The Heart of War: Book Seven of the What's Left of My World Series

by C. A. Rudolph

  “Where?”

  He gestured in the direction of the duo of parked DHS vehicles behind her. “Inside the trailer on the tail end. Keys to the lock should be with the ones in the ignition.”

  Lauren turned away, retrieved her rifle, and started off without further ado.

  “We caught someone else, too. He’s in there with them. Not sure if he’s with you or not, but he seemed to know the girls.”

  “Christian…” Lauren let slip under breath. “Is he mid to late twenties, bearded, dark hair?”

  August nodded. “Guess that answers my question.”

  After retrieving the keys as indicated, Lauren unlocked the trailer and hesitated before pulling open the double doors while her imagination played tricks with her. She envisioned doing so and a trailer full of armed agents hidden inside tackling her to the ground right before shooting her dead. The H&K at low ready, she snapped off the safety and second-guessed every possible move she could make. Then she dragged the doors ajar.

  Brooke Schmidt’s face was the first to come into view as the morning light crept inside. A couple of years younger and a few inches shorter than Lauren, she jerked her head to attention and began sobbing when she saw her rescuer.

  Lauren unsheathed her knife and ran the blade through Brooke’s restraints. She then carefully removed the strip of tape covering Brooke’s mouth and pulled the gag free.

  Brooke coughed and wheezed and wiped her face. “I need some water, please…anything to drink. I’m so thirsty.”

  “In a minute. Let’s get all of you out of here first.” A few feet farther in, three young girls sat huddled together on the plywood trailer floor, their wrists bound. Emily Taylor, and two girls with golden blond hair who Lauren hadn’t met until this moment: Annabelle and Allison Brady, Austin’s sisters and the late Bo Brady’s two youngest daughters.

  Lauren approached the group of youngsters, set her rifle aside, and carefully went to work on their restraints while they whimpered and jerked their bodies around. After freeing them, she helped each one to her feet and pulled them into a huddle with Brooke. “Girls, listen. I know you’re upset, but this craziness is over now, and you’ll all be going home soon. But there are a few things I need to take care of first. Stay strong, okay? It won’t be much longer.” She regarded the eldest. “Brooke, take them outside, and keep an eye on them. There should be some snacks and bottled water littered inside these trucks.”

  “What about all those agents?” Brooke asked, feeling the ligature marks on her wrists.

  “I handled them.” Lauren looked left to a figure sitting with legs crossed in the trailer’s front corner, a black cylinder of fabric concealing his head and face. “Is that Christian?”

  Brooke nodded. “Yeah. They brought him here a couple of days after they got us. I think they beat him up pretty bad. I hope he’s okay.”

  “Me too,” Lauren said, then sent the girls on their way. “There’s an agent tied up outside near the fire ring. Keep your distance from him.”

  Brooke’s expression went accusatory. “You kept one alive? After what they did?”

  “Yes, and you don’t know the half of it,” Lauren responded. “He’s my problem, and he’ll get his due. Now go.” She turned away and went to Christian, removing his mask.

  He blinked a few times before going fully alert at the sight of her; then his eyes widened as far as his bruises would allow. His face looked clean, but it also looked like he’d gotten into a close scrape with a meat grinder.

  Lauren inspected him a moment, concern building in her eyes. “Jesus. What did they do to you?” She pulled the duct tape covering his mouth away, taking a handful of whiskers with it.

  “Ouggh! Fugg!” the yelp came over the gag in his mouth.

  “Sorry.” She tugged the gag out and tried rubbing away the pain she’d caused, then pulled him close to expose his restraints. “Are you okay?”

  Christian spit out remnants of cloth left behind on his tongue. “Not really,” he said. “But your voice is music to my ears. I didn’t believe it at first. I kept saying to myself, that sounds like her, but there’s no way in hell that’s Lauren.” Feeling her knife free his wrists, he leaned back and looked her over. “How the hell did you find us?”

