by Sharon Dunn
The guard pointed toward a small shed. “Nathan thought you would do a little better aboveground.” He opened the door.
She stepped inside the dark space and slipped down to the floor. She was exhausted, and the trauma of having a gun to her head had taken its toll on her body, but she needed to find a way to escape and to get Zane free, as well.
She flipped the knife around in her hand until she could open it and saw away at the rope that bound her. As she worked, she tried to come up with a plan. She had a better feel for the layout of the camp. The place where they were keeping Zane was away from everything else. That might help in being able to secure his freedom unnoticed.
Time was of the essence. The cover of darkness was one of the only things working in her favor right now. She sawed on the rope and prayed that she and Zane could get out of here alive.
TWELVE
“You get an hour to sleep.” Jordan didn’t make eye contact when he approached where Zane was working.
Zane couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother either. Was Jordan so far gone that he was indifferent to the cruel torture he’d put Heather through?
Zane knew Willis’s games, and he’d seen that the gun didn’t have even one bullet in it. Willis needed Heather alive for now to use as leverage until the bomb was complete. The stunt had been to scare her, not to actually hurt her. He had tried to communicate that to her without much success.
Jordan tossed a key on the table so Zane could undo his shackles. Zane knelt down and stuck the key in the slot. He knew without looking that Jordan had a gun trained on him. The betrayal hurt.
This was his little brother. They’d stood holding hands at their parents’ funeral, shivered together in the dark and cold when they’d run away from foster care, protected and taken care of each other. But now his brother had become someone he didn’t know at all.
Zane placed the key on the table and Jordan leaned to get it.
He couldn’t give up. Jordan was blood. As repulsed as he was by what Jordan had done to Heather, he had to believe that the Jordan he loved was still inside that body and mind.
“There’s a cot over there in the corner,” said Jordan.
Zane’s muscles were stiff from leaning over the worktable for so long. He’d built the bomb as slowly as possible. Twice Willis had ordered the guard to hit him for being too slow. He’d delayed as much as he could. He tried to come up with a way that would make the bomb look like it would work, but not be operational. But Willis knew enough about bomb building to catch him in that. Hiding the chemicals had been a last-ditch effort to create a bomb that wouldn’t work.
Zane glanced up to where he was sure a camera was. He had no doubt that Willis was watching them. The underground bunker had only been a dream seven years ago. Willis must have been here since the spring to have time to build something like this.
Feeling defeated, Zane collapsed onto the cot. He knew if he spoke the microphones would pick it up. How could he reach Jordan?
Jordan pulled a chair across the floor. The scraping noise of metal on concrete made Zane cringe. Jordan sat in the chair. Still holding the gun, he crossed his arms.
Zane stared at him, hoping to force him to make eye contact.
Jordan glanced from side to side, deliberately not looking at Zane.
The room was especially warm. Zane took off his flannel shirt. His gaze fell to the tattoo on his arm, the one that said “Brothers are Forever.” Jordan had the same tattoo. Zane crossed his arms and tapped the tattoo over and over.
It was hard to read emotion in Jordan through the thick hair and beard. Zane wasn’t sure whether or not Jordan even noticed, but he didn’t stop trying. He just kept tapping the tattoo. If Willis or one of the guards were watching, they probably wouldn’t understand what he was doing.
Zane thought he saw some sort of emotion flicker across Jordan’s face.
Jordan shifted in his chair, pointed the gun toward the floor and stared down the barrel. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
Jordan’s back was to the camera. If he wanted to show some sign he got what Zane was doing, he could.
Jordan finally made eye contact. What Zane saw in Jordan’s eyes was glacial.
A deep sadness sank in as he realized how lost his brother was. “What did Willis promise you? Some kind of promotion?”
Jordan looked to the side as if seeing some faraway scene through the wall. “Get some sleep. We need to get that bomb built.”
Zane lay down and flipped over on the cot so he faced the wall. He closed his eyes but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.
A moment later, he heard Jordan get up from his chair and stomp across the floor. He tapped on the trapdoor. It swung open on creaking hinges. Jordan shouted up at the other guard. “Hey, can you take over? I’m beat.”
“Sure, man.” Zane heard more stomping and the door closing. The guard grunted as he sat down in the chair.
Zane made deep breathing noises so the guard would think he was sleeping. His mind was racing too fast for him to even close his eyes.
As soon as the bomb was finished, both he and Heather would be killed. They only had a few hours to live unless he came up with a way to escape.
* * *
Heather tore the cut rope off her wrists. The shed was small, maybe four foot square, made from one of those kits you could buy at a home-improvement store. She pushed on the door. It opened. That meant that there was probably a guard close by. She eased the door open just a bit and poked her head out. The large central bonfire still smoldered, but the men who had gathered around it earlier were gone. She heard snoring, but could see no movement anywhere. No sign of someone pacing with a rifle. She slipped outside, crouching and listening, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. She couldn’t assume she’d just be able to walk through the camp. It might have been a trap to leave the shed unlocked. She had a fleeting moment of wondering if it had been locked and Nathan had come by and unlocked it when no one was looking.
