Connections: Conexiones (Mercenaries Book 3)

by Tony Lavely

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” she muttered. “If…” She backed away from the trees and headed toward the gate. It slammed against the side as she drove by.

  Greg wriggled his way to the front seat. “Which way? And how far between where we’re headed and the ocean?”

  “Do you have the locator still on your phone?” She inched further away from the gate as he tapped. When he shook his head with an expressionless face, she glanced at the trees and began a turn to the right. “It wasn’t more than a few hundred feet to the chickees. There are ten or so of them, grouped down here.”

  The wind slowed, and the light improved a little. Beckie increased the speed to a crawl, which raised a bow wave. Greg opened the door and peered out. “Not quite two feet deep.”

  They passed the bathhouse keeping it between them and the ocean. The light faded as the wind regained its former strength, but before it went all gray again, Beckie saw the first group of chickees. “There!” She pointed but Greg was nodding already.

  “I don’t see any cars or trucks.”

  “Maybe a boat?”

  “No, but the trees over there blocked my view. And then the wind.” He looked out again, but this time when he opened the door, a wave of water overflowed the sill. “It’s a little deeper.”

  “So I see.” She stopped. “The first group of chickees ought to be right over there.” She pointed toward the ocean, where she could see shadows that might be the little huts. The sides were flapping in and out.

  Greg spent a moment looking at them. “What are they? Chickees?”

  “Little thatched roof huts that sleep six. They are raised a foot or so and the sides are open, except they have screens and shades. That’s what’s blowing around.”

  “You think someone could be in there?”

  “They shot the video in one of them. I’m sure.” She hoped her doubt wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to her.

  Greg tipped his head at the storage bin. “You taking the gun?”

  Beckie surveyed the area. “No. I doubt anyone’s here and it’ll get sand and water in the works. You know where it is if we need it.” She opened her door and climbed down.

  “Wait a minute! If I can’t do anything else, I can keep you from falling. I’ll be right around.”

  In a second, he’d splashed around the front of the truck and taken her hand. Holding tight, they worked their way to the little semi-circle of five buildings. With a look, they separated and while Greg took the eastern most one, Beckie waded toward the opposite end.

  “Ow! Damn it. Watch out for the shades, the bottoms are weighted!”

  When Beckie looked, Greg was rubbing blood from his forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s only my pride hurt.”

  Beckie opened the screen door and looked in. The beds were pushed against the corner posts; debris bobbed in the water.

  Greg was waiting at the center chickee when Beckie waded out of the fourth one. “Nothing.” They slogged back to the Hummer.

  As Beckie hiked herself into the cab, a gust of wind caught the door and slammed it closed on her ankle. “Oww!” She pulled her leg in and kneaded it.

  “Let me look,” Greg said. “Sandy had a broken ankle once.”

  “No. The bone’s not sticking out; I’ll be fine.” She twisted her face into a semblance of a grin. “I won’t need that foot till I have to walk again.”

  “I think the water’s gotten deeper. Want me to drive?”

  “No, it’ll be fine.” She drove another four minutes, two-hundred fifty-feet into a second group of five huts. The wind had increased, and the water was still rising. The dash clock said six forty-five. Dark was nearly complete. She looked around. “We’ll go together this time. Let’s start there, away from the ocean. Those two are blocked from either the road or the water.”

  He nodded and dropped down into the water. When he got to Beckie’s door, she allowed him to catch her and let her down gently. The water was up to her hips; the waves soaked her to her neck. She looked to see Greg was wet to his belly. She shook her head. “Let’s go before we get washed off our feet.”

  On her first step, her ankle gave way, and she pitched into the flood. She opened her mouth to scream, but it filled with water so full of sand it felt like a mouthful of rock candy, except salty. Greg tried to stop her fall, but only extended her arm; she fell sideways. He didn’t let go, however, and before the water filled her ears, he had her up, supporting her.

  “Thanks,” she muttered after spitting out the brackish water-sand mixture. “Guess I better lean on you.”

  “You oughta stay here.”

  “No! This is— I can’t let you go alone. I’ll be okay, now I know what to expect.”

  After the first few steps, the pain became commonplace, and she didn’t lean on him as much.

