Dark Rule (COIL Book 3), page 27
"Brad knows to come south, here." Dirk pointed to a map of the island as Clifford stood close by. "Sankaddan is full of unrest, so this quarter of the island is where we agreed would be a reasonable secondary evac point. Since we're not able to raise him on the radio, that means either he's been compromised, or his radio has been damaged. We need to prepare for both possibilities. You say this Heather person, a pilot, is making her way to the runway? That's good, though if Brad happens upon the airport, he'll avoid all people. My guess is he'll get to the coast, lay low until dark, then send us a message, probably by fire. He'll know we won't leave without him.
"Having said that, we also need to prepare for the other possibility: he may've been captured. If that's the case, we'll be going in hot and coming out fast. Either way, your girl, Heather, is in the right place. If Brad doesn't use her, we will."
"Heather recommended Bruce and Clifford go ashore and cover Sankaddan," Jasper said, "just in case Brad gets all the way to that city."
"That's reasonable." Nathan rubbed his chin. "The only problem with that is the port authority there. We won't be allowed to freely enter the dockyard without a thorough search under the watchful eyes of the harbormaster. And we can't take the speedboat, since they're looking for it."
"We can transfer everything of importance from the yacht to the speedboat and leave the speedboat in Walt's hands." Jasper nodded at Walter. "He seems to have the controls down to a science."
"Okay." Dirk pointed at Clifford and Bruce. "So, it's you two and me."
"If they're looking for the speedboat, they'll be looking for you as well," Walter said. "Are you sure you want to go back to the island?"
"Want to? No," Dirk said. "Need to? Yes. I know the island well, having been on all sides of it at this point. You two game? It won't be a walk in the park."
"We're with you." Bruce clapped his brother on the back. "Let's bring that boy home."
After thirty minutes, the men had transferred everything that might compromise their identity from the yacht to the speedboat, which Walter would pilot back to Mykonos with Albert and Lacy. It was agreed everyone would meet there, eventually. After Walter dropped the two missionaries off at Mykonos, he was to come back and stand by for a backup extraction, which was his own contingency idea. Dirk approved, and the yacht sailed toward Sankaddan, under the guise of a tourist vessel.
And Clifford was thrilled to be standing on deck with Nathan Isaacson.
*~*
Chapter Thirty
Horatio Salmose was still reeling from the night's activities. Though he was shocked he'd successfully assisted in the Christians' escape, he was terribly disappointed he'd been unable to catch up to them before they'd sped away in their boat. He didn't blame Albert Jamison. The missionary was an honest man who would've taken Horatio with him had he been able.
Fredrick had gone to Sankaddan to supervise the search efforts from that city while the rest of the soldiers under his supervision spread out along the coastline. Horatio couldn't imagine staying on the island now, not after he'd already turned against his own government. He'd hoped a career in the military would save him from the fields where his own father and mother had been worked to death. But he'd learned there was no escape from the evil while on the island—only different degrees of misery and wickedness.
Too tired to walk downtown to his single-room home, Horatio sat against the only standing wall of the laundry building. He'd been given six hours off to sleep since he'd been up for nearly two days. But, if one of the sergeants saw him resting on the street, he'd be assigned a task, so it was with barely enough energy to stand that Horatio started walking. Moving through the rubble of the building, he felt a strange sort of rebellious pride that he'd caused such destruction to Fredrick and Trevor Niles' schemes against peaceful men and women.
Suddenly, Horatio froze. What weariness remained in him disappeared at the sight before him. Even the pride he'd felt disappeared. He swallowed hard and moved toward a pile of debris from which a man's hand was exposed. Horatio hadn't imagined that anyone had been in the building when his bulldozer had done its damage. Who was this?
Touching the hand, he was surprised to find it was still warm. Pushing aside several bricks to reach the man's wrist, he checked for a pulse and waited . . . There it was!
Frantically, Horatio clawed at the bricks and mortar covering the man. He knew all the citizens of the small city. Who could he be? Though Horatio had tortured and maimed men and women in the interrogation room under Fredrick's authority, he'd never wished to harm anyone himself. After each of the first dozen torture sessions, he'd vomited; he had that same feeling now.
