“Lights out!” someone shouted from outside the barracks.
All at once, the women blew out the oil lamps near their bunks, and the barracks plunged into darkness. The lamp above my bed remained lit. Addison kicked my mattress from below.
“Put that shit out,” she whispered.
I blew on the flame, extinguishing the last bit of light in the room. Then I waited. In a matter of minutes, the women stopped rustling around to get comfortable as they fell to sleep one by one. Mismatched breathing patterns filled the barracks like a light whispering wind, occasionally punctuated by a snore or mumble. Wide awake, I looked out of the window that was level with my bed. Base One’s guards remained on duty, patrolling the top of the wall, but the grounds themselves were empty. Silently, I slipped out from beneath my rough blankets and leapt down from the bunk, landing in a low crouch on the floor. As I pulled on one of my boots, Addison stirred and sat up.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Go back to sleep.”
She snatched my other boot away from me before I could get it on the other foot. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, stop right now. If you get caught out there, they’ll take you to Buddy Arnold. Believe me, you don’t want to meet Buddy Arnold.”
“I’ve already met Buddy Arnold,” I told her. “And he doesn’t scare me. Now give me my boot back.”
She held it behind her back. “No.”
“Listen, if I get caught out there, you’re going to be the first person they ask if you know anything,” I said. “Do you want to know what I’m doing to tell them or would you rather pretend that you were asleep this entire time and this conversation never happened?”
Addison hesitated then reluctantly handed the boot over. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Never.”
Once I had both shoes on, I snuck out of the window above my bunk and dropped to the ground outside. The snow was black and icy, and I was grateful that Base One had let me keep my own boots rather than issue the shitty ones that everyone else here had to wear. I never would have been able to quietly navigate the compound in the flat-footed soles of the camp-issued footwear.
I stole from dormitory to dormitory, peeking in through the windows to get a look at the people inside them. The first three next to mine housed the rest of the women. I skipped quickly over those and continued to the men’s buildings. Here, I spent a little more time, pressing my face to the windows to scan each bed for the person I was looking for. Finally, in the last barrack, I caught sight of a tuft of wavy black hair. I rapped lightly on the window nearest. The person rolled over, dislodging the blanket from his face.
“Eirian,” I breathed. He wasn’t entirely awake yet. I checked to make sure that no guards had snuck up behind me and knocked on the window again. This time, Eirian blearily opened his eyes and looked up. I waved and grinned. He scrambled out of bed and shoved the window open.
“Georgie!” He cupped my face and peppered kisses across my mouth and cheeks. “You’re alive!”
“Shh.” I could help but smile as I leaned into his warmth. “Don’t wake the others.”
“But how did you—? Where have you been? Why are you here?”
“It’s a long story,” I told him, holding his hands between mine. “Did you think I was going to leave you in here?”
“I didn’t know what to think,” Eirian replied. “Pippa’s in the medical unit. They won’t let me see her—”
“I know.”
“Jesus, Georgie.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I missed you so much. What are we going to do?”
“You’re not going to do anything,” I said. “Keep your head down. Pretend you don’t know me. I’ve got this under control.”
Eirian gave me a wry look. “What exactly are you planning?”
“You’ll see.”
Over the course of the week, I did everything in my power to get the radio tower up and running. I spent almost every minute from dawn until dusk in the open air of the control room, wiring circuit boards and toying with my limited supplies. Galt supervised me each day, but he often grew tired of the unfailing cold by midmorning and kept watch from the ground instead. This suited me just fine. The control room felt crowded when Galt’s gun was present, even though I knew it would take an uncontrollable circumstance for him to feel compelled to use it. I worked diligently, sending Galt on errands through the camp when I needed some tool or piece of equipment. Each night, I reported to Buddy Arnold, and each night, I lied about my progress. My goal was to get the tower operational as soon as possible, but I had no plans to update Buddy with the reality of my progression. I pretended that the tower was too far gone for me to repair it in a week, allowing my voice to waver and my eyes to fill a little more with each report. Buddy grew more and more agitated with every notification, and he reminded me on a daily basis of what would happen if I did not succeed by the end of the week.
