, sounding almost like she wanted to cry. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not the mastermind? I’m just doing my job.”

“Where does your superior live?” Trace asked.

“In the desert,” Journey replied.

“Plenty of space for an underground bunker complex I guess,” Trace muttered.

“I also have my doubts he really cares what this is doing to your finances,” Journey added with some attitude. “I mean, do big corporations in general really care what their products do to other people’s finances?”

Under Illusion: Day 9

Word Count: 54,041

Summary of Events:

Too angry at Dallis and himself to sleep, Trace texted his best friend, seeking help, only for his friend to not believe that he'd been taken hostage and even suspecting that someone else was masquerading as him. The following day Dallis directed Trace southwest into Mississippi, where Trace was warned by his superior that he needed to get going northward, but his aversion to being shot prompted him to carry on westward, even as two black cars started following him and got into something of a duel that saw them both drive off the highway and onto a side road. As they neared the Mississippi River and the border with Louisiana, Dallis noticed that one of the two cars from that first duel had returned, and had begun to duel with a new black car…

Excerpt of the Day:

Not that Dallis was really sure what they were going to accomplish — as in, Trace’s possible fellow employees — by following Trace. Especially with just one car. Didn’t they want to force him to head northwards? Surely they couldn’t do that with just one car.

Yet, at the same time, the fact that they’d sent out a second car made it clear that they had more vehicles. Why, though, weren’t they deploying them in a group?

She didn’t expect Trace to have any more answers than she did on the matter, and she was sure he’d be inclined to respond snappishly to her if she were to try asking, which she didn’t see any reason to do.

In addition, she wasn’t altogether appreciating the sharp tone that was continuing to permeate Trace’s voice. She did understand it, definitely, but, at the same time, it was still hurting her, even if she didn’t want it to — in fact, she was sure Ratko and Javor would tell her that she wasn’t supposed to feel hurt by Trace’s upset, and even that it was a problem that she was so affected by it.

Looking away from Trace’s face, Dallis looked toward the mirror just outside his window and gasped as she saw the shiny black car spin in the open lane beside Trace, although it looked like it was going to recover momentarily before the dirty car surged at it and caused it to roll into the wide, grassy space between the two directions of travel.

It landed on its wheels, with visible damage including what looked to be a broken window, but soon was spitting up grass and dirt from its rear wheels as it surged into motion again, lunging to get back onto the pavement, which it did alongside Trace before visibly decelerating and taking a run at the dirty car which had settled into position behind Trace.

The two cars continued to duel, even as a glance forward for Dallis revealed that they were approaching a bridge, which she suspected — considering how long they’d been in Mississippi — was a bridge across the river after which the state was named, and which was also the border between it and Louisiana, which was the state her directions had them entering once they’d crossed the Mississippi.

Dallis watched nervously for any signs of the cars shooting off the side of the road, which would very soon be a descending riverbank, meaning the people in the cars could very well hit the river and drown — although the damaged car probably had an advantage with its having one window that was already broken, which would allow the water to flow into the car, allowing the people within the car to escape quickly.

They passed under a bridge, after which a hill rose on the right-hand side of the road and didn’t look to dip down toward the river until traffic would be on the bridge, whose frame didn’t look like it would succumb easily to the forces of a sedan being thrown at it.

Startled, Dallis gasped as both cars suddenly jumped the guardrail, lunging onto the grass, the dirty car chasing the damaged car, before she lost sight of them down into the trees that covered the riverbank. Dallis couldn’t say she expected to see either one of those cars again.

Under Illusion: Day 8

Word Count: 48,014

Summary of Events:

Dallis woke up a little early to get information on where she was to guide Trace, whom she also had Ratko call to tell her that some of her nonexistent family had died in the accident. She nonetheless breakfasted with Trace before telling him she'd direct him to her relative's house. Trace didn't get suspicious until they'd gone a ways from Charleston, where Dallis confessed that she had no family in Charleston, but that she was doing the bidding of people who coveted his valuable cargo. Trace was unsurprisingly angry at Dallis for having betrayed him — as well as angry at himself for having fallen for her lies. Dallis guided Trace to Birmingham, Alabama in accordance with her instructions, where they went to a motel and ordered for supper to be delivered there…

Excerpt of the Day:

The sound of Trace’s ringtone startled Dallis and she snapped her head around to look at Trace, who picked up his cellphone and answered it.

“Hello?” he answered.

Dallis rested her hand on the grip of her gun as Trace listened for a long moment.

“Yes,” Trace replied. “I am in Alabama.”

Immediately Dallis got up and pointed the gun at Trace. He glared at her.

“Don’t tell them you’re a hostage,” Dallis mouthed.

“There was an accident,” Trace said.

He glared at Dallis again as the person on the other end — whom Dallis suspected was a suspicious supervisor of some sort — spoke.

“No, it wasn’t,” Trace replied. “But it forced me to take an alternate route, and I got lost.”

Dallis had to admit that she would be surprised if his employer bought that tale.

“I’ll be back on the right route in the morning,” Trace said. “I promise. I’ve been studying my maps carefully to make sure I won’t get lost again tomorrow, or any other day.”

Severity lined Trace’s face as he listened to his employer.

“I understand,” he said. “Goodbye.”

Trace ended the call and looked down at the gun Dallis still had pointed at his side, then up at her face.

“What’s the matter now?” Trace asked. “Do you think I gave him some secret distress code to get me out of here?”

“No,” Dallis replied, bending her arm to bring the gun back closer to herself. “Is he your employer?”

“He’s my supervisor,” Trace replied. “I’m sure you’re more likely to know who the CEO of the company is than I am, seeing you and your people know what I’m carrying better than I do.”

Dallis personally didn’t know much more than what she’d said, but considering he’d added her associates into the statement, she didn’t comment, as she was sure Bentley knew exactly what Trace was hauling.

“What was he calling about?” Dallis asked.

“You didn’t disable my GPS tracker,” Trace said. “I’m surprised.”

She kicked herself inwardly for having forgotten, yet, at the same time, she couldn’t say she knew where she might find the GPS signal-emitter on the truck, much less how to successfully disable it. Ratko and Javor hadn’t taught her things like that yet.

“My supervisor, thus, was calling to confirm the signal I’m giving is, in fact, where I am,” Trace replied. “And even though it was tough going down, he actually swallowed my story that I detoured for an accident and got lost all the way to Birmingham, Alabama.”

“Good,” Dallis said.

“He did, however, say that if I’m not back on the correct route by tomorrow afternoon, the company will start monitoring me more closely,” Trace added.

“What does that mean?” Dallis asked.

“This is my first job, how should I know?” Trace countered profanely.

“He didn’t say?” Dallis asked.

“No,” Trace replied. “It’d be easier to separate the world’s largest and most powerful magnets from one another than to get information out of him. For me, anyways. You and your associates, however, knowing more about the company than I do, could probably easily find out that information by your own means instead of asking me.”

Under Illusion: Day 7

Word Count: 42,051

Summary of Events:

On arriving in Charleston, Trace followed the instructions he'd been given before he left Spokane, which required him to stop at a certain truck stop and unhitch his trailer, which was picked up by another truck which looked virtually identical to his for loading. Dallis went sightseeing around Charleston with Trace, and at a bathroom stop along the way she checked the local news to see if there was anything she could use as a way to cancel her nonexistent dinner plans, which she succeeded in finding, and so instructed Ratko to call Trace's phone sometime in the next hour. She and Trace then went to a local beach, as Trace wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean, seeing as he'd seen the Pacific already…

Excerpt of the Day:

Despite the crashing of the ocean’s waves behind them, Trace found the sound of his cellphone to be jarringly loud when it suddenly started ringing, preventing him from pressing his lips softly onto Journey’s cheek on his way to hopefully making contact with her lips, if she was willing.

Nonetheless, he pulled out his cellphone and looked. He didn’t recognise the number that was calling.

“Oh, I know that number,” Journey said.

Trace let her take his cellphone and answer the call, releasing her reluctantly. She walked down the beach toward the lighthouse with his phone against her ear.

Having licked all the way down to the cone and packed his ice cream in as deeply as possible with his tongue, Trace started eating away at the cone while licking his ice cream until he’d consumed it all, he then took up his shoes in one hand and Journey’s in the other before starting after her as she talked and continued eating at her ice cream, which was at the cone as well.

The sound of the ocean, and probably also the wind, prevented Trace from being able to hear any of Journey’s conversation, which continued all the way until they found a rather broad walkway that headed back to where all the buildings were, but closer to the lighthouse than they’d come onto the beach, by which time Journey had also finished her ice cream.

She’d glanced over her shoulder once, early in the call, and had looked slightly worried. When she finished the call, she turned to Trace with a distraught expression.

“What’s the matter?” Trace asked.

“There’s been an accident,” Journey replied. “Just here in Charleston, on the Interstate, with multiple vehicles, and some of my family were in it.”

“Is it a bad accident?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Journey replied, nodding. “My uncle who called doesn’t know what the status of my family in the accident is, but he said he’d keep me updated, and that we won’t meet for dinner tonight.”

“Do you want me to get you to the hospital they’re at or some other family member’s house or something?” Trace asked.

“No,” Journey replied, wiping at the tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“But why wouldn’t you want to be close to your family if something bad’s happened to them?” Trace asked.

“I don’t really want to leave you, if I don’t have to,” Journey replied, her glassy blue eyes looking almost pleading. “I really like you, and even spending another night with you would be nice.”

Trace had to admit that he was surprised, on one hand, yet, on the other hand, he was grateful that Journey didn’t want to part from him, especially considering the way she’d been responding to his touch on the beach.

“I can take my shoes,” Journey said.

Once she’d gotten a secure hold on them, Trace let them go and followed her up off the beach toward the lighthouse.