Following her father’s advice, Deb watched the man. He was distracted with trying to use his knife to pry apart the green box. This was as good of a chance as she would get to do anything. With care of movement, she slowly hovered her hand over a fist size rock and tried to lift it, but it was buried too deeply to move without the soldier noticing. She shifted slightly and chose another one. This time it moved freely, and with care, she slid it into her pocket. Only then, did she chance standing.
Joseph stopped working the box with the knife long enough to note that the girl was slowly standing up. He looked over at her, and she stopped. With little more than a nod, he gave her permission to continue the action of standing.
I wasn't asking your permission, jerk! She thought to herself as she pushed the rock deeper into her pocket and tugged the front of her shirt over the lump.
With a crack and a vulgar shout, Joseph popped the top off of the box. Several small parts flew from their confines, causing Joseph to drop the knife in an attempt to contain the contents in his hands. His reward for his success was a steady stream of blood oozing from the palm of his hand. He cursed tersely and looked where he had managed to drive the knife into the meaty flesh of his left hand. He held his left hand to the top of his pants to stench the flow of blood, while he held onto the components of the device with his right hand. With a pissed off look, his eyes shifted around for something to tie around the wound. He looked at Deb.
“Take that off of your neck,” Joseph ordered, his voice rough.
“Wa, what?”
“I’ve cut my hand. Take the cloth off from around your neck and give it to me,” his voice projected, as if giving an order.
Deb felt for the blue bandanna hanging around her neck. It would typically be tied up to hold her hair, but, for whatever reason, it was now dangling around her neck. She put a hand on the bandanna, not wanting to help her captor in anyway. She thought about refusing his order, but, again, where was she going to run once she said, ‘no.’ He would be forced to shoot her. She didn’t think that was what he intended on doing, but she had already figured that this wasn’t the place to make her stand.
Joseph turned his hand over to look at the puncture wound again, the bleeding had slowed, but it definitely needed a cover. “Don’t make me ask again,” he said, the bloody hand moving towards the rifle leaning against the truck.
Reluctantly, Deb removed the bandanna over her head, taking the extra second to rub all of the grime and sweat off of her face and neck, as she did. She held it out, still tied in a circle.
Joseph was losing patience with the girl. He needed to work on the transponder, and he wasn’t about to set the device down. “I can’t do it, tie it around my hand!”
Deb felt revolted that she would be forced to help the man that had taken her from her brother. Again, with a high level of reluctance, she stepped forward, undid the knot, and wrapped the man’s hand. She made sure to place the most sweat-laden side to the wound as she tended to him.
“Where did you learn to speak English?” she asked, before she could stop herself.
Joseph still looked pissed off as she finished the bandage and dared to ask the question. “My country teaches everyone English as a second language, and I also attended university in the United States.”
The answer, delivered with each word sounding less angry than the one before, shocked Deb. “Oh. Which one, I mean university?”
“I don’t have time for your endless questions, get back in the vehicle,” he ordered.
Deb made a step to the rear, and then thought of something. “If you lock me up in there and don’t turn the air on, you know I’ll die, right?”
“I don’t care. Get in,” he said, taking a step towards her, to make his point.
Reluctantly, she climbed into the back of the hot vehicle, but didn't close the door. Joseph reached for the door with his wounded hand, but then dropped it, not feeling she was a risk to run. Instead, he spread the components on the hood of the vehicle and started reassembling the device in the hopes that he could get it to operate.
Deb watched him tinker with the components, the battery, and finally getting a result. Joseph’s face showed his excitement as a small LED on the device started blinking. Like a child that had just found the Christmas presents in a closet at Thanksgiving, Deb watched the man move to manipulate the controls on the truck’s radio. He then keyed the microphone and spoke something in Chinese. A small smile spread across her face when there was no immediate answer, but that soon changed. The speakers in the vehicle filled with the voice of someone that spoke to him in Chinese.
After Joseph had finished his conversation, he turned around to speak to the girl. “Close your door, we’re leaving.”
Deb reluctantly closed the door, fear creeping up from her insides. “Where are you taking me?”
“We are to intercept a deployment of troops near a town called Wolf Creek, and then we are to join them as they return to Command Head Quarters. You will remain my prisoner, and answer for the crime of murdering my comrade.” Joseph started the Humvee and headed west.
CHAPTER 31
“I’m telling you, that he’s headed right towards you,” Perez said, into the satellite phone.
“On this road, the one I’m on right now?” Clark asked, for the second time.
“Yes, Clark, he’s approximately twenty-five miles from your location, moving approximately forty miles per hour.”
“Okay, good to know. What about anyone else? I mean, why’s he coming here? This isn’t a direct route to Birmingham,” he said looking at Dukes. “Right?”
Dukes nodded and pointed in a northwest direction. “He should be headed that way to meet back up with whatever they have going on there.”
“I heard him,” Perez said into the phone. “You make a good point. You know I’m not supposed to be running this anymore,” she growled. “I kind of have other things I need to do.”