As she was able to discern objects in the dark, she saw the source of the snoring—a man propped against a tree with a rifle resting across his lap. She skirted away from the guard.
Voices alerted her to two men walking by. She flattened herself against the ground, not even daring to breathe as their footsteps pounded past her. She could easily navigate to the bunker where Zane was by going through the camp, but there was risk of being seen.
She opted to head toward the forest, circle around the edge of the camp and try to find the bunker that way. She hurried through the trees running in the general direction of the bunker. But after a few steps, she stopped, confused. Had the bunker been this way? Or another way instead? There was nothing distinctive about the part of the forest where the bunker was. She could end up wandering around here until daylight, and then her opportunity to get Zane and escape the camp would be gone.
She feared, too, that the guard might wake up to check on her. Then the camp would go on full alert. She had to hurry.
Heather scurried as fast as she dared until she had a view of the camp. Several men sat by a smaller campfire talking in low tones and cleaning their rifles. Their backs were to her. Now she saw the trail that led to the bunker. She’d have to sneak past the men, coming close enough to be detected if she wasn’t careful.
As she crouched by a bush, she watched. The men seemed engaged in their conversation. None of them lifted their heads or looked around.
She rose and sprinted for the cover of the next bush.
There was an eruption of loud noises at the other end of the camp. Adrenaline shot through her system. The men at the fire jumped to their feet and ran in the direction of the noise. She pressed low to the ground as they rushed by her.
Once they were out of earshot, she headed toward the trail running through the tre
es. She stayed to the side of it—she’d be too visible if she walked along the path—but kept the trail in sight. More men dashed by on the trail. Some sort of alarm had been sounded. Had they checked the shed and found out she was gone or was there some other disruption?
She hurried into the forest again. The eruption of voices increased and more men ran through the camp. The trail ended. Her gaze darted around. Panic threatened to make her shut down. Nothing looked familiar. Where was that trapdoor? She ran in one direction and then the other, remembering that a guard had been posted outside the door. She didn’t see anyone. Had he already left to deal with the disruption on the other side of the camp? It didn’t seem like a guard would abandon such an important post when there were plenty of other men to deal with the disturbance.
The noise on the other side of the camp grew louder. They were coming this way. She sprinted through the forest, frantic to find the trapdoor. Finally, she spotted trees that looked vaguely familiar. She ran back and forth in a zigzag pattern until her foot touched metal. She got down on her knees and brushed the tree boughs away. If there was still a guard inside, he would hear the door creak as it opened. She found a log, flipped open the door and stood back waiting for the guard to stick his head out.
She raised the log. Footsteps came her way.
The noise of the mob of men reached her ears. They were getting closer. They must be looking for her. The guard’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Sweat trickled down her back as she waited. She would only get one shot at this. His head emerged and she swung at him just before he turned and would have seen her. The guard crumpled to the ground. She pushed him aside and rushed down the stairs.
Zane leaped up from a cot as soon as he saw her. He ran across the room and grabbed his coat.
She felt suddenly dizzy when she entered the room as images of the torture she’d endured bombarded her.
Zane grabbed her arm. “You did good. Let’s go.”
White dots filled her field of vision.
“I’m sorry for what happened here. But I promise you were safe the whole time. There were no bullets in the gun.” He squeezed her arm above the elbow and brushed his hand tenderly over her cheek.
He instinctually seemed to know how the room affected her. The comfort of being near him again made some of the panic recede. The spots cleared from her eyes, and she was able to follow him when he pulled her toward the open trapdoor. Once outside, she saw torches in the distance down the trail, men growing closer. They must be searching for her. They’d probably figured out she’d come to rescue Zane.
Zane pulled her toward the trees just as several men stepped into the clearing. They ran haphazardly through the forest. Branches brushed her head. She jumped over logs that seemed to loom up toward her in the dark. She kept her eyes on Zane’s back as she gulped in air and willed her legs to move faster, be stronger. Run, run, go.
Zane darted even farther ahead of her. She heard a crackling and swooshing sound. Zane groaning. She caught up with him to find that Zane hung in a net suspended from the air. Willis’s men must have set traps all over the forest.
She could hear the men approaching. She only had seconds to free him. She pulled the pocketknife out. The torches shone through the trees as the shout of the men pounded on her ears.
She had to stretch her arms to reach the netting that held Zane captive.
“Heather, there’s not enough time. Run. At least that way one of us will be free. They’ll have no leverage against me to force me to finish the bomb if they don’t have you.”
She glanced over her shoulder. The men were breathing down her neck. But she wasn’t ready to give up. “I can get you out.” She reached up to cut a strand of the netting.
The noise of the pursuers pressed on her from all sides.
Zane’s voice intensified. “Go.”
She could hear the men as they pushed their way through the trees, drawing near.
She cut another strand of the netting. The men were within yards of finding them. Her face was very close to Zane’s.
“Go,” he whispered.
He was right. “I’ll come back for you. I’ll get you out.”