After clearing away enough bricks, Horatio noticed the man wasn't wearing a Zalzunian military uniform. In fact, the stranger wore a torn, black, long-sleeve thermal. The thermal wasn't something that would be found in a shop on the island. Horatio stumbled backward at the sight of the stranger's face. The man was Horatio's age, maybe younger. He wore a broken communication device in his ear and a wire around his neck. As Horatio continued to unearth the young man, he found a backpack and a number of stun grenades on his belt.
"Wake up!" Horatio dragged the foreigner to clear ground, though he was careful to stay within the cover of the wall. He unfastened the backpack and used the man's own canteen to splash water on his face.
Finally, the young man sputtered once before he opened his eyes. Blinking several times, he focused on the soldier's face before him. He seemed to notice Horatio's uniform.
"I think you're one of them, aren't you?" Horatio asked. "You're fortunate I found you before the others did. They would've killed you." The man's eyes took in Horatio's sidearm in his holster. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not one of them, not any longer. Your people—do you know how to get off the island?"
The man tried to speak, but nothing came out. Horatio offered him a drink of water. He guzzled a dozen swallows, then wiped his mouth, his eyes never leaving Horatio's face.
"You're not gonna turn me in?"
"No. If I was, you'd already be in chains." Horatio scoffed. "Actually, there aren't any cells left. I ruined their ambush last night. If you were here, you'll remember the bulldozer."
"That was you?"
"It's about the only right thing I've done since I joined the military." Horatio had so many questions for this man. Where would he live in America? Somewhere away from the ocean, he hoped. Could anyone drive a car? "Oh! You don't know!"
"Know what?"
"The Jamisons got away! Commander Fredrick is as mad as hot grease. He's down in Sankaddan somewhere looking for you and the rest of your team."
"My team?"
"Some of the men said they saw a whole team rescue the Jamisons. Isn't that true?"
"There were just two of us. I'm not sure we could've done anything without you paving the way with that dozer." The young man looked around. "My name's Brad. You are . . . ?"
"My name is Horatio."
Brad rolled over, and with Horatio's help, rose to his feet. He was two inches taller than Horatio and many pounds heavier. Horatio reached down, picked up the backpack, and slung it over his own shoulder.
"That's not a good idea." Brad stepped forward, took his pack, and tightened the straps around his torso. Horatio didn't stop the bigger man. "No offense, but where I'm going, you're better off here. I'm not even sure I can get off this rock."
"But I can show you!" Horatio had to keep his hope alive. "I mean, depending on where you want to go. I've lived here my whole life."
Tugging the comm device off his neck, Brad examined it, then tossed it into the pile of rubble. Horatio glanced toward the street. It was midmorning and people would be about the town.
"Can you get me to the coast south of the airport by nightfall?"
"I can come?" Horatio couldn't hold back a grin.
"As long as you realize what they'll do to us if we're caught."
"Believe me, I know better than you. Come. We need to get out of Zalzuna as soon as possible."
#######
Heather felt like a duck hunter in a blind. Two hundred yards to the south was the cliff she'd climbed—an exhilarating experience of heights and danger. Then it had taken an hour to crawl the distance from the cliff to the patch of vegetation in which she now hid. She'd built a small enclosure of scrub brush and twigs from which she could keep watch on the single runway, as well as the road from Sankaddan to Zalzuna.
A Jeep approached and passed the airport driveway. Two uniformed soldiers and a huge bald man sat in the Jeep. Heather didn't bother to duck out of sight. As long as she didn't move suddenly, her camouflage was more than adequate. Besides, this wasn't the first Zalzuna traffic she'd encountered.
Once, a patrolling Jeep had cruised slowly past her and even checked the runway expanse for activity. Another pair of soldiers on foot had trekked along the cliff. Had they peeked over the ledge, they would've found Heather's climbing gear and harness hanging from a pin six inches below the ledge. She could rappel down the two hundred foot cliff in ten seconds. It was a fast, though temporary, getaway. The Zalzuna military had at least one good patrol boat they could use to intercept her on the beach, or to catch her soon after she launched her small dinghy.
