Shadowmark (The Shadowmark Trilogy Book 1) (28 page)

“Mina, something like this was bound to happen. Keep your head and don’t do anything to make them doubt what I just said, okay?”
 

“I really don’t like this.” Her skin crawled at the way Williams had looked at her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so bad about not warning the camp about the Glyphs. A second later she burned with shame. They all wanted to survive. She shouldn’t wish them ill.

Doyle walked over to sit beside her. For one ridiculous moment, Mina thought he might put his arm around her shoulders, but he merely sat in silence, staring into the fire. She smiled a little, appreciating his small attempt at comfort, but her worries persisted. The Glyphs could be above the clouds right now, waiting to strike while these men milled around below, oblivious to the danger while they played at politics and bargained for women. Despite Doyle’s assurances, the old feeling of despair loomed over Mina’s head, looking for a sign of weakness.

“Interesting, huh?” asked Doyle. He so rarely started a conversation that his words startled Mina out of her thoughts.
 

“Yes. Why did he tell us all that?” she asked. “He doesn’t know anything about us.”

“Means Thompson still needs supporters. He wants to manipulate us into thinking it’s pointless to vote for the other guy because it won’t matter anyway. And of course, he wanted an excuse to ask about you. Politics at its finest.” Doyle pulled the bark off a small twig.

Mina’s face turned red again. “As if we care which way the vote goes. It doesn’t concern us.”

Doyle’s answer was a noncommittal sound, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.

“Don’t tell me you want to vote.”

“I’m interested in seeing how things play out, that’s all. I think I’ll go check out this Thompson guy tomorrow.”

“What for?”

Doyle shrugged and threw the twig into the fire, watching it incinerate.

“What if Williams is hanging around?”

“So what? He’s a pawn. Someone to do Thompson’s dirty work.”

“He’s a pig. Do you think he meant what he said about those other guys?”
 

Doyle took his eyes off the fire to look at her. “Probably, but there’s not much we can do about it right now.”

“Except leave.”

“Not yet,” he said, staring at the fire again.

They sat in silence for the rest of the evening. Mina had resolved to sit up and keep an eye out, but more than once she drifted off to sleep in the warm glow of the fire. The last time, she jerked upright to stop herself from falling over.
 

The corner of Doyle’s mouth twitched. “Get some sleep,” he said. “There’s no need for both of us to be awake.”

“Are you sure? What if he’s still nearby?”

“I’ll take care of him.”
 

Feeling awkward, Mina crawled into the tent behind her but left the flap open. Despite having dozed minutes before, she couldn’t make her eyes close. Doyle sat with his back to her, still staring at the fire. Mina struggled with herself for a moment, remembering her inner promise about asking personal questions. Her curiosity won out.

“Doyle?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you change your accent so easily?”

Doyle replied over his shoulder as he kept his eyes on the fire, “I moved around a lot as a kid. It helped me blend in to new places.”

But picking up a new accent took time, and to retain old accents and recall them perfectly from memory was no small feat. “Which one is real, then?” asked Mina.

“Whichever one we need.”

“Hmph. And you were in the Army? Is that your secret?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You never asked.”

“As if you would have told me.”

Doyle glanced over at her and absently rubbed his chest. He shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“We’re in the middle of a freaking alien invasion. How can it not be relevant? Weren’t you helping fight off the Glyphs? What happened? You must have seen things firsthand.” When Doyle didn’t say anything more, she prompted, “Anything else I need to know?”

“About me? What do you think you need to know?”

Mina sat up, bumping her head on the top of the tent. “Anything! Where are you from? What did you do before all this? What about your family?”

“And you need to know this because . . . ?”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Humor me. Please.”

Doyle didn’t answer her right away. “I don’t have a family. I don’t claim any one place as home. I’ve traveled most of my life.”

It was the most unsatisfying answer she could imagine, worse than if he hadn’t said anything at all. “What about the Glyphs? You said you saw them up close. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I got away and fled to the mountains, same as you.”

“Alright, don’t tell me, then. Goodnight, Doyle.” She yanked the zipper closed and pulled her blanket up to her chin.

