by Connor Mccoy
She heard the rustle of plastic, a few steps, and the door closing. When she turned around, the thug was gone. She let herself cry for Glen now. A flood of tears and a few sobs. How she hated this new world, with death everywhere and no creature comforts.
She sniffed, got off the bed and looked at what they had given her to eat. Piping hot stew and warm bread. It would be a few minutes before the stew was edible, so she pinched off a chunk of bread and popped it in her mouth. After listening carefully for an excruciatingly slow two minutes, she picked up her spoon and went back to the closet and popped up the loose board.
She looked at the cavity under the floorboards, but it was too dark to see anything. She wrapped her sleeve around her hand in case there were spiders and reached down. It was a shallow hole, which made sense because it was only the space between the floor and the ceiling below. Two things were hidden there, a Phillips head screwdriver and a book.
She knew immediately that the screwdriver was for the window. She wondered who had been trapped in this room and how they had managed to smuggle a tool up here. The book was a diary. A teen’s, judging by the entries. She’d been locked in this room for transgressions against her parents, running away being the worst of these.
Mia flipped through the pages, looking for anything of interest and discovered a key tucked in a break in the binding. It was slipped into a pocket up against the spine of the book, behind where the pages were joined together. She turned the key over and over in her hand. It was old, the kind of key you found in old farmhouses that hadn’t had their doors updated.
She pocketed the key and looked more carefully at the book. There wasn’t anything else in the little pocket, and the entries didn’t seem to have much variation. Mostly I’m grounded, poor me, and my parents suck. Well, she’d had two ways to escape, so Mia didn’t waste much pity on the anonymous girl. And anyway, the girl wasn’t locked in the room anymore, so she must have gotten free sooner or later.
Which was Mia’s plan, too.
She sat on the bed to wait until nightfall. A woman brought her to the toilet in the middle of the afternoon. Then later she brought dinner. Mia wondered where her thug had gone. She felt almost bereft. Not that she liked him or anything, she was Christian’s girl, but he’d displayed a sense of humor, and an appreciation for her. Mia felt that was a positive, even in a guy who sided with the enemy.
Finally, the house fell silent. There were no rectangles of light on the lawn below her window, and it seemed as though everyone either had left or gone to bed. She went to the door, slid the key out of her pocket and inserted it in the lock. She turned it, and the noise it made in the silent house seemed loud enough to alert whoever was standing guard in the house.
Mia had no doubt there was at least one person sleeping downstairs. She just hoped that no one was sleeping in the fourth room on this floor. She’d peeked in the open door as she was being led to the bathroom. It was a room much like her own. Sparsely furnished, with no personal belongings. But that didn’t mean it was unused. She hadn’t heard anyone come up the stairs and past her room, but still, she would be cautious. She slid off her boots.
She stood still for as long as she could tolerate, and then slid quietly out into the hall in her stocking feet, being careful to shut the door as gently as she could. Christian’s door was on the other side of the hallway, a few feet down. She stood outside it, listening, before putting the key in and unlocking the door.
“It’s me,” she breathed before she opened the door, just in case he had been planning to attack the next person through the door. And sure enough, he was standing there with a post from his bed, which was one of the old-fashioned kind with fancy poles on the corners that reached three-quarters of the way to the ceiling.
Christian lowered the post when he saw her.
“Good thing you said something,” he whispered. “I was going to impale you.”
“I thought you might,” she replied and gave him a hug. “Come on, let’s go to Sally’s room and make a plan.”
They moved noiselessly down the hall and opened the door to Sally’s room. She was on the bed and sat up sleepily as they entered. Mia gave her a disgusted look.
“What?” Sally asked. “I was getting my rest so I’d be ready when we broke out of here.”
“Did you see the bloody shirt?” Mia asked the others. “Is it even possible that he still could be alive?”
“I don’t think we should believe anything we’re told here,” Christian said, “but it doesn’t look good. I think our best move is to get the hell out of town and never come back.”
“Shouldn’t we at least look to see if they’ve buried him somewhere?” Sally asked. “If they just dumped his body in a ditch, couldn’t we take it away and give him a proper burial?”
“I think he’d want us to get away from this place,” Mia said. “He came here to keep Christian from dying. He sacrificed his life. It will have been such a waste if we end up dead too. I think we need to get out of here if we can.”
“My windows are screwed closed,” Sally said, “Are yours?”
Christina nodded.
“Yep,” Mia said, “but I have this.” She pulled the screwdriver from her pocket with a flourish. “So, if the windows prove to be the only way out, we can get them open.”
“That’s my girl,” Christian said and wrapped his arms around her. “Where did you that from?”
“It was under the floorboards in my closet,” she said. “So I swiped it.”
“What were you doing?” Sally asked. “Trying to dig your way out?”
“No.” Mia grinned. “I was checking out the closet and noticed a loose floorboard. After the thug left my lunch, I pried it up with my spoon and found this, and a diary. The key was in the diary, along with a lot of drivel about how hard life here was after being grounded by her parents..”
