Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Blow
There’s a surge flowing beneath my skin, like a trapped rolling energy, desperate to be spent as I suit up.
But when I stand before Rex with a helmet under my arm, it simmers to silence beneath the anxiety of leaving the safety of the camp—leaving the certainty of Rex.
He opens his arms, and it’s as if he’s been doused with coffee when my nose snuggles against his shoulder.
He gently cups my cheeks, his dark eyes scanning every detail of my face.
He whispers, “Be careful!”
I nod with my face between his hands. “I will. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He kisses my forehead, and we reluctantly separate before he embraces his brothers, the affectionate slaps on their backs echoing against the church’s stone walls.
The remaining soldiers nod and smile as we walk out with our helmets tucked beneath our arms, stepping into the dusky evening air.
Over the years, the Cornerstone has amassed a fine collection of government equipment, but it’s my first time seeing the armoured trucks—just like the one I was escorted to the city in.
The team bundles in, with Roscoe up front while Malcolm drives, and it seems overcrowded compared to my single-occupant journey to Minneapolis.
Roscoe spins to shout above the spluttering of the truck, “All right, guys! Keep those helmets off until I say so. We need all your eyes!” He slips his head into his helmet and mutters, “I don’t know how they see anything in these damn things…”
Despite knowing it’s my fathers, they wear the image of a ranger, which I only associate with fear and heartache. But I don’t discourage those feelings. I need to remember what these men did to Joey, what they took from me—and I’ll use those memories against them during this mission.
After we cross the river, the road improves slightly. The truck’s suspension softens the journey, but the cracked and crumbling asphalt roads continue to send us bouncing, causing my stomach to gurgle. I rest my head on Zeke’s shoulder, closing my eyes to settle my stomach.
He whispers, “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah.” I exhale through pursed lips. “It’s official: I prefer travelling by motorbike.”
“Tell me about it. We’ll have to get you one when we get back. I can help you build it?”
“Really? I’d love that! Is that before or after we get a dog?”
“Before. We need to do more work on the names.”
“Toto? Hooch? Tramp?”
He shakes his head at me with a laugh. “What’s that? How is that any better than my suggestions?”
“They’re really not.” I chuckle at myself. “Maybe we need to wait, and then we’ll know what he’s called. Because he might not look like a Snoopy.”
“Yeah. The wait-and-see approach. He could look more like a Scooby-Doo, if you’ve got anything to do with it.”
We continue chatting, keeping my mind occupied as my sights stretch into the darkening Wilds.
I’m jolted to attention as Malcolm orders, “Helmets on!”
I take a deep breath before plunging into the helmet. It offers a vertical panorama view, but obscures my peripherals with the visor’s edge, similar to tunnel vision, so I’ll need to turn my head to look at anything directly.
Floodlights perch along a chain-link fence, matching the luminescence of daylight.
The checkpoint monopolises the main roads, and this one has waist-high cement barricades blocking passage.
Four rangers are visible within the wooden cabin, but only one stands, letting his rifle hang loose from his shoulder strap as he approaches the truck.
Malcolm lowers the window and speaks with an impressive American accent. “We’re on our way—”
The barrier is lifted, and the ranger waves him through before he can finish his sentence.
Roscoe laughs beneath his helmet. “Well, that was easy!”
But this is what President Beckett can’t fathom.
He can’t control loyalty. These rangers are only men, forced to live the same despair-filled days as the rest of us.
So, apart from those who thrive on power, the rest are just showing up for a paycheck.
Their incompetence inflames our confidence about the rangers we’re set to meet within the compound.
Malcolm says, “Leon, Kris, turn on your comms, we’re here.”
They push their earpieces in as we pull off the road and shelter the truck within the thick of the trees. With only one mile to the compound, the rest of the journey will be on foot as we approach phase one of the mission.
Kris passes us our batons, and I’m surprised at their lightness. I was expecting the heft of a lead pipe after the sound they made against Joey’s body. The lightweight aluminum handle whistles when I slice it through the air, squashing the telescopic length before attaching it to my belt.
Malcolm lifts his wrist to check his watch. “One mile. Stay off the road. Make it brisk; we need to be ready for phase two within the hour.”
