by David Lucin
“I’m not going to sit around and let them think we’re afraid.” Even though I am, she didn’t add out loud. “Do you know where we are?”
“It’s a horse-trainer. A nice one.” Freddie pushed aside a pile of dried-up horse crap with his boot. “Looks like this place was still open when the bombs fell. Probably a spot for one-percenters to board their horses.”
Jenn repressed a shudder. What happened to the animals who lived here? Had they starved? Died of dehydration? Been eaten? She shouldn’t judge; the Grierson family’s three horses had been slaughtered and turned into jerky.
“What do they want with us?” Freddie asked. Whispers floated across the passageway. Tanis, Wyatt, and Aiden, all in adjacent cells, were surely having the same conversation and wisely keeping their voices low. “Ransom?”
“That’s my guess. Why else would they go through the trouble of taking us and making sure we weren’t hurt?” In her mind’s eye, she saw Lopez slumped in his seat, heard him gurgling and choking on his own blood. That fire returned to her chest, and she added revenge for his murder to her long list of reasons her captors needed to be punished.
Freddie pushed himself into the corner of his cell. “The Militia, they’ll come for us, right?”
“Yes, they will.” Jenn sat next to him, legs folded beneath her. She had no doubt that Dylan and Liam and everyone else were thinking of a way to track her down.
What about Sam? Her heart ached at the thought of him. How would he take the news of her kidnapping? He was stronger than she gave him credit for. She pictured him storming into the operations tent and demanding that Liam unleash the full strength of the Militia to bring her home. The image brought a smile to her face.
“What are we gonna do?” Freddie asked. “We can’t just wait around and hope for the best.”
“No, we can’t. For now, we bide our time, stay alert, learn everything we can. Eventually, they’ll slip up, and we’ll be ready.” She grabbed a handful of mulch and sifted it through her fingers. “When this is over, the Major’s going to regret bringing us here.”
* * *
Sam poked his head inside the cab of the Toyota, checking the charge. Over a hundred miles. Plenty. Nearby, two recon drones were plugged into the charging trailer. Each had four rotors and two fixed wings, so they could take off and land vertically but also cruise like an airplane. With a full battery, they could remain airborne for, Hawerchuk had claimed, five or six hours. The smaller, shorter-range rotocopter drones, on the other hand, had flight times of ninety minutes or less and wouldn’t be suitable for what Sam had in mind.
He’d proposed taking a single truck into northeast Phoenix under the cover of darkness. The search area encompassed a huge number of square miles, but nights were cold, even in the desert, so the Major might be keeping his base warm with fires, signs of which should be detectable with a recon drone’s infrared camera.
Dylan liked the idea and volunteered to lead the mission. He suggested taking a second truck and drone as well. Sam asked to join as a driver, expecting resistance, but Dylan agreed without hesitation. Murphy remained skeptical, citing as potential problems the drones’ limited operational range and the probability they’d run out of charge, but Liam was on board, so here they were.
“You think it’ll work?” Quinn asked. “Finding her with the drones, I mean.”
He tossed a duffel bag into the bed of the truck and sat on the open tailgate beside her. “It has to.”
Her feet dangled several inches off the ground. “I should’ve been there with her. It’s not right that I wasn’t. I could’ve helped.”
Sam clasped his hands together, trying not to chew a nail. Jenn always hated when he did that. “You didn’t abandon her or let her down. It was pure chance she wound up in that ambush. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Liam for making the schedule.”
He tried on a smile to go with his joke, but his mouth refused to cooperate. Honestly, in a way, he was angry with Liam. Jenn had been through so much already, with finding Pembroke and the dead soldiers and then being attacked with a knife. Liam should have kept her safely behind the front lines. Yet she wouldn’t have wanted that, so Sam did his best to direct his anger at the people who took her.
Quinn kicked her feet, chin to her chest. “You’re right. I just wish there was something else I could do. I hate sitting around here, not helping, you know?”
“Then tell Dylan you want to come.”
“He’s got like ninety National Guard troops to choose from. I learned how to shoot a gun two months ago. Why would he pick me?”
