Charlie set Issac up with ice packs and medication to help with pain and swelling. As they were leaving Alex had turned back to the old man and told him they would be back to get him. He couldn’t stay alone in town anymore. He looked like he was going to argue, but Alex settled it by closing the backdoor.
“Going to move everyone into the compound, Alex?” Max asked.
“Anyone that we can trust and needs help. Issac can’t keep fighting this fight out here by himself. He’s better off with us,” Alex replied.
“Maybe he likes to be alone.”
“I don’t think that’s true. He enjoys the company when people are here. You can see it on his face. He would be better behind the walls with us.”
Max had just scoffed at Alex and her streak of saving the world syndrome. It wasn’t that Max didn’t care about people. She did. She cared about her people. But it had never crossed her mind to offer a place for Issac to stay. Her sister, of course, knew what was right and did it without question.
Back inside the Bronco, Alex drove while Max sat in the front seat with a road atlas. The pages were bent and creased from use. Highlighter was streaked across some pages. Max knew from the stories she heard that this map got Easton and Candace to the compound after they were separated. The map now had a forever home in the truck for when anyone left the compound.
Max traced a path with her finger. It was the most direct route to get back to Callahan’s base of operations. It was the way they had come to the compound. She felt if they followed that route, they had a good chance to find the soldiers and Rafe. She directed Alex as she drove, both sisters feeling panic at the prospect of losing their brother.
“The drive back to the safe zone is two days if they stop to rest,” Griffin said from the backseat.
“Do you think they’ll stop?” Charlie asked.
“If they don’t believe they’re being followed, they’ll probably not rush,” Griffin replied.
“Callahan would want them back with Rafe immediately,” Max said quietly
“Rafe wouldn’t tell him anything,” Charlie said.
“No, he wouldn’t. That doesn’t mean Callahan wouldn’t try to get it out of him anyway,” Max said.
That image settled into everyone’s minds. Max knew firsthand how it could be. Stopping them before they got back to Callahan was going to be the best plan. Max was lost in thought as she stared out of the truck window. The trees flew by and she barely registered anything. Suddenly she caught sight of something that made her sit up in her seat.
“Alex, stop!” Max cried out.
Alex slammed on the brakes causing everyone to sit forward against their seatbelts. Storm barked from the back indicating his dislike for the quick stop. In front of the truck were skid marks that started in the middle of the road and ended near the tree line. At the end, the body of a soldier was on the ground. Max looked at Alex who was studying the scene.
“That has to be from the men that took Rafe,” Max said as she jumped out of the truck, her tomahawk in her hand.
Behind her the driver’s door slammed, Alex joining Max to investigate. The sisters followed the marks on the street. Max bent and brushed her fingers across the black skids and decided they seemed pretty fresh. There hadn’t been rain to wash away any of the residues and they were still dark against the lighter asphalt. She stood and joined Alex at the soldier.
Max used her booted foot to turn the soldier. Once he was sprawled on his back, they could see there must have been a fight. The man was bloody on his face and there was a cut across his throat.
“That could have been Rafe,” Max said pointing.
“If he got ahold of a knife, yes. He could have been fighting to get out,” Alex replied.
“How long ago do you think?”
“It couldn’t have been more than four hours. Look at the blood on the ground. It hasn’t congealed or anything.”
Max began to pat down the pockets of the man, not hopeful that anything was left. If the soldiers were smart, they would have taken everything off of him before dumping him. Patting one pocket, she heard the crinkle of paper. She reached in and pulled out what was a piece of the wanted poster for Rafe and Charlie. Turning it over Max gasped.
“Alex, oh my god!”
Max held the paper to show her sister. On the back in what looked to be blood, the word “ALIVE” was written. Alex dropped to her knees next to Max.
“That has to be from Rafe,” Alex said softly.
“He got loose in the truck and killed the soldier to slow them down and leave us a note. That has to be it,” Max replied.