Clark raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue. He wanted to ask, ‘what’s more important than saving the life of these kids?’
“Listen, I’m just really stressed, so, I’m going to do it by the books and get us some satellite time. Can you hang on for a minute?”
“Ah, sure, but don't take too long, especially if he’s bearing down on us!”
“Copy, that,” she said, putting the call on hold.
Clark looked at the phone and then at the others. “First off, do you have an ear piece?” he asked Shaw. “Second, I think we make our stand at the church.”
Dukes slowed down and whipped the SUV around, stepping on the gas to get them back to the church.
“Third,” Clark asked, shrugging. “This guy is headed our way in one bad ass Humvee that’s bullet proof, explosion proof, radiation proof, and is generally indestructible, so, I’m open to suggestions on how we stop him without killing everyone inside?”
***
Penny stopped fumbling with the batteries of the two-way radio and looked over at Dan as he drove the vintage pickup truck. It was a yellow, late 1970’s Chevy C-10, with a 3-on-the-tree gearshift; ancient in her perception, but it was still working despite the EMP. Jack and Lucy were in the bed of the pickup, hanging on for dear life and probably not enjoying the ride.
“So, who’s truck is this again, Alabama?” She saw his hands grip the wheel with intensity when she called him that name. “Okay, sorry, Dan; but Jack’s right, you’re like the poster child for what, like the last three Alabama national championships?”
“Two. Only two championships.” His voice wasn't a growl, but it wasn't silky either.
“Okay, two, so when’s the last time a Georgia team got there? My dad said it was when we had Hershel, and that was, like way before I was born.”
“Can you just concentrate? My sister’s out there!” He bellowed, silencing her for a second.
“Dan, I am concentrating. Look, I know it has only been like what, almost two weeks since these assholes screwed our lives, but le
t me clue you in on a few things. Okay?”
Dan shot his eyes towards her, but didn’t say anything. She noted that his hands relaxed on the steering wheel.
“When this entire thing went down, I was out hunting with my dad. From like seventy miles south of Atlanta, we saw millions of people die as the mushroom cloud engulfed the horizon. I was there to pull people out of a lake after the shockwave swatted an airplane out of the sky. A few minutes later, I saw the flash in the sky that became the EMP; you know, the thing that shut down everything else the Atlanta bomb missed. I’m the one that lost my boyfriend to some assholes who went all freaker, not knowing how to handle the aftereffects. I’m the one that was in a sniper box thirty-six hours later as we took the onslaught from an entire squad of those plastic toy-making dick heads. I have had guns put in my face and made to decide do I let someone live or not. Finally, I was the one taken by the same plastic toy-making dick heads that I thought we beat, and driven against my will, thankfully, to your farm; where I met you.” She breathed in a time or two, processing the chronological order in everything that she had experienced.
Dan drove the truck trying to understand exactly what she had just revealed. “Holy crap.”
“Damn right, holy crap!”
“So,” he treaded lightly. “With all that said, how do we get my sister back?”
She pushed the battery door closed on the glorified walkie-talkie radio and smiled before pressing the button.
“Dukes or Tasha, this is Penny broadcasting in the blind. Do either of you receive my transmission? Over.”
***
Both Emma and Tasha heard the radio crackling, and that stopped Emma in mid stitch. They had finished the entry side of the wound on the leg, and had moved onto the exit wound. The voice on the radio sounded very faint and far away.
“Take your gloves off and answer her call,” Emma spoke smoothly as she continued to throw stitch after stitch; the entire time she was hoping that he didn’t wake up.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you’re doing great, but I have it from here. Even though the signal sounds week, the voice does sound like Penny, but be mindful of tricks. Okay?”
“Got it,” she said, stripping the gloves from her hands and reaching for the radio.
“Penny, this is Tasha, still at my previous location. Where are you? Over.”
Penny looked briefly towards the sun visor of the truck in an attempt to look towards Heaven. Tasha's voice was faint. “Oh, thank God.”
Dan nodded. “See if she knows anything, before that damn toy radio craps out, okay!”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. How far are we from where she is?”
“Two miles, maybe two and a half at tops.”
“Tasha, this is Penny, we are less than five minutes from your location, and headed in. But, our situation has changed, and I can’t discuss it on the radio. Over.”
“What? Why not?” Dan said, anger boiled up, and he glared over at her.
“Think about it, QB! If I give too much away on an open channel.” She raised her hands like, ‘you get this, right?’ “I mean, the flipping Chinese are monitoring this frequency."
"Even that crappy toy radio?"
"Assume that they can hear everything. Got it? They know everything, Dan. We need to be smarter. Okay?”
He never answered, but kept driving towards the church at Wolf Creek.
Penny smiled, thinking to herself that she would make a pretty good quarterback.
CHAPTER 32
[2]
Perez stood in front of her commanding officer at perfect parade rest. This same man had ordered her to mandatory rest at home, less than four hours earlier. The old man looked tired, but was also adept enough to know that she was back in the Pit for a reason.
