by Tiffany Snow
They reached the corner and he took a breath, letting it out as he peered around, his rifle held at the ready. He kept his eyes straight ahead and waited for the pressure of a palm on his back, signaling that his six was clear and they could keep going.
He moved quickly. There was an elevator, but stairs were preferable. They were also clear of threats. Two more men peeled off for a safe retreat, leaving four for the hostage team.
Clark’s heart rate was beating double-time, the adrenaline in his veins giving him the heightened awareness he needed. Especially when he emerged from the stairwell to see a guard. The guard looked shocked to see him, which worked to Clark’s advantage. Before he could bring his weapon up, Clark had plugged three rounds into his center mass. He went down.
Time to move before more arrived.
“Presence is announced,” Clark said in his mic. “Gloves are off.”
They made it down the corridor and took the sixth one on the right. Two more guards went down in a flurry of bullets. Fourth room on the left. The pressure on Clark’s back gave him the go-ahead . . . and he kicked in the door.
He’d been expecting to find China, and he wasn’t disappointed. But what he saw horrified him.
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
21
It took me thirty minutes to find what I needed in the room. Once I had my supplies, I got to work. Of course, it took hours, and even then, I wasn’t finished. Plus, I had to keep stopping when people came, hiding my stuff underneath the mattress.
Food—normal food—arrived. At least, I hoped it was normal. It appeared to be a turkey sandwich, but I didn’t eat the turkey—just the bread, lettuce, and tomato. No way was I eating any more meat they brought.
I worked until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I had to start over four times. I didn’t even bother changing out of my dress, just hiked it up so I could sit cross-legged on the floor. I slept for a few hours, then woke up and went back to work.
There was a knock at the door and breakfast was delivered. A bagel and a banana. Not exactly a buffet of options. I worked faster because I fully expected my stay of execution to be coming to an end. And I was right.
I slid the piece of laminate into the cleavage of my dress as another knock sounded. I pushed my glasses up my nose and got to my feet as the door opened. My limbs were stiff and I winced as feeling started coming back into my right foot.
It was the same two men who’d escorted me back to my room. I followed them to the same place I’d been last night. Lu was waiting, wearing a freshly pressed suit, sitting behind a modern glass desk, and drinking tea from a fragile, porcelain cup.
“Good morning,” he said. “Have a seat. I was just checking up on a few things.”
I sat down, glancing to where he gestured. It was Granny again, but this time I was prepared for the sight of her. I steeled myself, looking at all the screens and feeling my chest tighten. Then one of the screens caught my eye. I looked closer, then let out a slow breath, relief flooding through me.
“I take it you have made your decision,” Lu continued.
I nodded. “Yes, I did.”
He smiled. “Excellent. I thought you might see it my way.”
“Then you’re going to be disappointed,” I said. “I’m not going to enable this facility to position itself as Big Brother of the entire planet, nor am I going to ignore the fact that doing so would also likely instigate a series of domino-like events that would result in World War Three.”
The smile had long since fled from his face. “So you are going to consign your beloved grandmother to pain and agony rather than do my bidding.”
“My Granny is safe and sound,” I said, praying I was right. “And I’m betting you have no idea where she is. These videos are old.” I gestured to the screens. “From before I even went to see her. So threatening me with hurting her isn’t going to work.”
Lu’s expression was hard, his eyes cold as he watched me. “You are very astute,” he said. “I had hoped it would not come to this.”
I lifted my chin despite the chill that went through me. “One person’s life isn’t worth what you’re asking me to do.”
“Well. I suppose we will see exactly how far you’re willing to go for that belief.”
Not exactly comforting words, but I’d expected nothing less.
He nodded at the guards. “Take her to Garrison Six. Encourage her to see my point of view.”
