Chapter 288: He Had the Wrong Man to Be Gentle With

ASH’S POV

Ash dressed behind the wrecked van with the truck driver pinned beneath one foot.

The man had tried to run while Ash shifted back. That had been his last sensible thought. Now he lay face down in gravel, panting, with his hands spread where Ash could see them.

"Move again," Ash said, pulling on his shirt, "and I’ll start taking pieces."

The driver went still.

Ash wanted him to move. That was the trouble. He wanted a reason that would be easy to follow, something simple and red and finished. Dove was missing, and a man who knew where she had gone was breathing beneath his boot.

Inside the workshop, Edrik called his name.

Ash lifted the driver by the back of his shirt and dragged him through the doorway. Edrik lay beside the bench, a steel rod in one hand and the radio by his shoulder. His legs were a mess. Ash had seen enough wounded men to know when pretending otherwise would be an insult.

"Medical truck’s coming around the eastern loop," Ash said. "They have the location."

"Good. Ask him about the road yard."

"I was going to."

"You were going to make a hole in him. Do that after."

Ash dropped the driver beside the injured stretcher carrier. Neither man looked at the other. Useful. Men who expected a friend to help usually looked for him.

Edrik told Ash what he had seen. Two boards. The transport man touching Dove. Her feet forced onto the square. The yellow clothespin she had dropped while fighting them.

Ash looked through the doorway. The board lay beside the van, ordinary wood made ugly by what had happened on it. A small yellow clip rested in the dust.

He went out, crouched, and picked it up.

Dove had left this in the dust while men dragged her away. Hurt, terrified, and still thinking of the people coming after her.

Ash closed his fist around it. He wanted her hand in his instead. He wanted to hear her call him an asshole, close enough to poke him in the chest for emphasis. First he had to find her.

Ash put the clip into his pocket and returned to the men on the floor.

"Which yard?"

"North of the feed store," the driver said immediately. "Old county trucks. Alden’s place."

"There’s more than one feed store."

"Green roof. Burned sign. We turned left after it."

Ash took the paper map from his clothes bag and spread it on the bench. He made the driver stand, held him by the neck, and told him to point.

The finger shook over two roads.

"Pick carefully," Ash said.

"I don’t read maps."

Ash’s hand tightened. Edrik hit the floor once with the rod.

"Ask him what he passed."

Ash hated being told how to do anything. He hated Dove being missing more. He loosened his grip enough for the driver to breathe.

"A tire place," the man gasped. "Then a church with the roof half off. The yard’s beyond the low bridge."

That narrowed it. Not enough for a door, enough for a stretch of road. Ash repeated it over the radio and asked whether the convoy driver knew the landmarks. A broken answer came back, followed by a clearer yes from another vehicle.

Edrik closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked at the ready bag beside his shoulder.

"Her bag. Take it when you go. Clean clothes in there. Food."

Ash looked at him. "You need food."

"Then leave some. Don’t arrive with nothing for her."

The words lodged somewhere unpleasant beneath Ash’s ribs. He had been thinking about claws, roads, bodies. Edrik had been thinking about her needing a clean shirt after.

Ash opened the bag, set a sealed meal and water beside Edrik, and checked the rest without pretending he owned any of it. The empty jug lay nearby. He asked whether Edrik needed water over his wounds.

"Nothing left in that one," Edrik said. "Don’t put dirty water on me to feel helpful."

Ash almost smiled. Almost.

He found cord among the workshop supplies and bound the prisoners separately, out of reach of the loose tools. Edrik watched every knot. Ash moved the fallen gun from beneath the bench, cleared it, and put it on the bench away from both prisoners. He did not leave a loaded weapon beside desperate men.

The medical truck arrived while he was checking the yard for anyone else. Its driver called before approaching, hands visible. Ash recognized the medic from Thorne’s cot. Another man remained with Thorne in the truck, exactly where Ash had left him.

Edrik tried to sit up when they brought the stretcher.

"Don’t," the medic said.

"Getting tired of that word."

"Try obeying it. You might hear it less."

Ash stayed until Edrik was lifted, the radio secured beside him, and the prisoners under the drivers’ watch. Edrik caught his sleeve before he could leave.

"She won’t have sat still. Look for what she changed."

Ash nodded once.

"And when you find her, don’t make her fight you too."

For a moment Ash couldn’t answer. He remembered Dove telling him she owed him nothing. He remembered thinking that if he could just get near enough, she would understand.

Now she was somewhere with men who thought the same thing.

He pulled his sleeve free gently.

The convoy driver had marked the feed store and the church on the map. Between them and the river lay three maintenance yards.

Before he left, Thorne called from the truck. Ash went close enough to hear without making him raise his voice.

"Tell her I’m here," Thorne said. "Not just alive. Here, with him. She’ll want to know where to come."

Ash nodded. He had been thinking of bringing her somewhere safe. Thorne had given him the place she would choose for herself. He marked the reservoir station on the map before folding it away.

Ash picked up Dove’s bag and went to find the right one.