“What’s this?” Daniel asked.
“I’m just happy to have you home.”
Amy had set the mood with the dim lighting. Daniel took in the sight of his wife’s figure and the softness of her eyes. He approached the bed and lay down next to her. He ran his fingers over the soft skin of her shoulder, circling his fingers around her sun-kissed freckles. He moved his hand south, running to her waist. The silk fabric she was wrapped in was cool to the touch.
“I’ve missed you,” Daniel said.
Amy pulled him in and pressed her lips against his. Daniel breathed in through his nose, inhaling her scent. As they kissed, she pulled him down on top of her and slipped off his robe. She ran her hands down his back, grabbing hold of him as though they’d been apart for years.
Daniel had worked the top of Amy’s nightgown down to her stomach when his phone buzzed. His eyes glanced over for a second, but Amy pulled him back.
“Leave it,” she said.
He kissed the side of her neck and worked upward to her ear. The phone buzzed again, then again. It wasn’t long before the nightstand it was sitting on was shaking from the vibrations. Daniel reached over to grab it, and Amy slammed her hands into the bed at her sides.
“Christ. Can’t they leave you alone for one night?” she asked.
“It’ll take two minutes. I’ll be right back,” Daniel said.
“Mhmm,” Amy responded.
Daniel closed the bedroom door behind him and hurried down the steps to the living room. He dialed the number, and after three rings, Jones answered. He felt chills work up the back of his spine at the sound of Jones’s voice.
“Hello, Daniel,” Jones said.
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to see how things were faring for you since the vote.”
“I’m fine.”
“It seems you’ve been having quite a few meetings with Congressman Smith and Congressman Edwards.”
Daniel could feel his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach. He shuffled back a few steps, almost tripping over his slippers. He fell into one of the chairs and let out a breath he hoped Jones didn’t notice.
None of those meetings with Smith and Edwards was on any of their official schedules. Only their chiefs of staff knew what was going on. He had to be bluffing.
“I have meetings with many members of Congress. What are you getting at, Jones?” Daniel asked.
“I want to meet with you tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m.”
“I’m not scheduled to be back in DC for another three days. We can have our meeting then.”
“It’s about Colombia, Daniel.”
The phone slid out of Daniel’s grip and landed between his arm and the chair. His face was frozen. He couldn’t move a bone in his body. The ghosts from his past had finally caught up with him. Jones wasn’t bluffing. Whatever he had on Daniel must have been the truth. He wasn’t sure how Jones got it, but the only thing that mattered right now was making sure no one else found out. Daniel scooped the phone out from between the cushions and raised it back to his ear.
“Where?” Daniel asked.
“My office. I look forward to seeing you in the morning, Congressman.”
The phone lingered by Daniel’s ear for a moment. The living room was dark. All he could see were the outlines of things in the shadows. It all looked so foreign. Everything he did these days felt foreign.
The light flicked on, and Daniel jumped. Amy pulled her robe tight and folded her arms. She looked concerned.
“Daniel, what’s wrong?” she asked.
Daniel could feel a cold sweat breaking out over his body. All of the blood seemed to withdraw from his skin.
“Who was it?” Amy asked.
“What?”
“On the phone. Who called you?”
Daniel brought the phone down and looked at it as if it was the first time he’d seen it. He shut his eyes hard and shook his head.
“I have to head back tonight,” he said.
“Tonight? You were supposed to have a movie night with the kids tomorrow. Remember?”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… This can’t wait.”
Amy wouldn’t look at him as he walked past her up the stairs. With each step, his stomach churned. He could feel the sourness wrenching his gut. He hurried to the bathroom, afraid that he might puke. Daniel splashed water on his face. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Daniel’s leg bounced up and down as Jones’s driver maneuvered his way through the streets of DC. The sun wasn’t up yet, but he could still see the dark circles under his eyes from the reflection of the window. He hadn’t slept at all last night. He crumpled another empty cup of coffee and tossed it in the seat next to him.
It was one of the fastest, and longest, drives of his life. The driver sped the entire way. Half of Daniel wanted to hurry up and get it over with, while the other half begged for the man to drive into the next ditch he saw.
The car came to a stop, and the driver looked at Daniel through the rearview mirror. “Sir, we’re here.”
“Right. Thank you.”
Daniel opened the door hastily. There was hardly anyone up, with the exception of a few joggers and eager interns trying to make good impressions on their employers. Daniel just stood there looking up at the steps of the building where Jones’s office was. The passenger-side window rolled down, and the driver called out to him.
“Congressman Hunter, is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Daniel forced the first step forward. He felt rigid. He found himself feeling the awkward nature of his neck and limbs. The cold sweat he had experienced last night returned the moment his hand found the door to enter the building.
The elevator ride to Jones’s floor felt like an eternity. When the door pinged open, he stepped out onto the beige carpet and was greeted by Jones’s secretary.
