by E. R. Arroyo
I don’t know what he means by that, exactly, but it sparks little flutters in my belly, distracting me from the seriousness of our current situation.
I grip his hand. “Since we’re talking about the future, I made a decision about something.”
“What’s that?”
I smile to myself, happy to finally have some resolve. Something began to change in me the moment I saw Marsiana so weak and hollow. “When we get back, I’ll do anything you need to make everyone better. Tests, drills, needles—whatever it takes.”
He squeezes my hand. I wish I could see if he’s smiling. I don’t know if he realizes how much he makes me want to be a more selfless person because he gives so much. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. There might be answers in the data I found.”
“Either way, I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you,” he tells me.
When we reach the road with our prisoners I adjust my sling, wincing a little from jostling my broken arm. Dylan puts his hand on my lower back as Tyce, Gavin, and Flex escort the men we captured to where Max, Wayne, and Greg are waiting.
The driver of the nearest car turns on his headlights, illuminating the confrontation. At first glance the men don’t look like soldiers. Their clothes are nothing special, certainly not uniforms, but by the way they hold themselves and the tactical belts each wears I’d say they are. Problem is, I don’t recognize them.
“What are your names, soldiers?” Max says.
No one answers. Max steps closer, shining a small flashlight behind each of their right ears, looking for Antius implants. Puzzled, he looks behind their left ear too. He gives nothing away with his expression, but when he meets Greg’s eyes, he barely shakes his head.
“Where are you boys from?” Max says, turning his attention back to the captives.
Still no answer. Gavin grabs the guy in the middle by the throat and growls, “He asked you a question.” Why he chose the one in the middle, I don’t know. But it was the right choice.
The man clears his throat, glaring at Gavin. “Here.”
I furrow my brow, glancing at Dylan, trying to piece things together. I thought the Refuge colonies, The City, and Antius were all that was left. Maybe that was naive of me.
“Don’t say another word,” the one on his left snarls. His pale white-blond hair almost glows in the light coming from the car.
“I take it you’re in charge,” Max deduces.
The blond man’s nostrils flare, his jaw tight. He keeps his gaze focused over Max’s shoulder.
Max takes a step closer. “We came for our hostages, not you.” He pauses, letting the information sink in. Clears his throat. “Do you know where they are?”
None of the three flinches.
Max moves back to the middle guy who looks much more nervous than the other two. Younger than them, as well. Probably eighteen or nineteen.
“Kid, you gotta give us a reason not to kill you right where you stand. You want to keep breathing, you tell me what I need to know.” Max is right in the kid’s face. I’d forgotten how ruthless Max can be in combat.
I wipe sweat from my forehead, not entirely sure whether or not Max is bluffing. When he puts a gun to the kid’s head, I start to believe him. I step closer and Max holds his hand up for me to stop. But I don’t.
“Can I have a word with you?”
Max takes his eyes off them for just a moment to look at me, and when he does, the man in charge pushes away from Flex and throws his elbow into Flex’s face. He draws a hidden knife and manages to jam it through the nervous kid’s temple before Flex tackles him.
Max trains his gun on the killer, glancing back and forth between the two remaining prisoners. He snatches the bossy one up by the collar, slams his body into the mountainside, and presses the barrel of his gun under the man’s chin. The man’s eyes dare him to pull the trigger.
Flex lurches forward and slams his knife into the man’s neck. Flex stabs him in the chest as Max backs out of the way. The man slumps to the ground and Flex wipes blood from his mouth where the man hit him. “Save yer bullets, friend.”
Flex goes for the third man. Gripping the guy’s throat, Flex backs him into the rock wall as well, right next to the body of his superior. Flex looks at Max, impatiently. Flex turns back to the third guy. Putting his face against the man’s cheek, he commands in a low voice, “Talk.”
“I’m good as dead,” the guy responds with a hint of a quiver in his voice.
I step forward, clearing my throat. “We’re talking about innocent people—kids.”
