“Yeah, Meg. Go ahead.”
“Juliet’s missing. Millie thought she was with Candy, then Candy and James showed up at dinner without Juliet. No one knows where she is.”
Oh good heavens, thought Abby, trying to focus. “But she’s only four, for crying out loud! How do you lose a four-year-old?”
“Well, apparently it’s pretty easy,” retorted Meg. “How the heck should I know? I don’t know anything about little kids. Sure, I can handle older ones, but this—wait, hang on a sec.”
Abby had jumped to her feet and was pacing; she finished off her beer and seriously considered a second one, but she likely would be called to do something here shortly and she needed to have her wits about her. So much for a relaxing evening in the woods, alone.
“Abby?” Meg came back on the radio. “Millie put her down for a nap, then fell asleep herself; she sort of remembers Juliet waking her and telling her she was going with Candy, but now she’s not sure. Candy hasn’t seen her at all.”
Abby didn’t answer. She was listening to a sound in the woods. Once again, she flashed back to hearing a sound in the woods when she and Emmy were little girls and Pops had shown up on his horse. This time there was no horse, and no Pops.
But there was Juliet. And Bob.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Meg. She’s here. I’ll call you back.”
Abby put down the radio and Juliet ran to her. Her face was dirty and scratched, as were her arms. Her jeans were damp up to her knees and she rubbed tears from her eyes as she broke into a smile.
“I knew I’d find you, Abby! I walked all the way, up that hill and then this hill. I told Grammy I was going with you and everything! But I didn’t bring my gun. You said not to touch it unless a grownup told me to and so I didn’t touch it, Abby, I didn’t!”
“Oh, Juliet!” Abby let out a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding as she hugged the little girl tightly. “You scared me—and everyone else! They’re all out looking for you down there.” She set Juliet down beside her and told her to stay put. She picked up the radio and called Meg back. She lit another cigarette to calm her nerves.
“Yes, Meg. Yes, she’s here. I don’t know how she got here. No, I can’t believe she got this far either. She says she told Millie. What? Well, okay. Fine, yes. That’ll work. Okay, Abby out.”
Abby turned back to Juliet. “All right, little one. Let’s get you cleaned up, then you can tell me everything. But,” she added sternly. “Don’t ever do anything like this again! You could get lost, or . . . you could get lost for good in these woods. You might not find me the next time, so don’t do it again!” Juliet nodded soberly.
Abby dribbled some water out of her canteen onto a fairly clean bandana and wiped Juliet’s face and hands. Instructing the girl to strip down to her underwear, she rummaged through her pack for a t-shirt and socks. Juliet was obedient and silent, shivering in the rapidly cooling night air.
With a flashlight, Abby checked Juliet for any injuries; all were superficial scratches which she dabbed with an antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit. More extensive doctoring could be done tomorrow, when they returned to camp. Abby quickly wrapped the girl in the overly large shirt and helped her put on the socks.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. Juliet nodded eagerly. Abby handed her a water bottle and made her a comfy nest on the sleeping bag, then built up the fire a bit. While they waited, Abby lit a smoke and leaned back on her hands, watching the little girl.
“So,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”
Just as Meg had said earlier, Juliet had laid down for a nap but, missing Abby and not tired enough to actually sleep, she’d gotten up and told Millie she was going to find Abby. Half asleep herself, Millie had misunderstood the little girl and hadn’t given it another thought—until Candy showed up at dinner without Juliet.
Juliet had remembered that Abby was going to check the water supply, but she couldn’t quite remember where that was—she only knew it was up on a big hill. So she’d walked down the road, farther from Sites 2 and 3, and found a nominal trail up the back side of Pioneer. When she started going back down, she panicked a bit and stopped; she tried to remember what Abby had told her about the woods and the hills.
Around 3:00, best Abby could calculate, Juliet had started down the hill but found another path leading upwards. This one had taken her across to Tank Hill, where Abby had set up camp.