Sam nudged her with his elbow and winked. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
She snorted, reminding him of Jenn. Actually, a lot about Quinn reminded him of Jenn. “You come up with one plan and all of a sudden you think you’re some kind of big shot?”
“What? You trying to tell me I’m not?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You’re all right, Samuel. Jenn’s lucky to have you.”
“You’ve got that backwards,” he said around a lump in his throat.
They sat quietly for a minute. Then she hopped off the tailgate. “Okay, you convinced me. I’m gonna go find Dylan.”
“No need,” Dylan called out from the direction of the tents on the highway median. A backpack hung off one shoulder, and he carried a rifle.
“Listen,” Quinn said to him, “I know you’ve probably got your team picked out already, and I realize I’m not that experienced, but I can do this. I want to do this.”
“Relax, Novak. You’re coming.” Dylan threw his bag next to Sam’s. “You, me, Sam, and Yannick in one truck. Sergeant Courtney Hiroyuki and three of her grunts in the other.”
Quinn gaped at him. “Really? Me?”
“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now.”
“No,” she spat. “I just . . . Are you sure?”
“If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be coming. I’ve seen what you can do, and I trust you more than any of these National Guard goofs I met two weeks ago. The only reason I’m not taking your whole fire team is because Hiroyuki practically begged me to let her come along and Murphy not so subtly suggested I let her.” He laid his rifle in the bed of the truck. “So go pack an overnight bag and grab a quick nap. We’re leaving at sundown.”
She hesitated for a second, as if she expected Dylan to renege on his offer.
“Get going,” he said and gave her a light shove. “And I’m serious about that nap. Come five in the morning, you’ll thank me.”
“Will do.” She ran off, nearly tripping over a shrub as she scrambled toward the tents.
Dylan cracked his neck and took her spot on the tailgate.
“Nice of you to bring her along,” Sam said.
“It’s not about being nice. I meant what I said. A hundred times out of a hundred I’d take her over some snot-nosed Guard private. Those guys, half of them enlisted only to avoid conscription. I’m sure they’re well-trained, but Quinn’s got skin in the game. Someone who knows Jansen is worth double as much as someone who doesn’t. Plus, she’s kind of terrifying. She might hurt me if I don’t let her come.”
Sam laughed at that. Another thing about Quinn that reminded him of Jenn. “Did you get the details about the exchange?”
Dylan blew his lips. “I did. Apparently the Major wants us to meet him down at a school in Anthem. Five men per side. In return for our people, we give him five truckloads of food, one for each captive.”
“That’s it? I would’ve expected them to be greedier.”
“It’s smart. If he asks for too much—like weapons or a drone—he risks us rejecting him outright. But five truckloads? We can spare it, and it’s enough to keep his crew going for another few months.” Dylan leaned back on his hands. “Then again, capturing five armed troops is a lot of work. I just can’t shake the feeling he’s got something else planned.”
�
��Like what?”
“No idea, and I don’t want to find out. We need to track him down and get Jansen ourselves. Before the meet.”
Sam touched the Glock on his hip. Jenn’s Glock. She gave it to him on the day they left Flagstaff. At the time, when she made him promise to wear it wherever he went, he didn’t seriously believe he would have to use it. Now he hoped for the chance, imagining how good it would feel to press the barrel between the Major’s eyes and pull the trigger. It was the least that piece of trash deserved for what he did to Jenn.
“Your plan’s solid, man,” Dylan said, drawing Sam from his grim fantasy. “It’ll work.” He rolled his shoulder, popping it, and added, “You have a sister, right?”
“Yeah, Nicole. Why?”
“I’m an only child. Never got the whole sibling experience. They say you have brothers and sisters in the military, but it’s different with Jansen. Was from the start. I can’t explain it. She’s like a real sister to me, if that makes any sense. I’d do anything for her.”
“She thinks of you like a brother,” Sam said. “I think you remind her of Jason.”
“That’s the older one?”
“Yeah. They were pretty close. He’s the reason she’s obsessed with baseball.”
