“When Lazzo brought the girls here, he told the men where I’d fallen from the boat,” Sam shouted. Reagan got him to lower his voice a little, and he continued. “I was swimming back towards Redemption when they found me. Lazzo told them the entire mission would be blown if they didn’t bring me in. I don’t know for sure that Lazzo told them to keep me alive, but I suspect as much—or why wouldn’t they have killed me? I think if Lazzo had wanted to kill me with his shot, he easily could have. He was only eight feet away. Bullet went straight through.” Sam showed everyone the scar just below his right collarbone. “I think he hoped I’d live.”
The Pack members listened and looked at each other. Lazzo had been a trained military operative in Libya. That was possible.
“Do we know anything about Hayley?” Sam asked. He sat down on a pile of bricks, his eyes moving from face to face—anxious for anyone to mouth a reply or nod their head. He looked like he was anticipating bad news.
Deacon knelt beside him. “No one knows where they are. Last Damien heard from Danny, they were still in Colorado.”
“But Hayley was still alive?” Sam was shouting again.
Royce nodded. “Yes.”
Sam breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was all he could ask for right now.
“What about my mom?” Everyone turned to look at Emily.
This time Reagan was the one to speak. “That was the first thing I asked them, honey. They haven’t heard from her in a while.” She was careful to mask her concerns regarding the devastating storm surge. “But we’re going to go find out as soon as we can.”
The Pack had left their tablets and dog tags in a duffel bag off the property before they’d breached it. There was no telling where that bag was now. Deacon and Royce set off to try to find a way to message Damien for a pick-up. The rain continued to pummel Kauai, but the rest of them had found enough debris to at least create a small shelter.
Deacon and Royce rejoined the group two hours later. “Damien says ninety minutes.” Deacon flashed them a thumbs up. “Before 4:00 a.m. They’ll pick us up and we’ll all go to Redemption.”
“What did they say about my mom?” Emily asked.
“Nothing. Sorry. We forgot to ask.” Royce replied.
“Storm should be mostly gone by then.” Deacon added, glancing up at the rain. “Everything we saw looks like this.” He gestured at the mess surrounding us. “Like the aftermath of an EF4 tornado back home in Oklahoma… That’s an insane storm surge.”
The devastation was hard to believe, but Deacon knew—all of us did—that without the wave the girls and Sam would probably have been dead soon. Circumstances in Colorado had gotten so bad so fast, it was only a matter of time until the Libyan commander had called in the order to finish them off. But the good fortune here would mean little with bad fortune elsewhere.
Reagan knew Royce had lied to Emily about her mother—she’d seen it written all over Deacon’s face when he’d let Royce answer. That meant they had bad news, but Reagan couldn’t ask them about it now—not in front of Emily.
She waited for the opportunity to pull him aside and when she finally got it she was blunt with Deacon. “Don’t BS me—what do you know about Redemption?”
He turned away from the girls and leaned in towards Reagan. “It’s not good.”
FIFTY-NINE – Happy Place (Tara)
Early Morning Hours
---------- (Thursday. August 11, 2022.) ----------
Redemption Island
In the movie Happy Gilmore, when everything is going wrong for the namesake protagonist, he is urged to find his “happy place.” That location is not geographical but imaginative, and while ludicrous in Gilmore’s case, Ryan, being the dork he was, always used to urge me—when I was sad or moody—to find my own “happy place.”
The problem was Ryan was my “happy place.” When I was sick, or missing my parents, or struggling with anything else, he was the one who lifted me up. He physically and emotionally lifted me up. He had his corny jokes, his incessant flirting, his inappropriate pinching, and his impeccable terrible timing. He had everything that made me smile when I needed it. I knew that. I always knew that, yet when I lost Emily, I placed all the blame on Ryan. He knew that. I know he knew that.