"Jasper, come in," she hailed.
"Go, Caver. Jasper here. Over."
"Status report. Over."
"We're almost to Sankaddan. Walter's taking the Jamisons to Mykonos, refueling, then he'll be on standby. Anything on your end? Over."
"A lot of patrols, which is a good sign. Over."
"Roger that. It means they haven't caught Brad, yet. Over."
"Hey, Jasper, the guy Walt sent in—who was he? Over."
"Calls himself Dirk. Big guy. Handlebar mustache, knee brace. Pretty quick with orders, but he seems to know what he's doing. Over."
"Did you say handlebar mustache? Over."
"Roger that. Why, Caver? You know him? Over."
"Nah. It can't be him. Reminded me of someone who died long ago. Listen: if Brad is alive, he'll make his move come dark. Over."
"We'll be ready to sail. You have a bird? Over."
"Roger. I have my pick of a fleet of two. But one of them probably wouldn't make it to Mykonos. Over."
"You have everything? We need to tack before the wind once before docking. Over."
"I'm good. Be careful. Caver, out."
Heather sighed. That would be their last contact for hours. If the yacht was taken, and the four men were arrested, Heather would have to flee in her dinghy all the way to Mykonos. From there, she'd try to find another team to form a secondary rescue operation. The chance of finding another team willing to risk so much at a moment's notice was unlikely. They had this one opportunity.
Behind Heather, the volcano rumbled louder. She imagined it was mimicking the tension the whole island felt.
#######
Brad and Horatio jogged alongside one another across a field of young olive trees. They'd agreed that crossing the field was dangerous, but they were pressed for time. Up until an hour ago, they hadn't moved but half a mile from Zalzuna due to pressing patrols scrutinizing the routes in and out of the capital city, and even more so along the coastline.
They'd crawled through brush and thorns along the coastal cliffs to journey beyond the most dangerous zone. But Horatio promised the farther south they journeyed, the danger would grow worse. The problem wasn't necessarily the number of soldiers searching for Brad; it was the lack of cover to conceal themselves. At that moment, if someone came along in a Jeep at the end of the orchard and looked to the right, they'd spot the two fugitives sprinting south.
The young men dove into the brush on the other side of the grove and gasped for breath.
"Water." Brad handed Horatio his canteen.
Horatio sloshed the water in the bottom of the canteen. They were nearly out. He handed it back to Brad.
"I'm okay. I'll wait until we get on the boat."
"Come on. That could be hours. Finish it off. You said yourself you've been up for two days."
"You drink half, and I'll drink half."
The young men were parched, and with nowhere to refill the canteen, they both felt the urgency of getting where they were going. Brad took one swig of water, just a mouthful, and gave it to Horatio, who did the same. The canteen was now empty.
"How far from the airport are we?" Brad asked.
"Not far." Horatio pointed south. "One more plantation. The runway is on the other side. You can fly a plane?"
"No. It's just a landmark. My friend said to reach the airport, then go to the nearest coastline."
"The nearest coastline to the south is on the way to Sankadden. There are cliffs all along the coast there."
"Then, from the airport we'll head west, following the road."
"There isn't much cover," Horatio said. "Darkness would help. Your friends will wait?"
"They'll wait."
"You're certain?" Horatio looked doubtful. "They're loyal?"
"Yes, I'm certain." Brad couldn't help but smile. By now, Heather and the Lavers brothers would've found a boat and arrived at Mykonos. Walter wouldn't leave him behind, either. And whoever this Dirk was, he seemed to be the type who wouldn't leave a fallen comrade behind. Besides, Uncle Albert and Lacy wouldn't go home until his rescue had been successful. They'd bring him home, one way or another.
"I've never had friends like this."
"Well, you do now." Brad rose to his feet. "Let's go."
Leading the way, Brad set a swift pace, but they'd traveled no farther than one hundred yards before the plantation came into sight. A peasant woman in the nearest field saw him at the same time. Brad dropped to his stomach on the ground, but it was too late. Horatio belly-crawled up to Brad's side.
