365 Days Hunted

by Nancy Isaak

  It’s not that we didn’t have any. It’s just that, by the time we got around to checking—they were already gone.

  * * * *

  “Five guys,” Porter announced. “Of course, we can’t say for sure, but it only makes sense that they were spies. I mean, why else would they have left the way they did—while we were fighting the fire?”

  I was sitting on the end of Rhys’ bed, listening quietly as Porter gave me his report. Kieran was in a chair next to the window, looking out into the dark and shaking his head in frustration.

  “Were any of them from the slave groups we rescued?” I asked.

  “They were all guys who had come up along Pacific Coast Highway, from the south,” explained Porter. “Guess that should have been our first clue. If the Crazies have the highway covered in that direction, how could the guys have made it through the roadblocks, right?”

  “And you’re sure they’re gone?”

  “All five of them were here when the fire started.” Porter held his hands out wide. “Now, they’re gone. Poof—vanished in the smoke.”

  * * * *

  By the time Porter left, I was feeling furious with myself—and stupid.

  Really stupid.

  “Rhys told me those twins came up from the Palisades,” I ranted. “How could I not realize that they were lying? Two 9-year old boys making it past the Crazies! It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You had your mind on other things,” Kieran pointed out.

  “Yeah, like stupid cars that didn’t even exist in that stupid garage!” I moaned. “If I had just paid more attention to what Rhys was saying. I mean, I didn’t even think to send a guard with him. How stupid was that?!”

  “Dude, you made a mistake.”

  “That lost us Rhys!”

  Kieran sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You know what someone told me once?”

  “What?” I grunted, not really listening.

  “Not your fault, not my fault. It’s Brandon’s fault—nobody but his.”

  I turned slowly to frown at him. “Don’t use my own words against me, bro. It’s not fair.”

  “Nothing’s fair about this,” Kieran admitted. “So, let’s just stop blaming ourselves and figure out how to get Rhys back.”

  Nodding, I took a deep breath to settle my fury. “Okay,” I began. “We’ve doubled up on the sentries across the Point and everyone’s been alerted to let Brandon through our perimeter if and when he shows up.”

  “And you’ve sent the Alpha Teams out?”

  “I’m not happy about that but—one to the Fire Camp and the other one to Tapia,” I confirmed. “What I’d really like is to send someone up into Agoura Hills, but I think that’d be even more dangerous right now. They’ll probably have all the routes heading into the city covered and will be looking for us.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m working with Josh on defensive scenarios,” Kieran added, “in case the Crazies do decide to attack the Point. We’ll be marking out possible escape routes and battle positions tomorrow.”

  “And I’ve got Andrei and Ian taking over Rhys’ unit.”

  “Their choice or yours?” asked Kieran.

  “They volunteered,” I told him. “And Ethan and Wester have joined up, too.”

  “Ethan?” That surprised Kieran.

  “He’s scared,” I said. “Rhys being taken has really spooked Ethan. He wants to learn how to defend himself in case the Crazies come for him. That’s what he told me this afternoon.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about Ethan having a gun in his hands,” said Kieran.

  “Wester will take care of him.”

  Kieran rose, brushing out the wrinkles in his pants. “Funny how Ethan and Wester are the same age, but Wester is so much more mature,” he noted. “Guess that comes from all that Haiti stuff.”

  “Or from living with Cherry Winslette,” I joked.

  “She is a tough chick,” admitted Kieran.

  “You have a thing for Cherry?” I asked, surprised.

  “Pink hair, ring through her nose, pisses off every adult she comes into contact with,” said Kieran. “Who wouldn’t?!”

  My brother headed toward the door, grinning.

  “Kieran, wait.”

  He turned back, his grin disappearing at the serious look on my face. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” He looked truly confused.

  “For sucking at this.”

  “At what?”

  “At being a leader,” I said, hanging my head in shame. “At being a big brother. I’ve screwed everything up.”

  “Well, then I’m sorry for this.” Kieran’s hand snaked out, smacking me on the top of my head. “Snap out of it!” he ordered, angrily. “You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself, Jacob. And you don’t suck at being a leader. In fact, you’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to those guys out there. As to that big brother stuff—just shut up because you’re annoying me!”

  And—he smacked me on the head once more.

  DEFINING THE GAME

  Brandon showed up one week later.

  Riding a black horse straight down Dume Drive, he was accompanied by two other Crazies on their own horses—Mateo and Brent. They stopped at the junction, waiting as my armed guard and I approached.

  I took my time, hoping that it would annoy Brandon.

  Unfortunately, it only seemed to amuse him. He grinned as I came nearer, raising a hand in salutation. “Jacob…how’s it hanging, bro?”

  “Where’s Rhys?” I growled.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking around him. “Where’s Kieran?”

  “Nice cue ball,” I commented, ignoring his question. “Going the full tribal route, I see.”

  Indeed, Brandon was looking more savage than ever—wilder. He was bald now, with a large ‘A’ in a black circle tattooed on the back of his skull. On each side of the circled-A were large lightning bolts, the left one marred by a still healing cut—as if someone had taken a knife and sliced straight across it.