  Beckie was sure the first hut they approached was the one; the sound of the wind through it made a moan she was sure signaled Amy’s death knell. The slamming and swinging of the shades was worse than any of the ones they’d already examined.

  But it was empty.

  With a glance around, Beckie led the way to the neighboring hut. The wind threw her into the door, then when she yanked on it, a squall ripped it from her hands and threw it against the corner of the chickee. The hinges failed and the door took flight. She didn’t wait to see where it landed, but fell inside, pulling Greg behind her.

  Even though the chickee was elevated, her head went under water when she fell. She wrenched herself into a sitting position. She shook her head violently, like a wet dog, but her pony tail, compacted by the water, came around and smacked her cheek and jaw. Startled, she gasped for breath and then gagged. Even with the wind storming through and knee-deep water, the inside of the hut smelled like an open sewer. She breathed through her mouth. “You okay?”

  He nodded.

  She attempted a survey. The Hummer’s headlights shone dully when the wind threw the shades back, but they couldn’t dispel the gloom inside. This hut was like the others: Beds were piled against the far wall. One of them had fallen through the screen siding; it hung, half in, half out. Suddenly, she felt a hand; Greg pointed. “There.”

  Beckie strained to see in the murky dark. One bed hadn’t moved and there was something atop it. She crawled in the water toward the bed. She wondered why it was rocking until she realized it was trying to float. The water covered the thin pad of a mattress; waves washed over a nude female body.

  “Greg?” Beckie turned to look for him. Where did he go? What happened?

  Beckie returned to the body, unsure whether she wanted it to be Amy or not. A splash behind her brought her around, fists up ready to kill.

  “Greg! What the fuck?”

  He held a flashlight, one of the big black metal kind, and two sheathed knives. He handed a knife to Beckie. “She’s tied, hand and foot. With the wet rope, we’ll have to cut them off her.” He waded to where the girl’s feet disappeared in the water and bent down.

  Knife in hand, Beckie stood and scrambled to the other end of the frame. Hands shaking, she turned the girl’s head. It was Amy, terribly battered. Oh, God! Is she… Amy’s mouth fell into the water and her breath bubbled. She’s alive! Beckie’s heart started again. I better get her head up. And outta here! Keeping Amy’s head above the water, she cut the bonds. A splash over the wind interrupted her; she almost dropped her knife.

  Greg was pulling himself up. “Stepped on…” He held an empty bottle, looking at it before tossing it across the small room. The wind threw it back at him and he swatted it out the hut’s open back side. “Nutrition drink. Guess she hasn’t eaten much.”

  Beckie looked at Amy’s body, comparing it to what she recalled from a month ago. Her ribs showed and her cheeks were hollowing. On her face and breasts especially, bruises and cuts showed dark against the pale white skin. For a second, Beckie was torn between cursing, retching and crying, but quickly pressed those useless reactions back. We gotta get her
out before we can do anything to fix her!

  Rather than risk cutting Amy’s wrist, she cut the binding at the bed frame. Amy’s body moved. Greg lifted the girl’s right leg out of the water to clear the way for him to duck down to free the left. Beckie saw the bloom of light through the sand and debris filled water as Greg hacked with the knife.

  Watching Amy’s chest rise and fall however weakly, she opted to wait before cutting the ties at Amy’s wrists, not wanting to have Greg yank and pull unexpectedly. He had to make one trip to breathe, but soon, sooner than Beckie’d feared, Amy was floating away from the bed.

  “Hold her while I cut these ropes,” she said.

  “Yeah. Here, use this knife; it’s sharper. Just go slow. Cut lengthwise instead of straight across.”

  She did and with the sharper knife, soon had Amy free of those fetters, too. She looked again at Amy’s face, trying to find a light of consciousness, but while her eyes were wide and flicking back and forth, there was no other reaction. Beckie looked at Greg, but he shook his head and shrugged. “I wouldn’t much want to come back, either.”

  Beckie nodded. “Yeah. Okay. The next thing is to get her into—”

  The chickee rocked sharply, violently. Greg’s eyes were wide, as wide as Beckie’s, she was sure. Her back had been to the front wall of the hut, her butt into the wind. Greg was speechless, mouth hanging open.