Ryan had apologized a dozen times. He couldn’t have meant it more than he clearly did, but I never let him off the hook. I never openly accepted his apology. I was always afraid Emily was gone for good. Now they both might be.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I shook my head and looked down at Ollie, who had finally fallen asleep. Kate was also asleep, curled up in a ball, holding her stomach. She was weak, had lost a lot of blood, and was shivering like crazy, but keeping her out of the rain was all I could do for her. There were no blankets, towels, or anything dry of any sort for me to cover her up with. Kate just had to survive.
From time to time, I would poke her to force a grunt or groan, my only assurance Kate was still conscious enough to know what was going on around her. Every ten minutes or so, I reminded Kate that someone had to be coming for us. Someone had to know the island had been hit by the tsunami. Kate would mumble something back but never anything intelligible. I was starting to worry that if or when someone did arrive, it would be too late for Kate.
I drifted in and out of my memories. I remembered the last night Ryan had come into our room. He was frisky as usual, but I had pushed him away, over and over again. He finally gave up and left. I had shut the light off and rolled over—facing away from the door toward the mirror on the wall. A few minutes later, I saw Ryan appear in the doorway, and he stood there for at least twenty minutes—silently watching me. He was still there when I fell asleep. He didn’t know what to say or do. He only wanted me to let him in to whatever I was feeling, but I just left him standing there. I completely shut him out.
When the storm hit, he had been there with his arms wrapped around me, whispering in my ear, telling me he loved me, and telling me everything would be okay. He was right, and he was wrong. This was not okay. Everything was not okay.
As much as I knew I loved Ryan, I had not said it back to him once tonight. I hadn’t given him any indication that I’d forgiven him for something that wasn’t even his fault. I hadn’t done what I should have done for the only man I’d ever loved. It was too late now. Ryan was gone. The ache in my heart made me want to scream. I thumped my head back against the tree trunk behind me, bit my trembling lip, and screamed inwardly. Damn it, Tara. Damn it. I shook my head and thumped it against the tree trunk once more. You’re such an idiot. You stupid, selfish, stupid woman.
At some point I must have drifted off, because something suddenly jolted me wide-awake. The rain had almost completely died down—we had to be at the edge of the hurricane—and I swore I could hear a motor. Or a boat. I tried to stand and realized I was holding something—Ollie. Wow, snap out of it.
I reached over and poked Kate. There was no grunt or groan this time. Shit. “Kate.” I poked her again. “Kate.” I shoved her. “Kate.”
Finally there was a low moan and a little movement. “They’re coming,” I said, though I wasn’t yet certain of that, or of what it was I’d heard. “Someone is coming.” No reply from Kate. This is not good. Hold on girl. Just hold on.
And then there was a light in the sky. Or was it two? They were distant and looked at first like parallel shooting stars, but they were coming right at us—getting bigger. And louder. The lights were approaching from Kauai. Within minutes, the sound accompanying the lights was unmistakable. Helicopters. I wanted to stand up and scream, “Help,” but moving hurt way too much. I raised one arm in the air and waved it weakly, even though I was certain they couldn’t yet see me. “We’re right here.” Did I say that out loud or just think it?
I reached out and poked Kate again. “They’re here.” I kissed the top of Ollie’s head. “They’re here, baby.”
A couple minutes later, the helicopters were circling overhead, with several spotlights sear
ching the ground for life. I continued to wave my arm, and finally the light settled on our makeshift shack. Finally the light focused in on us. The helicopter moved off a few hundred yards, the light disappearing, but I knew they’d seen us. I knew someone was coming.
The next few minutes of darkness felt like an eternity, and the voice I heard next couldn’t have been real. It had to be an angel.
“Mommy, Mom, I’m here,” it said. It sounded like she was shouting.
I heard myself say, “You don’t have to shout.” And then someone took Ollie from my arms. Then I too was being lifted up. That was when I passed out.
SIXTY – Blaze of Glory (Hayley)
---------- (Thursday. August 11, 2022.) ----------
9:00 a.m. Near Big Bear Lake. California.
