Children of the Fog

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  "It's cold in here," she murmured.

  "I'll heat you up."

  She bit back a reply. Easing herself to a sitting position, she flexed her limbs. "My hands and feet are numb. Give me a minute to get my circulation back and get warm."

  He snickered and thrust his hips toward her. "You could warm this up."

  If she hesitated any longer, Sarge would have her doing something revolting. Not that the alternative was any more pleasant, but at least she's have a chance to get the gun.

  It was her only chance.

  You can do this, Sadie. For Sam. For the others.

  "I'm going to put the bedspread on the floor," she mumbled, conscious of his fiery gaze on every part of her body.

  He licked his lips, then nodded. "Hurry up."

  She grabbed the bedspread and watched it settle on the floor.

  "Let me straighten it," she said, praying she could get to the gun in time.

  She knelt on the blanket.

  That was the wrong thing to do.

  Sarge dropped to the floor behind her, pressed up against her and shoved her forward until her face hit the blanket. She blinked, stunned and gasping for air.

  Then she saw it.

  The gun box.

  It was tucked under the bed, inches away from her left hand.

  "Now that's a sight to see," Sarge said. "You'll make a good mama."

  When he stroked her raised buttocks, she bit her tongue hard to keep from screaming. She reached out—fingers flexed—and slid her hand under the bed.

  "Don't move 'less I tell ya to!" he snarled, cuffing the back of her head. "Now, be a good little doggy."

  "Wait!" she cried. "Let me turn over."

  Her hand bumped against the gun box. She curled her fingers over it and slid the top open. Once she touched cool metal, her heart soared. She clenched the gun in her hand, then carefully withdrew it and cradled it under her chest.

  "Give me what I want!" Sarge commanded.

  She fingered the gun. "You owe me something first."

  "What?"

  "Tell me where Sam and Cortnie are."

  "Dunno."

  "Yes you do. And you're going to tell me."

  He smirked. "Now why would I do a stupid thing like that?"

  With lightning speed, she rolled away and jumped to her feet.

  Sarge sat up, his eyes flashing in anger. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He probably would have lunged at her, but he noticed the glint of metal in her hand. "Oh, my," he said with a snort. "Mama's got a gun."

  She aimed the weapon at his chest. "And Mama's prepared to use it, you fucking bastard."

  He stood slowly, the worm between his legs now miniscule.

  "Don't move!" she shrieked.

  The web of scars on Sarge's face twitched. "If you shoot me, you'll never know where they are."

  He was right. And they both knew it.

  "Put down the gun and I'll take you to them," he said.

  "If I do that, you'll kill me…and them."

  He took a step forward. "You're right."

  She leveled the gun. The gun with one bullet. The gun that wouldn't fire. "Where are they, Sarge?"

  "You won't do it," he sneered. "You can't do it."

  As he stalked toward her, she prayed to God, to Buddha, to the universe, to every higher power that he was wrong. She prayed that this time when she pulled the trigger, the gun would go off.

  It did.

  34

  The shot reverberated in the small cabin, and Sadie stumbled backward from the recoil just as a silver object whizzed past her arm. The fishing knife clattered to the floor behind her. She kicked it past the doorway, then turned to face her tormentor.

  Sarge sagged against the wall, clutching his stomach with both hands while a crimson tide rippled between his fingers.

  "Don't move!" she ordered.

  He gave her a surprised, almost hurt, look. "You shot me."

  With lightning speed, she grabbed the robe from the closet and shrugged it on to cover her nakedness. A blossom of blood stained the sleeve. She turned to the man by the wall and raised the gun again, even though there were no bullets in it. "Tell me where Sam and Cortnie are."

  Sarge began to quiver and she wondered if he was going into shock. But then she heard his mocking laughter.

  "You told me you knew where they were," she yelled.

  "I lied." He slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood. "They took off on me. It's Ashley's fault."

  "Cortnie!" she snapped. "They have names. Their own."

  "She's too smart for her own good. We'll have to punish her."