“Goodnight,” he said to the fire, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

DAY 58

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
M
INA
AND
Doyle woke early and slid down the mountain slope in a cold rain that seeped into Mina’s bones. At the bottom, they found a crude election setup. Two groups of men stood by to watch the process. At the center of each stood one candidate. Voters walked by and threw a branch in front of the candidate they wanted to win. One branch equaled one vote.
 

Mina and Doyle stood off to the side. Mina anxiously examined each voter, looking for Lincoln. A few men voted in groups, eyes darting around, afraid of retaliation for their vote. Some had black eyes and bloody noses. Thompson’s group stood quietly, the only real noise coming from Halston’s group, which had gathered farther down from Thompson. Doyle kept his eye on Halston.

“They seem confident,” said Mina. She ran her tongue over her teeth. In their haste to leave the cabin, she had not thought to grab her toothbrush.

“Yes.”

Doyle occasionally stopped someone and asked him what he knew. A couple of Marines told them they had been ordered into the cities at the first sign of the invaders, but their ranks were quickly defeated with heavy firepower. These two eventually reached the mountains, intending to join the fight again if they could find it. If the new commander did not go to West Virginia, they would set out on their own again. Doyle gleaned little else from other voters. Most of them were stragglers, enticed by the protection a large group afforded.

An hour passed, and Halston’s crew seemed less enthusiastic. The two piles of branches grew at the same rate. For every vote Halston received, someone else came over to vote for Thompson. Men clapped Thompson on the back when he walked away for a few moments. Williams brought him something to eat. While Thompson talked and laughed with Williams, Mina noticed them look over at her and Doyle. An inexplicable desire to leave nagged her, but she followed Doyle’s example and pretended not to notice the two men.
 

“They’re coming over here,” she said a minute later.

“Don’t stand like that,” admonished Doyle before Thompson and Williams reached them. “Square your shoulders. Otherwise you’re more of a target.”

“Should I give them the evil eye while I’m at it?”

Doyle bit back his retort as the two men approached. Thompson strode forward first, as if to introduce himself with a handshake. But he stopped short a few feet away. A thin man with thick eyebrows, he matched Doyle in height but had a smaller build. He scratched the stubble on his chin and frowned, his eyebrows furrowing into one. Doyle’s face was impassive, but the mood between the two men immediately grew tense.

“Heard you been asking around,” said Thompson.

“Just checking things out,” replied Doyle. He never took his eyes off Thompson, who stood up straighter. Williams, who’d been smiling at Mina when he walked over, stood next to his candidate. Mina tried to look like she knew what was happening.

“Weren’t planning to vote, were you? Having just arrived?”

“I don’t feel the need to vote, no. Thompson, is it?”

“That’s right,” said Thompson coolly. “And you would be Doyle?” He looked at Williams for affirmation. Williams nodded curtly.

“Yes,” answered Doyle.

Thompson seemed to overcome whatever was bothering him because he laughed as he said, “You’re welcome to join our little party after we win today. We’re planning a celebration. You could bring your friend. Could be fun.” Thompson glanced at Mina and winked.

Doyle ignored this. “And if you don’t win?”

“I’m confident folks here see things from our perspective.”
 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” said Doyle offhandedly, as if he had tired of the conversation.

“Yes, I suppose we will.” Thompson motioned to Williams, and the pair walked back over to the growing piles of branches.

“That was odd,” said Mina. She shook her head and said quietly, “Men.”

At midday, rain still misted down, and Doyle and Mina moved to a more sheltered location. Mina sat down on a large boulder, longing for a warm campfire. With numb fingers she struggled to pull her jacket sleeves down over her hands.
 

Were they racing against time by waiting for this vote? Despite Mina’s unease, Doyle remained adamant about waiting. If they tried to warn the camp before the vote finished, he said, they would start a riot. Doyle was stalling. But why? Did he
want
to stay? If he decided to, Mina needed to consider her options.

“I don’t think these guys will vote to go to West Virginia,” remarked Doyle after a while. “They’re more preoccupied with surviving than fighting.”