  “We can talk about it later,” Lauren said. “But the clues you left behind were a big help.”

  Christian lifted his chin in brief satisfaction. “Good to know the struggle wasn’t a waste. Who’s with you?”

  Lauren didn’t answer him.

  “You came alone?”

  No response. She rose, snatched her rifle, and turned away, headed for the exit.

  “Lauren, does anyone even know you’re here?”

  Still, no reply was tendered.

  “No one knows? Are you kidding me?” Christian pressed, straining to his feet. “Dammit, talk about failing to plan. This wasn’t smart at all. I hope you have an escape plan. We can’t stay here—there’s probably ten teams of agents out there waiting to pounce.”

  “There isn’t.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “I went to the source,” she explained, halting at the trailer door. “They’re tracking the trucks with GPS or something. The dashboard touchscreens display their locations on a map. That’s how I found the second camp.”

  “The second camp?”

  “This one.”

  “So there was a first?”

  “There was.”

  “Implying it’s no longer a factor…” Christian surmised.

  Lauren slowly shook her head. “Not since last night.”

  Christian rubbed his wrists, looking sheepishly at her. “Fascinating. How many did you stamp out this time?”

  “It doesn’t matter, but we need to talk about a few things before you go home.”

  “Before I go home? Now why does that sound familiar?”

  Lauren departed the trailer and strode to the SUV closest to camp. Opening the door, she leaned in and turned the ignition key, watching the backlit dashboard indicators come to life. “There’s plenty of gas in this one…and enough room for all of you.”

  Christian inched his way to her as his eyes adjusted to the daylight, looking bewildered. “All of us…”

  “And you might want to disable the tracking system before you head out.”

  He stared hard at her, looking away when his face came into view in the side mirror. “Damn. They made a mess out of me, didn’t they?”

  “There’s a first aid kit mounted to the passenger door panel if you want to clean up,” Lauren advised.

  “Thanks, I might do that. Where are we, by the way? How far from home did they take us?”

  “Not far. There’s a gravel forestry road at the end of this pathway. You can go right or left from there, doesn’t matter. It serpentines along the base of Little Sluice and spits you out below Wolf Gap on the same road. I’m sure you can find your way from there.”

  Christian heard what she’d said, but didn’t respond, now fixated on the DHS agent staring back at him from the other end of the campsite. “Lauren, who the fuck is that?”

  She whipped her head around.

  “You said they weren’t a factor!” he spat, galloping away. “That’s obviously not the case!”

  “I never said—” Lauren gave chase but couldn’t get there in time to prevent an interrogation.

  “Howdy, partner! Remember me?” Christian mildly kicked August Carter’s upper leg. “Remember this face? You should. Because I remember yours!”

  “Get the hell away from me!” the agent grunted his plea.

  “No. I don’t think so. You and your cronies didn’t make it easy on me, so you get the same treatment.” Christian knelt and took hold of August’s chin, then began tapping a finger on the agent’s chest. “Here’s a better view of your work. Take a good look! Bet it makes you proud, doesn’t it?”

  Lauren forced her way between them, breaking Christian’s hold. “That’s enough! Lay off him!”
She dug her heels in and yanked Christian to his feet by the collar, then shoved him with all her might.

  He lost stability and fell backward, landing on his butt. “What the hell? What’s gotten into you? I’m not the enemy, he is!”

  Lauren extended an enraged finger at him. “Stay away from him, Christian! I mean it! The man is injured! His ribs are fractured…and you’re only making it worse.”

  “What? Are you joking? Look at him, Lauren! Do you not recall who he works for? Since when have you ever given a shit about these people?”

  “I haven’t,” Lauren said, her tone losing some steam, “not until a few hours ago, when this one snuffed out one of his own instead of me.”

  Christian tilted his head, unable to get his next question out.

  “Just leave him alone, please. He’s my prisoner…and my problem.”

