Dauntless (Lawless Saga Book 4)

by Tarah Benner

  “Wait here,” said Reyes, gesturing to the chairs and walking up to the front desk. A woman who looked like a civilian was seated behind the counter, and when Reyes bent over to speak to her, he kept his voice too low to hear.

  Lark saw the woman’s eyes drift over to them, and her feelings of concern intensified. She disappeared down a hallway to their right, and they all waited in strained silence.

  Minutes ticked by as they waited in the lobby, and Lark began to wonder if it had all been a setup. Staff Sergeant Reyes was still standing with his back to them, talking into his radio.

  Finally he ended his conversation, and Lark saw a middle-aged man in air force blues coming down the hallway. They all shuffled to their feet, and Reyes offered a salute. The man returned it with a garbled “carry on” and approached Conrad first.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Perry,” said the man, extending a hand.

  “Colonel Kelly,” said Conrad, taking Perry’s outstretched hand.

  Lieutenant Colonel Perry had dark-brown hair that was peppered with gray and the burned-out look of a high-school principal. He turned to Soren, who shook his hand and introduced himself as Michael.

  Lark swallowed. They had talked about this. She would have felt safer if Conrad had given a fake name, too, but they knew his rank and name still carried some clout, and if the Cheyenne Mountain incident hadn’t gotten back to the airmen yet, they would have no idea that he’d been involved.

  “Diana,” said Lark.

  “Joe,” said Simjay nervously, his mouth contorting in a series of facial gymnastics as he struggled to pull a surname out of his ass. “Joe — Shneegle.”

  Lark suppressed an eye roll.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Simjay stammered.

  “Likewise,” said Perry, studying him with more scrutiny than he’d given Lark or Soren. “Staff Sergeant Reyes tells me that you have pertinent information for us,” he said, directing this statement to Conrad.

  “Yes,” said Conrad excitedly. “I think you’ll find it very promising.”

  “Excellent,” said Perry in a distracted voice. “Well, I need to ask you a few questions first. Standard procedure. You understand. I’m sure the information you have is very interesting, but the security of the base is our number one priority.”

  “Of course,” said Conrad.

  Perry nodded down the hall in the direction he’d come and gestured for them all to follow. “Why don’t you step into my office, and we’ll get this out of the way first.”

  They all nodded in agreement, though inside Lark was screaming. They hadn’t planned for an interrogation. They’d all come up with a fake name and hometown, but they hadn’t created in-depth cover stories for themselves.

  What if Perry saw through their lies? Had he heard about Cheyenne Mountain and the escaped felons from San Judas? If he had, would he put it together that they were three of the missing fugitives?

  Fortunately, Lark didn’t have much time to dwell on her worries. Perry led them straight into his office, and they all sat down on the other side of his desk. The room was cramped and furnished with outdated wood paneling, but there was an official air to the brass nameplate on Perry’s desk and the award plaques hanging around the room.

  Once they were seated, Lark had a chance to study his uniform up close. She didn’t know what all the service ribbons on his jacket meant, but she knew enough to see that he was highly decorated.

  “It was good of you to come here,” said Perry conversationally. “We’re trying so hard to stay one step ahead, so we appreciate you sharing what you know.”

  “Of course,” said Conrad, nodding with the same jerky air that had made Lark question whether he was in his right mind.

  Perry smiled. At least it looked as though he were trying to smile, but there was something about him that made Lark squirm.

  “So . . . Joe,” he said, pulling out what looked like some sort of official form. “Let’s start with you.”

  There was an uncomfortable delay as Simjay realized that Perry was addressing him.

  “Me?” He looked startled, and Soren kicked him under the table. “Oh, yeah. Right. Okay.”

  Lark gripped the edges of her armrests and tried to suppress an eye roll. If Simjay didn’t get his act together, he was going to blow all their covers.

  “Joe Shneegle you said it was?”

  Simjay’s eyes grew round with panic, and Lark knew that he was trying to remember the name he’d given Perry. “Uh . . . yes. S-H-N-E-E-G-L-E. It’s German.”

  Perry raised one eyebrow, either in annoyance or suspicion, but he jotted down Simjay’s fake name and looked back at him with his pen hovering over the page.

  “And where are you from originally?”

  “Santa Barbara,” he said, so quickly that Lark knew he had inadvertently given his real hometown. “I-I mean, I was born in Santa Barbara, but I was living in Denver,” he added.

  “Really?” said Perry. “Why did you decide to make the move?”

  “Grad school.”

  “And you stayed in Denver after the crash?”

  “For a little while,” said Simjay. Lark could tell he was purposely keeping it vague to avoid being caught in a lie.

  “And what brings you to New Mexico?”

  “Conrad . . . er, Colonel Kelly was a friend of the family,” said Simjay. “I tracked him down and asked for his help.”

  “I see. You said you were looking for your family?”

  “Yeah. I hadn’t heard from them in a long time, and I was worried.”

  “And you thought Colonel Kelly could help you?”

  Simjay nodded.

  “Because they were living in the area?”

