Redaction: Dark Hope Part III

by Linda Andrews

  “Hold steady, men.” David wiped his hand on his pants. By rights, his skin should be peeling off. “This is our path to freedom.”

  Robertson planted his face into rock. “Goddamnfuckingpieceofshitlickingass. When’s the last time you washed?”

  Served him right. Chuckling, David stepped back and shucked his jacket. Using the knife from his boot, he cut the fabric into three-inch strips.

  Michaelson clasped the side of the wall, tested his weight then pulled himself to the ledge. He dangled for a moment before finding an additional foothold and climbing up. “It’s a tunnel and there’s light at the end of it.”

  “Can we fit?”

  Michaelson peered over the ledge. “Definitely, but it’ll be tight for some.”

  Thank God and hallelujah! David held up the fabric. “Any place to tie off?”

  Michaelson spun a metal flower-like device in his hand. “Don’t need it. I have my lucky cam.”

  Robertson slid down Vegas’s back before leaping to the ground. “I take back everything I ever said about your mother.”

  “What did you say about my mother?” Michaelson frowned.

  “She’s an angel.” Robertson exchanged his jacket for the pieces in David’s hand. “A real angel.”

  Nice save. David shook his head. Small wonder Sunnie didn’t quite know if she could trust him. The private was a smooth talker.

  Vegas gathered up their packs.

  Ray rubbed his shoulders and stared at Folgers’s partially buried body.

  David caught the flash of guilt; felt the fire blaze through himself. He should have had a back-up plan. “We’ll come back for him.”

  Ray nodded and shrugged out of his jacket. “Yes, Sergeant-Major.”

  Ten minutes later, David slid his pack ahead of him in the tunnel. Rough rock scraped his belly and pebble rained on his helmet. Damn, it was like being swallowed. He pushed through jagged edges and into a trough of water. A hand appeared in front of his face.

  Robertson grinned down at him. “Need a hand, Big D.”

  Ass. David pushed to his feet. Everything but his eyelashes hurt. He blinked. Nope, even they hurt. He glanced around. Water dripped down the walls of this cavern, making them shiny. A crevice appeared in one wall and a man-sized mouse hole punched through another. “Where’d the light come from?”

  Michaelson held up a battered flashlight. “I think it was the bad guys.”

  Damn. He dusted the pebbles from his hand. The air had to come from somewhere. He’d hoped it was a wide passage with lightbulbs. “The crevice?”

  “Collapsed about ten feet in.” Michaelson shrugged. “It’s giving us fresh air.”

  Ray sat near his bags and jerked his chin toward option number two. “What about the mountain’s asshole?”

  “Don’t know.” Michaelson cleared his throat. “I wanted to retrieve my cam before proceeding. We might need it.”

  “Do it.” Anything to get out of here. David fished a glow stick out of his bag and tucked it into his breast pocket.

  Michaelson slithered back into the tunnel.

  “What if it’s a dead end, Big D?” Robertson paced the small opening. “Sunnie will always remember me as a flirt.”

  David closed his eyes. “At least, she’ll remember you. My daughter won’t even have that.”

  As for Mavis…Damn. What the hell was wrong with him? He was going to live. And so were the rest of his men.

  “It’s a girl? Really?” Robertson laughed. “You’d better let the Doc braid her hair, you can’t tie a knot for shit.”

  “We all better make it out of here.” Ray took off his helmet and scratched his head. “That little girl is gonna need protection from all those boys that’ll be sniffing around. Think about what we were like as teenagers.”

  That’s the last thing David wanted to think about.

  Vegas snorted. “Teenagers. Think of Robertson now.”

  No, there could be only one Robertson. “As her godfathers, I authorize you to carry an M-4 when you’re protecting my daughter.”

  Robertson laughed. “And we can use deadly force?”

  “Absolutely.” But he hoped they saved a piece of hide for David. No one would touch his daughter until she was at least sixty. That would put him at…a hundred and five. He could live that long. No problem.

  Michaelson shimmied out of the tunnel and crawled to the next one. He paused by the entrance. “Do you hear that?”