  Christian rose and brushed off his trousers, then approached her carefully, minding his tone this time. “So here we are. Familiar territory. You’ve lost me again. I don’t get you, and I don’t get what you’re doing. I mean, you’re taking prisoners now?” Hands to his hips, he mocked her. “Have you forgotten everything I’ve told you about these people and their mission? Your effort is admirable, okay? But this trivial shit means nothing to them. They mean to erase us, Lauren! At all costs! I don’t know what else I can say to make that any clearer.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Lauren muttered, choking up. “They’ve made their objectives…abundantly clear.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  She lowered her gaze, hesitating a long moment. “Something terrible happened while you were gone, Christian. Grace needs you there…she’s—”

  Christian moved to square off with Lauren, clutching her by the upper arms. “What about Grace? What happened?”

  “She got hurt,” Lauren said, the words tearing another fissure in her heart. “But she’s not the on—”

  “How did she get hurt? How bad?”

  “I don’t know. She’s unconscious. She lost a lot of blood. The doctors won’t let us see her…they haven’t told us anything.”

  Christian’s face went eerily pale, displaying now the worry of a soon-to-be father. His brow wrinkled and he looked away. “What about the baby?”

  “I don’t know, Christian. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

  He released his grip on her and pulled away, running his fingers through his hair with both hands.

  “They attacked us. A drone launched four missiles into the valley; one of them almost got me. I was with Neo near the shed when it was hit.”

  “The shed? You mean our shed? The one in the backyard?”

  Lauren nodded. “It’s gone, a total loss, along with everything inside. Neo was badly burned, he’s critical now, and he might not make it. But if he hadn’t protected me, I wouldn’t have.” A pause. “They ruined the northern barricade and destroyed the church; eight men from Dave’s unit were killed.” Her lower lip trembled as she forced herself to conclude by divulging the names of those she and Christian knew and had known personally.

  “Wait…what?” he queried, a look of desolation taking him over. “They’re gone?”

  Lauren didn’t say anything, knowing no further explanation was requisite.

  Christian cursed under his breath, folded his arms, and grew tense, opting to stare at the ground. “So that’s why you’re here, why you’re doing this…and why you’re not going home with us.”

  “It’s why I can’t go home with you,” Lauren muttered. “I can’t, not until it’s finished.”

  He nodded once, grimaced, and leaned back, then stormed away with moistened eyes and not another word.

  Lauren watched him trudge into the woods for a distance, electing to let him go. He needed space, a moment to absorb the tragic news. Something told her, though, it wouldn’t be long before he’d be back, and that suited her just fine. What he’d said earlier had been accurate; they couldn’t stay here much longer. The DHS vehicles were tracking each other’s whereabouts, but they weren’t the only ones with that capability. Reinforcements could’ve been dispatched already and could conceivably be making their way here. She began counting the minutes as they passed, praying they didn’t run out of time before all of them could flee the scene.

  Lauren found Brooke and the girls and informed them that it was time to go home. She didn’t need to say much else. Emily, Annie, and Alli enlivened at once, jumped to their feet, and sped off, racing one another to the backseat of the lead SUV. Once inside, a three-way dispute began on which two would be riding next to the windows.

  “I guess that means I’m riding shotgun,” Brooke said, not wishing to take a seat amongst the bickering.

  Lauren vetoed the idea. “No, use the third row. That seat’s spoken for.”

  Brooke looked at her sideways and caught Lauren hinting at the DHS agent. “We’re taking him with us? Oh, come on.”

  “Sorry, Brooke. There’s a lot of explaining to do, and he has to do it.”

  Brooke scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She then stomped off to enter via the rear hatch.

  Lauren pivoted and strode warily past her prisoner to where she’d left her gear.

  August Carter eased a breath, the pain of his rib injuries evident. “They sound excited,” he said, denoting the overheard jolly cackles of youngsters.

  “Can you blame them?” Lauren tested. “They’re going home to their families, where they should’ve been all along.”

