Pascal smiled. He could see it in her eyes now, the difference between a lie and the truth. Brandt was on his way. Pascal could sit back and wait. Brandt would come to him.
“The children,” Sister Odekirk said. “Can they go to the classroom now?”
“It’s secure, sir,” Carter said.
Pascal considered. He wanted the sniveling and crying and fidgeting to stop, and killing the children would eliminate the problem rather than shuffling it off to be dealt with later.
“Please,” Sister Odekirk said. “We’ll cooperate when we know our children are safe.”
“I don’t need your cooperation,” Pascal said. “There’s nothing I need from you. What I need is revenge on Justine’s man, Brandt.”
“Revenge?” Justine said. “For what?”
“Sister Odekirk,” Pascal continued. “Brandt is going to show up here whether you and your people are alive or dead. I think dead would be easier, but you’re welcome to try to prove me wrong.”
One Hundred Forty-Four
Copperopolis, California
“Copperopolis. Population 2363.” Brandt pointed to a sign half hanging off its post. “This is the last chance you’ll have to change your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind,” Reid said.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Brandt said. “According to the map, about twelve more miles into the mountains is Angels Camp. That’s where Justine’s people are.”
“The City of Angels,” Reid said. “The woman I met, Cumorah, she said she came from the City of Angels. At first I thought she was delirious, but I remembered my grandfather’s stories about Ellay—Lost Angeles—being the ‘city of angels.’ That’s why we came west.”
“Funny thing is, that woman probably was delirious,” Brandt said. “Justine told me that the women are never told the name ‘Angels Camp’ so they can’t reveal it under torture.”
“That’s not funny.” Reid didn’t want to think the entire journey hinged on a coincidence.
“My guess is, Pascal headed straight up this highway to the gate to take it by force.”
“You think Justine’s people can hold him off at the gate?”
“I don’t have any idea,” Brandt said. “We’ll try to find a vantage point to scout the gate without being seen. If Pascal controls it, we’ll follow the fence to the south and hope to find where Justine cut through it.”
“If we don’t find where she cut it, can’t we just cut it ourselves? Or climb over?”
“Sure, but getting past the fence isn’t the problem. It’s figuring out where to go once we’re on the other side. If Pascal controls the road, we’ll have to try to retrace Justine’s route from the hole she made in the fence to the compound, and then enter through the mineshaft she used to escape.”
By the time they approached the gate, it was well past dark, but the full moon was bright enough to see by. From their vantage point, they could see the gate hanging wide open. After surveilling it for thirty minutes, they’d seen no hint of movement or sound. No sign of the car, or people, or animals.
“It’s still possible someone’s inside that shack,” Brandt said.
“I doubt a guard would go this long without patrolling, especially with the gate open,” Reid said. “I say we risk it.”
Brandt nodded and stood.
As Reid straightened upright, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. He dropped back to the ground, yanking Brandt with him.
A lone figure crept along the fence line toward the gate. The person was small, a boy.
They watched him sneak past the guard shack and through the gate, then bolt down the road toward where they hid. As the boy was about to pass, Brandt stepped into the path and grabbed him, clamping one hand over his mouth to mute his cry.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Reid said as Brandt pulled the boy into their hiding place.
Reid figured he couldn’t be more than ten years old.
“Don’t yell, okay?” Brandt said.
The boy nodded, and Brandt removed his hand.
“Some bad men came, and you’re going to get help, right?” Brandt asked.
“My mom sneaked me out. I’m supposed to get the elders,” the boy said.
“There are no more elders,” Brandt said. “But we’re going to help you.”
“But the bad men have guns!” the boy said. “They’re killing people.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Reid said, hoping he sounded convincing. “We’ll take care of the bad men if you can sneak us inside. Do you think you can take us back the way you got out?”
The boy nodded.
“Good,” Brandt said. “We need you to tell us everything you remember. How many there are, where they are, what demands they’re making.”
“Brandt,” the boy said. “They’re looking for someone named Brandt.”
❦❦❦
The boy’s name was Luke, and he was wiser and braver and bigger and healthier than any eight-year-old Reid had ever seen. If it hadn’t been for him, they’d have no idea what was going on inside. Now they had a plan. A plan that could actually work. As long as Reid did his part.
“If you follow the road, you’ll come right up to the compound,” Luke said. “There are men guarding it. They will definitely see you.”
“This whole thing goes to hell if they shoot you on sight, Brandt,” Reid said.
“Pascal wants me alive. Right, Luke?”
The boy nodded.
“He wants me, “Brandt said, “so that’s what we’re going to give him. Me and just me. He’ll think he’s won and his guard will be down. He’ll never see you coming. But this only works if you can take the shot.”
“I know what I have to do.” Reid touched the hard, cool metal of the gun at his belt, and swallowed down the butterflies.
“You’re sure?” Brandt asked, looking doubtful. “Because back at the train . . . We need to be sure.”
Reid pushed away the last of his doubts. This was different. He was different now. “I’ve got this, Brandt. You don’t need to worry.” He knew it in his gut, in his soul, in every part of him—he could do what had to be done.
