The Enclave

by Karen Hancock

  “Was it him?” She turned to where Cameron had backtracked and was peering at the ground. He stooped to pick up something shiny.

  “I think so,” he said. “He was wearing that hood, so I couldn’t see his face much, but the form looked like his.” He kept his eyes on the ground and stepped back, though with the meager light from the partial moon and stars, she didn’t see how he could find anything and wondered why he didn’t turn on his head lamp—then recalled its smashed bulb.

  “I didn’t see his face, either,” she said. “But he seemed bigger than before. And stronger.”

  “Much stronger,” he agreed grimly. “And I don’t think he liked it that you stood him up.”

  She frowned at him. “At the Vault, you mean? How can you stand someone up if you never agreed to a meeting in the first place?”

  Amazingly, he found what he was looking for, stooped and picked it up. “It doesn’t have to be logical. He invited you and you rejected him.” He approached her, and the starlight reflected off the two shiny brass bullet casings resting in his palm, right before he pocketed them.

  “And instead I met you out here in the desert alone.” Her words sparked the sudden realization that he could still be out there. It seemed he’d been running from the chopper, which was circling not too far away. As fast as he moved, he could easily swing back. . . .

  Evidently Cameron had the same thought, for he suggested they return to the Jeep.

  When they got there, however, they found that more had gone wrong than simply an engine stall and a trip into the ditch. Though the vehicle had a winch with which Reinhardt had hoped to pull it back onto the road, he couldn’t turn it on. Nor would the Jeep’s engine turn over. The dome lights did not come on, either, and turning the key wouldn’t even bring up the dash lights.

  “Is it the battery?”

  “Probably,” Cameron said, pulling his pack out of the rear seat and slipping it on. Then he reached for his binoculars, shut the door, and turned to her. “Come on, let’s get you to that shuttle pickup before anything else happens.”

  “Won’t it give away the fact we met up here if we ride the shuttle back together?”

  “I suspect that fact has already been given away, but I won’t be riding with you.” He looped the binoculars strap over his head. “There’s a path at the picnic area that leads down to the resort. I’ll take that.”

  “Do you think it will be safe?”

  He cocked a brow at her. “The shuttle? Or the path?” When she only looked at him in growing uneasiness, he held out a hand to her. “You okay?”

  “Not really.” But she was glad to take his hand and walk beside him.

  They’d not gone far when a flash of white flared around them, trailed by a tremendous boom that shook the ground beneath their feet. Turning back, they saw great orange tongues of flame licking upward into a cloud of black smoke.

  “Was that the helicopter?” she whispered.

  “Most likely,” Reinhardt said grimly. “Come on. I’ll feel better when you’re back at the Institute.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Halfway up the side of the ridge, Cam turned back to survey the crash site. The smoke of burning oil and fuel made his eyes water and his nose burn. Thanks to the binoculars and the circle of klieg lights set up around it, he could see things quite clearly. The flames were smaller now, but smoke continued to churn upward from the chopper’s crumpled fuselage—though the only way he knew it was the helicopter was by the single main rotor standing at a rakish angle beside it. A fleet of Institute SUVs and vans surrounded it, including several larger emergency vehicles with lights still flashing. The area swarmed with people, and along the outer ring of the mayhem lay a handful of tarp-covered bodies.

  The most disturbing aspects about the scene, though, were the lights of the searchers moving about in the chaparral beyond the crash and the distant barking of their search dogs. Frogeater was still at large, and it was highly likely he had brought down the chopper now burning before them. Given what Cam suspected Frogeater had done to his Jeep, this wasn’t entirely surprising, but he shuddered to think what that meant about the nature of his abilities. And their range.

  Turning from the site, Cam led Lacey to the top of the ridge, where they were met with the surreal sight of the gargantuan zig aglow with its golden night-lighting. It loomed over the bowl-shaped park at its feet, which was itself ablaze with light and activity. Festive white twinkle lights garlanded the many booths set up for the Open House Expo amidst which visitors thronged. The steel band’s music was considerably louder and more persistent now, the whole picture a bright and happy contrast to the grim scene of destruction at Cam’s back. If the attendees down there had any idea what had just happened less than two miles over the ridge from them, they’d be stampeding to escape.

  Rather like the visitors to the overlook must have done not too long ago. The picnic area now stood dark and deserted, its parking lot empty, the gate closed at the entrance and locked. “They probably cleared everyone out when they sent up the choppers,” Cam said as he and Lacey considered the scene.

  Since there would obviously be no more shuttles, they set off down the dirt path toward the campus proper, their way lit by the golden ziggurat. It pleased him that she hadn’t seemed too upset with the prospect of walking with him, despite her earlier discomfort with his “trust God” spiel. Though he didn’t regret what he’d said, he didn’t blame her for rejecting it, either. Given the magnitude of the problems she faced, it had probably sounded more like a platitude than sound advice.

  Though after their most recent adventures, perhaps she’d be willing to give God another chance, seeing as they were both still alive. And still together.