“Hey!” Roscoe comes to me, and our helmets clank as he hugs me. “Be careful, baby girl.”
“Yeah. You be careful too. No cowboy shit,” I say, and he butts my helmet with his.
Malcolm puts his arm around me. “Clear your mind. Stay focused.”
Kris offers me a fist bump before joining my fathers, crossing the road.
We walk parallel so we’re on either side of the compound, with moonlight filtering through the trees as we trudge through the undergrowth.
My inner thoughts scream into the silence, but I readjust my attention to my echoing breath.
Breathe in, breathe out, little sparrow, I repeat to myself.
You are supposed to be here. You’ve trained for this. You are capable. These women need you!
The electric glow of lights appears like an ethereal dome through the trees, and we stop at the edge of the wood.
The compound’s grey walls are brightly lit before us and must be thirty feet high, like a concrete fortress curving around the facility within.
Leon leads as we edge around the perimeter, searching for our first destination: the communications access point.
Zeke spots the large steel box, padlocked, with a surveillance camera pointed at it.
Leon whispers, “Access point reached. Waiting to advance.”
There are always two rangers patrolling the outside, while surveillance is monitored from inside, and we wait until Leon receives orders.
Leon relays the update from his comms. “The rangers are by the gate. When you’re ready, Zeke.”
Zeke rubs his palms together and bounces a few squats before selecting his tree of choice.
He plants his boots on the bark at the base of a thick fir tree, wrapping his arms around it before scaling the trunk until we lose him in the branches, with only the soft rustling above indicating his location.
The silence suggests he’s stopped, and we look towards the camera above the communications box.
A shot puffs, with a ding of metal hitting metal. He hits his target on the first shot, and now, on the camera sits a small magnetic device clinging to its base.
“Looper engaged. Awaiting confirmation,” Leon whispers through his headset.
We wait for Rex to confirm that the surveillance footage has been looped as Zeke descends, his Kevlar uniform scuffing against the tree’s bark, and dismounts with a thump. I offer him a silent clap for a job well done, and he performs a bow to us all.
Leon lifts his fist, halting us while he whispers, “All right, Ren. You’re good to go.”
Ren turns to me, and his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. I offer him my fist, and his helmet tilts as he bumps it back.
When he steps into the opening, my stomach twists with his exposure.
The rangers are still out here, so Leon stays central while the rest of us spread through the tree line.
Ren comes to his knees, unravelling his leather wallet of tools on the ground beside him, and with the removal of his helmet, he picks the lock.
I lean in, urging him to be finished before he’s even begun.
When he lifts the padlock away, the door creeps open with a loud iron groan.
He winces with gritted teeth before glancing back to Leon, then delving into the wild wiring and multicoloured cables.
They’re so bundled and twisted, but he seems to know what he’s doing as he isolates specific cables.
From his back pocket, he pulls the interceptor out.
This device will sit like a mole within their network, feeding a live line back to us with a direct link to government networks, databases, or anything else we want to access within their intranet.
Leon waves and points towards my wall, and I nod, readying for the approaching ranger.
For this to be successful, Ren must complete this phase unnoticed while the other surveillance cameras remain operational.
I reach for my belt, pulling out what I have been itching to use against a ranger.
The syringe sits so purposefully in my palm, with the same sedative the Cornerstone used against us in the laundromat.
We’ve weaponised it as a tranquilliser shot.
It’s as chunky as a magic marker, but the needle isn’t exposed until it makes contact.
Like an EpiPen, with a press against skin, a short, sharp needle will plunge the sedative into a ranger.
A faster, less fatal weapon to work with.
The shot is gripped like a dagger in my palm as the ranger’s boots pound closer.
I pinch a rock from the ground and throw it into the clearing.
I stay behind a thick fir tree when the ranger steps into sight, slowly searching the tree line with a curious tilt of his head, but at least he’s distracted from Ren.
With a deep breath, I run towards him, faking fatigue, as if I have been running for a while.
He looks on in confusion as I—from all appearances, a fellow ranger—stagger to his side, hunched over, pretending to catch my breath. “Help me…”