“Smart. But we need to hurry to catch up. He won’t be able to keep killing people to leave them on the side of the road,” Alex said.
With that, the sisters ran back to the truck. Max was barely in her seat before Alex jumped on the gas, the tires screaming on the road before they shot forward. Griffin demanded to know what was going on. Max showed them the note and Charlie took it from her gingerly. She stared at the paper, her eyes clouding with tears. It was then Max knew without a doubt that Charlie had feelings for her brother.
“Bodies as breadcrumbs?” Griffin asked.
“So it seems,” Alex replied ironically.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
His head throbbed, and he fought the urge to throw up. Somewhere in his mind, he wondered if these were signs of a concussion. Not that it would be his first. As he forced his eyes open he realized he was still wearing the black hood the soldiers had put on him. With the sun up, the material was less dark, he could barely make out the shadows of four men in the back of the truck with him. Turning his head carefully he could see at least one in the driver’s seat.
“He’s awake,” one of the men in the back said.
“Keep an eye on him. We can’t lose him now. Callahan needs him,” a voice came from the front passenger seat. Rafe added another in his count.
Six soldiers in the vehicle with him. His mind was foggy from being knocked out and he worried he was going to pass out again. His hands had long since lost feeling from the zip tie around his wrists. He tried to flex his fingers and couldn’t seem to get any blood flowing through. He tried to evaluate the rest of his body. His head was the worst of the pain he felt.
Rafe thought about Charlie, hoping Storm had gotten back to the cave. She would have known he wasn’t coming back. He had instructed her to take Aiden and go to the compound, find his sisters and be safe. Once his sisters knew the truth about what Charlie knew, they would keep her safe just as he did. He could admit to himself now, in the dark of the hood he wore, that Charlie meant more to him than the secrets she held. He wondered if he would have the chance to tell her that.
Thinking about his sisters, he realized they wouldn’t give up on him. They would come after him. His mind circled around the implications of them looking for him with the military. Would they even know he was alive? Rafe wondered if anyone had seen him carted away by the soldiers in the middle of the night. Issac would have expected him to come back if he were ok.
He wondered about this Callahan they spoke about. Was 'The Suit' behind the name, or was this someone else entirely? His resolution was already set, there was no way he’d give up Charlie or any of the information she gave him. Though part of him guessed they weren’t going to keep him alive no matter what he said. He was a liability who knew too much.
Ideas began to form and Rafe decided he needed to leave his sisters and Charlie a message if he could. He knew Alex and Max were smart. They wouldn’t stop looking for him until they found him alive. If they found him dead, the world would come crashing down on whoever caused it. For now, he needed them to know he was alive. All pieces of his plan had to fall into place correctly for his message to get out.
Rafe began to cough, violently and loudly. The soldiers didn’t care in the beginning. The sound of the coughing hid the noise of Rafe pulling the flyer he had in his pocket. When he had come into town on one of his trips, he ha
d pulled down a wanted poster and kept it. He had meant to burn it, just to make a point and make him and Charlie feel better. But he never got around to it. Now it would be the medium for his message.
He could feel the warmth of blood where the zip tie had cut into his wrist in one place. He guessed they carried him by his arms, pulling his wrists taunt against the plastic. Carefully he used the blood to write his message. He hoped it was clear because it wasn’t like he would have time to inspect his work. After it was written and had dried a few minutes, Rafe crumpled it in his hand for when he needed it again.
Using the little bit of sight he did have, he placed the four soldiers that sat with him in his mind. He created a map of the interior, so his movements could be accurate without him seeing perfectly. He took a few deep breaths, preparing himself. Then he started to breath harder, panting loudly. This sound drew attention from the soldier next to him.
“What the hell, man?” The soldier said.
“I’m going to puke!” Rafe called out.
“No, you’re not, sit still and swallow it.”
That voice came from the front seat. Rafe decided that was the leading officer. And he was clearly cold. Exactly what Rafe needed for his plan to work right.