  "Of course," she said with a fake smile. "But first I'll have to get them, bring them back. Where are they, Sarge?"

  On the floor, he blinked vacantly.

  "Tell me," she insisted.

  "I dunno."

  "I'm going to find them," she said. "And then we're all going home. Back to Edmonton."

  "But they wanna stay with me," he whined. "With us. We could be happy, Carrie. We could be a family again. How could you take our children from me? They're mine."

  Sadie gaped at him. Sarge had completely cracked.

  She shook her head. "They'll never be yours."

  Instantly, Sarge was back with her. "You belong to me too," he said with a weak smirk. "You'll never forget me. You'll think of me every time you fuck someone."

  "You're a disgusting pig," she seethed. "I won't waste a second of my life thinking about you. I hope you rot in prison. When all the children get back to their parents, they'll make sure you do. None of them want to stay with you. Not Marina or Holland. None of them."

  "What the fuck you talking about?"

  "I'm taking them all out of here."

  Sarge laughed. The sound gurgled up from his chest, liquid and abrasive. A bubble of saliva spewed out of the corner of his mouth, followed by bright red blood. He didn't notice.

  "You won't ever find 'em," he rasped. "Not before they blow up into itty bitty pieces." He raised a shaky hand and stared at his watch. "In one hour."

  Sadie's pulse quickened. "A bomb?"

  "And you don't know the code," he sneered. "Aw, too bad."

  "What code?"

  He stared at her, mute and defiant.

  "You're dying," she said. "Do something right for a change. Tell me the code."

  "Go to hell."

  "I've been there. And back. It's your turn now. The code!"

  He mimicked a zipper sliding across his lips.

  "Help me save them," she pleaded.

  "I've saved enough lives. In the Forces. Look where that got me." He coughed up more blood. "Discharged on medical with a measly pension that a dog couldn't live on. I watched my buddies get blown into bits. They wanted me to stitch 'em back, and when I couldn't, I had to amputate their legs, their arms. But I saved them. And they hated me for it."

  As Sadie watched him, a bout of intense dizziness gripped her. She held back a moan, then surreptitiously examined her injured arm. The knife had sliced into her skin, maybe half an inch deep. She needed to tie something around it, stop the bleeding.

  But she couldn't leave Sarge. Not until he gave her the code.

  "You'd be a hero," she said, grasping at anything.

  "I'm already a hero. I fought overseas for my country. I was in the Gulf War. Iraq. For what—peacekeeping? What a fucking joke!" Another grating cough. "I get home, my wife is ready to leave me and take my kids. She was gonna leave me with nothing. Just bills and this ugly face." He spit a dark clot of blood on the floor. "That's a hero's payment."

  "Come on. What's the code, Sarge?"

  He snickered. "Mi casa…es…su casa."

  The familiar words made her sick to her stomach.

  "Give me the code!"

  "You can't get into mi casa," he taunted.

  His head dropped to his chest, a long wheeze of air erupting from his mouth.

  "Sarge?" She crept forward and touched his neck.<
br />
  He had a pulse. A faint one.

  She shook him. "Sarge!"

  When he lifted his gaze, thick lips beamed a malevolent smile. But he said nothing. He just stared at her, his mouth stretched into a sick grin.

  "What's the fucking code?" she screamed.

  She slapped him and his head lolled lifelessly to one side.

  Sarge was dead.

  A sound behind her made her jump.

  The crow waited on the window ledge, its beak pressed against the glass. The bird was so motionless that if she didn't know any better, she would have thought it was nothing more than a plastic lawn ornament.

  "What the fuck do you want?" she yelled, fists clenched.

  She crossed the room, but the bird's gaze remained fixed.

  On Sarge's body.

  She hesitated, finally realizing the bird's mission.

  The crow bobbed its head. Then it flew off with a loud squawk. It had gotten what it had come for.

  Grabbing a pair of clean, dry jeans, a sweater and socks, Sadie headed for the bathroom. Before dressing, she scrubbed away every trace of Sarge. No one had to know the disgusting things he had done to her. He had kidnapped her son, then come after her, drugged her and tied her up. Surely that was enough.

