Chapter Thirteen
Jane ran from the building, threading in and out of alleys until she saw a burned-out truck that looked familiar. Think, think. Where had she seen that before? Was that one different from any of the other burned-out and stripped trucks? Her brain was too tired to connect the dots.
Maybe… maybe she’d seen it on the way from the airstrip. If so, hurray! She’d been going in the right direction. Dax had pointed toward the distance at a number of white tents. They were scattered as far as they could see.
He’d said the tents were part of a refugee camp.
Hadn’t Dax said something about peacekeepers?
She’d tuned out his attention-seeking conversations for so long, she hadn’t realized this time it would be important.
Think… He’d said that they’d arrived at the same airport that UN and NATO peacekeepers had used.
Hope squeezed her heart. Maybe there were friendly people at the refugee camp.
She could find the peacekeepers and explain that she was American.
They would help her. Or if they didn’t, she could drop Dax Thane’s name, and maybe that would help her.
Or not. The Thane name could cause the whole disaster to start over again.
She could be captured and put up for ransom again.
There had to be good people there. Weren’t there always good people everywhere?
Folks who didn’t want to barter, trade, or kill her?
Was that too much to ask? The refugee camp was the safest bet…
probably. Do you have any better options?
Jane turned toward the building she’d been in, waiting one last minute for Midas to swoop in again.
Then she waited another, more anxious minutes as a small-and-scary, but oddly contained fire blazed on one of the upper floors. No Midas with his night-vision goggles. No stealth helicopter with dangling save-the-day ropes. The refugee camp still seemed like the better option.
Something small and furry skittered over her feet, and she jumped. Yes, a much better option.
Jane trekked out of the building, and the image of her hometown popped into her mind.
In all her days growing up in Pensacola, she’d never once thought life would lead her to the opposite side of the world.
What happened if she died here? Had she made any important contributions to society?
Would she leave behind anyone heartbroken and missing her?
Not really. Suddenly, the piles of money the Thanes had thrown at her in paychecks sounded like a pittance.
The only good thing about that job still was Teddy.
Jane headed in the direction of the refugee camp.
Her travels took far longer than she’d estimated.
Her feet hurt. Blisters rubbed her heels, and her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth.
Even with her slow pace, her muscles strained.
But, finally, Jane reached the outskirts of this makeshift, ruined city.
The open space between her and the camp seemed like no man’s land. Animals made unrecognizable noises. The darkness became impossibly darker, and the ground far harder to navigate. In some sections, she crawled on her hands and knees.
Jane couldn’t guestimate how long it took to close in on the camp. The only sense of time she had was how the cover of night remained overhead. But she’d made it, and Jane collapsed in the shadows to catch her breath and work on a plan.
Purple light warmed the dark sky, promising dawn would soon come.
But even with the slowly brightening sky, she realized the refugee camp wasn’t what she’d expected.
It looked far less inviting with its seemingly unending chain-link fence topped by barbed wire.
The barricade separated her from rows of pale tents.
The tents were stacked on top of each other. They sprawled as far as she could see.
Cautiously, Jane approached the towering fence. As large as the camp seemed, it was painfully silent. She didn’t see any signs of life. “Hello?”
No one answered. Was it possible that every occupant was asleep?
Or maybe the entire facility wasn’t in use. After all, her information had come from Dax Thane. Not the most reliable source.
She called again, “Hello?”
Nothing.
Jane slowly walked along the fence, but, despite her watchful gaze and careful pace, her breaths tightened. A mixture of wild anxiety and sleep deprivation pummeled her with doubt. How safe was a refugee camp? Why didn’t she listen to the news or prepare for this trip more than she had?
Her fingertips ran along the rough, rusted fence, hoping to see a gate or a friendly face.
Finally, she found an opening in the fence that was large enough for her to crawl through. Would the camp be safe? Would Midas and his helicopter look for her there?
She glanced over her shoulder and searched the sky for a helicopter. Nothing caught her attention, and Jane dropped to the hole in the fence. If another plan were to come to mind, now would be a good time…
No other plans surfaced. She had to find someone in the camp who would help her.
How hard would helpers be to find? Jane pushed herself through the rusted fence and rolled to the other side.
Her uncertainty grew as she sat up, somewhat surprised that she didn’t miraculously feel safer inside the camp.
What next? She searched both directions, finding nothing new, and pushed herself off the ground. It was time to explore.
The tents were as long as tanker trucks, but not nearly as high.
She found they were made of a canvas material and lined up in rows many tents deep.
After she passed the front of several tents, deciding that the overlapped fabric served as doors, she picked one and carefully inched apart the heavier-than-expected fabric.
Her nose twitched at the stale air. Rows of people slept, huddled on the floor or packed onto cots. She couldn’t imagine this many people living in this tight of a space.
A baby cried deep within the tent, and Jane scrambled backward, suddenly terrified to be caught. Her plan hinged on helpers. How could she ask anyone for help when they didn’t have enough space to simply sleep?
She hurried away and wound through the unending rows of tents, now knowing of families piled on top of one another, sleeping in inhumane conditions.
Suddenly, Jane stopped. Which direction had she come from? She turned then spun on her heel again. I’m lost.
You’ve been lost for a while, she reminded herself. But now, she didn’t know which direction to go in.
The faint sound of footsteps crunching on rocky sand broke through her momentary paralysis, and as they came closer, her fear escalated.
She bolted in the opposite way. So much for her grand plan to find the helpers.
She should’ve waited on the outside of the fence until she found a gate. Why had she sneaked inside?
She stopped again. Not because she wanted to. But her head was swimming. Jane ducked behind the far side of a tent and bowled over. Her hands rested on her knees, and she panted to catch her breath.
An uncertain voice startled Jane. She jerked toward the voice.
The quick move made black spots skew her vision, and she stumbled to the ground.
Jane lurched back and saw a man towering over her.
He barked angrily. She didn’t understand and couldn’t find the words to explain who she was and the help she needed.
She choked over the dirt in her mouth, but finally managed, “I need help.”
He motioned for her to stand, beckoning and calling over his shoulder. Time barely moved. She swayed on her feet, blinking sand from her eyes as another man approached. This guy carried an assault rifle—he pointed it at her.
“Help.” Her voice cracked, and she raised her hands. “I’m an American, and I need help.”
Understanding crossed their faces. Grins tugged at their weathered faces, and in an instant, Jane knew that had been the wrong thing to say.