Chapter 25
Sunshine
By the following afternoon, Harbor House looked as though it were preparing for a storm no weather report had predicted.
Fresh sheets covered every available bed. Folded pajamas waited in labeled baskets. Daisy had organized toiletries along the dining-room table, while Lark packed small cloth bags with crackers, juice boxes, stuffed animals, and night-lights.
No one said the children would definitely arrive.
Everyone prepared as though they would.
I stood in the middle of the supply room holding a stack of blankets I had already counted twice.
“Twenty-six,” I whispered.
Then counted again.
Twenty-six.
My hands would not stop moving.
If I stopped, I might think about the girl wearing the blue ribbon.
Grace would be older now.
Not a baby.
Not the little girl who followed me through narrow hallways and refused to sleep unless I checked beneath her cot first.
The image from Cipher’s surveillance had been too blurred to prove anything, but hope had already found the opening.
It always did.
A small voice came from the doorway.
“Sunshine?”
I turned.
Charlie stood there wearing purple shorts, one sandal, and Remedy’s black shirt hanging nearly to her knees. Mr. Pickles dangled from one hand.
“Where is your other shoe?”
She looked down.
“Gone.”
“Shoes don’t usually disappear.”
“This one did.”
She lifted the bare foot as evidence.
I set the blankets aside and crouched.
“Did you check under the couch?”
“Yes.”
“Bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Pickles?”
Charlie held the bear closer.
“He didn’t take it.”
“I wasn’t accusing him.”
“He says you were.”
“Then I apologize.”
She considered the apology before nodding.
“Okay.”
I found the missing sandal beneath a basket of clean towels less than a minute later.
Charlie watched me fasten it.
“You’re making beds.”
“Yes.”
“For kids?”
“Maybe.”
“Scared kids?”
“Some of them might be scared.”
She pushed Mr. Pickles toward me.
“They can use him.”
I looked at the bear.
Charlie never offered Mr. Pickles lightly.
“You might want him tonight.”
“I have Daddy.”
The answer tightened my throat.
“What if Mr. Pickles misses you?”
Charlie pressed her face against his worn fur.
“He can help first.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“That is very kind.”
She leaned closer.
“You sad again?”
“A little.”
“Blue girl?”
I froze.
Remedy had been careful with what he said around her, but children listened even when adults believed they were distracted.
“What blue girl?”
“The picture.”
Charlie pointed vaguely toward the clubhouse.
“She has a blue thing.”
“A ribbon.”
“Is she your friend?”
“I don’t know.”
Charlie frowned.
“You forgot?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I softened it.
“I knew a little girl who wore blue ribbons. The picture is blurry, so I don’t know whether it’s her.”
Charlie thought about that.
“Maybe.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe not.”
“Yes.”
She accepted uncertainty more easily than adults did.
Then she reached up and touched my cheek.
“If it’s not her, you still help the other kids.”
The words were simple.
Almost exactly what Remedy had told me.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Charlie held out Mr. Pickles again.
“He helps too.”
This time, I accepted the bear.
The final planning meeting began at six.
Toxic did not invite everyone. Only those directly involved in the operation entered church, while the rest prepared vehicles, medical supplies, and space at Harbor House.
I sat beside Daisy with Mr. Pickles on the chair between us.
No one questioned why he was there.
Cipher displayed the newest images.
The compound followed the schedule I remembered.
Morning bell before sunrise.
Work assignments after breakfast.
Midday prayer.
Evening meal before dark.
The children remained near the eastern dormitory until the final bell.
“That gives us a window,” Knight said. “Between evening meal and curfew.”
“Everyone will be inside,” Steel added.
“Which means fewer people scattered across the property,” Cipher said. “But more concentrated near the chapel.”
Toxic looked toward me.
“What happens after the evening meal?”
“Women return younger children to the dormitory. Older children clean the dining hall. Men meet near the chapel for final instruction.”