“What did you expect? Some great war being fought outside these mountains for you to go join?”

Doyle frowned at her. “Maybe.” Mina bit back the next retort she wanted to hurl at him. He was foolish. The Glyphs had wiped out the cities completely. The idea of war was laughable.

They watched the election in silence for some time before Doyle sat up, suddenly alert. The voting was over. The piles looked equally high, and everyone in the vicinity waited impatiently as both sides supervised the count. They counted and recounted, and almost an hour passed before they declared a winner.

Halston’s side let out a whoop of triumph—they would go to West Virginia. A few minutes of back patting and high fiving ensued, but the celebrating was cut short as a large group of men, led by Thompson, approached Halston’s group. Mina held her breath. Although she could not hear what was being said from this distance, both parties had squared off, their bodies tense. Thompson would not give up easily. Soon the argument escalated to shouting and one of Halston’s men swung at one of Thompson’s. Then more joined the fight—whether to break it up or jump in, Mina couldn’t tell—but when she saw the flash of knives she stood up and gasped. Doyle, already on his feet, grabbed her arm. Men poured out of the trees on all sides.

“Let’s get out of here,” Doyle said. But before they could move, four men ran down the slope toward them, ready to join the fray. Mina recognized Jones. He brandished a knife, and recognizing Doyle, made straight for him. Before Mina knew what had happened, Doyle had let go of her and pulled his own knife from his belt.
 

Mina backed out of the way, and not a moment too soon. Jones expertly slashed at Doyle, barely missing his chest. Doyle elbowed Jones while his companions tried to surprise Doyle from behind. She could barely see Doyle as he fought off all four men at once. The other men tried to grab Doyle while Jones circled again with his knife held out before him.
 

Why didn’t Doyle use his gun? Then she remembered her own. She reached around under her jacket and t-shirt for it, but the holster had fallen off. Mina looked around wildly and slid back down toward their seat to find it. By the time she’d found it, Doyle had joined her, pulling her arm as shouts rang out all around. More people joined the fighting, and gunshots rang out above the din.
 

Doyle nodded toward the gun in Mina’s hand. He took it, pulled it out of the holster, and racked the slide before handing it back to her. “Don’t be afraid to use it!” he yelled. They slogged over the muddy earth up to the spot where the men had attacked Doyle. Jones lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His eyes stared blankly into the trees above. Mina gaped as the rain mingled with the blood all over his body, but Doyle continued pulling her up the slope, not giving her a chance to ask the questions that swam in her mind.

More gunfire sounded, and a rumble of thunder reverberated through the valley. After much slipping and sliding through the forest, they reached their cold, empty campsite. Here, the oncoming storm overpowered the sounds of the fighting below. Doyle pulled their carefully hidden packs from under the brush. He had blood on his jacket.

“Are you hurt?” Mina asked. She reached out her hand to touch his jacket, but he zipped it up quickly and shook his head.
 

Mina fastened on her pack. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good. Stay here. I’m going down again to look at what’s going on. Don’t leave this spot. Stay out of sight. If someone bothers you, don’t forget your gun.” He tossed his bag down next to her.

“What could possibly be so important that you would risk getting shot?” But Doyle left before she even finished her sentence, and she ended up shouting it at him as he made his way back down the slope.

Shaking with fury and cold, Mina followed orders and stayed put. An hour passed, and she hunkered under the tree, trying to stop shivering. The rain stopped, and a cold fog took its place. Occasional gunfire and shouts echoed up from below.

Someone headed up the slope through the mist, and thinking Doyle was looking for her, Mina jumped up and waved her hand, calling out. But when she saw Williams’s red hair, she shrank away and looked for a hiding place. Williams had already spotted her, though. When he saw she was alone, he grinned. A leering grin that reminded her of Reed.

“What are you doing up here?”

“What’s going on down there?” Mina tried to sound casual.

“Oh, nothing to worry yourself about, I don’t reckon. Where’s your friend?” He glanced at her hand and paused. Mina still gripped her gun. Williams didn’t have any weapons.