Max shoots me a stern look, his brows in a tight line, commanding me to back off. My cheeks flush. After all, my speaking out of turn got the nervous kid killed. I silently kick myself for it while I take a step back.
The man casts his eyes downward. “I can show you where they are.”
“Good choice,” Flex says, drawing his words out, almost mocking him.
“What’s your name?” Max asks him.
He won’t look Max in the eye. “Tristan.”
“All right, Tristan. You’re going to show us the way. If you don’t give us a reason to kill you, we won’t.”
Tristan nods, torment in his eyes, finally facing Max.
Glancing around, I realize everyone is already awake and they’ve all witnessed what transpired. Needless to say, they’re ready to move.
Flex frisks Tristan for hidden weapons, something that clearly wasn’t done thoroughly enough the first time. Once Flex clears him, he ushers Tristan forward. Gavin and Flex stay at Tristan’s sides as he moves, and Tyce walks directly behind him.
I notice Eli from the corner of my eye. I tap Tyce on the shoulder, spotting the gun tucked in his pants. He took it when they frisked the soldiers. “Can I leave that gun with Eli?”
He nods, handing it over. I make my way to Eli and put the gun in his hand.
“I need you to stay here and guard the bomb. If anyone sees you, fire this immediately and we’ll send someone back to help you. You can hide up the hill, but keep your eyes on that bomb. We may need it.” My chest lurches as all I can do is hope he will listen. This is my chance to keep him safe. To keep him away from battle.
“Fine,” Eli nods, shame and anger still there.
“Thank you,” I say, before heading out with the others.
Tristan takes us a little farther down the road before cutting into the woods. We track downhill a bit before we start to see the glow of lights. They grow brighter the closer we get.
On top of a small cliff we inch forward, crouching as we see a small compound. Down in the crevice where two mountains meet, tall fences case in a flat, paved lot. A steel door closes in a cave-like lair, and I can only imagine what’s inside or how big it is beneath the rock. Tall metal posts with bright lights illuminate the entire space, leaving absolutely no way to approach the compound without being plainly visible. The cover of night will do us no good.
“Pst,” Tristan says, pointing to the far left of the compound. Outside the fence, ten massive military trucks that I recognize from Antius sit in a row. But right in the middle is a truck I don’t recognize. It is composed of two parts, a giant gray cab with a huge engine and massive wheels. Attached to it is a giant silver trailer, shiny and clean. It’s larger than any vehicle I’ve ever seen.
“The hostages are in there,” Tristan says in a loud whisper.
“It’s too bright, we can’t sneak up on it,” I say to Max. I turn to Tristan. “Have you seen it up close? Are there any ways in besides those doors at the back?”
“There’s a side door. That’s all I know.”
“I don’t see any guards,” I note.
“No, but there are cameras,” Tristan says. He points to a few different places.
I move closer to Max. “There’s a tree hanging pretty low over it. Maybe there’s a hatch on top or on the front of the trailer. It looks like there’s just enough shadow from the tree. Someone small could possibly go unseen.�
�
“Someone small like you? With your broken arm?” Max deadpans.
“So, I can’t climb, but you guys could help me into the tree.”
“Who else is small enough to do it?” Max looks around.
Amy starts to step forward but Wayne grips her arm, shaking his head.
“Cori can do it. I’ll help her.” Tyce stand beside me now, hands on his hips with everyone in earshot sizing him up. He is the leanest in the group. It’s not a bad idea.
“Are you sure about this?” Dylan whispers to me. He grips my hand.
“I am.”
Max cracks his neck, his eyes glued to the silver truck, probably weighing his options. “I want you to get closer, but do not approach the vehicle. Only assess it, then report back to me. Got it?”
I nod, then look to Tyce. He nods too. His expression is grave, and I can tell he’s not taking this task lightly. He knows, like I do, there’s a real possibility his daughter Emma is in that truck.
