Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) Brett Battles (online e reader txt) 📖

screen, and shows me a picture of a Winnebago Travato camper van.

“That’s, um, nice?” I say.

“It will be ready for pickup at noon. But it is in Tustin so we should leave by eleven.”

“And why would we be picking this thing up at noon?”

“Unnecessary question.”

Like I said, not a fan of questions with obvious answers. Unfortunately, the answer isn’t so obvious to me, so I say, “Indulge me.”

She sits up, her eyes rolling. “Because I reserved it.”

I huff a laugh that I should have probably held in, but it got away from me before I realized it.

Her eyes narrow. “You promised to take me on a road trip, remember? When will there be a better time?”

We’ve been talking about a road trip for a while. Jar’s exposure to the States has been limited to the few places where we’ve done some work—both on my personal projects and on missions from our day job. She’s been keeping a list of places she wants to see. It’s grown pretty long and would probably take us a year of constant traveling to complete.

We don’t have a year. At least, I don’t think we do. The day job is bound to come roaring back to life at some point. Could be tomorrow. Could be a month from now. Likely it’ll be somewhere in between. So we should have a week or two at least.

And given the press attention the Masked Vigilante is receiving, now is the perfect time for a getaway.

I push off the couch. “I guess we should get packed.”

Chapter Three

We spend the first night in the parking lot of a Walmart in Henderson, Nevada.

I didn’t even know that was a thing, but apparently it is. Turns out, most Walmart locations are happy to let RVs drop anchor for free in their parking lots. This was a tip from the rental agent when we picked up the Travato.

I had thought about taking Jar on a drive down the Vegas Strip. Sure, the casinos are all closed but the lights are still on, and if you’re in the area, it’s worth a look. But we left the L.A. area later than planned so I’m a little beat.

The reason for the delay was a good one, though. The Travato has a trailer hitch, and it turned out the rental place had motorcycle trailers, too. So we rented one and made the return trip to Redondo Beach to pick up my Yamaha.

We’re on the road again before the sun comes up, and reach Hoover Dam just as the sky is lightening. The structure is the first item on Jar’s list to be checked off.

There are usually tours that take you inside, but not these days. As a reminder, the world is on fire, in a slow-burn, don’t-get-too-close-to-me kind of way. Nothing fun is open. While it’s not an ideal situation for our little adventure, it also means most of the places we’d like to visit won’t be very crowded.

We walk the top of the dam and gaze out at the Colorado River below. After a few minutes of watching the water stream away, I hold out my phone so that we are both in frame and say, “Smile.”

“Must we?” Jar asks.

“It’s proof that we were here.”

“I don’t need proof that—”

“Just smile.”

I snap the shot.

It’s a good one. I’m not sure I’d call the expression on Jar’s face a smile, but she doesn’t look completely uncomfortable so that’s a win in my book. I send the picture to one of our partners in San Francisco, knowing she’ll appreciate it, then Jar and I head back to the camper.

Our final destination for today is the Grand Canyon, and we reach it in just a few hours. All the national parks closed in mid-March and stayed that way through April. Though the pandemic is still with us, most of the parks have reopened, albeit with limited admissions and none of their usual amenities available.

Jar scored us a two-day pass and a camping spot inside the park, but when we get there, we realize we probably could have just bought a pass upon arrival. Hardly anyone else is around.

I don’t know whether you’ve been to the Grand Canyon or not so let me set the scene. After you enter via the south entrance, you drive through a few miles of flat forest. And while it’s nice to look at, it’s a little different from the view you have before you arrive at the park’s gate. Even when you get to the visitor’s center (currently closed), you still can’t exactly see what all the fuss is about.

But then you walk over to the trail along the rim and…wow.

Normally, the only times I’ve ever seen Jar look stunned is when she’s confronted with a social interaction to which she doesn’t know how to respond. This time, the surprise on her face is triggered purely by the view in front of us.

It’s a glorious, crystal-clear day, the temperature probably hovering around twenty-two degrees Celsius (seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit for the metrically challenged). The last time I was here, I was a teenager on a trip with my family. Summer vacation, probably, because I remember it being a lot hotter. It was also hazy, making the other side of the canyon look out of focus. That’s not the case today.

Neither of us say a word for at least fifteen minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jar slowly scan the canyon, then scan it again.

She’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “It’s…magnificent.”

I smile. Magnificent is not a word I’ve heard her use before, but it doesn’t surprise me. Her English vocabulary is better than many native speakers’. You might notice she just used a contraction. It’s something we’ve been working on. There’s still room for improvement but I have no doubt she’ll get there.

We spend several hours driving along the rim, stopping now and then for another look. At around three, we head for our campground. Like elsewhere in the