“No, no, I can’t. I’m going to puke,” Rafe said, making his voice quiver with panic.
He then stood up, as if he was looking for a way out to empty his gut. The soldiers around him scattered to the sides of the large cargo area, trying to avoid any spray. That was exactly what Rafe had hoped for. With gagging noises, Rafe bent at the waist. Once, twice, and on the third thrust down of his body, he was able to snap the zip tie at his back. With no hesitation, he tore off his hood.
Immediately he was faced with four soldiers that looked shell-shocked at what he had just done. Their indecision was all Rafe needed to move. He snapped out with a punch, landing it solidly on the nearest soldier’s face. The sound of his nose crunching was exactly what Rafe was shooting for. If he could escape, he would. But in his mind the calculations made that seem unlikely. The man with the injured nose went to his knees and Rafe turned to the next.
The second solider to face Rafe had exactly what he was looking for. On the man’s utility belt, a bowie knife was sheathed. Rafe grabbed for the man’s vest, yanking him in and down as Rafe raised his knee to meet his face. The blow glanced off slightly and hit the soldier’s cheek. Slightly dazed the man stepped back, trying to defend himself. Instead, Rafe jumped to one side, grabbing the man by the throat and stepping behind him. In the confusion, he thrust the message into the man’s front pocket before unsheathing the knife.
The truck slammed to a stop and if Rafe hadn’t been holding onto the solider, he may have gone down with the jolt. The soldier from the front seat turned with a handgun pointed at Rafe.
“We need you alive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t maim you in some way. Do you want to be in pain the rest of the trip?”
“You think I’m worried about pain? Just kill me,” Rafe replied.
The leader audibly sighed at his response.
“Do you think I’m stupid enough to be tricked into shooting you? Because you run your sarcastic mouth?”
“How about if I kill your guy?” Rafe said.
Before the gun-wielding man could answer, Rafe plunged the blade into the neck of the soldier, cutting across his throat. Rafe had to separate himself in his mind, putting the humanity away where he couldn’t see it. Humanity would stop him from doing what he needed to do, would stop him from protecting himself the best he could. Any compassion he had for soldiers following orders had no place in the front of his mind right now. It wasn’t something Rafe did naturally. He had to grit his teeth against any outward reaction to what he had done. He couldn’t show the rest of the soldiers any weakness.
The wounded soldier grasped at his throat on the ground. Panic broke out in the back of the cargo truck. One soldier bent to try and save the man, while another knocked Rafe to the ground with a blow to the head. He didn’t go out this time. Instead, he was face to face with the man he had murdered. Rafe’s eyes made contact with the soldier’s. The disbelief and fear in the man’s eyes, caused Rafe to wish that they would just knock him out. Or just shoot him.
“He’s not breathing,” one soldier said.
“We’ll need to leave him here. Callahan doesn’t bury the dead. Take his ammo and throw him out,” the lead soldier said as he turned around in his seat.
“And tie that asshole up. Better this time.”
Rafe watched as they checked the dead soldier for ammo. He watched the front pocket, willing the men to stay away from it in his head. When they just casually patted him down and left the note where it was, Rafe had to fight against releasing a huge gush of breath. Instead, he worked on regulating his breathing and really not throwing up this time. The second blow to the head was making his vision blurry. He wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep; however, he knew that could be a death sentence for someone with a concussion.
Moments later, the body of the soldier was left on the side of the road and the cargo truck was moving again. There was a general silence in the truck now. The soldiers no longer felt jovial with their catch. They were all quiet, thinking of their fallen brother and how easily Rafe had overtaken them. Rafe wondered if they would learn anything from this. He hadn’t given away all of his knowledge, so he hoped he had the chance to escape again later.
An hour later the truck pulled over again. This time for the soldiers to eat their meals and take a bathroom break. Rafe was left with one soldier at a time, who pointed a gun at his head the entire time. Rafe disregarded the gun as if it was nothing more than a water pistol on a hot day. He ignored them as they changed shifts for each to have a moment to eat and relieve themselves. He tested his wrists, which were now zip tied and circled with duct tape.