  He regarded her boldly. “That wasn’t my idea. I didn’t concoct that strategy, and I didn’t author one single, solitary portion of that op. And I’ve never once felt at home with any part of it. I deemed the whole thing a disgrace from the word go.”

  “Spare me, Special Agent Carter. If that genuinely were the case, you and I would have never crossed paths. Neither of us would be here.”

  August rolled his eyes and moaned a sigh. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But since we are, I hope you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into. This isn’t over. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but they’ll be coming. And after seeing what you’ve done, they’ll come for you. They’ll hunt you down.”

  “Let them.” Gear retrieved, Lauren stared August down the whole way back to him. “Let them come. They’ll meet their maker before ever coming close to finding me.” She halted beside him. “On your feet. It’s time to go.”

  “I don’t know if I can get up on my own.”

  “Improvise.”

  August let out a tremendous sigh, then howled to his knees, doing so again to a full extension, wincing at the pain and straining beneath his mass. “Where are we going?”

  She ignored the question, took hold of his elbow, and led him to the SUV’s passenger side.

  August stared at Lauren questioningly. He was nearly three times her size, but he gave her no quarrel. At the open door, he slipped inside, lifting one leg in at a time, scooting forward somewhat to provide his bound hands extra space.

  Lauren studied the man’s dilemma. He was bulkier than most grown men and now looked like a gorilla attempting to fit into a toddler’s safety seat. She made some seating adjustments for him, first lurching it backwards as far as it would go, then reclining the seatback, giving him a bit more room.

  She acquired the Solve for X folder from the center console and placed it in plain view beside him. “I’m not sure how they’ll react to you. And there’s no telling how they’ll react to learning what’s in that folder, but I’m leaving it to you to explain all of it to them. That’s your penance.”

  August’s brows knitted. “Is that all?”

  “For now.” Lauren slammed the door shut, and a notion tugged on her. A representative of DHS, this man knew things she and many others didn’t. In all likelihood, he knew the welfare of her grandparents and might know what had befallen Fred and Kim Mason’s sons, Chad and Mark, both of whom had been missing for months. There was no telling what all August could bring to light
, but she was operating on borrowed time and needed to move forward.

  Christian passed by, conveying little more than a fleeting glance on his way to the driver’s side. “Oh, that’s awesome…he’s going with us.” He gestured to August. “I never got that memo. That’s special…really special. Guess he’s my problem now, huh?”

  Lauren tracked him, waited for him to close his door, then made her way over. She tapped on his window when he started the engine.

  One hand at twelve o’clock on the steering wheel and staring ahead, Christian rolled his window down. “Is this going to take long? I thought we were done here.”

  “We are. I won’t keep you.” Lauren pointed to the folder. “Guard that with your life. It explains everything.”

  “Everything, huh?” Christian glanced at it. “What’s in it?”

  “Evidence.” Lauren jutted her chin at his passenger. “Anything else you want to know, ask him.” She smacked the SUV’s quarter panel. “Drive safe. Tell Grace I love her. And don’t forget about the GPS.” She then pranced away to take mental inventory of all that needed to be done before the next step in her journey.

  Lauren didn’t get far before hearing a tap on the horn. She rotated to see Christian through the windshield, hand formed into a finger gun, index finger actively jabbing in August’s direction. She drew her brows together and went to the passenger window already halfway rolled down.

  “I couldn’t leave without saying this,” the burly agent said, looking upon her contemplatively. “I meant what I said. I regret everything, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make this right. I’m a patriot, and I love my country. I didn’t change into a full-blown autocrat overnight, but it did take far too long for me to realize I chose wrong. I should’ve known better…I should’ve been better.” August hung his head. “You said something earlier about unintended consequences. I get what you mean now. I realize it probably doesn’t mean shit to you at this point, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I truly am. I’m sorry…for everything.”

  Lauren regarded August and bleakly smiled. Despite her rancorous, eternal animosity for men like him and all for which they stood, even in the face of everything that had come about, she couldn’t bring herself to act as judge advocate.