“Good, then all that’s left is the timing. How long do I wait before waltzing into town?”
“Luke,” Reid asked. “How long will it take to get me into place?”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. It’ll take awhile to get back to the mineshaft, and then a little while longer to get to the church where the bad men are.”
“And you think they’ll still be there?” Reid asked. “In the church?” It just took one variable out of place for everything to go wrong.
Luke shrugged. “The head bad guy hasn’t left the church since he got here. He even sleeps there.”
“Luke, it’s probably about midnight,” Brandt said. “Do you think you can get Reid into place before morning? Before it gets light? That’s about six hours.”
“Yeah, I think so,” Luke said.
“I’ll be there by dawn,” Reid told Brandt. “I’ll be ready. You can count on me.”
“I know I can,” Brandt said, gripping Reid’s shoulder. “Just remember, you can’t negotiate with him. Don’t even try.”
“I understand.”
“Then I’ll see you in there,” Brandt said, extending his hand.
“See you on the flip-side, as my grandpa used to say.” Reid grasped Brandt’s hand and hugged him. They thumped each other on the back.
Reid followed Luke out of their hiding place. Reid crouched as they headed down the road toward the gate. He felt bare and exposed in the moonlight, as if Pascal’s men were about to descend on them, but there was no sound of anything other than Luke’s footfalls and his own on the pavement.
They crossed through the gate to the guard shack. Reid risked a glance in, expecting to see a body, but it was empty. On the other side of the shack, however, were dark masses on the ground and the smell of death.
“They killed
the dogs,” Luke said, his voice low and somber.
“What’s that buzzing sound?” Reid whispered.
“Bugs. They eat the dead.”
“Oh.” That was something he’d never thought of.
“Come on,” Luke said, motioning. “This way.”
Luke led him away from the road into the moon shadows of the tall, long-dead trees. They followed the fence for what felt like miles to Reid’s blistered feet, until finally Luke turned with purpose and headed into the dead forest.
The going was tougher and slower as they ascended, and it wasn’t long before Reid’s thighs and calves burned, but he kept pushing. He had to be there in time or Brandt was dead, and a lot of other people, too. This time the plan hinged solely on him, and he wasn’t going to fail.
After a couple of hours, they emerged from the forest into an open field. Reid took a swig from his canteen and a deep breath of night air. It smelled different. Earthy and damp, not unlike the apple orchards in Sausalito.
Squatting down, he touched the ground and gasped. Plants. He was sure of it.
“Psst, Luke,” he whispered.
The boy turned and came back to Reid. “What’s wrong?”
“What is this?” Reid asked, indicating the field.
The boy knelt down and felt the plants. “Green beans.”
“Really?”
Luke snapped something off the plant and handed it to him. “See?”
Reid took the bean, turning it over in his hands. It was firm but bendable, and more than twice as long as any green bean Reid had seen in a can.
“You can try it,” Luke said.
“You mean eat it? You don’t have to cook it or anything first?”
“Just eat it.” Luke snapped another bean off the plant and took a bite. “See?”
Reid put the bean in his mouth. The sound of the crunch was like he’d bit into a bone, but the bean gave way between his teeth, filling his mouth with tangy, slightly sweet flesh, moist though nothing like the mushiness he’d always known to be green beans. He couldn’t help but think that Brian should be with him. This was his dream.
He looked up to the sky, wanting to believe there was a heaven, wanting to believe his brother was watching him, and his parents and Tinker, too. That they knew he’d finally found seeds, and that they were proud of him. He didn’t know if they would still be proud after he did what he’d come to do—he didn’t think he could be proud of himself—but he’d made his decision. What was at stake was a whole lot bigger than him being able to live with himself.
“Reid?” Luke touched his shoulder, jolting him alert. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He stood, only then realizing that the sky he’d been staring at was turning the slightest bit lighter. “We should go. How much farther?”
“Not real far, but we should probably hurry.”
As Reid followed Luke across the bean field, he tried his best not to crush any of the plants. Each one was like a self-contained miracle, a dream come true all wrapped up in a little green package. He thought about taking one home to Kayla, even just one grown bean. To see the look on her face as she bit into it. To see, as the sweet freshness washed over her tongue, her realization that Brian’s hope was a reality. That there were seeds in the world, and their baby would have a future to grow up in.
If there was any way he could make it home to her, to deliver that news, that hope, that future, he was determined to find it. Even if she couldn’t love him, even if she couldn’t face him after what he was about to do.
One Hundred Forty-Five
Angels Camp, California
It was barely dawn, but Pascal couldn’t wait any longer for breakfast. Not after everything he’d eaten the day before—chicken and waffles, watermelon, beets, lemonade. Corn and green beans and tomatoes. He recognized the names of the foods, but they didn’t taste like anything he’d ever eaten. Some foods he’d never even heard of, like pumpkin pie and whipped cream. Those had been his favorites until this morning’s bacon and eggs.