“Congressman Hunter, how are you this morning?” Cindy asked.
“I’m fine. I have a meeting with Congressman Jones.”
“Go right in. He just got here a few minutes ago.”
Daniel could hear his heart beating. Each thump of his pulse felt like a shockwave rippling through his body. The cold sweat from moments ago disappeared. In its place was a blast of heat that felt so hot he thought his suit would burst into flames.
Jones looked up from his desk when Daniel entered. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and it cast the office in the morning glow of dawn.
“Hello, Daniel,” Jones said.
Daniel wore no emotion on his face. The only offer of fear that he would grant Jones was the perspiration collecting on his forehead. He took the seat directly in front of Jones’s desk. He crossed his legs and folded his hands together. Until Jones showed his cards, this was just another meeting.
“What do you want from me?” Daniel asked.
“I’m not here to ask for anything, Daniel,” Jones said.
“You wouldn’t have made me drive through the night to get here if it wasn’t because of something you wanted. Now what is it?”
“I know about your operation in Colombia. I know it down to the comma and period of the initial funding report. I know how many people died. I know how much it cost. I know who got the drugs and who got the guns.”
Daniel’s lips quivered slightly, betraying his attempt at a stoic expression. It was only for a split second, but once he saw the curled smile forming on Jones’s face, he knew his emotions had given him away.
“And what do you plan on doing with that information?” Daniel asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“You did a terrific cover-up of the entire ordeal, Daniel. It really was wonderful. I know good work when I see it. But your biggest mistake wasn’t in bribes or paperwork. It was your goodwill.”
“What?”
“I have dirt on every senator, congressman, and politician from DC to Seattle. I’ve
been in this game for a very long time. Long enough to watch most of my peers who knew my secrets be buried in the dirt. I made more than a few mistakes when I was first starting out, but I was lucky enough to make them before email and the Internet.”
“So what was it? Someone from the CIA? One of my staff? Someone on the military appropriations committee?”
“It was Smith.”
The name resonated in the air for a moment. Daniel lost control of his expression and could feel the distortion of his face become more prominent.
“No, that’s impossible. He didn’t even know the details of the operation. He wanted deniability.”
“Because that’s what I told him to tell you.”
“You told him?”
“Smith has made some mistakes in his political career, but no doubt the biggest blemish on his sterling record was getting in bed with me during his first term, as many young politicians do. After our first arrangement, he didn’t feel that my methods represented his core values, so he wanted out. I told him I would let him go, but it would be at my convenience. Not his. When he gave me the information on your botched operation that was him clearing his debt with me.”
“I don’t… That’s…”
After all the speeches, meetings, and secrecy, Daniel had been fed to the wolves by someone who he considered a friend. Someone who he’d stuck his neck out for during the vote of Jones’s bill, someone he trusted.
“Why are you telling me this?” Daniel asked.
“I know that you’re working with Smith and Edwards. I want to know where they’re keeping the doctor.”
The fear and apprehension that had plagued him all morning slowly began to be replaced with anger. Daniel’s face reddened. He curled his fingers into fists. He pushed himself out of the chair and stormed out of Jones’s office. When the elevator doors closed, he could still hear the faint, violent laughter coming from Jones’s office.
10
Brooke wrestled with the decision all night. The dark circles under her eyes were a sign of her struggle. Ultimately, though, she knew she only had one option. She had to go into Phoenix.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Brent said.
“My family can’t stay here, Brent. I need to get to North Carolina, and I won’t be able to do that without a vehicle. Now, unless you have something around here?”
“No. Nothing that I can give you.”
“Then it’s settled.”
The next order of business was to figure out what to do with her children. She knew that bringing them into the city would be dangerous, but she still wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable leaving her kids with these people. In the end, she knew that if something happened to her, Emily and John would have a better chance of survival with this group.
“I should be coming with you,” John said.
“Your job is to protect your sister.”
“But I can help.”
“I know you can, and this is how you can do it.”
Emily wrapped her arms around Brooke’s legs and squeezed. Brooke picked her up and wiped the dirt away from her cheek before she kissed it.
Brent was kind enough to loan back some of the water and food rations they’d bartered so she could have supplies for the trip. The boxes of ammunition for her pistol were one of the few items that hadn’t been destroyed in the Mexicans’ assault.
“If you don’t make it back,” Brent said, “I’ll make sure your kids are well taken care of.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s a three-hour walk to Phoenix. I would stay off the main roads the closer you get. Make it difficult for someone to find you.”
“I will.”
“Good luck.”
Brooke gave Emily another kiss, and John didn’t grimace when he received one on the cheek. She adjusted the strap on the pack Brent had loaned her and started the long walk to Phoenix.
Two miles before she made it to the edge of Phoenix, Brooke moved off the road and trudged through the sand. Each step forward thrust her foot downward into the hot, grainy earth. It took twice as much effort to trek through the desert as it did on the road.