Other than the scratches, Juliet was in surprisingly good shape. True, she’d been walking for some time and had gotten lost, but she’d also gotten found again. And under her own steam. She’d kept going until she reached her destination, and Abby had to admire that fortitude.
She got up and stretched, surprised that Juliet was still awake, and dumped a can of stew into a pot, setting it on the fire. She opened another can and set it down for Bob. She wondered how to address this apparent issue; Juliet certainly couldn’t be allowed to roam everywhere, alone.
While they ate, Abby called Meg back and told her that Juliet was perfectly fine, and they’d be back down in camp by noon. After she cleaned their dishes and banked the fire, Abby said, “Come on, little one; bedtime.” She rolled them both up in the sleeping bag and closed her eyes, snuggling with Juliet.
“Abby, are you mad at me?” came a tiny voice.
“No, sweetie, I’m not mad. I was just scared and worried about you. Go to sleep now, we’ll talk in the morning.”
It was still chilly as the sun rose, barely visible through the curtains of mist swirling around the trees. Abby and Juliet crawled out of the sleeping bag, and Abby stirred up the fire while Juliet gathered some wood nearby.
After breakfast, and coffee for Abby, the two girls packed up the camp. Juliet’s jeans were still damp, as were her sneakers, but Abby shrugged; she’d be uncomfortable, but okay. Natural consequences, right? Seems like she’d heard some parents talking about stuff like that once. Maybe. At any rate, it couldn’t be helped. They started down the hill, following the line of water pipes.
Juliet’s job was to scout ahead a short distance, looking for water or dampness. It was difficult to tell between the fog and the dew, but Juliet managed to stop Abby every ten feet or so, pointing to weak spots and corroding solder. After each spot was flagged and jury-rigged, considering Abby’s limited tools, the pair moved on down the hill.
It was a long hike to the pump house and nearing noon when they arrived. They still had quite a hike down the road to Site 3, when Abby stopped abruptly.
She sniffed the air. “Juliet, do you smell that?”
“Smoke,” said Juliet.
As they reached the crossroads, Abby saw two black pickup trucks fly past, heading for the campsites. She grabbed Juliet’s arm and thrust her behind her as they continued to creep close to the tree line. She’d tried to raise Meg, or anyone, really, on the walkie, but had had no luck so far.
Another truck raced past them, fishtailing as it made the turn; it was going in the opposite direction, heading towards the camp gate. Making a quick decision, Abby scooped up Juliet and ducked into the heavy scrub, waded across the nearly dry creek bed, and kept going until she reached the pump house. Retreat was often the best option.
Pausing to catch her breath, Abby pondered her choices. The smoke smell was stronger, more acrid. She was desperate to know more, what had happened, what was going on at the campsite, who . . . She looked down at Juliet, whose face was pale, eyes huge.
“Juliet. Look at me.” She knelt down next to the little girl, putting her hands on her shoulders. Slowly, Juliet looked up at Abby.
“We’re going to be okay, kiddo. I’ll find out what’s happening, I’ll take care of you. I promise. We’ll be okay. Now, you must listen to me and do exactly as I say. All right?”
Juliet nodded, and her breathing slowed a bit. She blinked. “Okay, Abby.”
“Come on.” Abby took Juliet’s hand. “We’re going up this hill, and we have to walk really quietly, like an In
dian, remember? Don’t talk, but tap my arm if you need something, okay? Like this.” Abby demonstrated. She shouldered her pack and helped Juliet to her feet, and the two began climbing the hill behind the pump house, moving carefully. Bob came bounding along with them, making more noise than Abby would have wished.
They reached the cave behind the old staff buildings just as the sky opened up and a drenching rain poured down. Abby hustled Juliet inside and followed her, pausing to camouflage the opening. Juliet climbed onto Abby’s lap, and the two of them huddled together, shivering, exhausted from the climb.
Finally, Abby stirred. She fumbled with her pack, pulling out the sleeping bag and spreading it against the wall of the cave, near the opening. She laid Juliet down and kissed her cheek, whispering, “Stay here, little one. I’ll be right back. Bob, you too.” Juliet mumbled something and rolled over, still sleeping.