“Teenager?” Christian asked.
“I think so,” Mia said.
“If I’d had a diary, I might have bitched and complained on the pages too. After all, we got ripped off. All those great technological advances are useless now. I was going to be a computer programmer.” Sally said.
“Since when?” Mia asked. “I thought you were getting your degree in psych?”
“I changed a few times,” Sally said. “Computer science was my last major.”
“Can we please get back on track here?” Christian asked. “We need to plan.”
“Why don’t we just leave now?” Sally asked. “We could sneak out the front door while everyone is sleeping.”
“I bet there is someone awake downstairs,” Mia said. “I think maybe we should wait another day to get the lay of the land, and when our guards change. Stuff like that.”
“You just want to see that hot military dude again,” Sally said, snickering.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mia said, but her face flushed brightly.
“Shush,” Christian said. “I think someone is coming.”
The three froze as footsteps mounted the stairs. Mia realized she should have locked the other rooms behind her, but it was too late now.
Chapter Fifteen
Glen was worried. He found the battle plan complex, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. There were too many moving parts, and the timing had to be just right. He knew they wanted to avoid loss of life on either side, but there was so much that could go wrong.
Eric and Jonno liked it. They were enthusiastically hammering out details and deciding who would go and who would stay behind. Eric was convinced the plan would work, and Jonno agreed, so it was only Glen who voiced objections.
“It’s too elaborate,” he said. “Too many moving parts, it just increases the likelihood things will go wrong.”
“I appreciate your opinion,” Eric said, “but this is how we do things. Each part is independent. If one of the parts fails, the operation still will be successful. We just increase our odds of coming out ahead by adding independent c
ampaigns to our battle plan.”
“And what will you do if someone grabs the children who crawl through the pipes?” Glen asked, standing up and pacing the kitchen floor. “What if they hold them hostage? Quit fighting, or the children die? What will you do then?”
“Nothing,” Eric replied. “What you are forgetting is that the children here are related to the adults there. They might say they’ll kill a child, but when it comes down to it, an aunt or uncle will object. A grandparent will step in front of the threatened youngster. It’s just never going to happen. If they kill a child from here, they’ll lose the support of the people living there. And Tyrell knows that. He’s not stupid. Any threat against a child is toothless.”
“And yet adults die every time you raid the town,” Glen said. The guilt from killing that woman weighed on him. Would he ever have the courage to tell these people what he had done? He doubted it. And the pain of that memory was crippling.
“Regrettable,” Jonno said. “I lost my sister in the last raid. But she knew the risks and insisted on being there. I will miss her for the rest of my life, but we are fighting for the right to exist. The right for this settlement to rule itself and have access to the supplies we need. That is worth dying for. And who knows, my life could end tonight, and I’ll be reunited with her.”
Glen blanched. He hoped to hell that the woman he’d killed wasn’t Jonno’s sister. My God. He had enough guilt already without knowing and liking the woman’s brother. He had to put that memory aside. They needed to regain the town for these people and regain those three foolish young adults. He knew it was unwise to feel responsible for the town or the youngsters, but he did, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.
“We’re going up to the compound to decide who to bring this evening,” Eric said, rising from his chair. “You can come if you like, or stay here and rest up. It’s likely to be a hard night.”
“I’ll stay,” Glen said. “I’ve got some planning of my own to do.”
“Fair enough,” Eric said. “We’ll meet here at dusk,” and then he and Jonno slipped out the door.
Glen watched them stride purposefully through the yard and toward the path, then turned away. He thought he’d remembered seeing a pair of binoculars in one of the rooms upstairs. His were long gone, probably out in the woods somewhere, maybe still on the ridge where they’d watched the town. And he needed them.
He found what he was looking for and searched the house for someone to ask permission to borrow them. No one was around, and there didn’t seem to be any point in asking the babysitters in the backyard. They were barely teens. So he wrote a note explaining what he had done and headed out the front door.
He followed the path they’d taken from the barn the previous night, assuming that would be the correct direction. They’d traveled in the dark, and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure which way they’d gone, but he thought the settlement was to the south of the town. So he needed to head north, and that was the direction of the barn.
It took longer than he remembered to reach the barn, and once there he debated which path to take. Finally, he decided on the trail that ran roughly northeast. It looked less frequently traveled and that made sense to him. He was pretty sure the observation skills he’d developed as a surgeon were standing him in good stead and he was happy with his decision.
He started out energetically, with purpose in his step. The air was fresh and the forest beautiful. It felt good to have something positive to do. An hour later he began feeling some misgivings. He’d thought he’d at least recognize some landmarks by this time, but the trees were thick and obscured the view of where he was in the valley. Still, it was the right direction, he was sure of it.
Two hours into his walk he was wondering if he’d make it back in time for the rendezvous with the others. He’d be walking back in the dark at this rate. A horse would have been handy, or a mountain bike, but he trudged on. He had a purpose to fulfill. He stopped for a break and took a drink from a water bottle he’d borrowed along with the binoculars.