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.”
Raze leaned over the map.
“So we separate the men before they realize the dorms are breached.”
“Yes,” I said. “But do not ring the bell.”
He glanced at me.
“Why?”
“Different bell patterns mean punishment, fire, escape, or armed threat. If the wrong one sounds, everyone will panic.”
Cipher made a note.
“Can we disable it?”
“Yes.”
“Quietly?”
“Cut the rope inside the tower.”
Knight pointed toward the chapel.
“I can reach it from the north wall.”
Toxic nodded.
“Do it.”
The operation remained contained.
No explosive strike.
No assault on nearby properties.
No attempt to follow every road the Order might use.
They would enter this compound, remove the people inside, secure what evidence they safely could, and leave.
One rescue.
That boundary helped me breathe.
“What about the reflection building?” Remedy asked.
My hands tightened around my notebook.
“Open it first.”
“Before dormitories?” Steel asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Anyone inside may be injured or unconscious. They may also be used as leverage once the compound realizes you’re there.”
Toxic changed the order.
Knight and Gage would take the reflection building.
Steel and Bishop would enter the dormitories.
Raze and Mace would control vehicles and prevent escape without damaging transport needed for survivors.
Cipher would cut cameras and radio signals.
Remedy would wait with the medical team at the south gate until called forward.
I would remain at Harbor House.
The decision still hurt.
It no longer felt like dismissal.
“What should we expect when they arrive?” Daisy asked.
I looked at the empty beds on the diagram.
“Do not separate mothers from children unless medically necessary.”
Remedy nodded.
“Men?”
“Keep patched men visible but not close. Some women may fear them.”
Bishop accepted that without offense.
“Lights?”
“Low. No overhead lights if possible.”
“Food?” Lark asked from the end of the table.
“Small portions first. Some may eat too quickly.”
Remedy looked toward me.
“Medical concerns?”
“Dehydration. Untreated infections. Pregnancy. Old fractures. Malnutrition.” I paused. “And silence.”
Toxic frowned.
“Silence?”
“Some will not answer questions, even harmless ones. They may believe every word will be reported.”
“No interviews tonight,” he said.
Relief moved through me.
“Good.”
“Names only if volunteered. Medical needs first. Statements later.”
The club had learned.
Not perfectly.
But enough to understand rescue did not end at the gate.
Cipher enlarged one final image.
The girl with the blue ribbon appeared again near the garden.
Still blurred.
Still impossible.
This time another child stood beside her.
A much smaller one.
The older girl held the child’s hand.
My breath caught.
Grace had always done that.
Even when she was little, she found someone smaller to protect.
Daisy covered my hand with hers.
No one said it was proof.
No one said it was not.
Toxic closed the meeting.
“We leave at twenty-one hundred.”
Chairs moved.
Men rose.
Remedy crossed the room toward me.
“You good?”
“No.”
“Can you function?”
“Yes.”
“That’s enough.”
I looked toward the image still frozen on the screen.
“Bring them back.”
“We will.”
“Do not promise what you cannot control.”
He stepped closer.
“Then I promise this: we will go in prepared, and we will not stop because it becomes difficult.”
That I believed.
He touched my hand briefly before joining the others.
Charlie stayed at Harbor House that night.
Daisy tried to convince her to sleep at the clubhouse, but Charlie refused after learning there would be children arriving.
“I help,” she declared.
Her version of helping involved placing one cracker in every comfort bag and eating every fourth cracker herself.
By eight thirty, crumbs covered her shirt.
Lark handed her another packet.
“One for the bag.”
Charlie placed it inside.
“One for Charlie.”
“No.”
Charlie frowned.
“One for Mr. Pickles?”
“He is currently on duty.”
She glanced toward the chair where the bear sat beside me.
“Okay.”
The men left without ceremony.
Motorcycles remained behind.
They used dark vehicles with covered plates and medical transports waiting farther south.