  She took the belt from her robe, and using her teeth, she secured it around two facecloths padding her arm. She'd lost a lot of blood from the knife wound. But she couldn't stop now.

  "You have to save the children," she said to her reflection.

  Before the bunker explodes.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom, she kept her eyes on the main part of the cabin. She was conscious of Sarge's body in the bedroom, but she didn't want to think about it. Not now. It would probably take years before she could accept that she had killed a man. And even longer to admit that she had wanted to.

  Pulling on her jacket, she winced at the pain that shot through her arm. She should have fashioned a makeshift sling, but she needed both hands to wrestle the tree stump. With her good arm, she opened the back door. The sudden bright light seared her eyes and she staggered outside. Straight into a solid, breathing body.

  Jay Lucas' grizzled face swam into view. "Sadie?"

  "Jay! Wha—how did you get here so fast?"

  The detective lifted his eyes skyward. "Helicopter."

  "But you're afraid to fly!"

  "I had no choice. This man insisted."

  Sadie saw Fergus standing behind Jay. She opened her mouth to thank him, but her knees gave in. "Oh, crap."

  Jay's eyes wrinkled in concern. "Are you hurt?"

  "It's just a scratch." She gave Fergus a wry look. "Your fishing knife paid me back for stealing it."

  "Let me see," Jay demanded, moving closer.

  "No, we don't have time. We have to find the bunker. Sarge has it rigged to explode in less than an hour."

  Jay tugged a radio from his pocket. He muttered something into it. Then he looked at her. "Can you show us the entrance?"

  "Yes. I think so."

  "Where's Sarge?" Fergus asked, eyeing the woods nervously.

  She nudged her head toward the cabin. "In there. He's dead."

  "Dead?" both men said in unison.

  "He drugged me and tied me up," she murmured, looking away. "When he untied me, I shot him."

  Jay disappeared inside. A moment later, he returned, a grim look on his face. "Where'd the gun come from?"

  Sadie opened her mouth to answer, but Fergus beat her to it.

  "I suspect 'tis Sarge's. He had a collection. Some legal, some not." He gave her a hard stare, as if to say, 'don't argue with me, lass!'

  "Someone should stay here," Jay said to Fergus. "With the body. Are you up for that?"

  The Scot nodded. "Aye, you can count on me, Detective Lucas."

  "And the children are counting on me," Sadie said.

  Jay's eyes drifted to the trees. "I can't believe they're alive."

  Fergus sighed. "And I canna believe Sarge took 'em. Don't know what he was thinking, that man."

  "He wasn't," Jay replied gruffly. He turned to Sadie. "So they're all in the bunker?"

  "Except Sam and Cortnie. They ran away." Her eyes watered. "We have to find them. It's too cold, especially at night."

  "Do you have any idea where they would have gone?"

  "No, but maybe the other children do."

  35

  Two police helicopters waited in the middle of the field, their blades whirring. A dozen uniformed police officers wearing Kevlar vests combed the area surrounding what was left of Sarge's house. Some had search dogs, but the dogs seemed more interested in sniffing the cinders of the house than finding a trail through the woods. On Jay's command, two female officers had moved to the exterior of the house, guns drawn.

  No one knew what to expect, but as Jay told Sadie, it was better to be prepared for anything.

  Yesterday's storm was over, the river already receding. The raging wind had died to a calm, intermittent draft, leaving everything in its wake fresh again.

  "Anything yet," Jay barked into his radio.

  Sadie heard a muffled "no" and her heart sank.

  They'd been searching for half an hour and they were running out of time. Already, a team had investigated the shed, confirming the existence of a generator, hot water tank, water filter and air purifier, but all the pipes and cables were buried far underground. It would take hours, maybe days, to excavate them and follow them to the hidden bunker.

  They didn't have hours.

  She stood with Jay, mere yards from the house.

  "This is impossible," she moaned. "We've been all over these woods and nothing seems familiar. How do we find one tree stump in a forest filled with them?"