One minute Blake was telling us how crazy it was that there was this much water in Bear Creek—“This was dried up a decade ago. They have to have blown the dam up top.”
The next minute he was pulling us to a stop and hushing us.
“What?” I asked.
“I know that sound.”
All I could hear was the river beside us. Danny and Eddie were looking around. The rest of us were staring at Blake. Then we heard a strange crackling and popping sound—like God was eating a bowl of Rice Krispies. Blake nodded. “Yep.”
We could smell the smoke well before we could see the fire. And then flames were everywhere, converging on us from every direction.
On the map we were just west of where Keller Creek joined Bear Creek. We had been descending quickly through the rocks beside the river for the past two hours, somehow avoiding detection from the dozens of choppers and planes that had passed overhead, and the occasional truck of troops that rolled by on the Santa Ana Trail alongside the river.
They had to think we were hiding—couldn’t be thinking we were on the move—thus the reason for the fire … for all the fires. The hills around us were ablaze. It was smart, and it was stupid. On the one hand, if we were hiding, we’d probably be dead soon—either from the smoke or the fire. But they could also be funneling us toward water, toward one of the seven or eight creeks that came down out of the mountains where we’d last been seen. They could be trying to narrow their search avenues.
The heat made it a stupid move. If they were tracking us with thermal imaging—with THIRST systems—the fires would make that method useless. They’d have to track us visually now. Which meant they’d either have choppers hovering over the rivers, or …
They’d have snipers in position to catch us fleeing.
Blake saw the first snipers before they saw us. He waved us down and indicated there were four of them ahead—set up at the next bend in the river. They were close to where Alder Creek and Hemlock Creek met up with Bear Creek and Breakneck Creek. “There’s a steep drop a short ways around that bend,” Blake pointed at the wall of rocks south of the river. With this much water there’s going to be a few small waterfalls there. It’s the perfect place for an ambush.”
He motioned that there were two snipers high and two low. I could see all four of them. They definitely didn’t know we were coming. Yet. The loud popping of the approaching flames masked the approaching choppers so we didn’t know they were near until they passed directly overhead. I don’t know how they didn’t see us—or maybe they did—but they moved on down the valley and we remained frozen, waiting for Danny to give us instructions.
Danny moved over to Eddie and pointed to a large rock hanging over part of the river. I saw Eddie reach his hand out for Ava’s, and she took it, following him out of sight. Danny then turned to Flynn and told her to go with them. She looked at me, and I nodded. Best to do what he asks.
Then he turned to me and told me to go with them. No way. I shook my head. “Forget it,” I told him. “You and Blake can’t do this on your own.”
“Hayley, I can’t trust you to—”
“Damn it, Danny, yes you can.” I slapped the water. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. “I made one mistake. It won’t happen again. You need me out there.”
He paused, and I could see in his eyes I wasn’t wrong. He did think he needed someone else’s help. He just wasn’t sure yet if that person was me. “Fine. You want to help, you do exactly what I say.”
“Okay.”
“Hayley, I mean it. Exactly.”
“Okay.” I get it.
It would be hard to approach the snipers without being seen. Those guys were specifically watching this river for any movement. I watched Danny slip into the water, submerge to eye level, and start drifting downstream toward the four identified snipers. Danny’s rifle was wrapped in a black plastic bag and he held it just above the water—as he searched for a spot to set up.
He was headed directly for a large log in the river, and he swam up behind it--apparently unseen. He was about three hundred yards from the snipers now. He turned and motioned for Blake to follow him, and Blake slipped into the water beside me. Blake moved smoothly and quickly away from me—toward Danny—and a couple minutes later they were side by side behind the log.
Danny and I had always used decoys when duck hunting back in Minnesota. I didn’t like shooting ducks, but they were great bow practice, so I always went along and typically hit my fair share. But using decoys and being a decoy are two very different things. I knew what Danny wanted me to do, and my racing heart clearly understood the implications, but I had volunteered. He knows what he’s doing. It just feels stupid.