  His clothes were ripped and surprisingly dirty, and his black t-shirt strained to contain his massive chest and arm muscles. On his legs, Brandon wore dark jeans that were tucked into knee-high motorcycle boots and, around his throat, what looked to be a choker of bones.

  I was hoping the bones had come from animals.

  But I didn’t think so.

  “Like my new do?” Brandon rubbed his hand across his head. “Personally, I think it makes me look quite debonair.”

  “Personally, I think it makes you look like a douche,” I responded.

  Brandon sucked on his teeth, his expression turning sour. “You really think you should be baiting me, Jacob, when I’ve got your little brother trussed up like a Christmas turkey?”

  “You hurt Rhys,” I warned, “and I will kill you. I swear.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, waving his hands. “So many promises. You’re like a broken record.” Brandon turned to Mateo and Brent and grinned. “See what I mean? Prissy little bitch, ain’t he?”

  Mateo immediately burst into laughter. Brent smiled, but I noticed that it seemed forced, like he wasn’t at all happy with the situation. If anything, he seemed somewhat disgusted, not looking at Brandon directly—instead, watching him out of the sides of his eyes.

  My brain filed Brent’s reaction away for further consideration.

  * * * *

  They came out from between the houses—surrounding Brandon and his two guys. Kieran led them—all of them armed—and directed them to their positions.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Kieran, when he walked up beside me. “I told you I had this under control.”

  “Just having your back, big brother.”

  All of them were there—Porter, Connor, Andrei, and Ian. Even Ethan and Wester were holding guns on Brandon, although Ethan’s hand was definitely shaky. His weapon kept dipping up and down as he adjusted its weig
ht.

  “Hope that thing isn’t loaded, little guy,” teased Brandon. “And if you want to be super-scary, then I suggest you actually take it off of safety?”

  Wester immediately leaned over and helped Ethan reposition the safety lever on his gun.

  “And Andrei—look at you, dude,” Brandon continued. “You actually got your afro going. The brothers would be proud.”

  “Shaddup,” Andrei snapped.

  “Sorry, dude,” Brandon pretended to pout. “But you’re not the boss of me.” His eyes moved away, passing over Connor to settle on Porter. “Well, well…is that an actual backbone I see growing there, Porter?”

  “You don’t frighten me,” growled Porter, standing a little taller. He was holding a shotgun and racked a shell into position. Its click-clack echoed loudly, causing the younger guys to tense, tightening their holds on their own weapons.

  I quickly walked over and placed a hand over the shotgun’s barrel, trying to push it down. Porter resisted, holding it steady.

  “We can’t afford any accidents, Porter,” I told him, under my breath. “If your gun goes off, we lose our chance to get Rhys back.”

  “I’d listen to your master if I was you, Popo,” Brandon suggested.

  Porter didn’t move, his frown deepening.

  “Please,” I pleaded. “For Rhys.”

  After a long moment, Porter turned and looked at me. Slowly, he lowered the shotgun, so that it was parallel to his leg. I placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding my thanks.

  Meanwhile, Kieran stepped forward, hefting his own shotgun, so that it was balanced against his shoulder. “Hey, dude,” he nodded to Brandon—speaking with a surprising calm, almost as if he was just having a normal conversation with an old friend. “So, why don’t you tell us what you want to trade Rhys for, so that we can get this over with?”

  Instead of answering right away, Brandon took his time—looking Kieran up and down. Finally, he spoke. “It was you,” he mused, quietly. “I thought maybe it was Jacob who freed the guys over at Tapia. But it was you, wasn’t it?”

  Kieran grinned. “It was my pleasure.”

  “So—if you were the bigger one,” murmured Brandon, “then who was the other little piggy they saw with you?” Slowly, Brandon looked around. His eyes moved from one guy to another, finally settling on Pauly, who couldn’t help but meet his stare with a bright grin.

  “My money’s on you,” guessed Brandon.

  Pauly bent low, sweeping one arm forward and around in an old-fashioned bow.

  “Well, proper respect, boys,” nodded Brandon. “You definitely caught us with our pants down on that one.”

  I cleared my throat, trying to redirect Brandon’s attention. “If you’re done—maybe we could get back to business.”

  “Roger-dodger,” he agreed, immediately. “Business it is.”

  “So, what do you want for Rhys?” I asked, knowing that I wasn’t going to like his answer.

  “We-l-l,” he said, drawing the word out. “I’m assuming that you’ve heard about our little Arena?”

  I nodded.

  “Excellent. Because we’re putting on a special Halloween show. A one-year anniversary of the big ‘event’, you could say.” He motioned to all of us, grinning. “You’re all invited by the way. We’ll have the fights in the morning—leading to a major blow-out on the night. Ring in the one-year at midnight.”

  “I think we’ll be passing on that…sorry.”

  “Well, your loss.” Brandon sucked on his teeth, pretending to think deeply before he continued. “So, anyways—we had a couple of guys over at Tapia that we were grooming for the Arena, but you kind of ruined that.”

  “We’re not giving you back the slaves,” I immediately said.

  “Slaves—what a horrible word,” he frowned.

