Devastation Erupts Page 9

  “He’s ten. He doesn’t know what he wants,” Aidan adds, running a hand through his hair.

  “I barely know him, but I’m guessing he’s very confused right now,” Riley says. “His situation was bad enough, at least in his mind, that he was willing to do anything to escape it. But once the novelty wore off, he probably missed some aspects of the only life he knew. So even if he was treated much better at Jasmine’s house, there’s still comfort in what’s familiar.”

  My sister was meant to work with kids. She spent nearly every Friday or Saturday night babysitting at various neighbors’ homes. The weird thing is, she absolutely loved it. And weirder yet, none of them ever asked me to babysit.

  One she reached high school, Riley decided she wanted to be a child psychologist. Maybe she can still do that if this world would just straighten out.

  Jeff taps my shoulder. “Yeah, so lighten up, Quinn! Give the kid a break.”

  Before I can respond, bounding footsteps stall the conversation and electrify the air. Chris flashes before us, briefly slowing to prompt us into action.

  “Run!”

  With no hesitation, we race after the kid. I quickly overtake Chris and follow a wooden path leading away from the building. The woods are fairly thin, but the trees offer some cover. Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, slight relief washes over me—everyone’s following and, so far, there’s no sign of anyone chasing us. The shelter staff probably have more important things to do than chase down and interrogate a kid who wandered into their lobby.

  Our feet pound along the narrow dirt path while low brush and reaching branches lash our legs. When the path widens, leading toward the rear parking lot of another building, I slow my pace and turn around. The others taper to a full stop, alternating between swallowing lungfuls of oxygen and scanning the sparse foliage for movement.

  Other than our collective gasping breaths, the area is relatively quiet. An occasional car motors along the adjacent road; otherwise, we’re alone.

  “I don’t think we’re being followed. What happened in there, Chris?” I ask as I regain even breathing.

  “I snuck in and stuck the flyer on the counter, but when I tried to leave, some lady stopped me.” He raises both hands in frustration. “She was asking me all these questions, like what I was doing there and where my parents were. I told her to just look at the paper and I tried to leave.”

  “You did good, buddy,” Jeff encourages him but the kid shrugs.

  “She started coming closer. I think she was gonna grab me and make me stay until I answered her questions. So, I just…I ran.”

  “I think any of us would have done the same thing,” Riley reassures. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Chris. You completed your mission. You delivered the evidence, and now someone will make sure that dogs never have to fight there again.”

  The kid’s cheeks blaze with a genuine smile. “I was right. You are the nicer sister.”

  Chapter 30

  With no wheels, we rely on the only mode of transport left: our feet. We use the satellite phone to navigate north. Riley leads the way. Surreal memories swirl through my mind as we hike in silence. Less than a month ago, I was just a typical teen heading to the beach for a family vacation.

  Since then, my parents perished in a horrific accident, I lost and found my sister, and we’re walking home—it’s just a couple hundred more miles. Miles that would be rolling along beneath the tires if we were still in the car. I bet if we hadn’t stopped at Vic’s house we’d be in Maryland by now. Annoyance flares, which I attempt to deflect by focusing on my physical grievances.

  I’m already tired of walking, and the mid-afternoon sun bakes my skin. We haven’t had any strange weather lately, but the heat just doesn’t lay off. As I swipe the beading sweat from my forehead, a mechanical melody bursts from the phone, startling all of us.

  “It’s ringing! This thing is ringing!” Riley eyes the phone in her hand, as if it’s coated in acid. There’s only one person that could be.

  Jeff pushes the receiver and motions for one of us to speak.

  “Hello?” It takes every effort to form that one word. My cheeks slightly redden when my shaky voice quivers.

  “This is Sergeant Bowen. With whom am I speaking?” His voice bears no hint of concern, only authority.

  “It’s us, sir.” Riley tries. “Riley and Quinn Whelan.”

  “You are together?” he questions, although it sounds more like a statement. We confirm in unison. “And you are separated from the vehicle?” Dammit. How can he know that?

  “Um,” Riley’s eyes shift to me nervously and her hands twitch. If she wasn’t holding the phone right now, I’m sure she’d be wringing them. “Yes. We had a little issue with the car.”

  “What sort of issue?” Frustration brims in his tone. Our faces contort with matching grimaces, neither wanting to explain.

  “The car got slightly damaged,” I begin. “We sort of ran into someone who had a gun and wanted to shoot us.”

  Riley narrows her eyes and scrunches her face as if that’s the dumbest thing I have ever said.

  I raise my palms and scrunch my face. I don’t know what to say, I mouth to her.

  “You crashed into another vehicle?” Bowen booms.

  Riley rushes to answer him. “No! No, we didn’t crash into anything.” She twists a long brown lock of hair pensively with her free hand. “We just had to get away from someone who was shooting at us. And we did, we got away, it’s just that he kind of shot up the car in the process. Including the back tires.”