  David’s ears strained. Above the trickle of water he heard an odd clicking sound. His mouth dried. “Another cave-in?”

  His men pressed against the walls.

  Such a strategy had worked before. Maybe they’d get lucky and it would work again. The noise grew louder.

  He glanced at the ceiling. Unlike the last time, none of the rocks seemed to be moving. Then he heard it. A low yip. Son of a bitch. “Shep.”

  The dog barked once.

  “Fuckin’ A.” Robertson threw back his head and laughed. “I love that dog.”

  Michaelson rocked back on his heels. “We’re gonna make it, aren’t we, Sergeant-Major?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Shep poked his head out of the mouse hole. Tongue lolling out of his mouth. He trotted to David, jumped up and put his paws on his shoulders.

  David sunk his fingers into the German shepherd’s fur and scratched. “Such a good boy.”

  The mutt visited each of the men for pets before sticking his nose down the tunnel where Folgers lay.

  “No, boy.” Shep whined softly. “Take me to Mavis.”

  After one last backward glance, the dog trotted over to the mouse hole and belly crawled through.

  Michaelson crept after him. “Dammit, dog, did you just fart?”

  David laughed. “Karma is a bitch.”

  *

  Thirty minutes later, they made their way through the tunnels to the meeting room. No one, absolutely no one, was in sight.

  “Damn,” Ray whispered, “Folgers always said zombie movies started this way.”

  Vegas fingered his weapon. “I’d rather face the big bugs.”

  Shep trotted ahead of them, kept looking back as if to ask why they were so slow.

  Was it a good thing? Surely, the mutt would warn him if something was amiss. The dog barked and broke into a run.

  “Shep?” Mavis stepped into the hallway. Her clothes were rumpled and hair stuck out of her ponytail. “Where have you been? And why are you covered in dust?”

  David dropped his pack and ran.

  She looked up at his footfalls. Her mouth opened before she stumbled toward him. “David! Please be real. Please be alive.”

  He scooped her into his arms and buried his nose in her neck. This smell. Her smell. His memory didn’t do her justice.

  “David?” Sally Rogers stepped into the hall, tablet computer balanced on her fingertips. “The Sergeant-Major is alive?”

  Mavis grabbed his shirt, rose up on her toes and kissed him hard on the mouth. The next instant she pushed him away. “Don’t ever, ever do that to me again.”

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He dipped his head for another kiss. “In fact, you’re never getting rid of me.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that.” She frowned. “Folgers?”

  “Didn’t make it.”

  “Ma’am. Sergeant-Major.” Sally cleared her throat. “If you don’t care about planning the offensive, perhaps Robertson’s assault on Sunnie might—”

  “What!” Mavis jerked in David’s arm. Leaning to the right, she glanced at the lip-locked couple. “About time.”

  “You knew?” And she didn’t care? Robertson’s reputation was exactly stellar where the ladies were concerned.

  Mavis smiled. “He’ll be safe enough. Of course, if he cheats on her, well, let’s just say, his life will be very unpleasant.”

  “Very. Buchanan’s old job is vacant.” Although given time, David may think of something far worse than septic worker.
<
br />   She hugged him tightly so he felt the tremor running through her. “I know you just returned from the dead, but we have another crisis. Dirk and his kind nearly brought the mountain down during their secession movement. They’ve got two of our people and have rigged the exits to blow if we try to leave.”

  He and his men filed into the crammed room. Weapons and boxes of ammo overflowed one table. Maps were spread on others, weighted down by computers. A grim-faced soldier scribbled through the tunnels connecting the main mines from section seven. Falcon stuck sticky notes with the words breach near the exits. Someone had duplicated section seven on the whiteboard and the greenhouse on another. Black dust sprayed the area near the images.

  “They also got to the windmills and satellite dishes.” Tugging Robertson behind her, Sunnie crossed to her computer. She pulled up video of the outside. A grainy image of two men worked at the base of one tower. “I’ve confirmed with Sally that none of her people went outside today.”

