Shades of Gray (25 page)

I was missing something huge; I knew it and felt it in my bones. But what?

Just as I was in the middle of scolding myself again for obsessing about something over which I had no control, something which none of us had control of was happening two Humvees ahead of me.

* * *

“No way. You’re crazy, man. The worst lightsaber duel in
Star Wars
history
has
to be the Vader/Kenobi fight. Not the one from Episode Three, the
original
,” Church argued, emphasizing his point with a few thumps of his hand against the steering wheel.

Michael sat in the passenger seat, having given up his backseat spot to Waters after the surprise attack. The Captain was getting some rest while Michael and Church argued
Star Wars
. John was trying to sleep, only to find himself far too amused by the Geek Squad up front to grab some proper shut-eye.

Michael leaned forward against the seat belt, twisting to look straight at Church, and held his hands out. “
What?!
That’s a
classic
!”

“Yeah. Classic
crap
. Come on, dude. Seriously? Two old bastards swinging their sabers around like it physically hurt them to move? All stiff and arthritic? You know they were stinking the place up with Ben Gay.”

By this time neither of them was focused on the road ahead. Church’s eyes steadily glanced in that direction, yet his attention was on Michael and winning the argument. Michael wasn’t glancing at the road at all. He was too busy glaring at Church and trying to explain why the original duel was a classic.

The rain was coming down harder and a thick fog was starting to settle in.

The only one paying a shred of attention to the road was John, and his shout came a second too late.

* * *

Jonah was driving the middle Humvee when it happened. Rabbit and his colleague, Jonese, were both asleep, and had in fact been asleep for two solid hours. Jonah glanced at Jonese slouched in the passenger seat, drooling down his chin, and looked back at the road just in time to see the front Humvee disappear.

Just like that.

One second it was there, the rear lights lit up and piercing the fog between the vehicles, then the next second it was just gone.

Jonah slammed on the brakes immediately. Rabbit, who hadn’t been wearing his seat restraint, slammed into the back of the driver’s seat, and Jonese was stopped short of hitting the dash by his belt. Jonah cut their shocked exclamations short by jabbing a finger toward the windshield. Three sets of eyes stared ahead in silence.

The fog had shortened visibility to maybe thirty feet. And thirty feet down the road, the pavement ended. There was nothing but a jagged cut across the asphalt and a white mist.

“Where the hell’s the Humvee?” Rabbit whispered.

“Where the hell’s the
road
?” Jonese whispered back.

Jonah was already out his door and jerking his rifle over his shoulder. “Come on.”

He didn’t look back at the last Humvee or at the two soldiers staring out at him from inside his own. His gut was telling him to move, and move fast. His rifle was raised as he jogged along the yellow line, eyes and ears sharp. He smelled gasoline and oil. His mind barely registered the sounds of doors opening and shutting behind him when he stopped at the crevice in the road. Lowering his rifle and pulling a small flashlight from his jacket pocket, he flicked it on and stared down.

The road had been washed away. How long ago was anybody’s guess. Jonah wondered why the chopper pilot hadn’t reported this. He shined his light first to his left, then to his right, but couldn’t see any farther than a few feet either way. No telling whether there was a creek or small river nearby. It really didn’t matter; whoever survived that drop needed to be rescued.

* * *

“How far down is that?” Jake asked, leaning forward.

“Get the ropes!” Rabbit shouted back to Willis and Jonese.

I grabbed the back of Jake’s jacket and pulled him away from the edge. The two of us and Rabbit had been standing there shouting down to Michael and the others, but so far there’d been no answer. Mia and Jonah were helping the other two soldiers drag out everything we might be able to use to climb down to the wrecked Humvee.

How did they not see the washout?

Flashlight beams jumped and twitched in the fog as everyone hustled. It was dark, raining, cold, and visibility was for shit. Even though Collins had given us the all-clear, we had to assume there were deadheads everywhere. We had no idea how bad the crash had been, no idea how bad the injuries would be. All Jonah could tell us for sure was our speed at the time the front Humvee had suddenly disappeared: forty miles per hour.

“Looks like about ten feet.” Rabbit was kneeling, his head craned forward, the beam of his flashlight catching the tail end of the vehicle below. “Yeah, ten-plus feet.” He stood quickly and looked back over his shoulder. “Let’s hustle!”

Jake turned to me. “This is gonna be bad.”

He wasn’t the only one doing the math in his head. If we could see the rear of the Humvee, that probably meant the washout wasn’t extremely wide. It also meant that, slamming into the ground at forty miles per hour, the vehicle probably looked like a crushed Coke can, or at least the front end would.

“Make sure they’re tied off. Two men down, two up top. We need eyes─ Kasey, Jake, you’re on watch,” Rabbit barked as soon as the others joined us with the rope and equipment.

Jake and I shared a look with Mia and Jonah while the soldiers busted ass getting the ropes secured and in place. I think we were all preparing to find John and Michael dead. It was nearly unbearable.

The four of us split up; Jake and I stepping away, me on the right side of the road, Jake on the left, and only so far as we could see with our rifles raised. Jonah stepped in to help Rabbit up top since they were the strongest of the four men and could pull the other two up if there was trouble, and Mia left off to the side with no other job than to worry and wait. Gus would be of no particular help to us in this situation, so he was left to wait in the vehicle.

Willis and Jonese double checked their sidearms and flashlights, turned on their radios, pulled on their gloves, and began the slow climb down.

November 24th

“Hands front, you piece of shit,” said a well-built and imposing man.