  “N-no,” said Simjay. “I just thought they might have gotten in touch.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Perry frowned as he made a note on his report, and Lark knew that he wasn’t buying any of it. “Colonel Kelly hadn’t been in touch with you or your family?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And you stayed with him anyway, rather than going off on your own to find them?”

  “Yeah,” said Simjay, fidgeting in his seat. There was a look in his eyes that Lark couldn’t quite place. It was almost as though he felt guilty.

  “I see.” He made a note in his report, tying off the last line with a flourish. “And what about you, Michael?”

  “Not much to say about me,” Soren mumbled.

  “Where are you from?”

  “I lived on the rez up north with my grandfather.”

  “Which one?”

  “Navajo Nation.”

  “And why did you leave?”

  “The rez wasn’t great before everything happened,” said Soren coldly. “Things got even worse for us.”

  “And your grandfather?”

  Soren averted his eyes. “Dead.”

  Again, Lark caught a glimmer of truth to his words, and she realized she’d never asked him what had become of his grandparents.

  “Do you have any other family?”

  “No,” said Soren, a note of finality in his voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. What’s your business with Colonel Kelly?”

  “We met by chance,” said Soren. “I’d run out of fuel. He gave me a lift.”

  Perry nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.

  “And you?” he said to Lark.

  Lark opened her mouth to speak, but Soren cut in first. “She’s with me,” he said harshly. “Can we get on with this?”

  Lieutenant Colonel Perry’s expression went blank. He didn’t look taken aback by Soren’s words. In fact, he seemed oddly satisfied. He sat there for a moment studying Soren and then put down his pen, got to his feet, and smoothed his jacket.

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?” he asked, crossing to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Perry breezed through the door and slammed it shut behind him, and Lark turned to look at Soren. “What the hell was that about?”

>   “I was sick of all the questions,” said Soren.

  “He has to ask those questions,” Lark hissed.

  “Bullshit. He had his mind made up about us the second we walked through that door. I don’t have anything to prove to him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “All those leading questions . . . He didn’t believe us from the beginning. He’s not going to listen to anything we have to say.”

  “Soren’s right,” said Simjay. “I don’t think he believes us.”

  “I wonder why!” said Lark sarcastically, throwing up her hands.

  Conrad was oddly silent on the topic, but Lark could tell that he felt uneasy.

  “I don’t like this,” said Soren. “Something’s not right.”

  “You only think that because you were acting all shady!”

  Soren shook his head, still fuming.

  Lark sighed. “Just hold on,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom and see if anything feels off out there. Okay?”

  “Be careful,” said Simjay.

  Soren didn’t reply. Lark sensed that he was still annoyed by Perry’s line of questioning. From the sound of things, Soren’s grandfather really was dead, and Perry’s inquiry had hit a little too close to home.

  Lark went out into the hall and was struck once again by how plain everything seemed. The hallway looked exactly the same in either direction, and she had to remind herself which way they’d come.

  She started down the hallway to find a restroom, keeping her eyes peeled for Lieutenant Colonel Perry. But as she drew closer to the main lobby, she heard what sounded like the beep of a radio and the telltale garble of static. She couldn’t make out who was speaking, but she could hear the shuffle of multiple sets of footsteps.

  Lark slowed down so that whoever it was would not hear her approaching. She glided silently toward the end of the hallway, where she could see four men standing in the lobby. They were dressed in air force fatigues, and they were armed.

  “They’re in Perry’s office now,” said a voice that Lark recognized. It was Staff Sergeant Reyes, and he was speaking into his radio.

  Lark stood frozen in the hallway, too terrified to move. But as Reyes continued his conversation, Lark caught the words “security,” “criminal,” and “total lockdown.”

  A jolt of alarm shot down her spine. She had to get back to Perry’s office and warn the others.

  Nearly tripping over her own two feet, Lark backed down the hallway and sprinted toward Perry’s office. Part of her was terrified that she’d run into Perry along the way, but she didn’t see a single person as she sprinted down the long empty hallway.

  She reached the door panicked and out of breath, but when she threw it open, she didn’t have to say a word. Soren was already on his feet, and her expression seemed to confirm his suspicions.

  “I told you!” Soren huffed as they ran down the hallway away from Reyes and the guards.

  “We must — have triggered — some security — red flags,” Conrad huffed.

  “I blame Joe Shneegle,” said Lark testily, fighting against the stitch in her side.

  “Hey!” Simjay called. But he was too out of breath to argue.

  Finally they reached the end of the hallway, and Soren turned right. A glowing red exit sign told them that they were headed in the right direction, but for the lack of landmarks in the stark deserted hallway, they might as well have been running in a maze.

  They flew past dozens of identical-looking doors and walls covered with austere men in uniform, but then Soren rounded the corner, and Lark nearly smacked right into him. They were less than five yards from their exit. Light was flooding in through the tall glass panes, and Lark could see a man in camo standing right outside the door. They were trapped.

  Lark swore and followed Soren, tearing down the hallway in the opposite direction. They passed a wider corridor that looked like a heavily trafficked public area, and Lark caught a whiff of fish sticks and corn.