  “An avalanche took out the main entrance and most of our RBC suits.” Mavis chewed on her bottom lip. “Papa Rose confirmed that the conveyor is intact and they’re looking for anything we can use, but at this point, our assault force will be going unprotected in a hostile environment.”

  David pinched the bridge of his nose. And here he thought his luck had turned. “How long would I last?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and studied her laptop screen.

  “An hour before the worst of the effects kicked in.” Colonel Jay’s mouth thinned. “Not much longer with today’s count.”

  Mavis tapped on her computer. “We have a storm moving in tonight.” Green and blue swirled over the mountain range in the distance. “If we can wait until it passes the snow will clear a lot of the radiation out of the air.”

  And put it into the ground. Either way he and his men were looking at a bad tan in the forecast.

  “Doc?” Papa Rose’s tinny voice echoed around the room. “We have dust masks and rubber gloves. That’ll help some, won’t it?”

  “Absolutely.” Mavis rubbed her temple.

  “How’re we getting inside?”

  Sally moved to the map on the wall and pointed to two side tunnels. “These seem to be our best bet. We can close ‘em behind us to minimize exposure.”

  “They’ll expect you to come that way.” Eddie Buchanan stormed into the room. “I’m going down the air shaft and get my woman back.”

  “What air shaft?” She frowned at the schematic.

  “The one that I erased when I realized those bastards were congregating in Section Seven.” He ran his finger down to a small bump out that served as a storeroom. “That asshat Benedict spent all his time memorizing a false map. And now I’m gonna make him eat it.”

  David smiled. That was more like it. “Stand in line, Buchanan.”

  Benedict was his.

  Buchanan’s hands formed into fists. “You wouldn’t even know—”

  “Eddie,” Mavis interrupted, “I believe your fight may be in another quarter. Gavin, Cole and Ralph are actors that traveled here from Payson. Audra was convinced you’d met each other before.”

  He swayed on his feet and paled under his bruises. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Now, according to the weather satellite the best time to attack will be morning. I suggest we don’t keep Mr. Benedict and his followers waiting.”

  Chapter Fifty

  “Are we ready?” David glanced at the eight men ringing him. It was the damnedest thing. With the white sheets draping their uniforms, they looked like a bunch of Halloween ghost rejects.

  “I have more sheets.” Justin waved them from the stack in his arm. “I think they emptied all the hotels in Durango of their sheets.”

  David smiled. He was pretty sure when the soldiers raided the cities nearby they never pictured their booty being used this way.

  “We’re fine.” Papa Rose adjusted his goggles over his white dust mask. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “I just woke.” Red infused the blotches of unbruised skin on Justin’s face. “Besides, we can use lots of the stuff I’ve unpacked so far.”

  David set his gloved hand on the boy’s shoulder. Mavis should have given him something to do much earlier. “You’re doing great, kid. You’ll have to present your inventory to the Cabinet.”

  Hope blazed in Justin’s eyes. “You really think I’ll be allowed back inside? They won’t try to kill me again.”

  “Chef Bonnie Jardin will be held accountable for Lister’s murder and poisoning our people.” David caught Sally’s eye. “Isn’t that so, Lieutenant?”

  She dropped her sunglasses into place. “She’ll be breathing, but I don’t promise much else.”

  He tasted the bloodlust. His men hadn’t been this amped up since that ambush in the sandbox. He could trust his men. But he had three wild cards in the mix. “If they surrender, we take them alive. If they resist, take ‘em down. Understand?”

  Nodding, Ray picked up the bags of extra ammunition. Robertson, Vegas and Michaelson chorused, “Yes, Sergeant-Major.”

  Buchanan and Papa Rose shrugged.

  “Let’s do this.” David marched toward the airlock.

  “Oh, Sergeant-Major.” Mildred’s sneakers squeaked on the damp concrete. She dangled a yellow and black device from her fingers. “Don’t forget the walkie.”

  Accepting it, he slid it into one of his pockets. He wouldn’t need backup on this op. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  But he would call once all the terrorists were contained. He and his men needed rest. Others could guard the detritus. The radiation readout displayed double-digit numbers.

  It was a good day for a mission.