Ever since my bungee cord saved Eli’s life, I’ve been carrying a small length of it in my bag. Turns out, now’s a great time to have it. Much like the bird stunt, Tyce and Dylan tie a harness around me. Tyce climbs the tree with my lead tied to his hip and once he’s up, he begins helping me scale the tree, though Dylan gives me the initial boost, gently squeezing my ankle before I’m out of reach.
I’m not sure how Tyce has the strength to pull me up considering I’m useless with only one good arm, but he manages to get me into the crevice where the tree juts out into different directions. One of the branches will take us almost all the way to the silver truck.
“Catch your breath, doll, then we’ll go.”
I nod, taking deep breaths. “I’m ready.”
Tyce stands first, finding a grip to stabilize himself, then he reaches for me. He guides me out onto the branch and I test it first by stepping down on it with one leg, still holding onto Tyce’s arm. It seems sturdy. I breathe heavily, focusing my energy on keeping myself steady.
Tyce still holds my rope, but I begin to inch out on my own. Instinctively I hold out my arms to keep balance and as soon as I do, a shooting pain reminds me to keep my left one close to my body like Dylan told me.
In my attempt to situate my arm my balance wavers. Panic seizes me, kicking my heart rate up another notch. I kneel, bracing myself with my hand. I look at the truck, which suddenly seems so far away. I glance back at Tyce—at his eager, anxious expression. I realize I’m trembling, but can’t figure out why. I have to keep moving. People are counting on me—Emma is counting on me. Determined, I try to stand, but wobble again. I shake my head, frustrated with myself. I give it one more try with the same results. This isn’t going to work.
Changing up my technique, I lower myself to straddle the branch and begin scooting forward, little by little.
I maneuver around smaller branches as I go, careful to stay low. As I near the end of the branch, I’m about six feet above the truck. Not only that, I’m able to take a closer look at the entire compound.
“Pst,” I hear behind me, and whip my head around, finding Tyce halfway across the branch himself. He closes the distance quickly, much more surefooted than I. “What do you see?”
“Three cameras,” I say, pointing them out. “Do you hear that sound?”
He pauses to listen to the hum that I’m so familiar with. “What is it?”
“The fence is electric.” I also notice the fence is close to the same height as the big truck and not that far from it. Jumping it might be a possibility if necessary.
We both lapse into silence as we soak in the details of our target, the silver truck and trailer. I don’t see any way in besides the big doors on the back and the one on the side.
“Untie me,” I tell him.
He looks at me, dumbfounded. “What?”
“I have an idea and I need a closer look.”
He looks down at the woods where Max waits for us to return. If I can count on anybody to go against authority, shouldn’t it be Tyce?
“Trust me,” I say.
He cracks his neck, stalling and mulling it over. He swears under his breath as he reaches to help me out of the makeshift harness. “I’ll just wait here then, eh?”
I smile, handing him the rest of the rope. I scoot as far out as I can before the branches become too thin to hold me. All of a sudden I realize just how ill-prepared I am for this. It’s now all too evident that I’m one-armed that I’m high above the ground with no safety rope and jumping on this truck will leave me alone and exposed. The limb sways beneath me, causing me to grip it tighter to steady myself. Ever so slowly, I rise into a low crouch, glancing across the compound to make sure the coast is still clear.
I squeeze my fist once then expand my fingers, letting the soft breeze cool the energy coming off my body. Wipe my sweaty palm on my pants. When I finally steady my nerves, the adrenaline takes over and I leap. I slam hard on the trailer with a thud, letting my right side take most of the impact. Heart racing, I scan the area for any signs I’ve been detected. I take a few deep breaths while I assess the situation. From here I can spot all three cameras—one facing the gate across the compound, one on the steel entrance to the underground facility, and the third on the lot where Humvees are parked. None seemed aimed towards my location.
Pulling up onto my knees, I scoot to the edge of the trailer, peering over to take a look at the side door. The lock on it isn’t electronic and could probably be easily busted. The locks on the back doors are not electronic either, but they are more intense and complicated. I’m not even sure how they work—locks, levers, and crisscrossing bars.