Brooke pulled one of her water bottles from the side carrier of her pack and pulled her shemagh down to take a drink. The water was warm, but she still took the time to down the water for at least ten seconds. Whenever she traveled through the desert on foot, she always made sure to drink in large gulps. People often made the mistake of sipping their water to try and conserve what they had left. There were always horror stories of people dying from dehydration with full canteens still in their hands.
The desert ended as Phoenix’s city limits began. Brooke crossed the threshold and traded one desolate wasteland for another. Smoke from fires rose upward into the sky. The smaller fires she passed added to the already-scorching heat. Hell would be cooler than her current location.
Brooke’s pistol was holstered on her hip. She’d only ever worn the holster the handful of times she’d made it to the range, but her hazardous surroundings warranted the revolver being closer to her grip. If someone came down on her, she didn’t want to worry about fumbling the gun out of her pocket or waistband.
The streets of the city had long been abandoned. The roads were riddled with cracks and potholes. Whatever money the city had generated before the exile wasn’t being used on road repairs.
She glanced at the skyscrapers above, built during a time when water still flowed through the veins of the city, giving it life. Now, most of the building doors were boarded up, and the massive buildings had wilted from the heat. There wasn’t room for giants here.
Most of the city had been migrating east long before the president’s announcement. She knew the population here had dwindled, but she still had yet to see a single soul, which she found odd.
Brooke stepped lightly. She checked behind her, to the side, and in front for anyone that could jump out at her. The hairs on the back of her neck kept sticking up. She had the overwhelming sense that someone was watching her.
A trashcan crashed in the alley next to her. Brooke pulled her gun. The only thing she saw was a cat crawling out from behind the rolling can.
Brooke let out a sigh. Her whole body immediately loosened to jelly, and she holstered her pistol. The cat was small, and she could see the animal’s ribcage. She bent down, trying to coax the animal out.
“Come here. It’s okay,” Brooke said.
The cat growled and hissed. The hair on its back stood straight up, and it backed up beneath the dumpster into hiding. Brooke shrugged it off.
“Well, I was always a dog person anyway,” she said.
Brooke’s knee popped when she stood from her crouched position. Her legs were stiff. She was rubbing her thigh when she heard the rumble of an engine at the alley’s street entrance. The truck never crossed by, but she heard the slam of doors and men’s voices.
Two men appeared at the end of the alley. Brooke tried making out their faces, but the position of the sun cast them in shadows.
“Hello, there,” the man called out.
“Hello,” Brooke said.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Hey, listen, do you know where we can get to the military base from here? We’re on our way to see my cousin who’s a cadet there, and we got turned around.”
Brooke’s hand went to her revolver. She took a few steps forward, looking for any weapons they might have, but she could see both pairs of hands, and they had no visible rifles or pistols on them.
“Are you from around here?” his partner asked.
“The base is north of here,” Brooke answered.
“Thanks. Hey, do you think you could point it out to us on a map? We’ve got our truck with us just around the corner.”
Brooke kept her hand on the revolver. When she was close enough for the two men to see the weapon, both of them put their hands in the air.
“Whoa. Hey, we don’t want any t
rouble,” the man said.
Both stepped backward. While keeping their hands in the air, they pointed around the corner of the alley. Brooke took her hand off the pistol, and the two men relaxed. They disappeared around the corner, and when Brooke followed them, she saw a red truck caked in sand. The same truck that had chased her through the Mojave.
Brooke reached for the pistol again and fired shots at the two men, who were sprinting to the truck. They grabbed rifles out of the truck bed and fired back. Bullets ricocheted off the building walls as Brooke jumped back into the alley for cover.
She crouched behind the wall, her knees hovering just above the ground. She aimed the pistol around the corner and emptied the revolver’s chamber. The bullets thumped into the side of the truck as both men ducked.
Brooke reached into her pack for more ammo. As she loaded the 9mm bullets into the chamber, she heard the truck engine start up. She sprinted down the alleyway to try and get to the other end. A few of the bullets spilled from her hand as she ran, clinking against the asphalt.
She turned around to see the truck barreling toward her. Brooke aimed the pistol and fired, sending bullets into the windshield. The glass cracked and the truck swerved, slamming into the alley walls, knocking off both side mirrors. Then it crashed into the dumpster, crumpling the truck’s hood.
Smoke filled the alleyway, and Brooke kept the revolver aimed at the truck. Her boots crunched over the small shards of glass from the broken driver-side window as she approached. The driver’s head hung limp, and blood soaked his chest.
The man in the passenger seat moaned. He stirred, but Brooke kept her pistol aimed at him.
“I can’t feel my arm,” he said.
Brooke could feel the small sliver of steel that was the revolver’s trigger. All she had to do was pull. She had killed those Mexican raiders that attacked her. He was no different than them.
“Hey, lady, don’t do this,” he said.
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