He chewed slowly, savoring the hearty, creamy, salty freshness. He took another bite of bread, warm and spongy, dripping with butter, then washed it down with cow’s milk, letting the sweetness linger on his tongue.
When he couldn’t eat another bite, he pushed back from the table and motioned for the women to clear the dishes—they were proving useful enough. For now. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then looked at Justine who had long ago finished eating.
Justine looked past him, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a silent exclamation.
Pascal snapped his head around to see what she was looking at. “Brandt.”
“What are you doing here?” Justine cried as she leapt from her chair and ran to Brandt. She threw her arms around him. “You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have come.”
Brandt’s hands were held behind his back by one of the Travelers. Watson.
Watson looked at Pascal, questioning. Pascal nodded, and Watson yanked Brandt from Justine’s grasp.
“I heard you were looking for me,” Brandt said, glaring at him.
“Yes, I’ve been expecting you,” Pascal said.
“You should have stayed away,” Justine said. She cupped Brandt’s face in her hands and kissed him.
“Remove her,” Pascal said to Heinz who he kept stationed nearby in case Justine tried to make a break for it.
“I’m staying right here.” Justine clung to Brandt and looked at Pascal defiantly. “I’m tired of your games. Do what you’ve got to do, but I’m not budging.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking,” Pascal said.
“Whatever you’re planning to do to me,” Brandt said, “why don’t you come over here and do it yourself? Quit hiding behind your soldiers and be a man.”
Pascal’s hand went to his Ruger, and he considered shooting them and being done with it. But that would be far too fleeting. Not at all what they deserved.
He leaned back and kicked his feet up on the table. He was going to savor this.
One Hundred Forty-Six
Angels Camp, California
Reid’s hand was steady as he held the gun, waiting for the shot. He was well hidden about twenty yards behind Pascal, but Brandt knew he was there, waiting and watching for the right moment. That’s why Brandt was goading Pascal—he was trying to get him to stand up so Reid could take him out.
Reid knew he could do it. He’d looked inside himself, really looked, and he knew he could do what had to be done. He didn’t even care if he had to shoot Pascal in the back. He just didn’t want to miss. Sure, it would be hard to live with, but given the big picture, his own feelings didn’t matter. He couldn’t allow the hope of the world to fall under the control of an evil, power-driven despot.
That meant he had to take a life, so that’s what he would do.
It was for the greater good.
Now if only the bastard would stand up.
“There’s no question,” Pascal said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m going to kill you both with my own hands. But it’s not going to be quick, or painless, or on your terms.”
“Just get it over with,” Justine said. “You already have everything you want.”
“My dear,” Pascal said, “what do you think I want?”
“The crops, the animals, the seeds,” Justine said. “You have it all, and there’s nothing we can do, so put me out of my misery.”
Justine was wrong. There was something they could do. Reid gripped the gun tighter, careful not to put pressure on the trigger. He’d wait for the right moment. He had to make the first shot count.
“I didn’t come here for the resources,” Pascal said. “Though I am enjoying them. No, I came to exact revenge on those responsible for my son’s death: Brandt and Reid.”
“Your son is dead?” Justine exclaimed. “But I thought . . .”
“He was killed in the pirate battle when Brandt and Reid escaped,” Pascal said. “If you think about it, this
is all Reid’s fault. If it weren’t for him, where would you two be right now? You’d be in Lost Angeles in a beautiful home, with all your needs met, preparing for your baby’s arrival. And I . . . I would be at Club Three having breakfast with my son. Instead, here we are—me childless, and you about to die. But not until I find out where Reid is.”
“Reid’s already dead,” Brandt said.
“Don’t lie,” Pascal growled. “Markoff’s in the Tank. He told me that you, Reid, and Mia sailed from Catalina with that northern ship captain.”
“That’s true,” Brandt said. “But right after that, Mia betrayed Reid. She left him for the ship captain. Mia was all he had to live for after you killed his grandfather, stole his car, and took away his hope of saving his people. He killed himself.”
“Oh my God,” Justine said.
“I don’t suppose you have any proof,” Pascal said.
“You know Mia,” Brandt said. “That’s all the proof you need.”
Pascal chuckled. “You’re right.”
“I’m the only one left to blame, so get on with it,” Brandt said.
Come on, Reid thought. Stand up, you sonovabitch.
“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to die,” Pascal said. “You might want to reconsider, because I’m not simply going to kill you. That would be far too easy.”
“Why?” Justine said. “Why not just get it over with?”
“It was because of you that I watched my son die,” Pascal said through clenched teeth. “There are no words sufficient to describe that agony. The only way for you to understand is to experience it for yourself. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”
“Our baby isn’t even born yet,” Justine said.
Reid could hear the horror in her voice.
“Leave her out of it,” Brandt said. “She’s done nothing to you.”
“You’re right,” Pascal said. “In fact, she’s been quite helpful to me. I’ve even grown a bit fond of her. I can try to save her, but once I cut the baby out, the odds are against her.”
“No!” Justine cried.
“You can’t, you wouldn’t,” Brandt said, coming forward. The guard yanked him back.
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