I sprang up from my seat, yanking the piece of laminate from my dress, and ran to the nearest door. They all had the same scanner next to them. I slammed my palm on it, the laminate in my hand. The blue lasers scanned my palm, highlighting the marks I prayed I’d made correctly. I waited, holding my breath, and it was just as I was hauled away from the scanner that it turned green.
I let out my breath and turned to see Lu on his feet.
“What did you do?” he asked. I smiled. “Tell me! What is that? Bring that here, whatever she has.”
The guard pried the piece from my hand and dragged me with him like a rag doll as he took it to Lu. Lu looked at it, turning it over in his hand, then held it up to the light.
“What is this?” he asked me.
“That’s for me to know and you to, well, I’m sure you can fill in the blank.”
His lips thinned. “Get her out of my sight.”
The guards were none too gentle this time, and I wasn’t taken back to my room. I was taken to a frigid, moldy cell with concrete walls and floor, and nothing in it but a hole in the ground. I didn’t want to think about what I was supposed to do in that little hole.
The guy holding me gave me a shove and I stumbled, falling to the floor. It was damp and dirty and I cringed in disgust.
“The boss said we should persuade you,” Guard A said. It was the first time I’d heard him speak.
“I think leaving me here to consider my options would be an excellent start,” I quickly replied. “It’s quite uncomfortable and unsanitary.” I didn’t want to consider the germs I was sure were currently crawling all over me.
The guard grinned. “I think we can do a little better.”
The blow hit before I could prepare, a hard kick in my side that hurt so badly, I couldn’t draw breath to scream. It burned inside, like a fire that wanted to consume me.
I was yanked up by my ponytail, my feet scrambling to try to stand. My glasses fell off, clattering to the floor. One arm I wrapped around my middle, the other instinctively raised to try to free my hair. I caught sight of the fist flying toward my face too late to do anything but suck in a breath.
It hit my cheek with the force of a two-by-four, pain exploding in my face and radiating through my head. My eye felt as though it was going to pop from its socket. Darkness clouded my vision and I fought to remain conscious as my head sagged. He held my arms behind me, pain enveloping my shoulders as my weight dragged down.
There was a punch to my stomach, then another, until I was retching, my head hurting so badly it felt as though it was going to fall off my neck. I tasted blood.
“P-please,” I stammered, feeling blood and saliva trickle from my mouth. “Please s-s-stop.”
The guard holding me spoke. “Enough. She’s little. It won’t take much to damage her. He’ll kill us if we do that.”
I was abruptly dropped to the floor, hitting my knees and head on the concrete. Hair covered my face, my ponytail long gone. I heard the door open, then close with a clang of finality.
My entire body hurt and my face was bleeding and beginning to swell. I could feel it. I didn’t know how I was going to go another round of that. There was a sharp pain in my chest every time I drew a breath. I’d never been in such agonizing pain in my life.
I was jerked from unconsciousness by the slam of the door against the wall. Instinct took over and I curled into as tight a ball as I could, tears leaking from my eyes. They were back. They were going to beat me again. I wasn’t some kind of badass. I would cry and beg and probably pee myse
lf.
“Holy shit.”
I heard the words, but didn’t process them. Hands touched me and I whimpered, cringing away.
“Please don’t beat me again,” I begged, hating myself even as I said the words. I should be stronger, hold out longer, but I hurt so badly . . .
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
Tentatively, I looked up. In the dark, with only one good eye and no glasses, all I could see was a black shape. A man. He leaned closer and I could see. His face was painted in black grease but his eyes . . . his eyes were the pure blue of the summer sky.
“Clark?” I was afraid to hope, afraid I was just hallucinating.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me. Now let’s get you out of here.”
He was exceedingly gentle as he lifted me in his arms and I heard him saying things about a “package” and “non-ambulatory,” but I was in too much pain to make sense of it.
I clung to Clark, terrified he’d leave me. I could taste blood mixed with tears and saliva as I rambled nearly incoherently through swollen lips, begging him not to put me down.
“Shh, I’m not going to leave you. Trust me. I’d never leave you.”