“Airman, I sent you home four hours ago, and here you stand. Tell me. What do I not know? You have ten seconds.”
Perez went through her options faster than a super computer at a world-class chess match. She had no idea who she could trust anymore, so she geared herself to do the only thing that would protect her; tell the truth.
“Sir, my Army escort and I were ambushed by Russian operatives prior to entering my apartment.” Somehow, it didn’t sound like the truth.
“What?” He set his pen down and leaned back in his desk chair.
“Sir, were ambushed by Russian operatives. We tried to evade, and almost did, but they crashed into our vehicle and took us hostage.”
“Hostage? That doesn’t make any sense, Airman!” His voice inched up a notch in anger. He expected anything but what he was hearing. “Why would they want you, Airman?” He couldn’t wait for the response.
“Sir, they want my help tracking one of their spies.” Her statement was cool, collected and on a crazy level, made sense. “Actually, Sir, they want me to activate her.”
The Admiral shook his head, and closed his eyes, while trying to think through the situation. He stood from his desk, which was usually a sign that he was about to rip someone apart. Perez stiffened as best as she could as he came around the desk. Once there, he paused inches from her face; that’s when he saw the fresh gash mark and bruises. He took a seat on the corner of his desk; something that had never been seen by anyone in the Pit.
“You are telling me the truth, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.”
“Yes, Sir.” She took it as a question. “I am.”
He looked past her, through the glass wall of his office, and caught the eyes of several people in the Pit watching the exchange.
“Where is the Sergeant?”
“He is still being held, Sir.”
Admiral Faulk nodded; he had spent considerable time in Naval Intelligence, and was intimately familiar with being contacted by the enemy.
“I assume that he’s in danger if you do not do as they say?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Of the spy, Sir, or of the man that captured me?”
“Both, Sir.”
“Well, what are they?”
“Victor Poluski, the Deputy Ambassador was my captor.”
Faulk nodded, he knew the name. Besides having met the man at numerous D.C. formals, he was also the center point of the latest Russian intelligence on collusion between Senator Payne and the Chinese invasion. Faulk knew he needed to handle this personally.
“And what is the name of the Russian spy?”
“Leah Burrows, Sir.”
That name made him stand back up from the corner of his desk. Perez followed the man with her eyes as he walked back behind this desk. She had never seen the man act this way.
“So,” he started, and then cleared his throat. “So, why you, and what exactly are you supposed to do?”
“Sir, I can explain everything, but if this gets to Homeland before I do what they want, they will kill Private Fields.” She had never bartered with an officer before.
Faulk nodded. “Right now, this is Top Secret between you and me in order to try and save the life of Private Fields. But you have to understand that I just can’t let a JCS staffer use our resources to activate a Russian spy.”
“Sir, Poluski said that you would say that, and he wanted me to give you a message.” She paused.
“Okay, go on.”
“Sir, Poluski wanted me to give this to you,” she reached into the breast pocket of her uniform and produced a sealed envelope. With shaking hands, she passed the white envelope across the desk.
With a look of question, Admiral Faulk took the envelope and opened it to reveal a one-page letter and a single picture. He looked at the picture, his jaws tightened. He then read the letter, his face hardened.
Perez studied him to see if she could get a sense as to what he had learned, but it was to no avail. Once he finished, he seemed to button up his emotions, and looked back at the Airman.
“You have one day to find the Russian agent and do what you were told to do. You ar
e not to speak of this conversation, or of anything to do with your involvement with the Russians. Your engagement with the Russians, and your conversations with me about this matter are now Top Secret, and will be treated as such. You are only to speak with me about this matter. Do I make myself clear, Airman?”
“Sir, yes, Sir.” She watched him fold the picture back into the letter and tuck it into his breast pocket.
“How are you going to locate the agent?” He asked, his demeanor changed; he was all business.
Perez was shocked at how he had pivoted after reading the letter. As an analyst she desperately wanted to know what the Russians had on him. But as for the answer to that question, she would have to wait.
“Well, Sir, I think my best course of action is to stick with Clark’s team. Poluski had intelligence that Burrows might be operating within the same region.”
“If he had that type of intelligence, then why didn’t he activate her himself?”
“Unknown, Sir. But, I suspect that he has operatives working at the CIA.”
“Because they track suspected foreign agents,” he postulated, nodding at the logic.
“Actually, Sir, because Poluski said that she’s married to a CIA agent; and the Agency knows his location.”
“Then, what you’re saying is that the Russian and Chinese collusion runs deeper than Senator Payne and Poluski?”
“That’s above my pay grade, Sir.”
“Speculate for me, Airman Perez.”
“Sir, I think our country has yet to figure out that we are fighting more than one enemy.”
***
Two minutes later, Admiral Faulk watched Airman Perez walk back out of his office door. He resumed his post behind his desk and picked up his secure phone, dialing an equally secure phone at CIA headquarters.
“Director Todd,” a man answered the phone.
“Bernie, it’s Jim, we’ve got a problem.”
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