“Always wondered where she got that.” Dylan sat up and scratched his eyebrow. Sam thought he might have been trying to hide the emotion on his face. After he cleared his throat, “You know what? I feel sorry for those suckers who took her. She’ll be mouthing them off every step of the way.”
Sam laughed again. His chest still hurt, but a spark of hope made the pain slightly more bearable. “I have no doubt about that.”
15
The sun had set an hour ago, and now, the only light came from the corner in the passageway. Voices floated in from the same direction. Jenn shivered beneath her blanket, which smelled like urine, jealous that the Major’s men were, most likely, enjoying a fire somewhere nearby.
The white of an LED flashlight at the end of the passageway drew her attention. The guard, doing his rounds. Only one came to check on the cells anymore, and by Jenn’s count, he did so once every ten or fifteen minutes. She’d had plenty of opportunities to inspect her cell from top to bottom and even tested the plywood roof, but the Major’s men had fastened it securely. Again she wondered if more captives were being held in this facility.
She heard footsteps. Two pairs. That was unusual. Normally the guard patrolled alone. The LED light came closer. In the dark, she couldn’t see the people behind it. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with a heavy dose of fake cheer. “Come to take our dinner orders? Or, you know, bring us some water so we don’t all die in here?”
The LED stopped outside her cell, then pointed downward, illuminating Skinny Kid and Broken Nose. Like before, a pistol hung from Broken Nose’s belt, but Skinny Kid now carried an AR-style rifle.
Broken Nose pulled a set of keys from his pocket and began fiddling with the padlock on the door. “Nope. Major wants to see you.”
She’d been anticipating this meeting but hoped it would never happen. During the ambush, she’d ordered her team to surrender, so Broken Nose and the other thugs must know she was the leader. But what would the Major want from her? Information? The prospect of torture made her skin crawl. If she was right and he’d captured her and the others for ransom, he wouldn’t hurt her too badly, would he?
Largely out of reflex, she disguised her growing apprehension with snark: “I’m kind of busy at the moment, if you couldn’t tell. I might be able to squeeze something into my schedule tomorrow.”
Her cell door rumbled open.
“Don’t you hurt her!” Tanis shouted from across the passageway.
Broken Nose shone his flashlight at her. “Shut it, or I’ll take away your blanket.”
Freddie scrambled to his feet. Pride rose in Jenn’s chest, but as much as she appreciated her squadmates rushing to her defense, now was not the time for a fight. “It’s okay,” she said loudly enough so both Tanis and Freddie could hear. “I’ll be right back.” I hope.
Broken Nose stormed into her cell. She kept to her corner, forcing him to lift her up by the arm. On the way, she made a point to stumble and fall, which caused him to groan in annoyance. Another small victory.
He and Skinny Kid led her around the bend in the passageway, past more stalls, all of them empty, and into an expansive courtyard of sand and dead grass. Single-story brown stucco walls enclosed the space. All the windows were arched, and several of the doorways, also arched, were topped with decorative domes, reminding Jenn of architecture from the Middle East or North Africa.
In the center of the courtyard burned a bonfire, the source of the faint light she could see while in the stables. From a heap of nearby furniture, a thin man with a long beard pulled out a chair and tossed it into the flames. A few others gathered around for warmth. They all wore weapons of some sort: pistols, shotguns, semiautomatics. None paid Jenn any mind, like they’d seen a thousand captives before tonight.
“Sweet setup you got here,” Jenn said, thinking she could perhaps trick her kidnappers into spilling some details about this place. “You guys been here since the start?”
“Nice try,” Broken Nose said. “Do I look stupid to you?”
“Yes?”
Fingers dug into her arm, and he tugged so hard she nearly lost her footing. They passed the fire, entered a different part of the facility, and traversed a long hall. Halfway down, Broken Nose said to another guard, “This is her. The boss ready?”
The guard pushed open a door, revealing an empty chair illuminated by soft white light. “Sit her down and tie her up. I’ll grab him.”