Abby clicked on her flashlight and began to explore. The last time she’d been in the cave she could tell it went back much further, but she hadn’t had time to check it out fully. The passage narrowed but was easily accessible and, after about 20 feet, opened into a much larger area.
She shined the light around the open space, searching for another way out in case an exit strategy was necessary. Far in the rear, to her right, was a small opening. Crouching down, she peered into the darkness. The space was narrow, but Abby thought she could navigate it without too much trouble. The real question was how far back did it go and was there another opening? In any case, it was time she got back to Juliet.
The radio crackled to life. “Ab, are you there?” Cal’s voice came through, barely understandable. “Abby, pick up! Where are you?”
Abby snatched the radio off her hip and pressed the talk key. “Yes, Cal, I’m here. What’s going on?”
“You need to get back, quickly. We’ve had a . . . um, incident and we need to contain this ASAP.”
“Roger,” said Abby, making her way back to the sleeping child. “Be there shortly.”
She paused, back in the front of the cave, and took stock of their supplies. She sorted the blankets, tools, and canned goods, anything non-perishable, and made a large pack. Juliet, still sleeping, would be fine for a few more minutes. Abby made her way back to the larger cavern and stowed everything out of sight. Just in case.
She gently woke Juliet, who sat up immediately alert. Abby lifted her much lighter backpack and the two made their way down the hill to the road, heading back to camp, Bob trailing in their wake.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The campsite was in chaos.
Noah had set up four tents close together in the field near the kitchen shelter and was barking orders at several assistants who rushed back and forth. Calypso was sitting at a table, alone, and appeared to have abdicated her responsibilities for the moment.
As Abby approached, she jerked to life. “Thank God you’re here, Abby. This is a mess if ever there was one.” Cal gestured towards the tents. “Noah is doing the best he can, but . . .” She took a deep breath. “Emmy’s over there, Abby, she’s helping Noah.”
Abby visibly relaxed and whispered to Juliet, who scampered across the shelter to Millie. “Now,” said Abby. “Talk to me.”
“Early this morning, Lorie was on her way to the showers when she heard someone talking. She stepped off the trail, up there where it forks, and listened a bit more but the voices stopped. She couldn’t make out any words, let alone recognize who was speaking, so she came on down here.
“I guess she mentioned it to Ted, but didn’t say anything else and he kind of shrugged it off.”
“Where is Ted, anyway?” asked Abby, looking over towards the cooking fires, hoping for coffee.
“Packing,” answered Cal. “And I want you to go with him.”
Abby raised her eyebrow as Cal continued, “What Lorie heard this morning was James and Candy; they blew up the commissary, Abby. Half of it, anyway. Lorie and Meg tried to stop them.
“They’re in that last tent. Together. They didn’t make it, Abby.” Tears poured down Cal’s face. “Find them. Make them pay.”
Abby’s head was spinning. She needed coffee—no, hell, she needed a drink. And a shower. Wait. Explosion. Dead. Meg and Lorie. Abby bit her lip. Later.
She hugged Cal and stopped to speak with Millie, giving Juliet a goodbye hug as well and admonishing her to behave and to, by all means, stay right with Millie at all times. Then she went to find Ted.
She found him in the tent he’d shared with Lorie, red-eyed and hair sticking up, gun parts and ammo scattered around. She paused, then called his name.
Ted jerked to attention, his grim face crumpling as he lurched toward Abby and broke into tears. She held him awkwardly until his outward grief dissipated, patting his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Finally, she held him at arms’ length and made him look at her directly.
“Ted. We’ve got a job to do.”
“Yes,” he said, letting his breath out like a runner prepping for a race. “I’m okay now. For now. I can do this.”
“Okay then,” said Abby. “I’ll meet you back here in 15 minutes.” She walked out of the tent and down the path to her own. Someone, probably Emmy she thought, had left a fresh bucket of water and some soap and towels. She quickly sponged off and changed clothes. She refilled her pack from supplies on hand, not knowing what else was available but confident that they could find whatever they needed on this hunting trip. She’d seen the truck heading out earlier, a few hours’ head start tops, so she didn’t think Candy and James would be on foot. Yet.