  Again he relived those terrifying events, ending with the moment when he’d shot Frogeater’s leg squarely out from under him, yet only made him stumble rather than bringing him down. As the strange youth had regained his balance, Cam had been milliseconds from firing again, when Frogeater looked over his shoulder and the gleam of something in his forehead stopped Cam’s hand and triggered another memory from Tirich Pazu: the monsters had broken through a wall, and though thick clouds of rising dust obscured their forms into mere silhouettes against the flames behind them, the third eye on the leader’s forehead had been unmistakable, glowing like a bright red ember as he searched out his prey. . . .

  By the time Cam shook the memory off, the youth had disappeared into the darkness. Though at first Cam had assured himself he’d seen only the glint of starlight reflecting off the boil in the boy’s forehead, now he wasn’t so sure. The creatures Cam had encountered in Afghanistan were huge and violent, and Frogeater was obviously not one of them. But he seemed to share a measure of their abilities, and according to Rudy, Swain had acquired his own collection of sarcophagi. Had he used some of their DNA in his modifications of Frogeater?

  “Tell me more about that note,” Cam suggested abruptly. “The one attached to the bottom of the plastic frog.”

  She thought for a moment, then said, “It was taped on. I left it attached and unfolded it with tweezers . . . so if there were prints or something I wouldn’t mess them up. I hoped you would have seen it without me having to say.”

  “Well, I didn’t,” he said, annoyed with himself for that oversight. His new habit of noticing details was clearly not as comprehensive as he’d thought. Of course, he did have something of an excuse, given how distracting her presence often was to him. “So you read it, then?”

  She nodded and told him what it said.

  “Meet him in the Vault? You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  “What could he show you there that would discredit Swain?”

  “Manny’s body, perhaps? Although I’d think that would discredit Frogeater more than Swain, since Frogeater’s the one who killed him. . . .”

  Cam heard her words without really comprehending them, for the mention of Manny had shone a sudden new light on what Cam himself had
done tonight, and it appalled him. He had known Frogeater was after Lacey—he’ d heard the words Frogeater had spoken to Manny on the audio record, seen what he’ d written on the wall in the frog room, and been questioned by the young man himself not three days ago in the basement stairwell. Yet knowing full well Frogeater’s obsession with her, Cam had brought her out here anyway.

  He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, cutting off whatever it was she was saying. “I had no business sending you up to the overlook with him in the picture.”

  She was still wearing the baseball cap he’ d given her and now blinked up at him from under its brim. “How could you know he’ d come all the way out there?”

  “I knew he was interested in you. I knew he was angry enough over your replacement to kill Manny over it. And I knew that at least once he’s fled the Institute and disappeared into the desert. I should have thought it through better.”

  She raised a skeptical brow. “And where would that have led you? We needed to talk. And that was a good place for it. You couldn’t have known Frogeater would be there.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Actually, I think you’ve been rather amazing tonight.”

  He felt the heat of embarrassment surge into his face.

  “So have you,” he said quietly, making no move to release her hand. “A lot of women would’ve been reduced to hysterics by now. You’re just trooping along like nothing’s happened.”

  “In case you can’t tell from my shaking hand and sweaty palm, I’ve been a jittery mess ever since that first rock almost took your head off. And I was so relieved not to have to ride back alone on that shuttle without you, I could hardly speak.”

  He frowned at her. “You give me too much credit. I’m no more protection against the likes of Frogeater than the next man.”

  She tilted her head at him. “Oh, I think you are. You got me free of him, didn’t you?”

  He could think of nothing to say to that, except the million things he’ d done wrong tonight, which she clearly wasn’t interested in listening to. Well, fine. He knew he would have a hard time protecting her, but in the end it didn’t matter because God could. Which was obvious from the fact they were both still alive. You really do have my back, don’t you, Lord?

  Lacey smiled up at him and reached to touch the cut on his brow. “You might want to clean this up, though, before we go walking around other people. And take off the broken head lamp.”

  He pulled off the head lamp and stuffed it into his pocket. Though the blood had dried, he rubbed as much of it away as he could, then reversed the hat so its bill shadowed his face. “That better?”

  She said it was and they continued down the track. After a moment she spoke again. “Why would he come out here, though, when he told me to go to the Vault?”

  For a moment he didn’t know what she was talking about. Then, “You mean Frogeater?”

  “Shouldn’t he have been waiting there in the Vault?” she asked.

  “And if he was, how would he know I’d gone to the overlook?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Unless he was watching to see if I’d go to the Vault in the first place. Fast as he moves, he could do that, couldn’t he? I mean, you were watching me down there in the atrium. Why couldn’t he? Then he could run over to the Vault before I got there.”

  “I guess that makes as much sense as anything.” It unnerved him to think the young man might have been watching them the entire time they’d been out there. And, for all he knew, might be watching them still.

  Not until they passed the first group of the resort’s casitas, and the dirt road transitioned to asphalt with sporadic streetlights, did Cam begin to relax. Even then it was a very alert state of relaxation. Letting go of her hand for the first time since they’d started back, he swung his pack around, drew his cell phone from the front pocket, and flipped it open to call the campus garage.

