Page 22

“Wolves go after a wounded deer, it is the nature of the beast.” — Barbara Delinsky

Gwen

At the bottom of the hill, an explosion erupts near the entrance. Turning, blinded by the smokey dust, I cough my lungs out, then swallow back a sob.

Did the survivalists kill my friends? Where is Axel? I point to the prefab building behind the cafeteria, carefully choosing my words. “To show you the microdot’s location, we must return to your office.”

Lips pursed, Lewis glances over his shoulder, shoves his earpiece in deeper, and increases his pace. “If you’re lying, my men will shoot you.”

“If they do, you’ll never find it.” To slow him down, I stumble, stop, then turn.

“Bitch.” He grabs a gun from one of his guards then uses it to jab me in the stomach.

I cramp, curled up in a ball on the ground.

While I gasp for air, he tugs me to my feet. “Move it.”

Thanks to the genius who wanted to speed things up, I command my legs to move but nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for? Pick her up and bring her.” At the cult leader’s outburst, the biggest of the six men lifts me.

The pain in my gut intensifies as I’m hoisted in a fireman’s carry. Upside down, I close my eyes, pleading to God for Lilac’s baby, the women, and all their spouses. Surely, our men’s warrior skills are superior to these wannabees.

In the relative quiet, my heart pounds as we enter the house. Grunting, my personal gorilla climbs the stairs while my poor nose bounces against his muscled back. Once we reach the office, he drops me on the floor, where the crazed lunatic looms over me.

“Alright. Show me.” Lewis pales when gunfire ensues.

Is it possible my side is winning? Encouraged, I inch across the office toward the window, praying the wind didn’t dislodge my paper airplane. Otherwise, I may need to shift to a way riskier plan B.

Once the shots cease, he presses his earpiece tighter, staring off into space. When finished, he drops his hand away from his face, now laser-focused on me.

“Stupid girl. Your friends are all dead. You could’ve joined me. You would’ve lived your life safely behind these walls. What a fucking waste.”

“You’re no savior. You’re a terrorist.” I’m so tired of all his bullshit . If Axel had indeed died, the madman would be dancing a jig, not berating me.

His fist flies at my face so fast I don’t have time to duck. At some point, I come to but wish I hadn’t. Oxygen depleted, I thrash. A hand slaps my face as I try to swim to the surface.

Cheeks on fire, coughing out liquids, my heavy lids open, and I puke. When the spasms finish, the office spins.

Lewis’ face lines up with mine. “The microdot. Where is it?”

No pond or ocean, only a bucket of water, lies next to me. Is he waterboarding me? One fist clenches as the other hand reaches to feel for the damage to my face.

“If you’d stop drowning me, I could show you.” My voice comes out muffled because the cartilage in my nose is probably broken. I pinch the bridge, roll to my knees, and brace one elbow on the windowsill to stand.

The last time I had the spins, a bottle of Tequila was to blame. The thought makes my stomach lurch, but I swallow it back.

Once a few more brain cells fire, I point at the group of firs on the other side of the fence. “There, at the top. The tree next to the maple. See the bill shaped as a paper airplane?”

My adversary opens the window causing wet, horizontal rain to hit me in the face. The cold soothes the pain until he backhands me again.

While I reel, he lowers his mouth to his chest. “Ames, to me! Ames? Brinkworth? Someone. Answer me!”

What happened to all his minions? My head lifts, and after a moment of gut-wrenching vertigo, the office slows to a stop. Alone with Lewis, I recalculate my chances of survival. Judging from his face, no one has responded to his broadcast.

“Let’s go. You put it out there. You can get it down.” His shove toward the stairs should scare the shit out of me. Instead, I smile. He may be bigger, but he sure as hell isn’t smarter.

Using the banister as my lifeline, I work my way to the first floor, then turn to face him. “Can I ask you something? If the data on that dot was so damn important, why didn’t you make a copy?”

On the edge of a full-fledged breakdown, he lands a punch near my right kidney. Playing with fire, I expect to get burned. Still, I am hopeful. His mental instability will cause him to make mistakes.

Perhaps I'm equally delusional because I still believe Axel will save me.

My whole body aches as we exit the building. While we were in the office, a storm must’ve developed. While the wind whips my hair, the rain instantly drenches me to the bone. Every few seconds, lightning flashes and lights up the now-empty hill.

Where did everyone go? My head on a swivel, I search for any signs of life as we pass through the damaged front gate. Hanging on one hinge, it bangs against the charred wood of what used to be the gatehouse.

Under the enormous fir tree, he shines his phone on my paper airplane. Before the downpour, he probably could’ve stuck his head out the window and used a stick to dislodge it. Now, the soggy bill flutters near the top of the thirty-foot pine, impaled by a sharp branch.

Wulf, where are you? Tears well. Perhaps Lewis wasn’t lying when he said they all died. A sob escapes me, but I hold it back. I can’t afford to break down, not with so much at stake.

“Get it.” His AK points at me, yet I’m not too worried. He must have a fear of heights. Otherwise, I would already be dead.

The fierce wind troubles me more than his weapon. Of course, the damn thing got stuck at the tippy top. There’s no way those uppermost branches will support my weight. If I factor in my dizziness with my injuries, I estimate zero chance in hell of achieving my goal.

“Helium, hydrogen…” Chanting to myself, I grasp the prickly trunk and lift my foot onto the lowest branch.

With one down and a hundred to go. I inch my hands further up. The process is repeated until I can climb no more. Now, at least three feet above me, the soaked C-note waves in the wind.

“I’m sorry. I can’t reach it. Perhaps we can-”

“Get me the damn paper.” When Lewis fires his weapon, bullets whizz by my face. Some break branches, while others create holes in the vinyl siding.

Wishing I had more upper body strength, I pull the branch holding the one-hundred-dollar bill closer.

Stretching long, hanging on by my toes, I reach out my hand until I can pinch the wet paper between my index and middle fingers.

“Got it!” The branch I’m standing on snaps, and the tree wobbles.

Arms flailing, I fall.