There was something really loud and Clark turned fast. Gunfire. It had to be. Then it was all around. I was shaking with fear, burying my head in Clark’s neck. His hold on me was tight enough to hurt, but I didn’t make a sound.
Men were shouting, then we were moving again. More gunfire, then shouting. “Clear!” I prayed and held on, gritting my teeth as each step Clark took sent stabs of pain through me.
Fresh air hit my nostrils and we were moving fast. Gunfire came after us as Clark ran. I finally chanced a look up and saw as he climbed into a rubber boat.
“Go go go!”
The boat’s engine revved and water sprayed. Clark crouched down, covering me with his body as gunfire pinged around us.
“They’re in pursuit,” someone yelled out.
Dread consumed me. They were going to catch us. Kill us. The rescue would be short-lived.
Clark was talking, but into a mic by his mouth. Then he yelled something about a secondary extract. I didn’t understand what was going on. Everything was noise and chaos, water and the rip of the wind as we raced through the waves.
Suddenly, the gunfire stopped and the wind was coming from above, tearing at my hair. The noise was overwhelming. The boat gave a burst of speed and we shot upward, then stopped so abruptly that Clark nearly lost his balance. The wind was gone and so was the water, then the noise level suddenly dropped. A light came on.
“China, can you hear me? Talk to me.”
I couldn’t move, not yet. I was wet and shaking and couldn’t think straight. Had I been rescued? Or was this some elaborate hallucination?
“You’re safe. Talk to me. Say something.” He pulled back and his words penetrated the fog in my brain.
I tipped my head back, trying to see him. When I could finally see him, I heard him suck in a breath. “I’m okay,” I said, my voice a hoarse rasp.
“You are not fucking okay,” he said, brushing my wet hair back from my face. His fingers softly brushed my swollen cheek. “I’m going to kill him.”
“My chest hurts,” I managed to say.
That got his attention. “Okay, baby, I’ll take care of it. Just hold on.” He stood, lifting me up, and pain rocked me again. I whimpered, my eyes squeezed shut and pressing my lips closed so I wouldn’t scream.
We were moving again, then I heard a man speak.
“Thank God. You got her.”
The relief was unmistakable, as was the voice.
“Jackson?”
“Give her to me,” he said.
“Don’t be an ass,” Clark retorted. “She’s hurt and in shock. She needs a medic. Transferring her to you will only increase her pain.”
“She’s hurt? What’s wrong with her?”
I could hear the worry and I wanted to reassure Jackson that I was okay, but it was all I could do not to make oh-God-I’m-hurting-so-much noises.
We were moving again, then I was being carefully laid down on a stretcher. I looked around with my one good eye. The other was swollen shut. I saw Clark on one side of me and Jackson on the other. They looked so good, tears began leaking from the corners of my eyes.
“I can’t believe you came for me,” I managed. “I hoped, but it just seemed . . . impossible.”
“Shh, don’t try to talk,” Jackson said, taking my hand in his. His face was pale and drawn with worry.
A man with a stethoscope around his neck appeared in my line of vision. “Step back,” he ordered. “I need space to work.”
Both Clark and Jackson reluctantly moved away. The man above me smiled kindly. “It’s going to be all right. I know you’re in pain. Can you tell me where?”
I haltingly told him where I hurt and how I’d gotten that way. His face looked grave.
“Okay, I’m going to give you some medication for the pain, and I don’t want you to worry. Try to relax.”
Medicine sounded wonderful and I didn’t utter a peep when he put the IV in. It barely registered on my pain scale. Perspective, I suppose.
Things grew even fuzzier and I saw Clark and Jackson, still hovering. I managed a smile, or what I attempted to be a smile, and held out a hand to them. Jackson took it while Clark hung back.
“I want to go home,” I said, blinking lids that seemed much heavier than usual.
“You bet. You’re going home. And you’ll be better soon.”
