A Meeting of Souls – Installment #10
This is the tenth installment of A Meeting of Souls – A Tale from the Wasteland. The read the story from the beginning, start here.
If you enjoy this story and would like to own a copy of your very own, you can purchase it from Amazon/Kindle here and Barnes & Noble/Nook here. The e-book includes a full-color cover and a special, steamy, NSFW bonus chapter at the end of the story that won’t be included on the blog. Every romance needs a “happy ending,” right?
Kissing her might have been a bad idea, but Lash didn’t care.
He needed to concentrate on how to get them out of there, but right now, all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms for another kiss. He’d kissed his fair share of women, but he’d never felt a connection like this with anyone else. Kissing her just felt … right, as if they were meant to be together. He was almost positive she’d felt it, too.
“Focus, man,” he thought as he started working his way around the perimeter of the camp. He needed to cause some kind of distraction far from the entrance and from the area near the latrines where she’d been tied up. If they could slip away in the truck before anyone noticed she was gone, they might just have enough time to make it back to the bike and, with any luck, back to the City before anyone caught up to them. But the first step was to figure out the distraction.
Lash had just spotted a promising-looking fuel drum near a run-down camper van when he heard a truck start up and drive away. Swearing under his breath, he hurried back toward to where he’d left the girl just in time to see the truck tear off down the road into the night. What the hell is she doing? he thought, and then ducked out of sight when he saw a man standing in the road where the truck had been parked, his pistol drawn. Lash watched as the man reholstered his weapon, swore at the disappearing tail lights, and hurried off in the opposite direction.
Lash was torn between frustration that she hadn’t stuck to the plan and admiration that she’d managed to avoid being captured again. There was nothing to do now but go after her. He stayed low, dashing from cover to cover until he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be seen from camp, and then started sprinting toward the bike. He had to get to her before word got out that she was gone.