Remedy found me near the Harbor House porch before he climbed into the last SUV.
Charlie sat on the steps coloring a yellow sun across an entire sheet of paper.
He crouched in front of her.
“I have to go help some people.”
She kept coloring.
“You come back.”
“Yes.”
“After bedtime?”
“Probably.”
Charlie looked up.
“Probably means maybe.”
Remedy’s face shifted.
“Yes, Bug.”
She reached for him.
He lifted her, and she wrapped both arms around his neck.
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Bring kids.”
“We’re going to try.”
She kissed his cheek.
Then she pointed toward me.
“Sunshine stays.”
“I know.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
Charlie looked satisfied.
Remedy set her down and came toward me.
For a second, neither of us knew what to say.
Too many words would make departure feel larger.
Too few would feel careless.
I took his hand.
“Come back.”
“I intend to.”
It was the most honest promise available.
He kissed my forehead, then my mouth.
Brief.
Steady.
No audience mattered.
When he stepped away, Charlie called after him.
“Daddy!”
He turned.
She held up the drawing.
A yellow sun.
Three figures.
One bear.
“Look!”
He smiled.
“I see it.”
Then he left.
Waiting was its own kind of work.
We checked beds.
Reheated soup.
Counted towels.
Reviewed medical intake sheets.
Tried not to watch the clock.
At ten fifteen, Cipher sent one message.
Inside. Communications disabled.
At ten twenty-eight:
Reflection building secure. Six survivors.
Six.
I closed my eyes.
Daisy read over my shoulder.
“Alive?”
“No details.”
At ten forty-one:
Dormitory breach. Children located.
My knees weakened.
Lark guided me into a chair.
“How many?”
The next message came two minutes later.
Twenty-three children. Thirty-one women. Resistance contained. Extraction beginning.
Fifty-four people.
Not the final compound.
Not the end of the Order.
Fifty-four people whose night had changed.
I pressed both hands over my mouth.
Charlie climbed into my lap without asking.
“Kids coming?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“We think so.”
She rested her head against my chest.
“Good.”
At eleven thirteen, the medical transport radio crackled.
Remedy’s voice filled the Harbor House office.
“First vehicles are five minutes out. Prepare for twelve immediate medical evaluations. Four children. Eight adults.”
Daisy moved.
Lark opened the doors.
Volunteers took their places.
I stood with Charlie still clinging to one hand.
Headlights appeared beyond the trees.
The first van rolled toward the porch.
The side door opened.
Bishop stepped down first, keeping his hands visible. Behind him came a woman holding a sleeping toddler, then another woman supported by Steel.
A little boy climbed out barefoot.
Then a girl.
Light hair.
Blue ribbon tied around one wrist.
The world narrowed.
She looked toward Harbor House.
Toward the lights.
Toward the people waiting.
Then her eyes found me.
The basket she carried slipped from her hands.
“Sunny?”
No one had called me that since the Order.
I could not breathe.
The girl was older.
Thinner.
A faint scar crossed one eyebrow.
But I knew her.
“Grace.”
She did not move at first.
Neither did I.
Then she ran.
I dropped to my knees before she reached me.
Grace collided with my chest hard enough to push me backward. Her arms locked around my neck.
“You came back.”
The words broke against my shoulder.
I held her.
Not memory.
Not hope.
Her.
“I’m sorry it took so long.”
Grace shook her head fiercely.
“You came.”
Charlie stood beside us clutching Mr. Pickles.
Grace noticed her through tears.
“Who is she?”
Charlie answered before I could.
“I’m Charlie.”
Grace looked at me.
Charlie pushed the bear toward her.
“He helps.”
Grace took Mr. Pickles carefully.
Charlie leaned against my side.
“She’s my Sunshine.”
Grace looked between us.
Then she smiled through her tears.
For the first time in years, the blue ribbon was not the last thing I remembered about her.
It was the first thing I saw after she was free.