“Did it blow up?” I asked. Jackson just looked confused. “The data center,” I said, struggling to form the words through numb lips. “I uploaded fractal code to change the cooling system from Celsius to Fahrenheit. The cooling systems should’ve turned off.”
“I don’t know—”
“Yeah,” Clark interrupted. “It blew as we were bugging out.”
“Good.” I swallowed and blinked again. “Where are we?”
“On a Chinook,” Clark said. “Heading to the Philippines.”
Philippines. That was good. Anything not Chinese was good.
It took longer to open my eyes this time. The doctor was still working on me but I didn’t pay attention to him. I watched Clark and Jackson, who were both watching me. Except I felt happy and they both looked very intense.
I was about to ask them what the problem was, but then there was nothing.
22
I had two cracked ribs, a fractured cheekbone, multiple bruises that made my torso black and blue, broken blood vessels that had turned the white of my eye red, and a swollen and bruised face that made it impossible for me to look in the mirror. Not that I could see very well. I’d lost my backup glasses in that cell.
The doctor kept saying how “lucky” I was. I’d suffered no internal injuries to my organs or bleeding, which surprised him, given my size. If I had, it was likely I would’ve died before I’d been rescued.
I tried to feel grateful, but all I felt was pain.
Jackson hadn’t left my side since they’d brought me into the hospital. He’d insisted on being there for the X-rays and helping me get cleaned up, washing my face with warm water and a cloth.
“How long has it been since you slept?” I asked him as he rearranged the pillows underneath my head. The words came out slurred, my lips partially swollen and split.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, picking up a plastic cup of water with a straw and holding it to my lips. “Drink. You need water.”
I obediently drank. “When can we go home?”
“You shouldn’t be moved yet,” he said. “You need time to rest.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Please,” I said. “Please take me home. I want to go home.”
His gaze searched my face, then he nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll make it happen.”
Jackson was as good as his word. In a few hours, I was being loaded onto a private jet, stretcher and all, and though I kept telling him
I could walk, he refused to let me.
“If I’m taking you home, then you’re going under my rules,” he said.
A doctor and nurse came along, which I thought was overkill, not to mention an imposition on them.
“They can stay overnight in a hotel and I’ll send them back tomorrow,” Jackson assured me. “Your health is the most important thing right now.”
I didn’t remember much after that. The doctor kept me in a foggy state with pain medication and sedatives. Jackson sat in a leather chair next to me and the few times I woke, he had fallen asleep. His eyes had dark circles under them and he had several days’ growth of beard on his jaw. I reached out and took his hand in mine, then fell back asleep.
Jackson insisted on taking me to his place and I didn’t put up too much of a fight, especially when he explained that Granny and Mia were enjoying his French chalet in Vail, complete with housekeeper, butler, and chef . . . and a dozen armed security guards.
I finally got to walk as I refused to let him carry me up the stairs like some kind of pathetic attempt to recreate the scene from Gone with the Wind. Lance was ahead of us, wringing his hands and fussing like a mother hen over me as Jackson steered me toward his bedroom. He’d looked stricken with shock when he’d first set eyes on me.
“Are you hungry? You must be hungry. What would you like? Soup? Yes, I bet soup would be best. Nice and warm, hearty and healthy. I’ll be back with soup.” And off Lance went.
I chuckled a bit as I shucked my shoes and climbed into bed. “I must really look like hell if he’s running off to cook soup for me. Just tell him not to put kale in it, please.”
“Got it,” Jackson said with a smile. “No kale.” He tucked me in, brushed a kiss to my forehead, and followed Lance downstairs.
It felt so good to be in a real bed again, and not just any bed, but with Jackson. And to have normal clothes. He’d given me one of his shirts, which I was loath to change out of. So we laid in bed, ate soup and crunchy bread, then I made him take off his shirt and curled up against his chest, resting my uninjured cheek on his warm skin.
