One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 1, page 4

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Fírí Parızada shrieked, “Zhíno, that wasn’t the police!” She breathed deep, trying to calm the panic rising through her chest.

Zhíno grunted as he glanced in the mirror. “It sure the plagues could’ve been. They can’t tail somebody in an Enforcer cruiser, you stupid Névo-brain. Or it could’ve been Gogzhuè’s Voro-fucking men double-crossing us, sneaking up on us to steal what I risked my plagued life to bring through the Pétíso-damned portal for those Zhéporé-spawn bastards!”

Fírí wanted to smack Zhíno upside his head, but the sight of his gun froze her arms stiff. What the plagues is he thinking? Shooting at an innocent driver! He’s gone delusional again.

The big-eyed blonde spun in her seat and peered back into the darkness. “Please, Zhíno. You gotta turn back. We have to help them. They could be hurt.”

Her idiot boyfriend snarled, “Help them? Are you out of your Tarénara-fucking mind? If it’s the Enforcers, they want to arrest us. If it’s Gogzhuè’s men come to double-cross us, they want to kill us. If it just happens to be an innocent driver and we help them, they’ll recognize us and call the Enforcers, who’ll arrest us. No, I sure the plagues won’t help them. But I’ll finish off the Zhéporé-spawns.”

As Zhíno spoke, he kept jabbing the gun toward Fírí, punctuating key words. She shrunk back against the passenger-side door, only occupying half her seat.
Zhíno took a glance at Fírí’s agape face and abruptly stopped waving the gun. He lowered his gun and slowed the auto, reaching to turn down the blaring “music.”

As he pulled to a stop on the gravel, Fírí’s boyfriend softened his tone. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

Desert silence enveloped the automobile.

Despite the fact that Zhíno had indeed never hurt Fírí in all the years they’d been together, she still couldn’t shake the fear that there’d be a first time, and soon. Her right hand slipped into her sweatshirt pocket and gripped the little can of pepper spray.

“Yeah, babe. I know.”

Zhíno swung his head to look up and down the highway. “I love you, baby. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He spun the steering wheel with his right hand, his left clutching the gun, and accelerated in a tight corner, back up the road. Back toward that old blue truck.
Fírí wanted to tell Zhíno that if he really loved her, he should drop her off at the nearest town. She wanted to tell him that if he really loved her, he’d be willing to let her go. She wanted to tell him that she never wanted to see him again. Instead, as they raced back toward their innocent prey, all she replied was, “I love you too.”

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