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.”