When I wasn’t in the tower, I gave Galt the slip to roam Base One on my own. After the first three times, Galt stopped scolding me for my behavior. We entered into a silent agreement. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t lie. During my outings, I trailed the higher ranked members of Base One, skulking around corners and hiding in the shadows as I listened to their conversations. Most of the time, all I heard were lamentations about the food in the mess hall or the lack of beautiful women on base, but one evening, I gathered a piece of information that I could actually use to my advantage.
Halfway through the week, after I had finally gotten one of the control panels to respond to my work, I celebrated by stealing a muffin from the mess hall and hiding in the pantry as a pair of soldiers raided a stash of MREs. The first one, Kips, was the man that Galt had warned me about when I’d first arrived at Base One. The second, a skinny guy with a rat face whose last name was Rios, I had rarely seen without Kips by his side. They were two peas in a pod, and both of them worshipped Buddy like he was a god. As I munched silently on my muffin, crouched behind several massive bags of white rice in the pantry, I listened to their conversation, which they didn’t bother to keep quiet, and watched them through the slits in the pantry door.
“So what’s Buddy’s deal with the radio tower?” Rios asked Kips as they dug through the neatly stacked MREs with no regard to organization. “Why does he want to get it working so bad?”
Kips examined a label on one of the meals before tossing the package over his shoulder. “He says he wants to contact one of his old superiors. The guy’s apparently been stationed in DC for the last couple of years.”
“So Buddy thinks he can get help for us out here?”
“I don’t think it’s help that Buddy’s interested in.”
Rios paused in his demolition of the MRE pile. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve known Buddy for years,” Kips said, ripping open one of the meals. He took one thing from inside and tossed the rest in the garbage. “We were in basic training together. He moved up the ranks fast. Always the perfect soldier. Then one day something fucking snapped in him.”
“And?”
“And he killed one of our guys when we were out on a mission,” Kips said. My stomach dropped. Suddenly, the muffin didn’t taste so good. “Shot him right in the back and kept shooting until the rest of us pinned him down. He was dishonorably discharged, but before they could do anything else, he disappeared.”
“If he was dishonorably discharged, how is he the Sergeant Major of Base One?” Rios asked. Kips shot him a look, and realization crossed Rios’s face. “Oh. No one here knows that he was discharged, do they?”
“Nope, and if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” Kips voice was light, but the threat was real. “Buddy’s a fucking nutcase, but let me tell you, I was glad to see him out here. No one else would have made it this far. No one else would have gotten this place running again. My guess is he wants to get ahold of our old unit leader and get him to change his story about the sh
ooting. Otherwise, Buddy’s going to be arrested as soon as the legit guys find this place.”
“Yeah, but what are the chances that’s going to happen anytime soon?” Rios said, finally locating an MRE that he was satisfied with and setting it aside to eat later. “The entire United States is down for the count.”
“Buckley Air Force Base is up and running,” Kips said. He opened a package of cereal and ate a handful straight from the box. He spat the soggy wheat pieces onto the floor. “Ugh. Stale. Anyway, Buddy’s patrols found out that the guys at Buckley are working their way through Denver. Eventually, they’ll make it into the mountains, and when they do, they aren’t going to be pleased to find Buddy at the helm of Base One. Buddy has no intention of turning this base to Buckley’s control. He likes being in charge.”
“Sheesh,” Rios said. “And I thought you had problems.”
Kips threw the box of cereal at Rios’s head. “Shut the fuck up.”
Three days later, my week was up. The day was coming to an end. It was now or never. With Galt on the ground, I had privacy up in the control tower. I’d already been informed that Buddy was on his way to inspect my handiwork. I’d managed to get the radio functioning, but damned if I was going to let Buddy send out the first message. I sat up in the tower, freezing and alone, and broadcast as far as I could. I kept my voice low as I repeated my message over and over again, as many times as I dared, hoping that it would get picked up by its intended recipient. Thankfully, the wind carried my voice away from the camp below. Galt and the other soldiers remained oblivious to my success with the radio.
