Page 21 of Flames and Blood

“Three,” he says. “There’s pudding as well.”

“Now you’re showing off.”

More silence. I work the cuff. It burns my skin, but there’s give in it now.

“You’ve done this before,” I say, after a while. “Moving people.”

“Moving cargo.”

“That’s a nicer word for it.”

“It’s the word on the paperwork.”

“What am I on the paperwork?”

The vehicle takes a turn a little too fast, and I sway with it. The pair of them hold themselves rigid.

“A line and a number.”

“Which number?”

“Not going to answer that.”

“Have you ever moved anything like me?”

He takes a breath before he answers. He hasn’t done that once all day.

“No,” he says.

“Was that on the list?”

“That one wasn’t.”

The younger one turns his head half an inch. The older one doesn’t look at him, and the younger one turns it back.

Those two know something about me, and that question came close to it.

I push the worry down and go back to the cuff. It’s moving freely at the seam now.

The older guy looks up at me.

“So,” I say abruptly. “How many of you are there?”

“Enough.”

“Are you the one in charge?”

“No.”

“Is he in the front?”

“Not going to answer that.”

“You said ‘not going to.’ Not can’t.” I roll my shoulder against the wall. “So that question’s not on the list of things I’m not to be told?”

“Maybe.”

“How long is the list?”