  "Hey, it was dark and raining out. No one blames you."

  "I do."

  She blamed herself for not paying attention. She had followed the children through the woods and helped Marina dislodge the stump. Yet every stump Jay had tried only uprooted dirt and mud.

  Frustrated, she pounded a fist against her thigh. "I know I'm forgetting something. Something important."

  It gnawed at her, this thought that she knew how to find them. Was it something the children had said? Something Sarge had said?

  "Shit!" she muttered. "It was something about the doors."

  "Doors? As in plural?"

  "That's it!" She slapped her forehead, feeling stupid. "Jesus! There were two entrances. The stump and another door."

  "Where did it lead?"

  Her heart sank. "I don't know. I never opened it. Sarge came in that way. We heard him thumping down the stairs." She grabbed Jay's arm. "Wait! When I was by that door, I smelled smoke. And Sarge said Ashley and Adam went back into the house from the bunker the night of the fire. Via the basement."

  "They're in the basement!" Jay shouted into the radio.

  From the woods, a swarm of men emerged. Like bees converging on a hive, they raced toward the house.

  A detective wearing a yellow vest waved to Jay. "We're ready," he yelled. "But we gotta be careful. We don't know how it's been rigged."

  "Stay here, Sadie," Jay ordered, pressing his radio into her hand. "Don't forget to take your finger off the button when you're done speaking." He disappeared into the wreckage.

  Sadie leaned against a tree and watched the house.

  The radio crackled. "Sadie? Can you hear me?"

  She pressed the button. "Did you find anything?"

  "There's a hole leading to a basement. We're going down—"

  A sharp crack of static interrupted him.

  "Jay?"

  Silence.

  Then the radio sputtered. "Sa…at the…you know…"

  "What?" she yelled. "I missed what you said. Repeat, please."

  "We're in the bunker…no kids in the main room or Sarge's bedroom. There's one other door we haven't opened yet."

  "That's the children's room!"

  "Sadie…we need a code for that door."

&
nbsp; The code. Shit! She had forgotten about it.

  "Oh God. I tried to get Sarge to tell me."

  There was more hissing static.

  Then Jay's voice came across, clear and gentle. "Sadie, we get one chance at this. Do you understand? He's got it wired so the whole place will go up if we punch in the wrong code."

  She clawed at her throat, unable to breathe.

  "Sadie!"

  She began to weep. "I don't know it, Jay. Oh, Jesus…I don't know the code. We can't save them."

  There was another crackle.

  "Don't give up. The keypad is alphabetical. The code is six letters."

  She wracked her brain for a code.

  Sarge would make it something easy to remember, yet important, like a name. Adam…Ashley—no, he wouldn't pick one child over the other. Carissa…

  "Carrie!" She was so excited she forgot to turn on the radio. She jabbed it again. "I think it's Carrie—his wife's name."

  "Carrie. Are you sure?"

  "Not really, but it's six letters."

  "Okay, good job. Codes usually mean something to a perp."

  "It has to be Carrie."

  Even as she said it, she began to doubt whether Sarge would have used the name of the one person who wanted to take everything away from him, including his children. In the end, he hated her. Enough to set her on fire, kill her.

  "Wait!" she yelled into the radio. "I think I'm wrong."

  No reply.

  "Jay! It's not Carrie!"

  The radio hissed, then Jay's voice cut in. "We have to hurry, Sadie. We have less than ten minutes."

  "No!" she sobbed. "That's not enough time to figure this out."

  "If you don't have another suggestion, we'll have to try Carrie."

  A sudden motion caught her eye.

  Men streamed out of the ruins, moving a safe distance away. Everyone was out of the house—except the bomb squad detective in the yellow vest…and Jay.

  "Maybe you should get out of there," she urged him.

  "Six letters, Sadie. Maybe he told you and you just didn't know it."

  She recalled Sarge's final words. "You can't get into mi casa."

  "You can't get into my house."

  Jesus! It had been right there in front of her. The bastard!

  "MI CASA!" she shrieked. "M…I…C…A…S…A."

  "You sure?"