A loud metallic creak warned me of Buddy’s imminent arrival as he and Galt climbed the ladder to the control room. Quickly, I set aside the mouthpiece and ripped a wire out of place so that the broadcasting feature was disabled, but the radio itself still picked up frequencies. Buddy climbed into the control room, head bowed so that he wouldn’t bump it on the low ceiling.
“Well?” he demanded. “Your one week is up. Is the radio working or shall I draw names out of a hat to determine who to waterboard first?”
I turned up the volume on the speakers so that Buddy could hear the static coming through them. “We’re up and running. All I need to do is wire the mic so that you can broadcast.”
“And why haven’t you done that yet?”
I lifted the frayed wire. “Because I’m working with shit. Get me a new wire, and you can send your broadcast to DC stat.”
Buddy narrowed his eyes and snatched the wire from my hand to examine it. Then, without another word, he marched toward the ladder to leave the tower. I let out a sigh of relief. It would take them hours to find another coil of wire. I’d hidden all of it that I could find inside the mattress on my bunk. We were safe from Buddy’s outgoing message, and hopefully, the mic issue would buy enough time for what I needed to happen. Suddenly, the radio speakers crackled and a voice rang through the control room.
“This is Senior Airman Hogan of Buckley Air Force Base responding to your S.O.S. call,” the voice said. “Do you copy?”
For the longest minute of my life, Buddy and I stared at each other from across the tiny control room, listening to the Airman repeat his message as he waited for us to reply. Slowly, he walked back to me, his steps precise and controlled. He looked at the radio speakers, then back to me, then to the busted wire of the microphone.
“What the hell have you done?” he said calmly, and then he grabbed me by the front of my shirt and launched me out of the tower’s shattered window.
Chapter Ten
The first thing I felt upon waking up was a shooting pain up the side of my torso and through my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, everything was a blurred at the edges. White walls trapped me against a hard, lumpy mattress. I tried to sit up, but my head throbbed and pulsed with every beat of my heart.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I turned my head to follow the familiar voice, hardly daring to believe it, but there was Pippa Mason, in all her glory, sitting in the bed next to me. She rocked a small bundle of blankets that rested in the cradle of her crossed legs. Like everyone else, Pippa had changed a great deal over the past several months. Not long ago, she was an average high school senior at a private Catholic high school, captain of her field hockey team and bound for the Ivy Leagues once she delivered her unexpected baby and handed her over to a family that was ready to raise a child. Pippa had been the epitome of blonde and preppy, never seen without makeup or a manicure. Now, there were dark shadows beneath her eyes, her fingernails were short and dirty, and she had cut her hair short to her chin—with a knife, if the jagged edges were any indication—to keep it out of her face. To top it off, there was no family around to raise her baby. The newborn was solely Pippa’s responsibility.
“I would hug you,” I croaked, “but I’m having trouble remembering which of my limbs are which.”
“You look like hell too,” Pippa said.
“What happened? Did you see?”
She looked over her shoulder, checking the medical unit for other people. “I thought you were dead when they brought you in. Blood everywhere. Your shoulder was swinging out of its socket. It was gross.”
That explained the makeshift sling that trapped my arm close to my body. Talking to Pippa helped clear my mind. I took note of my injuries, checking on the extent of the damage. I wiggled my fingers and toes. One fractured pinky, but otherwise all right. My torso had taken the extent of it all. My ribs ached in protest with the smallest movement, sending shooting pains through my lungs and making it hard to breathe, and my shoulder, which someone had popped back into place, felt like it might make another attempt at escape.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” Pippa said. “What the hell happened out there? How’s the rest of Camp Haven?”
“It’s gone,” I said. “Everyone’s dead or trapped here. I came for you and Eirian, but I think this has all spiraled out of control. Have you seen Buddy?”