  “What?!” I visualize a throbbing vein protruding from his tensed forehead right now. He can probably sense that he’s on speaker phone right now too, but he doesn’t seem to care. I’m guessing shock and frustration have overruled his characteristically controlled temperament.

  “Yeah and we didn’t want to ruin the car’s rims,” I add, “so we parked it at an animal shelter, and we were going to tell you as soon as we had a chance.” My attempt to redeem our actions fails.

  Fury radiates through the receiver. “And what are your plans now?” he asks through audibly gritted teeth.

  “Well, we’re going to hike north and hope we find a way to get another car.” Riley’s meek response further weakens our case.

  “Hope to find another car?” Bowen mutters under his breath. Then much louder, he says, “You don’t have time to find another car. Look, Yellowstone is on the verge of eruption. When that happens, all hell’s gonna break loose out west and you know where the chaos will head? East. People will panic and they’ll flee as far as they can. You have got to get to my wife. Now. Do you understand?”

  Aidan and Jeff remain silent, but their eyes widen with this influx of new information. We were going to tell them about finding Bowen’s wife after we dropped Chris off.

  “Yes, we understand,” Riley says miserably. Her defeated tone softens his anger slightly.

  “Look, I’ll try to find you another car, but I don’t know if I can. Just keep heading north and I’ll call you again when I have news.”

  Our confession boosts my confidence enough to ask what I’ve wondered since he called. “Sergeant, how did you know we weren’t in the car?”

  He releases a sigh.

  I’m not sure if it’s born of frustration or exhaustion.

  “The car has a tracking device in it. When I saw Riley’s tracker move farther and farther away from it, I figured something was wrong.”

  Chapter 31

  Awkward silence descends. We hadn’t told the guys they weren’t actually injected with a vaccine.

  Guilt slithers through me, hampering my ability to meet Aidan’s or Jeff’s eyes. We should have told them. They should have heard about it from us.

  “Alright, head north. I’ll be back in touch soon. Keep the phone close, and don’t get shot!” Bowen’s raised voice crackles through the satellite phone.

  The instant the conversation ends, the guys descend upon us, questions
blazing.

  “What does he mean by trackers?” “Are they watching us!?” “Why did he say you have to get to his wife?” “What else aren’t you telling us?”

  Riley raises her palms as if shielding us from the barrage of questions. “Look, we were sworn to secrecy,” she pauses, glancing my way, “but I don’t see how we can keep secrets any longer. Quinn, you agree?”

  “All in,” I say, my soul weighed in shame. Like a dam bursting, we release all the details we’ve been holding back. About our side mission to find Bowen’s wife and give her the satellite phone. How the “vaccines” at the base were actually injectable tracking devices that will be used to monitor the population.

  “Lucas was right!” Jeff announces. He shares an incredulous look with Aidan. “We thought he was just being paranoid, but he was actually right!”

  “Yeah,” Aidan agrees. “He couldn’t let that go—that we were all “vaccinated” on the base,” he says, using air quotes. Shaking his head, he mutters, “What the hell is inside me?” Wielding a pointer finger around the group he adds, “What’s inside all of us?” Jeff tilts his head and crosses his arms, awaiting an explanation.

  Riley and I look at each other nervously. We should have anticipated the anger that would accompany this flood of new information. I hitch a shoulder up and answer honestly. “We really don’t know. Bowen didn’t tell us much about it. He just said it was a tracking device and the carrier fluid absorbs into your muscles.”

  I place a hand on Aidan’s arm and meet his eyes, then shift my gaze to Jeff. “I swear, if I knew anything more about it, I’d tell you.” Riley rushes to affirm.

  “I know we haven’t been open up until this point and I’m sorry,” she begins. “But really, guys, the sergeant was telling us so much and trying to get us out of there so fast. We didn’t really have a lot of time to ask questions. He didn’t even get a chance to show us how to use everything he gave us. The base was going on lock down and we had to leave quickly or be stuck there until they decided to open it up again.”

  Chris scrunches his face up and crosses his arms. The kid’s been silent, either listening to our words intently or zoning out completely. I’m not sure which.

  “I wanna see my tracker!” he demands. Riley smiles weakly.

  “You can’t see it, buddy, it’s inside you.” The kid has no respect for reason.

  “If they can see where I am, then I wanna know what they see!”

  Riley shoots me a side eye and removes the tracking device from its bag. I throw her a small nod.

  With shaky hands, Riley powers on the device and unfolds the printouts Bowen gave us.

  “What are these?” Aidan asks, squinting at the papers over her shoulder.

  “It’s your ID numbers,” I answer. “In case we had trouble finding you. The sergeant gave us a list of your numbers and Dan’s and Jim’s.”

  Jeff scratches his chin in thought. Five sets of eyes remain fixed on the device. It powers on quickly, a small green dot illuminating next to each tiny letter-number sequence. We must still be within range of the base because a quarter-sized cluster of dots hovers in the lower part of the screen.

  I scan the screen for Jim’s number. That’s the only one I’m truly interested in anyway. It doesn’t jump out at me, but it could be jumbled in with all the others near the base. Just as I’m about to suggest we type the number in, Riley tugs the device toward the space between us.

