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?”