Three hours in, we stopped for a fifteen-minute break. After six, a half-hour break. After eight, we slept in two-hour shifts. I felt numb. I should have been scared or devastated, but all I could process was exhaustion and hunger. Everything would be fine when we reached the coordinates from the radio broadcast. They let me sleep the entire four hours, and although I felt guilty, I realized it was much needed. If we were going to make it two more days of running, we all had to be in top form.
As we ran, I calculated our food supply. We’d planned for a six-day excursion, but with calorie counts twice the expectations, we’d need to hunt on breaks and reserve the jerky for in-transit fuel-ups. At the next twelve-hour break, I took the first two-hour shift to hunt, bringing in four ducks and roasting them before the others woke.
Rain greeted us at first light at day T minus twenty-seven. But nothing could be worse than the swamp, and we ran on, sopping clothes plastered to our skin. The forest grew denser as we jogged south, and downed logs hindered our progress. Twilight found our group in need of more substantial rest, and while part of me cried out for the break, my psyche resisted. The debate ended with sticking to the prior day’s schedule, and I felt relieved I hadn’t been the only one to push for continuing.
As the last bits of light left the sky, I switched to night-vision goggles. A day, twenty-four hours, and I would see Turner. About an hour later, I realized Sadie’s breathing sounded choppy. I studied her. She drew in a long breath and then a couple of short ones. I whistled, indicating we should stop and placed my fingers on her wrist, checking her heart rate. Her pulse raced at one-seventy beats per minute. Taking River’s pulse and finding it be one-twenty, I motioned for Shooter to join us. I unzipped his pack and found the blood pressure cuff. Sadie sat on a rock, and I rested her arm on mine.
Her pressure read one-forty over one-ten, and I glanced at Shooter. Ironic how while being lauded for his marksmen skills, he also was our group medic. He asked her about tingling in her limbs, and she indicated she believed it’d been caused by running. I paced as Shooter monitored her breathing, heart rate, and blood pressure as she rested. Her heart rate sank, but her pressure stayed elevated. I’d spent enough time in Dena’s lab at Lovelock to know the risks of high blood pressure, including stroke, aneurism, and heart attack. Time was running out. We needed to meet up with Turner and the rest of our group, but at what costs?
Shooter gave Sadie an aspirin, and we waited a half-hour more, but her blood pressure still held at one-thirty over a hundred, too high to continue.
River tipped his head, indicating I should follow him. “She’s not going to be able to keep up. We can’t carry her and keep pace. I think you, Amelie, Mace, Ben, and Carl should go. We’ll follow when we can.”
“We can’t just leave you out here.”
“We have radios. Someone from base can come back with a vehicle.”
I shook out my arms and legs. “This can’t be happening. What else can go wrong? We’re out of time.”
“This is not the worst thing that could happen. We’re alive and not in a jail cell.”
“I guess.” I hated the idea of leaving Sadie. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, she’d gotten under my skin. I couldn’t lose her too.
Seeing Sadie lying pale as a ghost, I knew he was right. We decided that River and Shooter would stay with Sadie and divided up Shooter’s medical supplies. Thinking all of this was my fault, I couldn’t look at the others, didn’t want to envision what they must think of me, especially since we were leaving three members behind.
With all the gear arranged, I knelt beside Sadie. “You take care of yourself okay. We’ll send a team, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sadie wrapped her fingers around mine. “Don’t you worry about me. These guys are going to make sure I’m okay. You find Turner and the rest of the team and figure out how to stop us from getting blown to smithereens. I’d really like to see my husband again.”
“Of course you will. Everything’s going to be okay, you’ll see. We always figure it out.” Tears formed in my eyes as I realized it was the first time she’d mentioned wanting to be with him.
Doubts circled in my brain. Always, like six months was always. Yes, we’d gotten Nave her cure, and we’d escaped captors, but our friends from Port Orford had been blown to smithereens, and who knew how many from the capitol mission made it back. I squeezed her palm and brought it to my lips, kissing the back of her hand.