Rafe couldn’t be positive about where they were. The soldiers either didn’t feel the need to talk or they wanted to make sure he had as little information as possible. He could tell it was midday and from the direction of the sun, he believed they were moving East. But that was only a guess from what little he could see through the windows and the doors when they were quickly opened and closed.
When the soldier’s changed the third time, the man sitting across from Rafe was one he had been keeping an eye on. He was clearly a younger man and Rafe made him nervous. That made Rafe grin evilly at the man now, who paled as his eyes grew larger.
“So, this Callahan, he’s your superior?” Rafe asked.
The man said nothing, just narrowed his eyes slightly at Rafe.
“Not supposed to talk to me, huh? I doubt I’m long for this world, so what’s the problem with telling me anything?”
The soldier wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. Rafe could easily read the doubt cross his eyes. This practical boy didn’t know the final plans for the man he had helped capture.
“Don’t think so? You seem surprised to hear that I’ll probably be killed. Do you know why?”
“No,” the man finally answered.
“What’s your name?” Rafe asked.
“Smith,” the man answered quietly.
“You seem really uncomfortable with me, Smith, why is that?”
“I’m not uncomfortable. You don’t scare me,” Smith said, his chin raising in defiance.
“Ok. Whatever you say. So, who’s Callahan?”
“Major Callahan. He controls the military now,” Smith replied. He clamped his lips shut quickly as if he felt that he had said too much.
“The military? Like all of it? Where are the generals and people that were in power before?”
“Where do you think? Dead.”
“For sure? Communication has been down for weeks now. How does Callahan know he’s in charge?”
“I don’t question the Major,” Smith said.
“That seems dangerous,” Rafe replied.
“It’s what I enlisted to do. Listen to my superiors.”
>
“So, what does Callahan want with me? You have to know something about that.”
“The information you have about the plague. You are keeping the cure to yourself,” Smith said.
Rafe looked at the man in disbelief. It seemed the soldier really did just fall in line with his orders. He just blindly believed whatever Callahan fed him. Including that there was a cure for the disease that was wiping out humanity.
“That’s ludicrous. I would never put the entire human species in danger to keep a cure for myself,” Rafe scoffed.
“That’s what your sister said too,” Smith blurted out. Then he sat back in shock, realizing he had made a mistake.
Rafe’s eyes snapped back to the soldier. He leaned as far forward as he could, staring down the young man.
“My sister? How do you know my sister?” Rafe growled out.
“Be quiet. Sit back,” Smith said, waving the gun in front of Rafe.
Rafe was not phased. Fear and anger were raging inside his mind.
“What does my sister have anything to do with this?”
“I said be quiet,” Smith practically yelled.
“You know something!” Rafe yelled back.
His fury was too much to handle. All he could see were his sisters’ faces in his mind. He had no idea which one Smith was referring to. But the fear that one of them just didn’t make it home, made Rafe homicidal. The humanity in him died as he thought of his sisters. Thought of them hurt or worse, dead.
No longer caring about the gun that was pointed at him, Rafe stood, large over the smaller man. Smith’s hand with the gun shook and Rafe looked down at him menacingly.
“You saw what I did to the other soldier. I will do something even worse to you if you don’t answer my questions.”
“I’m the one with the gun,” Smith replied, his voice shaky and uncertain.
Rafe stepped to the side suddenly, out of the aim of the gun. He pulled his leg up and side kicked the arm holding the gun. Smith grunted, the gun sliding to the far end of the truck. Rafe then stepped back in front of the man. When he tried to get up and get to the gun, Rafe kicked him in the chest, causing him to fall back into his seat. Then Rafe strategically placed a booted foot between Smith’s legs, letting him know where the next blow would be if he moved again.
Alive (Sundown Series Book 3) Page 27