He looked at the ground around the tree curiously. He could see footprints, and scuff marks on a boulder nearby. He moved around and found a broken branch or two. Odd, he thought, but he could almost swear that someone had been up that tree recently. Not today maybe, but in the last day or two. He rested with his back to the trunk while he looked at the marks on the ground. He’d almost swear there were three sets of them. His charges? Could be.
The thought encouraged him, and he continued with renewed energy. He felt as though he must be close now. Fifteen minutes later he came out on the road and felt wholly vindicated. He was almost there now. He traveled the blacktop, keeping his ears and eyes open for signs of townsfolk, until the undergrowth thinned and the landscape ahead looked as though it might be opening onto the fields that surrounded the town.
He slipped into the woods, following a path that ran parallel to the road, but just out of sight. It wasn’t long before he was able to see the town through the trees. He turned left, away from the road, making his way along the edge of the woods, but far enough from the clearing so he wouldn’t be seen.
He came across a stream where it looked as though a tree had been torn from the ground and carried away. Again, the three sets of footprints. He wondered what that crazy trio had been doing with trees, but he kept moving, leaping across the stream. He had his own mission to complete.
He had to admit to himself that he was enjoying this. He felt like an operative, a spy for his country. He had to find out where they were keeping his troops, and he liked pulling one over on Terror. He wanted to get him back for how he’d smacked him over the head and kept him in a closet. That was just uncalled for.
The terrain began rising, and he climbed with it. Gaining a little altitude would serve his purpose well. Finally, when he felt like he had the right vantage point, he moved to the edge of the forest and found a portion of an old dry stone wall to hide behind. He knelt behind it, propped his elbows on the mossy top stones and peered through the binoculars.
He was looking at the north end of town. There were houses between him and his objective, but they had been built with large yards, and he could see the library and house beside it. That was where he thought the trio would be. Not in the house where he’d been held, because a family was living there. Besides, you couldn’t really put three people in a closet. No, they’d be here, where there was space to hold them.
He’d been inside that house, and he had a feeling about it that he couldn’t ignore. He trained his binoculars on the house and examined every window, looking for some sign that his people were there.
But there was nothing. The three must have known Glen would be looking for them. They were smart. They’d find a way to show him where they were, but there was nothing. He trained his binoculars on the library. Nothing there either. Nothing.
Was he wrong?
He watched the house until darkness began falling, dispirited by the lack of any sign of them. He had been sure they’d be there. He scanned the windows one last time and saw a light go on in the basement of the house. But that was all. The only sign of life he’d seen all afternoon. He felt stupid. He should have spent some time checking out other areas of the town. He should have been looking for signs that Terror knew of the coming attack. But he’d single-mindedly focused on what he’d believed to be a certainty and had wasted the opportunity to gain an advantage over Terror.
He could have kicked himself. He trudged back toward the settlement, wishing he’d arranged to meet the group closer to the town. He’d walk all the way back, turn around and do the trek again. He hadn’t had his best day, that was for sure. He’d wasted precious time and added a ton of walking time. And now it would be in the dark.
He made his way back around the edge of the clearing, staying closer to the tree line this time. It would be too dark for anyone to see him under cover of the trees, and he could use every bit of light he could get to see whe
re he was going.
He slipped when jumping the stream and almost landed in the water, but he was able to catch himself and ended up with only one wet boot to squelch along in. He tried staying positive. One damp foot was better than two, he told himself, but he could feel his mood souring. The futility of what he’d done was overcoming him.
When he reached the road, a shadowy figure was lurking on the far side. He stopped, trying to see if he recognized either someone from the town or a settler, but he couldn’t tell. Should he move on, or should he wait? He could move back into the woods and cross the road farther down. He began walking away from the pavement when he heard humming and stopped.
He recognized the tune. After the talk in the barn the night before, when they were starting toward the farmhouse where he’d stayed the night, one of the men had been humming a tune. Now this man was humming that very same song. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
He stepped forward, trying to get a look at the man’s face, and a twig cracked underfoot. He froze.
“Glen?” The voice was barely more than a whisper. “Eric sent me.”
“I’m here,” Glen whispered back, stepping onto the road now. “Who are you?”
The man met him in the middle of the road and held out his hand to shake. As he took the man’s hand, Glen thought he’d either end up flat on the ground with a boot on his throat or he’d have a companion to travel back with.
“I’m Daniel, Jonno’s older brother,” the man said. “Jonno’s older brother. Eric sent me to hang with you. He said there’s no sense in you walking all the way back to the settlement just to turn around. Follow me, and I’ll take you to our meeting place. I have some food there, and we can wait in safety and comfort.”
“Great,” Glen said, relieved, and he followed Daniel through the darkening woods.
He was glad for the companionship, all the more so because Daniel knew his way through the woods and did not hesitate once. If Glen had managed to make it back at all, it probably would have been after at least two wrong turns.