I walk the length of the trailer on the side that’s completely in shadow, getting a feel for the material. My conclusion is that, essentially, it’s sturdy. But on my way back toward the branch, the metal gives way just a little. I push my weight into it again and it gives even more.
I look up into the tree, barely able to make out Tyce’s figure. I pull out my knife, wishing I still had my backup in case what I’m doing destroys it. Carefully, I force the tip under the lip of metal sheeting where it meets the frame. I try to leverage it, but the bolts are on too tight for me to pull it open. It’s definitely too thick to cut through with a simple knife.
I slam my fist down, frustrated and feeling no closer to the people inside. If we approach this on the ground, do we run the risk of being seen? There are no cameras on this side of the compound. None that I can see.
There has to be something I can do.
But up here I have no options. So, I head back to Tyce. He tosses the end of the rope to me, and I step through the leg holes and tie off the end of the cord at my waist. Tyce anchors the line between a “y” shaped split in the tree, and backs himself into the center of the tree where he can anchor himself. I grip the rope tightly, squeezing my left arm to my body, fighting the instinct to grab the rope with both hands.
Stepping to the edge, I leap off gently, letting the cord catch me. Tyce pulls me up. When the branch is within reach I grab it but I can’t pull myself up with one arm.
“Hang on,” Tyce says, making his way toward me.
The tree bobs under his movement, and I grow weaker by the second, my entire body dangling by one hand. I grit my teeth.
“Come on,” I growl, too low for him to even hear.
Then my hand starts to slip, and I gasp as panic takes over. The wood chaffs my bare skin, and by the time Tyce kneels to reach for me, it’s too late. I lose my grip completely and plummet down, my body slamming into the ground, barely bouncing back up with the cord’s elastic pull as Tyce holds tight to the other end. He rushes to start pulling me up again.
“Freeze!” someone shouts, but I can’t tell who. It sounds like Max and that doesn’t make sense.
Dazed from the impact of my fall, I grip the cord as my body is pulled up.
Then something snaps and I hit the ground again. Frantic and stumbling to my feet I come face to face with the man w
ho cut my rope.
Jacob.
Chapter Twenty
Sweat drips down my face and back, a subtle quiver building in my chest. His face fills me with memories, dread … and fear. He’s taller than I remember, broad shouldered and menacing.
“1206,” Jacob says, drawing it out like he enjoys taunting me with my old name. “Lovely to see you again.”
We draw our guns at the same moment. If I weren’t in a life-threatening situation, I might be more intrigued by the fact that he’s carrying the same model Glock as mine—the one I found with my father’s things. I wonder briefly if they both got them while working for the Burkes.
I notice his forefinger rests along the side of the gun, not on or even near the trigger. I think back to the day Jacob ordered the slaughter of Mercy’s trade group. He didn’t pull a weapon even then. Though he’s ruthless, I know that he’s not usually the type to get his hands dirty.
He dons a crooked grin. “I should have killed you months ago. And now that you’ve gotten Nathan out of the way, what’s to stop me?”
“Clearly not a strong moral compass.”
He sneers at that. I glance down at his other hand as he closes a small pocket knife to stuff it into his pocket.
Tyce groans as he drops out of the tree, his feet crunching on the ground just behind me, but I don’t take my eyes off Jacob. He shifts his attention over my shoulder.
“Stop right there,” Jacob says.
Another set of feet pads closer.
“Same for you,” Jacob says, louder, looking over my other shoulder. Meeting my gaze, he half-grins, causing the wrinkles around his eyes to stand out even more. “Good, you brought your friends.”
I don’t know how many of my friends are in sight, but I can’t help growing nervous for them even though the only person out here is Jacob. We’ve obviously got him outnumbered. For now.
“If you pull that trigger,” Max warns, “I’ll kill you.”
“Or I will,” Tyce interjects.
As if they hadn’t said a thing, Jacob asks, “What brings you to Fort Burke?” From the look on his face, he knows exactly what.