  She points to a sprinkling of dots that overlap. “See those four dots. That’s us,” she says. For a moment, the distraction seems to be diffusing the guys’ anger.

  “Why is it only four?” Chris asks. “There’s five of us.” The guys’ scrunched faces and shifting eyes bounce from one person to another, but Riley’s steady gaze lands on me. One-by-one they notice the shift in her attention from the phone.

  “Um…the sergeant…he didn’t…vaccinate me.” The words tumble out awkwardly. “He didn’t want me to be tracked because he decided early on that he was gonna ask for my help to reach his wife.” Their staring eyes implore me to continue.

  “He can’t leave the base and he knew that I was just there to get my sister and then leave. And his home is in Maryland, so he thought I could get a message to his wife on my way home. Riley was already vaccinated at that point and he didn’t know a way to reverse that, so he just kind of left it as it was.”

  I don’t know what else to say. Silence drapes around our little group like a thick curtain. “Guys, I’m sorry we didn’t say anything.” I need them to believe that we’d tell them if we knew anything else. I shake my head miserably. “I really am.” Aidan rakes a hand through his messy hair. His blue eyes pin me in place. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t narrow those eyes at me in frustration either.

  “Hey!” Chris’ green irises widen as he jabs a finger at the tracking device. “Why is that dot so bright?” We all step closer for a better look.

  “He’s right, that one dot is shining like a spotlight,” Jeff says, shrugging as he taps the black device.

  Riley glances at the printout, now slightly crumpled within her grasp. “Look! That’s Jasmine’s ID.” Shaking her head, she adds, almost under her breath, “Why would hers be different?”

  “Do the others all look the same on there?” Aidan asks, pointing at the screen.

  “There are a few extra-bright ones but, overall, there aren’t really that many dots,” Jeff notes. “We’ve got clusters around the base, but I’m guessing not that many people are vaccinated yet. Well, their definition of vaccinated anyway.”

  “Since Riley shows up and her signature isn’t super bright, we know it’s not just about gender,” Aidan notes.

  “What about age?” Chris asks innocently. “Is Jasmine older than you guys or something?”

  Before Jeff or Aidan can answer, Riley shakes her head and responds. “How could a tracker determine how old she is?” After several minutes of useless contemplation, we fall silent again, each of our minds scrambling to solve the puzzle.

  “I know, I know!” Chris shouts. “It’s the bullet. She’s got a bullet in her!”

  Chapter 32

  After a brief pause, Jeff’s words flow deliberately, as if he’s thinking out loud. Rubbing his chin, he speaks softly, staring into the distance. He’s not speaking directly to us we’re just witnessing him slide the pieces of a puzzle together in his mind. “If a bullet can trigger the tracker to shine brighter, there must be some chemical reaction between the tracer and the slug. So if a soldier were wounded, that signature would alert the team and it would make him easier to find if they needed to extract him?”

  It’s interesting, but it doesn’t really help us. Impatience coils in my stomach.

  “That sounds believable,” Riley agrees. “But the sergeant said we should keep moving. Maybe we should just head north. I mean, we don’t even have a plan other than hoofing it for the next hundred miles.”

  With no other option, we use the satellite phone to point us in the right direction and walk. We follow the same path we would have taken with the car. And although we barely progress, the neighborhoods and small businesses slowly fade as commercial buildings materialize. Cars and trucks pass by, mocking the loss of our vehicle.

  The sun is our constant companion, brandishing its harsh rays across our exposed skin. As if the situation isn’t bad enough, I’m guessing this day will end with at least one sunburn. Thankfully, we all got to shower at Jasmine’s house or else we’d probably have clouds of body odor hovering around us.

  A dull ache throbs in my head, like a drum keeping time with each step. My throat grows more parched by the second. If we had just headed north when we left the base, we’d already be home by now.

  I tamp down the thought before it unravels into blame. We plod onward in silence. If the others’ thoughts match mine, we’re all silently contemplating where we’d rather be right now.

  By mid-day, my legs burn with exertion. And I was conditioned to run miles
for sport just a few weeks ago. I wonder how the others feel, but I don’t ask—don’t want to open up any floodgates for complaining. I have a feeling Chris would be the first in line for that.

  When our pace slows to a sluggish meandering, we agree to stop for a rest. A small community park offers the perfect space—a covered pavilion with picnic tables. We spread our belongings atop the splintered wood and claim seats within the shade.

  Although I’m shielded from the sun and my legs savor the reprieve, the gravity of our situation lingers. The pounding behind my temples builds, threatening to cripple my brain. I lie flat on the seat and swallow my self-pity.

  “Hey, you guys hungry or thirsty?” Tears spring to my eyes with Jeff’s words. I feel like I’ve trekked through a desert for days and he just found an oasis. We all nod mutely, except for Chris, who yelps an enthusiastic, “Yes!”

  Unzipping his bag, