Red Zone (Red Zone 1)

“You never seen the desert, chère?”

She shook her head before remembering he couldn’t see her. “I’d never been out of Houston until I came to Munroe to find you.”

That made his muscles clench and relax again.

“Someday I’ll take you to the Painted Desert and let you see how unbarren the landscape can be.”

She felt something melt within her at his declaration. And then she remembered that her chances of seeing anything in the future were slim to none. “Unbarren? I don’t think that’s a word.”

His chuckle warmed her, and she fought the urge to rest her cheek against his back. The bike swerved, turning down a rough dirt road toward the wall, and her stomach clenched at the sight. It was much higher than she’d imagined it would be.

“How are we going to get past it?”

“Probably better if I don’t tell you.”

She opened her mouth to demand an answer but froze when she caught sight of a sign at the side of the road. He was taking her into Scorpion Canyon. Was he out of his mind?

“No!” She dug her fingers into his hard stomach. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s the only part of the whole damn territory that isn’t walled.”

“There’s a reason for that. People die in the canyon. Everyone who goes into it dies. Everyone. They couldn’t build a wall there because the work crew kept getting killed.”

A hundred years had passed since the first attempt to block the canyon, and still the gap in the wall hadn’t been closed. All the Territory authorities had done to deter people from trying to get through it was to make sure that no vehicle could enter the canyon. You only got so far before spikes and lasers immobilized your ride. If you were going to risk your life with the scorpions, you had to do it on foot.

Striker angled the bike down the trail into the canyon, completely untroubled by her protests. Unlike the Grand Canyon, this one wasn’t large. But what it lacked in size, it made up for in mystery. The place was an anomaly for researchers to study because, when the weapon containing the red mist had detonated, scorpions had flooded the canyon. No one knew why. All they knew was that the creatures had been affected by the mist somehow and had multiplied, becoming even deadlier with each successive generation. The canyon was now home to millions of aggressive scorpions. It was their territory, and to enter meant death.

“Let me off this bike!” Friday thumped at Striker’s shoulders. “I won’t let you kill us both. Let me off. I’ll find another way.”

The bike skidded to a halt, kicking up dust behind them. The blue glow from the wall couldn’t penetrate the depths of the canyon. There was only the flickering light of the stars above and the narrow beam from the bike’s headlight to break up the black void that engulfed them.

As soon as the engine cut, she jumped off the bike, spun on her heel, and started back up the trail they’d come in on. She didn’t get far before a strong arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her back into a solid body.

“I know what I’m doing. This is the way in and out of the Red Zone. You think I haven’t done this before?” Clearly, he was running out of patience. Which was fine with her, because she’d about reached her limit, too.

She pushed at his arm and gained enough space to turn in his hold. She glared up at him. “Have you done this before? Because you don’t tell me anything. You just expect me to follow blindly.”

“That’s what you’re paying me for. You’re paying me to lead you out of the Territory.”

“I’m paying you to keep me alive. That’s why I need to get to Bolivia. Yet here you are, taking me into what is basically a death pit.”

He had the audacity to smile at her. “You’re forgetting one thing, bébé. I’m way more dangerous than any itty-bitty scorpion.”

Of all the ludicrous things to say… “Are you way more dangerous than millions of itty-bitty scorpions?”

“Hell, yeah.” He chuckled at the thought.

He was obviously insane. She’d trusted her life—what she had left of it—to a madman.

“Let me go!”

“No. Behave. We’re on a deadline and I don’t have time to deal with your freak-outs.”

Freak-outs? “Let me—” His large hand covered her mouth.

“Quiet! Enforcement.” The words were hissed against her ear.

She froze instantly, her eyes going to the canyon rim. There were lights. Lots of red Enforcement lights. Striker reached out and, with a flick of a switch, disabled the light on his bike. They were suddenly shrouded in darkness, halfway down the canyon.