  “What would you call them, then?”

  “Tributes,” he suggested. “Meat?”

  Kieran hocked up a loogie, spitting it on the ground in disgust. If anything, this seemed to amuse Brandon.

  “In any case,” he continued, “we have other guys we can use, so it’s still going to be a great show. But—and here’s the interesting thing—we still have one slot open. So, I was thinking. Well, Rhys is a little small but…”

  “Yes,” Kieran said brusquely—interrupting him. “I’ll do it.”

  “NO!!” I pushed at my brother, trying to force him back. “Pauly, get him out of here!” I ordered.

  As Pauly came toward Kieran, Brandon held his hands up. “Calm down, Jacob,” he chuckled. “It’s not even Kieran that I want.”

  My eyes slowly rose to meet Brandon’s; he just stared at me, not saying a word—smiling. Beside me, meanwhile—out of the corner of my eye—I could just see Pauly moving into position to hold back Kieran in case he attacked.

  “Well, what do you say, Jacob?” drawled Brandon. “Feel like taking the field together one last time?”

  I smiled up at him. “Do you even need to ask?”

  OCTOBER

  JOURNAL ENTRY #36

  More than likely this will be my last journal entry.

  How weird is that?

  * * * *

  In a few hours, I’ll be heading up Kanan-Dume toward the trade.

  Brandon planned on bringing Rhys onto the Point and doing it here. But—at our previous meeting at the junction—before I could object, Connor stepped up beside me and demanded that we make the switch up on Kanan-Dume instead.

  “We’ll do it at the first tunnel,” he told Brandon. “You’ll have the Valley side. We’ll control the beach side. The switch needs to be in the center of the tunnel.”

  Brandon turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows for confirmation.

  “You heard him,” I nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  It actually wasn’t—but, sometimes, you just have to trust.

  In this case, it was Connor—and his crazy, geek-brain.

  “Okay,” said Brandon, pulling back on his horse’s reins to turn him around. “Two days…at noon…first tunnel. Be there or be square.”

  “We’ll have guys on our side,” warned Connor, quickly. “We’ll be putting them up on the hill right away, so don’t even bother setting up any traps.”

  “Take a deep breath, Connie,” grinned Brandon. “Why would I even need a trap? I’m getting what I want and—frankly—the tunnel’s a good idea. It’ll be more secure and you guys have way too itchy trigger fingers, right, Ethan?”

  And he spurred on his horse, straight toward Ethan, who fell backward, right onto his butt. Wester immediately rushed forward, raising his gun. Luckily, Kieran reached out and pushed it back down before Wester could actually pull the trigger.

  A moment later—and Brandon was galloping down Dume Drive.

  Mateo followed after, laughing uproariously as he trotted away.

  Brent, however, took his time turning his horse around. As he did, he reached down to tighten his stirrup. For a short moment—hidden from the others—he caught my eye. “Look for the stars,” he told me, quietly.

  And he opened up his right hand slightly.

  There—in the webbed skin between his fourth finger and his pinkie was a tiny, tattooed star.

  Then he, too…was gone.

  * * * *

  When you think of it, Connor really did come up with a brilliant plan.

  Because of where the tunnel is located on Kanan-Dume Road—leading down to a switchback—it’s difficult for either side to set a trap. We can have our guys in the hills on our side, while Brandon’s guys are on the hills on the other side. With the tunnel heading downward, into a curve that travels right between the two sets of hills, we’ll be able to see each other, yet still have the canyon for protection between us.

  That will really only leave one weak point.

  The tunnel itself.

  * * * *

  As soon as Brandon left the Point with Brent and Mateo, I sent a surveillance team up onto Kanan-Dume to secure the trade location. I
was worried that our guys might encounter the Crazies along the way, but Brandon either didn’t have anyone down that far, or they had already been withdrawn.

  An hour later—our side of the tunnel was under our control.

  Pauly’s been in charge of the team up on Kanan-Dume ever since. He’s been reporting back regularly and it looks like everything is going according to Connor’s plan.

  The Crazies have set up in the hills on the other side of the tunnel. While they haven’t made any move toward our side, Pauly says that they are definitely digging in. From his estimate, it looks like Brandon has a good ten to fifteen guys on his side.

  We’ve got thirteen guys up there right now. In a few hours, we’ll have double that—not including the trading party.

  * * * *

  Connor, meanwhile, has been up and down Kanan-Dume a half dozen times in the last two days. He’s been helping Pauly to organize the team up there. According to Connor, by shifting the guys around to specific spots all along the hills, we can cover one hundred percent of the area around the tunnel. He’s shown me a plan that he drew—all angles and mathematical equations.

  It’s a good plan—but Connor forgot to include one thing.

  The human equation; people simply don’t follow the right angles.

  And that worries me.

  * * * *

  Yesterday afternoon—in the conference room—I told Connor that I didn’t want him to go up the canyon with the trading party this morning. When I did, he immediately crossed his arms, got this determined look on his face, and told me that he’s still going to come. “You probably think this sounds stupid but, sometimes, I can see what somebody is going to do before it happens,” he told me. “So, I should be there—just cause of that.”