When I saw him gesture at me, I took a deep breath. Twenty feet to that rock. Scream, thrash, and dive deep. I took one more deep breath and moved to the middle of the river. I stood up and screamed—twice even for good measure—and then I darted back and forth in the water like I was insane for about five seconds. Finally, I dove underwater and swam straight for the rock in the middle of the river. I had no way of knowing if my scene had been seen—if I’d done enough. I did, however, know I hadn’t been shot, so—if nothing else—I was at least alive enough to try it again.
I waited two minutes as instructed and peeked around the corner of the rock toward the log where Danny and Blake had been. They weren’t there anymore. I looked back at the rock where I’d come from, and Eddie, Flynn, and Ava were all staring at me. I shrugged. I still didn’t know if the plan had worked.
-------------------
The snipers saw Hayley. Immediately. But her antics were bewildering enough to get them to leave their cover for a closer look. As one of them set up to take a shot, he was taken out instead. By the time the guys on higher ground realized they’d been duped, they were too exposed to escape. Blake took one down, and Danny shot the other. But the fourth sniper was on the run.
He disappeared around the bend. Danny wrapped his gun back in the bag as Blake sprinted out of the water. Blake ran along the edge of the river toward the cliffs, and climbed for higher ground, where one of the snipers had been stationed earlier. Danny meanwhile was swimming quickly down the river. He swam past the three fallen snipers and was rapidly approaching a small waterfall. He could see the last sniper still fleeing in the distance. As he closed on the waterfall, he found his footing, stepped up out of the water, and leaped off the falls. He fell through the air and back into the deep water at the base of the falls—managing for the most part to keep the bagged rifle up. He heard two shots behind him and saw the fleeing man fall. But then he saw him get back up. He heard two more shots, but they must have both missed—they didn’t further affect the fleeing soldier. Blake only had one more round in that rifle. Danny knew he wouldn’t use it. It was up to Danny now.
Danny continued to paddle furiously through the water. He was gaining ground on the injured man, who appeared to be dragging his right leg. Danny was approaching another waterfall now, this one considerably taller than the last. He watched the sniper disappear out of sight, climbing down the falls on the left. A large tree was hanging out over the falls, and as far as Danny could tell, it wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what h
it it. As Danny crested the waterfall, he reached out for a sturdy branch and caught on to it, pulling himself up. He saw the sniper set up behind a rock seconds before he felt a bullet tear through his left arm. The swaying tree had prevented a kill shot.
Danny knew he wouldn’t be able to set up his own rifle shot hanging from this branch, so he followed his instincts and tossed the rifle. He knew the sniper would see it fall. But he also knew the sniper was trying to guarantee his next shot was fatal. He’d let the gun go. Danny looked below him at the churning water, took a deep breath, and dropped the eight to ten feet from the branch toward the deepest part of the pool.
He hit the water and dove to the bottom, anchoring himself to a large boulder. His left arm burned, but he clenched his teeth and quickly drew his Springfield from its holster. He held his position underwater as long as he could, waiting for any sign of the sniper. He couldn’t hold out much longer—his lungs were on fire now. Fortunately, the man finally gave himself away—about forty seconds later—anxious to exact revenge for his own injury. Danny saw a shadow loom over the edge of the churning pool and knew he was there—waiting for that last shot, if it was even necessary. Maybe he thought Danny was already dead.
Danny pulled his cap out of the pocket on his cargo pants and let it float up. As it breached the surface, Danny saw the familiar trace of a bullet fired through water—not unlike a jet stream racing across the sky. The guy was trigger-happy—nervous. Danny knew he had two or three seconds before the sniper was ready for him again. He couldn’t let that happen. Danny shoved toward the surface, swinging his Springfield up as he broke through the water and emptied the magazine into the man standing at the edge of the pool—four, five, six, seven shots. The man staggered back and fell—clearly dead—and Danny gasped for air. His arm was aching and bleeding—the bullet had torn straight through his left triceps.
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