  She rotated like she was on a turntable, slowly creaking, to see… The hut rocked again, but not quite as violently. After grabbing Amy to prevent her drifting away, she turned to see the bow of a boat reaching to brush her back.

  She ducked away, attempting to leap over Amy and the bed, and tripped herself. She avoided landing on Amy, but cracked an elbow and knee on the bed frame. Again she popped her head clear of the water but this time, Greg reached out his hand.

  “Who—”

  “No idea,” she responded, though she was sure it didn’t sound like that as she spat water with the words. The boat rose on a wave and lifted the building again. This time both she and Greg went down.

  When Beckie got clear of the water this time, she heard the boat’s engine in the brief lull. As suddenly, the wind returned, howling through the trees and the structure. Before either of them got to their feet, the chickee fell off whatever had passed for its foundation; the floor now rose from back to front and the boat had room to pitch.

  A shadow stood in the ruined doorway. Beckie ducked down to avoid the beam from the intruder’s light, then shoved Amy’s body to Greg.

  On her hands and knees, with her head almost in the fetid water, Beckie sloshed toward the door. The knife in her hand wasn’t the comfort she wanted, but she kept a tight hold on it. If Greg keeps his attention, I can maybe hamstring this guy. Why the fuck are they coming back? The question slowed her.

  A flash of light from behind her: Greg had responded to the intruder’s light by directing his beam in the invader’s face, hoping, she thought, to blind him while she attacked.

  Water cascading from her clothes and hair, she jumped up to attack.

  “Ian!” The knife skittered off his arm slicing open his sleeve. “Fuck! I almost killed you!”

  He hugged her tight. She felt the body armor under his shirt. “I would forgive you. Amy Rose?”

  Beckie was shaking in his arms. The unrelenting noise, the cold of the water in every crack and crevasse of her body, the terror that Amy, in spite of her eyes moving, was in fact dead because she hadn’t arrived soon enough, the fear she’d attacked Ian! She loosed a hand to point toward Greg. “Greg has her. I don’t… She’s… alive. But, I don’t know… if she’ll make it! I couldn’t save her.”

  She heard him speak, but not the words. As he lifted her, she saw two more shapes push by, hurrying toward Greg and Amy.

  Beckie gathered herself to wave as she called, “It’s ok, Greg!” She heard splashing from his direction.

  “Sorry, Ian. I’m still thinking about Wu Ting.” She shook her head, splashing water across his face. “Sorry.” A half-hearted grin forced its way to her face. She reached up to wipe the excess water away, but he caught her hand.

  The look in his eyes disconcerted her for a second, until she read respect and gratitude there. “You never could control Ms Wu’s fate. Tonight, however, you have recovered a team member for us. Thank you.” He brushed a kiss over her cold lips.

  “If she lives. Now we need to crush everyone who took her!”

  “Not tonight, I fear.”

  “No, not tonight.” She turned to look at Amy. “Who’s there?” She pushed away toward the figures.

  Ian pulled her back. “Kevin and Millie. Daniel will assist as needed.” He pointed at the doorway. “We would be in the way.” He relaxed his hug and started toward the door. “You came in the Hummer?”

  She touched Dan’s arm as she passed him. “Thanks, Dan.” She pulled Ian’s head down to talk in his ear. “Yeah. It’s Sandy’s. If they don’t need me, I gotta take it back.”

  “Hmm. And Mr. Daniels?”

  “Well, we’re not gonna leave him.”

  “No, of course not.”

  They had reached the Hummer, still running. The water was almost to the fenders, but Beckie found it solidly planted when she leaned against the door. She cast a baleful look at the Archangel 440 still nosing the chickee. “Is that boat safe enough?” She giggled. “Must be, you got here.”

  “It is sufficient.” Four shapes went by, the first holding Amy, wrapped in a silver blanket. Beckie recognized Millie alongside the girl, holding her hand.

  Greg stopped in front of them, followed by Kevin.

  “How’ll we get the Hummer out?”

  Beckie straightened. “I’ll drive it,” she said, “soon as I warm up a little.”

