To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

ions around the center to form a protective barrier. The work was slow and ponderous, made worse by being bound to each other, but the guards were relentless. Since the moment Kenneth Nealson gave them their task they had been forced to work with only a few moments of rest here and there. Water, thankfully, had been plentiful and both Dianne and Sarah made sure Jacob and Josie were drinking plenty and staying warm as they piled dirt into the bags.

The hopelessness of the situation combined with the dramatic turn of events was not lost on Dianne, nor was her injury. The arrow had been removed and her wound was bandaged by one of the men in the compound, but it was neither pretty, gentle or what she would consider high quality. Each time she had to stand and help haul full bags over to their designated places she nearly cried from the pain as the wound continued to bleed, soaking through the bandage and spreading a red stain across her jeans.

From their position in the ditch, Mark, Jason and Tina were unable to see anything that was going on behind the center. They watched the front carefully, though, counting different men as they wandered back and forth, trying to build up an estimate of the number of enemies they would face while trying to rescue their loved ones. It was, in the end, good that they weren’t able to see the labor that Dianne, Sarah, Jacob and Josie were being forced to perform for the day. When the line of bags continued around one side of the building and Mark caught a glimpse of his dirt-covered brother and sister and his limping mother, Jason’s quick reaction time was the only thing that kept Mark from leaping out of the ditch and charging across the road.

“Mark!” Jason pressed his mouth against Mark’s ear, hissing as he whispered as quietly as possible. “Stay still!”

“But—”

“I know!” Jason wrapped an arm around Mark and squeezed him tight, hearing Mark’s breaths quicken as tears began to well up in his eyes. “I know. But if we rush in there right now, we’re going to die. And that won’t help them at all, will it?”

Mark shook his head and Jason eased up on his grip, still keeping his arm around him, trying to comfort him. “The good news, though, is that we know they’re safe.” Jason continued whispering. “I need to talk with Tina and see if we can come up with a plan. You gonna stay put if I let you go?”

Mark nodded and Jason patted him on the back, then slowly scooched over close to Tina. He leaned in and whispered to her, keeping his head low and near hers so that they could quietly speak without their voices carrying over the road.

“He spotted them.”

“How many?”

“All four.”

“Surprised you managed to keep him from jumping and running.”

“He’s going to soon if we don’t come up with a plan.”

Tina glanced back over the edge of the ditch, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Jason. We can’t handle that many of them. They clearly didn’t bring everyone to their assault on the house. What’s the count up to?”

“Twelve.” Mark whispered softly, crawling over and joining in on the quiet conversation. “Maybe a few more or less, but we’ve been keeping track of them based on their clothes and stuff so I think that’s right.”

“At least twelve. We can’t handle that.” Tina sighed. “No way can we handle that.”

“Then we find a different way.” Jason pulled off his wool cap and ran a finger through his hair. “Nightfall’s going to be our best bet. I say we try and get a bit of rest before then. Once the sun goes down we can reevaluate and try to figure something out.”

“Will they even survive till the night?” Mark’s words hung in the air, unanswered, fostering a sense of dread and trepidation. Dianne, Jacob and Josie had all looked the worse for wear and Sarah appeared to be with them. The details of what was going on were impossible to know from their location huddled in a damp ditch across the road, but as the sun began crawling back down toward the horizon, they hoped the answers would come soon.

Whether the answers were good or not was anyone’s guess.

Chapter 12

Washington, D.C.

“Sit down!” Carl snarled as he approached the glass wall of the conference room, rifle raised at Jane. With her hands bound at the wrists the most she could do was raise them to chest level as she walked forward, shouting and pleading at the top of her lungs.

“Please! You have to take me to him! He needs his medication! Dr. Evans could die unless he gets it!”

Carl hesitated, then shook his head. “No, he doesn’t take any.”

“I’ve been his assistant for the last three years. I think I’d know if he takes heart medication! If he doesn’t get his shot once a day he could have a stroke or a heart attack!”

“Good girl.” Rick whispered to himself as he sat on the floor, watching the drama unfold in front of him.

“Please, just take me to him.” She took another step forward. “It’s in his bag. I’ll give him his shot then you can bring me back here, all right? Unless you want him dead before you’re able to decrypt the master unlock codes?” Jane had racked her brain to remember something of what Dr. Evans spoke of about Damocles, and the master unlock codes were the first thing to spring to mind.

The phrase, while vague, was enough to make Carl lower his rifle ever so slightly. He watched her carefully, looking for a sign that she was lying, but her nausea and subsequent sweating masked her subterfuge. After a long look at Jane, Carl touched the side of his mask and spoke softly, waited for a reply, responded and had a dialogue that went on for a good thirty seconds before Jane advanced again, shouting at him.

“Please, Dr. Evans needs his shot!”

“Where is it?”