“Hey, none of that.” She snatched her finger from my grip and popped me on the arm. “You go save the world. Ooh rah! Get out of here. Scat.”
Standing, I formed the sign for I love you and took a step back. “See ya, old lady.”
“Next time I see you, I’m going to have your hide for calling me old.”
I raised my pack onto my back. “If the shoe fits.”
“You kids have no respect—”
“You were going to say for your elders. You admitted it.” I wagged my finger at her as we backed away.
“Okay, let’s hit it,” Ben called.
“Ooh rah,” Carl replied.
We started to run single file through the dense undergrowth. Ben and Carl were ahead of me, and Amelie and Mace brought up the rear. We increased our pace, running twelve-minute miles through the brush, pushing ourselves to a two-hour stretch before stopping. Repeating that pattern twice, we decided to stop for naps and food.
The four-hour break had us starting out again just before sunrise on day T minus twenty-six. In twelve hours, we’d be there. A pit formed in my stomach, wondering what we’d find, how many of us were left, how many we lost, and if Turner was safe. He had to be.
“Shit.” My ears picked up Mace’s exclamation.
I turned to see him stopped ten feet behind me. Remembering the log I’d jumped over, my stomach turned. We’d been pointing out obstacles, and with my mind drifting to Troy, I forgot and missed warning Mace.
Calling to the others, I circled back to him. “Sorry, did you trip on the log?”
“My foot slid off it, and I turned my ankle.”
“How bad is it?” I pointed my flashlight at his foot.
Removing the shoe, we found his ankle already swelling. I wanted to scream, kick, hit something. We were so close. Carl wrapped the ankle, but Mace still couldn’t put weight on it. How fast could he hobble through the forest? Two miles an hour max? It’d take triple the time to meet up with the team.
As we debated our options, my radio pinged. Retrieving it from my pocket, I raised the volume.
We still have one of the pigs left. Iris at 556 pounds. Remember the pigs were Betty and Iris at 374 and 556 and Petunia the baby at zero one nine pounds. Moving east. can’t keep. name your price at not less than ninety dollars, give or take one or two. We can’t give away for zero. Have to feed our family of nine, including kids as young as five, seven kids total. I am fifty-eight so have to make a living somehow now that my back ain’t doin’ so well. If you’re interested, come by my farm at 569 E. Hwy 57, Carlisle, IA, or phone +1-515-989-2741. Must vacate by tonight.
“Dang.” I kicked the log. “They knew we were a max of three days away and should be there by tonight. We need to get to them, get some bearings on what’s going on.”
“You’re right,” Carl paced away from us. “Someone should stay with Mace, and the rest of us need to keep moving.”
I shook my head. “Two people out here alone is not a good idea.”
Carl circled back. “We’re less than fifty miles from the coordinates. They’ll have a vehicle. It won’t be more than ten hours.”
Standing, I put my hands to my hips. “If it’s safe to take a vehicle.”
“They’ll be some way to send a team.” Ben slid his pack to the ground. “I’ll stay with Mace. You guys go ahead.”
“I’ll stay with him.” Amelie sat on the log beside Mace.
“Amelie, it’s not a good idea. Ben is a better choice.” I got it. I knew she didn’t want to be separate
d from Mace. But he’d be safer with Ben, a big, strong guy, packing more muscle power than Amelie.
“Fine.” She stood and slid her arm in her backpack.
“Okay, so we’ll see you tonight then.” I waited for a nod from Ben.
“Yep, we’ll be hobbling along.” Pushing off the log with his arms, Mace stood on one leg.
Amelie stood on her toes and kissed him. “Don’t die or get captured or anything stupid.”
“Not planning on it.” Even in the dim light, Mace’s face glowed red.
Starting out, I remembered to focus on every foot placement. I would not make another mistake. We couldn’t lose another person, and we had to make it to the coordinates before dark. With only three of us, we ran for four hours, rested for half an hour, and started out again. As we neared the coordinates, my concentration waned. Would Turner be there? Would anyone be there? Was it a trap?
