It was pure luck that woke him up when he did. For the past three stations he had been fast asleep, though he hadn't meant to be. No, he'd meant to be alert and ready for trouble, but the uneven shaking of the train had lulled him to sleep against his will. In a hazy place between sleep and waking, he heard the conductor inform another passenger that the next station was San Miguel. William rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the feeling of perpetual tiredness that hung over him these days. He sat up, peering through the window at the landscape beyond at the same dusty desert they'd been travelling through for miles. No sign of civilisation yet, he noted, though that wasn't unheard of. Outside the city, towns rose out of the horizon like unexpected rocks in the road. It was something he had learned, even in his short time away from the comforts of city living.
San Miguel represented a beacon of hope. It was a long shot, but there was still a chance that Culpeper remembered him. Whether he'd be willing to help was another matter, but it was still the best option. An unexpected ally that Joseph had no reason to know of, and if he did, had no reason to suspect William would go to for help. From Culpeper's house he could plan his next move, hopefully in relative safety before Joseph's goons caught up with him. Of course, there was always the possibility that someone else would kill him before they had the chance to. He had heard tales of the kind of people that lived in these small communities- outlaws, gangs surviving with half of Joseph's wit but twice the cruelty. Nowhere was safe anymore.
William leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes searching for the first signs of buildings, a knot building in the pit of his stomach- a familiar feeling of anxiety.
San Miguel represented a beacon of hope. It was a long shot, but there was still a chance that Culpeper remembered him. Whether he'd be willing to help was another matter, but it was still the best option. An unexpected ally that Joseph had no reason to know of, and if he did, had no reason to suspect William would go to for help. From Culpeper's house he could plan his next move, hopefully in relative safety before Joseph's goons caught up with him. Of course, there was always the possibility that someone else would kill him before they had the chance to. He had heard tales of the kind of people that lived in these small communities- outlaws, gangs surviving with half of Joseph's wit but twice the cruelty. Nowhere was safe anymore.
William leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes searching for the first signs of buildings, a knot building in the pit of his stomach- a familiar feeling of anxiety.