Skinny Kid gave her a nudge from behind, but she locked her knees and remained in place. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”
His hand touched her back, and she threw an elbow, striking something squishy. His gut? Whatever she hit, he coughed and staggered away. She whirled on him, ready to drive a boot into his groin, but Broken Nose gripped her in a chokehold. His forearm pressed against her throat, making it difficult to breathe. He dragged her over to the chair as she kicked and squirmed and tried to scream, but with every movement, he added pressure to her windpipe. Afraid of passing out, she relented and ceased resisting.
Skinny Kid pulled her arms behind the backrest and secured her wrists with zip ties. When he went to work on tying her ankles to the chair’s legs, Broken Nose let her go, and she sucked in a lungful of air.
They both backed away. She wriggled her hands to test her restraints, reminded of Philip Grierson in Ed’s woodshop; he’d been tied to a chair like this after the Battle of the Farm. The thought made her aware of Val’s cross around her neck. She desperately wanted to clutch it and draw from its endless reservoirs of strength. For her meeting with the Major, she would need all it could offer.
Broken Nose and Skinny Kid retreated to the door. Continuing to twist and turn her wrists, she took in the room. The white light came from an electric lantern on a sturdy, expensive-looking desk. That meant the Major had access to working solar panels. Built into the wall was a bookshelf bereft of books; Jenn assumed they’d been burned in the fire outside. On the walls, framed paintings of desert landscapes hung between lights that resembled old oil lanterns.
Footfalls approached from down the hallway. The Major was here.
Tears threatened to burst in her eyes as she imagined him torturing her for information, but she sat up tall, posture straight, determined to meet him with strength and confidence, even if she didn’t feel any.
The footfalls ceased. Broken Nose, Skinny Kid, and the guard exchanged a few inaudible words. Then someone new entered the room, and the door shut behind him. Standing at a towering six-three or six-four, he was about Dylan’s age, but shadows concealed much of his face. He wore a black beanie and a forest-green flight jacket above plain jeans and combat boots. All his clothes fit too big, like he’d lost a sizable fraction of his body mass, more than th
e average person in Flagstaff. In fact, all of the Major’s men were unusually thin. Were they starving?
“When I told my boys I wanted to speak with the one in charge,” the Major began, “I didn’t expect you.” His voice was smooth and confident, but it carried the hint of smug arrogance.
“What, I’m not what you had in mind?”
“No, not entirely.”
Jenn tried reaching for the zip tie around her wrists. She knew it wouldn’t budge, but if she kept her hands busy, maybe they would stop shaking. “So you’re the Major, I assume?”
Leaning on the front of his desk, he casually crossed his arms. “Am I not what you had in mind?”
“Honestly? I assumed you’d be an actual major, not some mid-thirties guy from a Gap commercial. I’ve got to admit, I’m disappointed.”
A hearty laugh bubbled up from his gut, and he clapped once, saying, “Good one. I heard you had a mouth on you. It’s a nice surprise. I didn’t expect to meet someone with a sense of humor.”
“Yeah, I’m a freaking comedian.”
The LED lantern buzzed as he rapped his fingers on the desk. Each tap sent a shiver down her spine. “But no. If you were expecting a major, uniform and all, you’re not going to get it. The name actually has nothing to do with the military, believe it or not. It’s short for Major Score. Earned it in modular for ripping off gangbangers and cops. It got shortened to ‘the Major’ as a pun, so I can see why it’d be confusing.”
“You were in modular?” She could hear the awe in her voice. And the shock. All this time, she’d simply assumed the major was ex-military. She couldn’t decide if the truth was more unnerving or less.
“Scottsdale complex. Well, the northern one. The southern one got vaporized by a nuke. That far away, the blast still shattered windows, burned your skin if you were outside.”
He took the lantern off the desk and used it to illuminate his features. Jenn recoiled at the sight. A grotesque burn scar deformed half his face and neck.
“It took about five minutes for the whole place to go belly up,” he added and lowered the lantern. “Fires starting everywhere, people rolling around on the ground in pain, a bunch of them blinded from looking straight at the explosions. Needless to say, even with my skin melting off, it wasn’t too hard to round up a crew and punch our way out of there. We grabbed a few sets of wheels, came up here.”