  He marched through the vestibule and waited. A couple of minutes passed before the light turned green and he pushed open the outside door.

  Wind stirred the snow drifting from the sky. Weak sunlight glowed on the white blanket tossed over their surroundings. Cold pricked his exposed skin.

  “Buchanan, take point.”

  Without a word, the man ghosted along the sidewalk and down the steps to the railroad tracks. Michaelson and Vegas glided after him.

  David slipped between Papa Rose and Ray in the middle of the pack. Robertson would guard their six behind Rogers and Johnson. Their line snaked through the graveyard of abandoned vehicles resembling gray crypts and crept up the mountain.

  Fresh air stung his lungs despite the mask. He pushed aside thoughts of breathing radiation. Focus on the mission. Slogging along the path, he kicked slush with his wading boots. If anyone had been looking, the dark path they left in their wake would have been damn noticeable.

  “Sergeant-Major.” Mavis’s voice crackled through his walkie.

  He managed to pinch the antenna with his fingers and free it from his pocket. “Here.”

  “All our entrances, towers and generators are clear.” She sighed. “Adding what we’ve gathered with what we estimate was used to cause the collapse, we’re sure they have another case of C-4 on hand.”

  Son of a bitch. “Copy that.” He tapped Papa Rose on the back. “Tell Buchanan the entrance may be booby-trapped.”

  Papa Rose darted in front of Vegas and Michaelson.

  Mavis cleared her throat. “The crews are falling back to the greenhouses, awaiting your orders.”

  “Copy that.” David stared at the walkie in his hand. Wait one damn minute. Didn’t these things have a limited range? As in the signal couldn’t penetrate through a mountain of rock? “Mavis where are you?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m safe.”

  God damn it. How the hell wasn’t he supposed to worry when she told him not to? “Are you in the fucking greenhouse?”

  “Complete your mission, Sergeant-Major. And bring all our people home.”

  The walkie fell silent. His fingers bit into plastic. “Mavis? Mavis?” Dammit, she needed to stay safe. They’d already lost the general, their society wouldn’t make it if they lost her too, and t
hen there was the baby. He shook himself. She wouldn’t do anything to endanger their daughter.

  Unfortunately, he had a sneaky suspicion their ideas of danger were radically different.

  “Radiation is still low.” Rogers spoke above the click of the Geiger counter in her hand. “Just don’t eat the snow, even if it isn’t yellow.”

  David glanced over his shoulder. He’d bet good money that Rogers knew Mavis had planned to leave the mine. Even if they hadn’t served in the same branch of service, there should be some loyalty between comrades in arms. He’d have to speak to her later.

  Buchanan stopped in a clearing and stomped on the snow. After traveling a foot, he produced a hollow thunk and pointed to the ground.

  David’s blood quickened. Almost time. Part of him hoped the bastards were still sleeping in their cots. A bigger part wanted them to fight back.

  Michaelson pulled a shovel from his pack, unfolded it and handed it to Buchanan. Vegas helped clear the area while the rest of them formed a circle.

  “They welded the cap in place like a manhole cover.” Buchanan tossed aside his shovel and swept off the last bits with his gloved hand. Black pimples rose from the edges at clock positions of twelve, three, six and nine.

  “What’s underneath it?” Blocking their entrance. Something had to keep out the drafts.

  “Expanding foam.” He stuck his fingers into a beige hole. Foam crunched. “It’s about six inches thick. Maybe a little more. We can step through it.”

  “And alert the people below? No.” David fished his knife out of his waders. “We’ll cut it out.”

  Ray unpacked a small bag of powder and handed it to Vegas. Their demo man poured little pyramids on the joints. “If there’s anyone down there, Sergeant-Major, they’re gonna know we’re coming. Thermite will burn through the metal and maybe part of the floor.”

  “Will it catch wood on fire?” Rogers fingered her weapon.

  “Hell, yeah.” Vegas shook a waterproof match from a baggie and struck it. The scent of sulfur filled the air. When he touched the flame to the powder, a bright-white flame blazed to life. It shimmered for a moment before melting through the metal and disappearing.