“Buddy Arnold? The guy who runs the camp? I don’t even know what he looks like. Why would he ever set foot in the medical bay?”
“Because he’s the one who pushed me out of the radio tower,” I growled, ripping an IV needle out of my arm. I didn’t trust Base One’s drugs at all. “I’ve been here all week. Buddy made a deal with me to get the radio working, but he wasn’t pleased when he realized what I did with it.”
“What did you do?”
Before I could answer, an ancient speakerphone mounted in the corner of the room buzzed to life. “Attention, Base One civilians,” a voice announced. “This compound is now on lockdown. Our security has been compromised. Please do not panic. As long as you follow the lockdown protocol, no harm will come to you.”
A wide grin spread across my face. “That,” I told Pippa. “That’s what I did.”
Pippa stared at me like I was crazy. “Georgie, what’s going on?”
“We’re getting out of here,” I declared, throwing the sheets off of my legs and using all of my willpower to pull my aching limbs out of the bed. My clothes were folded neatly on a nearby chair. I shed the medical unit’s gown and got dressed. “How long was I out for?”
“Several hours.”
“We need to go.” I tossed her my tactical jacket. “Put that on and tuck Athena inside. It’s big and warm enough for the both of you.”
Pippa looked down at her baby, who gripped her mother’s index finger with her whole hand. “Athena?”
“That’s what I call her,” I said. “Did you change the name?”
She shook her head. “I like Athena. It’s strong.”
“I agree. Come on. Let’s get moving.”
It was easier said than done. Every step I took was punctuated by a sharp stab in the chest as my broken ribs reminded me of the trauma my body had been through earlier that day. I needed to be in bed, to let myself heal, but the window of time to get out of Base One was too small to waste. I had to know what was going on outside. I
ushered Pippa toward the door of the medical unit, but it flew open and nearly smacked me in the face as Buddy Arnold entered from the other side.
Immediately, I put myself between Buddy and Pippa, forcing the younger girl away from the monstrous man. He strode forward, took me by the collar of my shirt, just as he had when he had thrown over the edge of the tower, and shook me until my brain rattled against my skull.
“What have you done?” he demanded, spittle flying from his mouth and spraying my face. “Base One is surrounded. You’ve put all of my people at risk?”
“Surrounded by who?” I challenged. “Real military men?”
He threw me against a cot, and I yelped in pain. Buddy wasn’t done. He stood over me and leaned down. “I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born, Georgie Fitz.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Pippa said, and she smashed an oil lamp over the back of Buddy’s head.
The blow hardly fazed him, as enormous and hard-headed as he was, but it gave me enough time to scramble beyond Buddy’s reach. He thundered after me as I overturned cots and bedside tables to put more obstacles between me and him, but his powerful legs crushed the furniture beneath his boots. He caught up with me as we rounded the door to the medical unit again, dragging me up from the floor as Pippa watched in horror from the other side of the wrecked room.
I dug my nails into Buddy’s hands as they enclosed around my throat and squeezed, but it was no use. My airway closed off, my eyes bulged and watered, and my toes left the ground as Buddy lifted me into the air by my neck. Bright spots of light danced in front of my eyes as the rest of my vision blackened. Was this it? Was this the end? Had I done enough to save the people of Base One from Buddy’s wrath, or would I die in vain?
When the pressure around my neck suddenly vanished, I slumped to the floor and gasped for air, massaging the bruises at my throat. A loud thwack caught my attention, and I looked up just in time to see Eirian land a savage uppercut to Buddy’s chin. He didn’t stop there though. He threw punch after punch in vicious combinations, his fists flying so quickly that my brain didn’t process where they landed until after Buddy’s reactions. He had caught Buddy by surprise. It was the only reason that he’d managed to gain the upper hand in the fight. Eirian aimed one last jab to Buddy’s jaw. The larger man spun around like a top, lost his footing, and crumpled to the floor.
Blackout (Book 2) Page 12