Abby grabbed an extra knife and sheath and her .45 to complement the Mossberg and .357. A couple ammo boxes and she was ready. Ted was waiting.
The truck ran smoothly down the center of the road just outside the gates that Sandy carefully closed behind it. She disappeared silently back into the brush, ready to watch and wait as long as she was needed. She knew what was going on all right; she’d been there when James and Candy had crashed through as they escaped and she’d spent the morning making repairs.
Her grief was real, and deep. But she was a good soldier; she’d stand her post until told otherwise.
Ted and Abby drove down the road away from the camp on their grim mission. Candy and James had gotten a good two-hour lead, so the odds of catching them were very low. At this point, the exercise was futile from a practical standpoint but did allow for a certain release of tension for the hunters. In spite of the day thus far, Abby was thankful that she’d had a chance to speak with Emmy before leaving and, even more so, thankful that she was driving and not Ted.
His current state of mind was almost frightening to watch in its single-mindedness. He and Lorie had been an item, on and off, for years and had recently come to some sort of understanding the last Abby had heard. Lorie had been a friend of Abby’s for almost as long as Ted had known her, yet Abby felt oddly numb at this stage.
The loss of Meg, too, she refused to contemplate. Meg had been larger than life in many respects, prickly at times, but like a marshmallow on the inside to those who knew her best. Abby roughly shoved everything out of her mind except the current job at hand.
The truck swerved as Ted suddenly grabbed her arm, and Abby stood on the brakes. “There,” he pointed about 50 yards ahead to the right. Abby backed the truck and pulled to the narrow shoulder, killing the engine. They stepped out and listened.
Nothing.
That was wrong. There should have been birds, small animals in the brush, something. Just silence. It appeared as though the fugitives’ truck had gone off-road and some clumsy attempt had been made to camouflage the location. In fact, Abby could see the glint of a stray ray of sunshine reflecting off the black paint.
She and Ted split up, silently, circling around to enter the treeline from opposite angles. Both had weapons at the ready, safeties off; both had experience on their side, and patience now that the quarry was within reach.
Suddenly, Candy appeared directly between them, runni
ng towards the road, screaming. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t shoot!”
Abby dropped to a crouch; Ted lined up his rifle sight. Candy fell to the ground, her scream cut off as she hit hard. Ted was off and running towards her as Abby took aim.
She stopped short; Ted was standing over Candy, finger on the trigger, barrel pointed at her head. She prayed Ted would move, just a hair to the left. He shifted, and Abby fired just as Candy flew through the air at Ted, a long, wicked knife blade shining in the sun.
Ted staggered backward, grazed by the blade, bleeding. Abby fired again. This time, she didn’t miss. Candy crumpled to the ground, bloody and lifeless.
Abby approached silently, helping Ted to his feet. She gently pulled away his hand to examine the knife wound. He’d live. She spared a glance at Candy, dead and still. Anger. Cold, hard anger. She wasn't sorry. At all. She put a finger to her lips as Ted tried to speak, tears in his eyes. She gestured towards the open field beyond them, and held up one finger. James was still out there.
A truck door slammed.
Abby and Ted froze for a split second, then dropped to the ground. Abby whipped out her binoculars and tried to focus, searching for the road. Then she felt for her keys; safely in the pocket where she’d stashed them. She motioned for Ted to follow her and they cautiously made their way back.
A second door slammed. James was apparently either counting on Candy to stop them, or he was panicking and oblivious to the amount of noise he was making. They could hear him tromping back through the underbrush, approaching swiftly.
The footsteps stopped.
“Candy, where the hell are you? Hello? Candy!”
Ted stood upright, awkwardly bringing the rifle around to point towards James’ voice. His eyes were glazed, and he began a steady gait, one foot at a time, towards James. Abby reached for him, but missed. He kept going. So did James.
The two men were face to face. James was pale and shaking as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Ted shot him.
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