The sun set, and we put on our night-vision goggles. Monitoring the GPS as we neared the coordinates, we slowed to a walk, listening and watching for signs of anyone. A moving form above caught my eye, and the next second Amelie screamed. Three people dressed in full fatigues, holding automatic rifles, dropped from the trees in front of her. Three more soldiers landed behind us. Arms up, Amelie backed to me. Carl bumped me from behind as they formed a sandwich around us.
“Keep your hands up. Identify,” a soldier in front of Amelie commanded.
Identify, this wasn’t an order a UNS guard would issue. They would have asked us to hand over our weapons and lie on the ground.
Amelie shifted her weight between her feet. “Amelie.”
“Jewel,” I called out.
“Carl,” Carl said.
I held my breath. One by one, the soldiers stripped their helmets, and I exhaled, recognizing Chuck and Garrison. I spun around, looking for Turner. Not seeing him, my breath caught in my lungs. He had to be there. He had to be with them. I continued to move in a circle as if he would appear from thin air.
“Jewel,” a voice called out from behind Chuck. Turner’s voice. Troy!
“Turner.” I pushed past Chuck and Garrison.
Tears sprang to my eyes as his arms wrapped around me and picked me up. As he set me down, I placed my hands on his face, now clean-shaven. His lips pressed against mine. He was alive, okay.
Stepping back, I studied him. “You’re not hurt. You’re okay, right?”
“Oh my God.” He gripped my hands. “You’re the ones we were worried about. It was driving me crazy not knowing.”
Water poured down my cheeks, and I rested my head on his chest. Gripping his shirt, I sobbed, my ribs heaving in and out. He was okay. I was okay. Everything was going to be okay. His arms wrapped around me, and the convulsions quieted. I sensed the others closing in around us.
Chuck cleared his throat. “Sir, we should—”
“We should get inside.” Turner released me.
His hand traced down my arm to my fingers, and we followed the others, winding through the forest to a small clearing with a shack. It couldn’t have been more than twelve feet across and ten feet deep.
I stopped short. “Where is everyone?”
Turner gripped my shoulders and urged me forward. “Let’s get inside.”
Stepping over the door ledge, my foot landed on sand. Green glow of computer screens lit the wood structure, and my eyes cut to the ceiling above fitted with metal plates.
Swallowing and trying to reel in my panic for the fate of our team, I pointed to the insulating metal overhead. “Signal blocking?”
“Yeah, sit down.” Turner motioned to the middle of the room as the rest of his team took up positions around the edge.
Amelie, Carl, and I stood in the middle, switching weight between our feet. I locked eyes with Turner. “Just say it. How bad is it?”
“Where’s Mace?”
Amelie explained about Mace’s ankle and marked the coordinates where we’d left them on the computer. I updated them on Sadie, River, and Shooter, pointing out their location. Garrison tapped on the keyboard, checking the satellites. We’d have to wait a few hours before we could hike to the transport and go after the rest of our team.
I counted those in the room: Turner, Chuck, Garrison, plus four others. Only the tech team. “Where is everyone else?”
“Sit down,” Turner instructed again.
I squared my feet. “No, just tell us. Who did they capture? Where is everyone else?”
Turner slumped down in the only chair in the room. “We think the team on the east side was discovered. None of them came back. We’re guessing they were captured by Butler’s men.”
“And thus the firestorm by Butler?”
“Yeah, they must have realized something was up and decided to bring in the big guns.”
“How many casualties?”
“Nineteen civilians, hundreds injured. All save the east team made it out. Not all of met at the rendezvous point.”
I balled my fists. “Nineteen civilians are dead? This was Owen, all Owen, he… I was right there, could see Nave in the window. And then the planes.”
Remembering the terror I felt when the planes fired upon the capitol lawn, my legs buckled. Amelie caught my arm and lowered me to the ground. Turner handed me a canteen, and taking a sip, I gave it to Amelie. I had to pull it together. It wasn’t the time to break down. We had over twenty days to figure out a plan.