“I know you will.”
She dashed off into the darkness, praying to God she would be able to keep her promise to Zane.
THIRTEEN
Zane listened to Heather’s retreating footsteps. The men came into the clearing. Jordan was with them.
“Spread out,” Jordan said. “We need to find the girl.”
The men ran in several different directions, leaving Jordan and one other man to get Zane out of the net. It tore Zane up inside to think of Heather out there alone in the cold night.
Zane tried to keep his tone light, still hoping to reach Jordan. “I forgot about all the traps, little brother.”
Jordan didn’t respond. Instead, he walked to where the release was for the netting and pulled it.
The impact of hitting the ground sent waves of pain through Zane’s back. The other man tore the netting off Zane while he kept a gun pointed at him.
“This will have to be reset,” said Jordan.
“I can get that done,” said the second man.
Jordan pulled out his own gun, which had a light on it. He pointed it at Zane. “Let’s get moving. You have a bomb to finish.”
The image of his brother pointing a gun at him nearly broke Zane’s heart. “Oh, Jordie,” he said, shaking his head. His brother was the only blood he had. How had it gotten to this point?
In the limited light, he couldn’t read his brother’s response to his heartfelt cry. He thought he saw Jordan’s shoulders slump, but was that just wishful thinking?
Jordan led him back to the bunker, then disappeared through the side door without even a backward glance. This time, the guard didn’t shackle Zane to the wall. He stared at the nearly complete bomb in front of him before sliding down the wall and sitting. At least for now they had no way of making him finish the bomb.
A moment later, Willis and Jordan burst through the side door.
Willis crossed his arms and stood with his feet shoulder width apart. Jordan took up the same stance.
“I think it’s time you complete your job,” Willis ordered, jerking his chin up.
“I’m not building your bomb. I’m not participating in whatever destruction you have in mind.”
Willis signaled the guard with a head nod. The guard marched across the concrete and pulled Zane to his feet. Zane braced to be hit or tortured or whatever they had in mind. He didn’t care what they did to him.
The guard hit Zane in the back with the rifle. His knees buckled, and he grabbed the table for support. He offered Willis a glance that had steel in it.
“Kill me if you want. I’m not finishing that bomb.” Zane spoke through gritted teeth.
The look of stone-cold indifference on Jordan’s face hurt worse than the blow to his back.
Willis stared at Zane for a long moment before pulling his radio off his belt and saying something into it. A moment later, the trapdoor opened and another guard appeared.
Willis’s blue eyes seemed to turn even icier under the cold fluorescent light. He kept his gaze on Zane while he spoke to the guards. “It seems Mr. Scofield here is not properly motivated to complete his job. What can we do about that?”
A long heavy silence descended in the room like a shroud.
Jordan crossed his arms and lifted his chin.
“What we need to accomplish here is so important for the future of our country, don’t you agree, Jordan?”
Jordan nodded.
Willis continued, still not taking his eyes off Zane. “You’ve been my right-hand man for almost a year now, haven’t you?”
Again Jordan nodded, though his gaze darted from one of the
guards to the other and his forehead wrinkled. He didn’t seem to know where this was going. That made two of them.
Willis walked over to the table where the gun they had used on Heather still lay. He opened the cylinder and pulled a bullet out of his pocket, put it in and spun the cylinder. He stared at the gun. “Yes, what Mr. Scofield needs is the proper motivation.”
Zane straightened and placed his hands on his hips as a show of defiance toward Willis. Fine, Willis could play Russian roulette with him if he wanted to. He didn’t care if he died; he wasn’t going to have it on his conscience that a bomb he’d built was used in a crime to terrorize people and steal their prized possessions. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself anyway.
Willis signaled both the guards. They moved in and grabbed Jordan, forcing him to sit in the same chair Heather had sat in.
Jordan protested. The look in his eyes was wild.
Zane had seen that look when Jordan had been unfairly punished for something another kid had done in the boys’ home they’d been placed in.
The two guards secured Jordan to the chair while he struggled to break free. The cry that came out of Jordan’s mouth sounded almost childlike.
Watching Jordan resist made Zane feel like his own heart was being torn out. Willis had never cared about people. His own twisted goals meant more to him. Zane had figured that out once he was no longer under Willis’s influence. But Jordan was clearly figuring that out for the first time. It had to be a harsh shock that Willis, the man Jordan looked up to and admired, saw him as expendable.
Once Jordan was restrained, Willis walked over to him. His boots pounded on the concrete. He raised the gun and pointed it at Jordan’s temple, still staring straight at Zane.
“Do you feel properly motivated now?”
Zane could not tear his eyes away from Jordan. He was breathing through his teeth and sweat glistened on his forehead. The look of utter defeat in Jordan’s eyes spoke volumes.
Zane stared down at the bomb components and then back up at Willis as he held the gun to Jordan’s head. His brother might die, just when he’d started to see Jordan’s loyalty cracking. This final act of betrayal may finally help Jordan see Willis for the selfish egomaniac he was, but it might be too late.