"Oh, man, I messed up!" Brad checked his pack straps. "I was impatient. When I saw the clearing, I didn't think there'd be anybody there."
Horatio raised his head to look over the sparse grass, which was the only cover they had nearby.
"She's running toward a cottage. I know who lives there. We can't stay here."
"Why? Who lives here?"
"My commander, Fredrick. He's very important. You saw him last night—remember the tall bald man?"
"Yeah, I remember. And I don't want to see him again. Which way do we go?"
"West, then around."
Hopping to his feet first, Horatio hadn't taken a step before gunfire thrashed through the grass and Horatio hit the ground. Brad closed his eyes and clung to the earth, praying to be spared. As soon as the thunder was silent, Brad reached out and shook Horatio's still body.
"Come on, Horatio!" he called. "Horatio!"
The Zalzunian guard was silent and still. Touching Horatio's shoulder, Brad's hand came away bloody. He'd been hit somewhere in the left side. Bullets raked the grass again. Daring a glance up, Brad saw four soldiers spread out, advancing with machine guns. There was no way around them. He could only retreat.
"Horatio!" Brad found no pulse when he touched the young man's neck. "Goodbye, Horatio. Thank you for everything."
Brad lunged to his feet, his grieving heart bringing him to tears as he turned his back to the four soldiers and ran back the way he'd come. Rounds whistled past his head. A force like a freight train hit him in the back, and he went down on his face, sliding to a stop at the edge of the olive tree orchard. A round had hit his backpack! He collected his wits quickly, jumped up, and weaved through the orchard, putting as many short trees between him and his attackers as possible.
On the other side of the orchard, he dove into the brush. In his panic, he cut his face horribly on thorns, but he felt no pain. He paused for a few breaths. North was out of the question. West would send him into the desolate part of the island where there was even less cover than he had now. South was where his attackers were. To the east was the busy road and cliffs all the way around the island to the city of Sankaddan.
Choosing east, Brad crawled through the brush. Now that he'd been spotted, he guessed reinforcements would be brought in to swarm the area. He had mere minutes to escape the vicinity. Frantically, he clawed at the ground and twigs as he crawled. The knees of his jeans were torn and he was bleeding, but he didn't stop. A burst of gunfire sounded behind him, but it was nowhere near him. It only served to push him farther and faster. The soldiers had lost track of him temporarily, it seemed, and he meant to take advantage of it!
Sooner than he realized, he arrived at the road's edge in a shallow ditch. He couldn't see far down the road, so he trusted his ears. A vehicle approached from the north. Measuring the distance, he calculated his chances. Did he have enough time? Deciding to risk it all, he rose to a crouch and sprinted across the road of packed gravel. But it was fifty more yards before he saw a patch of brush behind which to dive.
With the last of his energy, he surged forward, tripped the last few steps, then crawled the rest of the way. The patch of brush was only two feet high and not wide enough to conceal his legs. With a gasp, he tore off his pack—figuring he'd stay in place for a spell—and hugged the ground as the vehicle passed. He didn't bother looking up to see who it was. Surely, it was more soldiers arriving from Zalzuna. A moment later, another vehicle passed.
As he steadied his breathing, Brad considered his options. Horatio was probably dead, which was better than the alternative of torture, if he were still alive and caught. Nevertheless, Brad wasn't certain. He'd run away and left Horatio behind, only because in his state, what could he do now to help Horatio?
His watch said it was seven o'clock already. Darkness was a couple hours away—if he lived that long. What then? Turning his head, he gazed to the east. There was no cover all the way to the cliff twenty-five yards away. From the charts, he knew the cliff was a two-hundred-foot fall to the ocean. No one could survive that; he'd jumped off Oregon's coastal cliffs his whole life. He had little rock-climbing experience, only the coral rocks he'd climbed around the Bandon lighthouse, so scaling the cliff in the dark was out of the question. His only option was to wait for darkness, then follow the cliffs around to Sankaddan where he could access the beach to send a signal to the team. He was certain his team was somewhere off the coast, waiting for that signal.