“Is there any news about the families from Port Orford?”
Taking a laptop from the swaying table, Turner sat beside me. He pulled up a news link, and my eyes fell on a video title, The Native One Lives. Clicking play, he enlarged the video to view it on the whole screen. It showed me in the Jeep signing, It’s me, Nave. It’s Jema. Don’t be scared. I’m coming to rescue you.
A voiceover spoke. “Authorities believe The Native One and her forces planned the peaceful demonstration as a cover for a coup and kidnapping attempt. The families from Port Orford who entered the country on the amnesty days, as many of them that could be found, have been detained for questioning. The Native One’s sister and mother are being housed in the capitol compound for their protection. An all-points alert has been issued. Anyone who sees The Native One should contact authorities immediately. She is considered to be armed and dangerous.”
So everyone knew I wasn’t dead. I’d already contemplated that risk. They were looking for me, and probably Turner, or Troy, again. Again, not news. The families from Port Orford knew the risk but had no knowledge of Troy or me, so we were probably safe. We’d done the right thing in keeping our identities secret.
I looked at Turner. “What do people know?”
Chuck stood. “I’m sure everyone has their theories. Those that stayed with us, over forty, split up into five teams, fanning out to distract and create wild-goose chases if detected.”
“Forty, forty is good. So, what now? What is the plan?”
“The plan was to get you back, Jema.” Garrison held my gaze then spun and paced away.
There it was. I was Jema, the Native One again. They probably realized who Turner was, Troy Masterson, the Bred One. It was unsaid, still they knew. But we were alive. That was what was important. Hope lived. We’d find another way to stop Zhou from carrying out his threats. Defect like we’d faked in the beginning. Scanning those lining the walls, I saw shoulders slumped and faces aimed at the floor. No one appeared hopeful, just tired, like they’d given up, weren’t even strategizing, searching for another way.
“Okay, what now?” I studied Turner’s face. Lines spanned across his forehead. His eyes were wide, almost vacant, and they cut to the wall when I held his gaze. There was more. Something else happened.
I snatched the computer from his lap. He spun in front of me, placing one hand on my shoulder and one on Amelie’s.
Garrison stopped behind Turner. “We think the best thing is for you and Turner to defect, surrender to the EC. That’s the only thing that might stop the Chinese from following through on
their threats.”
Focusing on the screen in front of me, I scrolled down to the next video to see a still of the Port Orford base gates. Swift Response to Coup Attempt, the title read. Why was there a picture of Port Orford with the capitol-bombing footage? Confused. I clicked the button.
A line of soldiers stood in front of the base gates, and UNS tanks approached. After several minutes, the UNS tanks rolled towards the guards. The guards fired on the tanks, with no success. As they retreated into the base, the tanks followed at full speed, ramming through the gates and mowing over some of the soldiers. Sirens, the warning signals of attack, blared. The scene cut to the sky. Military jets swooped overhead and started firing. Building after building exploded into a pile of rubble as more jets descended from the sky. The picture tilted, and the video stopped.
I stared at the screen, misunderstanding what I saw. “Who made the video?”
Amelie’s hands covered her face, her legs buckled, and she fell to the ground.
I focused on Turner. “Where is everyone? Where are all the soldiers from the base?”
Water pooled in his eyes, and he swiped it away. “Some of the border guards were taken into custody. There isn’t footage of any other people. The UNS has the base images, satellites, any information secured. Everything’s blocked. We can’t see anything.”
Beside my leg, Amelie’s torso rocked back and forth. “They killed them. He killed them just like he killed our friends. Our fathers are dead because of us. We did this to them.”
I stared at the screen. It must be wrong, propaganda to flush us out, get a reaction. It can’t be true. Slamming the computer shut, I flung it across the room. “It’s not true, I won’t believe it.”
Turner placed his hands on my shoulders. “We studied the satellite images. No one left the base before or after the attacks. The footage is real.”
I held Turner’s stare. “They could have been in the bunkers. Owen would know that. Owen took them hostage then, right?”
Torch Page 19