  “Mess hall?” Soren huffed, looking down the corridor.

  “Must be.”

  They kept on running perpendicular to the mess hall, and the smells of lunch grew stronger. After a moment, Lark heard the low rumble of voices and wondered if they were about to run straight into a room full of airmen.

  Just then, the hallway dead-ended at a set of swinging double doors. Soren burst into the room at lightning speed, and Lark followed him inside.

  She froze. They were standing in an industrial-grade kitchen. The walls were covered in spotless white tile, and every other surface was a gleaming sheet of steel. It was hot and stuffy and reeked of fish, and someone was banging around near the serving line.

  Soren didn’t hesitate. He tore through the prep area past rows of stainless tables, heavy-duty appliances, and tall steel cabinets. Lark’s heart was beating so hard that she thought it might burst, but she gritted her teeth and followed him around the corner.

  She ran past a long conveyer belt that led to the dishwasher and nearly collided with a big round trash can. Her stomach felt queasy from the smell of cleaner and cafeteria food, but she kept following Soren toward the back.

  They tore through a corridor of tall wire shelves, past boxes of fruit cocktail and pallets of tuna. Soren reached a door illuminated by a glowing red exit sign and threw his whole body against it.

  Lark heard the deafening wail of an alarm as she staggered out of the kitchen. Cool fresh air whipped over her face, and they stumbled out into what looked like a no-man’s-land of dumpsters.

  The alarm was still blaring in her ears, and lights were flashing all around the building. Lark couldn’t seem to catch her breath, but she knew they had to keep going. The building was surrounded, and people were looking for them, but they’d managed to find a way out.

  Lark jogged after Soren as fast as she could, heading for the embankment on the other side of the dumpsters. Soren vaulted the low concrete wall and reached down to help pull Lark up. Simjay was huffing along several yards behind her, and Conrad had just emerged, wheezing from exertion.

  They climbed up the hill and saw that the building was surrounded by Humvees. Lark’s heart sank. They might have slipped out of the building, but they were still stuck on the base, and every airman on duty had orders to detain them. They were miles down the highway from where they’d left the others, and their vehicle was on the other side of the building.

  But just as the horrible reality of their situation began to sink in, Lark saw something that caused a swell of triumph in her chest. It was the old red truck, and it was headed right for them.

  At first Lark didn’t understand how that could be, but then she saw Axel sitting behind the wheel.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Soren huffed, shaking his head as Axel approached.

  The truck was still too far away to know for sure, but it looked as though Axel was alone. Lark felt a flutter of concern for Bernie and Portia, but when Axel pulled up and rolled down the window, she could tell from his smugness that the others were fine.

  She had no idea how Axel had managed to steal their truck right under the noses of all those guards, but she didn’t ask. She was sure they’d be hearing about it for the next two days anyway — whether they wanted to or not.

  “Git in,” said Axel, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

  “Where did you —” Simjay puffed, unable to form a coherent sentence. “I mean, how did you —”

  “I told ya this wasn’t a good idea,” said Axel as they climbed into the rusty old pickup. “Ya’ll should jus’ thank your lucky stars ’at you got me aroun’.”

  Lark rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She just climbed in the truck and collapsed against the door. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d been blinded by the spirit of their mission. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, and she’d nearly gotten them all captured.

  Lark swore to herself right then and there that she’d be more careful in the future.
They’d made it this far without getting caught, and she didn’t want to test their luck.

  WINTER

  20

  Lark

  It was the middle of November by the time Lark and the others reached New Vail. They’d taken a lengthy detour after their run-in with the air force, which had led them to several farms in northern New Mexico that were glad to accept their help.

  Conrad had been hounding them to return to Colorado for weeks, and finally they were making the push to get back into the mountains. It wasn’t uncommon for high-altitude areas to get dumped on in November, and they needed to make it to New Vail before the first major snow.

  Portia was nearly eight months pregnant, and her swollen belly served as a constant reminder that they were running out of time. Winter was definitely on its way, and they needed to find a doctor and get settled before the baby came.

  Conrad had assured them that New Vail was lousy with retired OBGYNs, and the revitalized ski town seemed like as good a place as any to hunker down for the winter and help Portia have a baby.

  But as they came up the mountain pass, Lark saw that the trees on either side of the highway were already dusted with snow. The road was a mess of ice and slush, and both the truck and the Subaru were struggling to stay on the highway.

  From the looks of things, someone had already driven the route they were taking. They had left deep divots in the wet, heavy snow, which had thawed and refrozen on the unplowed highway.

  Axel had had the good sense to put chains on both sets of tires, but Lark’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as she watched the pickup fishtail in front of them. The Subaru had all-wheel drive, but it only felt marginally safer as they navigated the mountain pass.

  Lark, Soren, Axel, and Simjay had been driving in shifts while Bernie fussed over Portia. Portia seemed willing to accept all the pampering that Bernie doled out. She’d already received two foot rubs and a scalp massage in the past three hours.