  The Institute switchboard operator answered, and when he explained his need for someone to pull his Jeep out of the ditch on the service road southwest of the overlook, she informed him the garage was closed for the night and wouldn’t open until 6:00 a.m. tomorrow. She suggested he call a towing service.

  He’d known the garage was closed, of course, but thanked her anyway. Then he called his insurance agent and left a message informing him of the accident, giving considerably more detail about the situation than he’ d given the operator, including his need for a tow truck. He tucked the phone into the front pocket of his jeans, knowing Rudy would have gotten both messages, since his station monitored every call that went in and out of Cam’s BlackBerry. Hopefully he’ d not only send a team out to inspect the vehicle ASAP, but would also set up a face-to-face meeting without Cam’s having to ask directly.

  It wasn’t long afterward that Lacey stepped nearer to him and slid her hand into his again. “Do you mind if we walk around the expo booths for a while?” she asked in an almost sheepish tone. “I know it’s late, but . . . Jade’s probably not going to be in till the wee hours, and I just don’t want to go back to that room yet.”

  So they walked past the resort to the bowl, where the crowd was still moderate and the steel band was still playing. Wandering among the different booths set up along the park’s pathways, they checked out the various offerings, sampled some of the food, and picked up free pens, snack bag clips, brochures, and other advertising oddities. Fortunately, most of their co-workers were at the resort bar by that time, so they didn’t run into anyone they knew.

  At 10:30 the steel drum band stopped playing and the first explosion of fireworks began. Since there weren’t supposed to be fireworks until Sunday, Cam suspected these were being shot off to cover the significance of the earlier explosion when the chopper went down. This view was confirmed shortly by an overheard snatch of conversation between two booth vendors.

  When the fireworks show ended fifteen minutes later—and the steel drum band was packed up to leave—he took her back to the zig. There in the elevator lobby off the dark and deserted Madrona Lounge, she pushed the Down button and the elevator doors opened immediately. But instead of boarding she turned to face him, as if still reluctant to leave. Having no idea what to say, he said nothing, which made for a spell of awkward silence.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Don’t want to forget to give you back your hat. . . .” She took off the cap and handed it to him as the elevator doors rumbled closed again.

  When he took the cap from her, she rested her hand on his forearm, her dark eyes meeting his with sober intent. “What you asked me to do earlier?” she said softly as she drew closer to him. “When we were on the outcropping?” She paused, drew a steadying breath, then said, “I’ll do whatever you want. Or . . . umm . . .” Her face flamed as she apparently considered more carefully whom she was going to be involving herself with. “Within reason, anyway. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it’s not good. And if he really is kidnapping young women for . . . whatever reason, well . . . I can’t just walk away and let it keep happening.”

  He wanted to tell her to do just that. But he didn’t. Instead he brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheekbone, smoothed the tendril of hair behind her ear. “It could be more dangerous than . . . what we spoke of.”

  Her eyes never left his. “For you, as well. And you’re not leaving.”

  He frowned down at her, then pulled one of the freebie expo pens and a brochure from his shirt pocket. “Here’s my cell number,” he said, scribbling it onto the back of the brochure and handing it to her. “Call me anytime. Even if it goes to voice mail, someone will get the message real time and take action if need be.” He paused, then added, “It might be that we’ll figure all this out before he makes his move to take you. That’s what I’m hoping, anyway. But let me know what’s going on.”

  She nodded, stood there a moment more staring up at him, then stepped back to push the Down button again, reopening the waiting elevator’s doors.

&n
bsp; “You sure you don’t want me to go down with you?” he asked.

  He saw her force the smile. “You can’t go with me everywhere. If he was waiting down there, surely security would know by now. I’m hoping, though, that with all those men and cars and dogs up there they finally caught him. I mean, how could they not?”

  “They probably did,” he agreed. Though both of them knew very well how easily Frogeater could have evaded them.

  The doors closed between them, and he left the small lobby, returning to the deserted atrium to board one of the glass-walled elevators. But instead of going straight to his room—he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon—he took a detour by way of the ninth floor, wanting a look at the crash site from the viewing gallery there to get a sense of how things were progressing with the search.

  Located on the floor’s west side, just north of Swain’s complex of offices and suites, the Golden Saguaro viewing gallery hosted many of Kendall-Jakes’s high-level receptions and cocktail parties. No matter which way one went from the elevators, it was a long walk around the atrium to reach it, and seemed especially so now, the corridor dark and deserted. With no sign of even a security guard around, he was surprised when he reached the short hall leading to the darkened gallery and heard voices coming from within.

  Cautiously he continued forward and soon realized there was only one voice—Gen Viascola’s—engaged in a one-sided conversation, probably on a cell phone.

  “Thank God!” she said. A pause. Then, “Sedated?! Are you mad?”

  Cam stole to the gallery’s open doorway and peered into the spacious room beyond. The window wall directly across from him provided views of the western landscape at higher elevation than he and Lacey had enjoyed at the overlook outcropping. In the darkness beyond he saw the klieg lights still arrayed beyond the service road.