He was dressed like a civilian instead of the standard space-suit Caleb had been greeted with more times than he could even remember. Broad across the shoulders and narrow at the hips, the new guard intimidated the prisoner more than his predecessors had, but only slightly.

“Who are you and what happened to the other guy?” Caleb asked. He was squatted down in the far corner, ready to spring as usual.

“He’s been…let go. Needed elsewhere.” The new guard stepped inside the cell; the others had always stayed in the doorway.

“Let go, huh? Damn economy.”

Caleb watched the other man take two more steps inside the cell, all the while mentally running through his options. He was working under the assumption that things must be going to hell within the compound. No one had been to his door in over a day, and when they finally did send someone, he obviously didn’t know how to handle prisoners.

Caleb wasn’t the only one in the family who assumed things too quickly. His kids had definitely inherited that trait from their father.

The man stopped within arm’s reach of Caleb.

“Hands front. I won’t say it again.”

“Won’t have to.”

Caleb sprung to his feet and expected to ram his shoulder into the new guy’s chest. What actually happened was that Caleb found himself face-down on the concrete floor, with a knee in his back and both arms twisted until his hands were between his shoulder blades.

“Hands
behind
will work too,” the man said, his breathing even and measured.

Caleb winced and growled as cold metal handcuffs snapped tight around his wrists. He struggled but the pain in his back and arms quickly let him know who had won the fight. The man heaved him onto his feet, eliciting a seething growl from Caleb’s clenched teeth.

“Don’t try that again. I made my living keeping scumbags like you in line. Now move,” the man said, giving Caleb a shove through the door and into the empty hallway.

For a fleeting second he thought about trying to run. A large hand roughly clamping down on his shoulder changed his mind.

The new guard had always enjoyed pushing people around, but this one was special. He knew all too well who this prisoner was. He’d bullied one of the younger scientists into showing him the file a while back, and found this wasn’t his first run-in with members of this particular family. One he’d left behind to die in Blueville, another he was taking to a slow and painful death.

It was a funny old world sometimes.

* * *

“What do you see, Jonese?” Rabbit keyed the radio on his shoulder, leaving his other hand gripped tightly around the rope. Jonah watched him closely, his hands white-knuckling the rope as well.

“No movement from inside the vehicle, sir. Visibility is zero. Fog’s too thick. Will attempt entry,” Jonese’s voice replied.

Jonah thought he sounded out of breath. He flicked his eyes over to Mia, who was kneeled down and staring over the edge.

“Copy that, make it quick,” Rabbit said, then to Jonah he added, “We need to get moving. This is taking too long.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow. “You suggesting we leave them?”

Rabbit’s eyes widened. “Hell no. I’m just saying, it’s dark, cold, we can’t see what’s coming until it’s right up on us—this is taking too long.”

Jonah nodded and set his jaw. Frankly he didn’t care how long it took, as long as those two soldiers pulled Michael, John, Waters, and Church out of that hole alive. Jonah was no longer concerned with how the rest of the convoy would get around the washout, or with the fact they were out in the open, practically blind because of the fog and darkness. He just wanted his friends to be okay.

“Mia, bring—” Rabbit called. Mia was on her feet and rushing over before the soldier could finish his sentence.

“Yeah?”

“Bring the stretchers out.”

“Did you hear anything? Are they okay?”

“Haven’t heard anything yet. For the sake of saving time, let’s have the stretchers ready for them.” Rabbit added a smile and a bob of his head.

It did nothing to reassure Mia or Jonah.

* * *

I stood on the side of the road, vaguely aware that the high grass I was standing in was wet, and the moisture was soaking through my pant legs and boots. I didn’t pay much attention to the fact my feet were getting cold because my socks were soaked, and didn’t get mad because my boots were supposed to have been waterproof and obviously weren’t. Every ounce of strength in me was fixated on staying focused on our surroundings, because if I didn’t force my eyes and ears to stay sharp, my mind wandered immediately to the crashed Humvee.

Trying to keep my mind off the possibility of losing more loved ones ranked pretty high on my Top Ten Hardest Shit list.

After twenty minutes or so of standing there, back rigid, hands clamped around my rifle, bitter cold seeping through my bones, I glanced over my shoulder. Mia had dragged four stretchers over next to Jonah and Rabbit. I had to clamp down on my emotions pretty quickly when I saw that. Either they were alive and hurt so badly they’d need backboards, they were dead and their bodies would be easier to carry strapped to the stretchers, or having them out and ready was just a precaution. Too many options for such a dire situation. So I did what I always do: flipped a switch in my head and turned off. I swiveled my head around and began scanning the area, carefully and methodically, forced breaths blowing steam from my nose with each measured exhale.

I didn’t think about Michael or John. I didn’t think about Waters or Church. Didn’t think about the washout and how we would get around it. Didn’t think about the heavy fog and the possibility of a deadhead waiting to rip my throat out beyond the darkness. Didn’t think about how I might be slowly rotting away inside. Didn’t think about a million other things I’d been burying since Day One. I couldn’t. As far as I was concerned, I’d fallen apart enough times as it was. I’d reflected and grieved enough times already. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. If I could deaden my emotions, then what needed to be done next would be much simpler, not as messy. We didn’t have time for messy. Not anymore, if we ever did. There was a bigger picture, and we were ignoring it. Or I was. I wasn’t sure anymore. But it didn’t matter either way. People were depending on us.

On me.

Find out what the CC is doing and stop it. Protect who you can still protect, before time runs out.

While I stood in the tall, wet grass, trying to convince myself that I had the intestinal fortitude to get through everything that might happen from that point on, a hungry scream ripped through the fog and shattered my fledgling convictions.