  Ian pulled her body against his. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels. She and I will return the Hummer. Kevin, Mr. Daniels will return with you on the boat. With the same number of people returning in the truck, the authorities may have fewer questions. Assuming they noticed.”

  “Okay. Let’s get moving then.” Kevin looked toward the stern and the swim platform. “Dan’s got Amy aboard. Millie will work on her all the way.”

  “She’s… she’s still… bre—”

  “Breathing? Yeah, I felt her twitching when I handed her to Dan. Enough to say she’s alive.” He patted Beckie’s cheek. “You two are some kind of saviors, you know.” He put his arm around Greg’s shoulder and walked him to the boat.

  Ian opened the Hummer’s door, but Beckie looked him in the eye, hoping the determination she felt carried to him. “I can make it. I drove the damn thing down here and I’m used to the way it handles under water.” She removed his hand from her arm and walked around the front to the driver’s side door. It opened as she put a foot on the rail and heaved herself up.

  Beside them, the boat backed its bow out of the chickee and slowly made its way toward the ocean. In seconds, it was gone, hidden behind the scud and the breaking waves.

  “Good journey,” Beckie wished aloud.

  Chapter Six

  Amy Healing

  THE WEEKEND AFTER AMY’S RESCUE, Beckie took the air taxi home to the Nest. After Ian, her first stop was the hospital to see Amy. Millie was like a mother panther, watching over an injured cub. She even snarled at Beckie before catching herself.

  “Sorry, it’s just—”

  “No need to apologize. How is she?”

  Millie brightened, giving Beckie a small smile. “Physically, she’s healing.”

  “And?”

  The smile washed away. “Mentally, I’m not sure how she’s doing. She’ll hardly talk to me. Or anyone. She’s skittish, and the orderlies report she’s not sleeping very well.”

  Beckie said nothing, just gave her a sympathetic look.

  “But you’re not here to see me, right? Ian said you were bruised but—”

  “All ‘own goals,’ as they say in soccer. Falling, tripping, swimming in sand-infested water. But I was carefu
l to take care of my ribs,” she said with a laugh.

  “Good. We have enough patients.”

  “So can I see her?” Beckie looked into Millie’s face until the woman returned her gaze. “Alone?”

  Millie gave her a weary look before her hand went up to rub her forehead. “If you want no one to hear, you should take her down to the beach.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Amy’s hug of greeting seemed honest enough to Beckie, but before she said anything else, she hustled Amy into a wheelchair and rolled her out of the building. In the sunlight, Beckie studied the girl. She looks… Damn! Big dark circles under her eyes. Body’s almost limp. Her face, washed out, like she hasn’t had any sleep. And what did I expect? I still flash back…

  Go Shen hurried out of the security building as they went by, interrupting Beckie’s memories of Thailand. “Hi, Beckie, Amy. How are you? And where are you headed?”

  Guess which of those questions is more important to him, Beckie thought with a grin. “We’re pretty much fine, I guess. Just headed to the beach on the west side.” She pointed up the path beside the building. “We wanted some privacy, but we’ll stay close to one of your cameras.”

  He smiled and went back in.

  Beckie pushed the chair until they reached the sand.

  “I can walk.” Amy stood and took a few steps. “It’s like Mr. Jamse was; Mom’s just… overprotective, I think they call it.”

  Beckie stared agape at the girl. Does she still think she has too much protection?

  Amy started slowly down the beach to the water’s edge. Beckie caught her as she kicked her hospital slippers off and continued into the small waves. “What was it like?” Amy asked as she splashed.

  “I was terrified.” She grabbed Amy’s arm and pulled her into a fierce hug. “Now come up here and sit so we can talk.”

  “Why were you— Oh, the storm.”

  “No. Fuck the storm. It was not being sure I was right, and putting Greg in danger. Then it was I was right and you looked so… so damn dead I couldn’t stand it! I ‘bout fell over when Kevin told me he’d felt you moving. I wanted to come and grab you myself, but… But I took his word for it.” She sat in front of Amy, interleaving their legs so they could hold hands. “Then I was scared they’d injured you so… so you’d die anyway. Or be permanently, you know, messed up.”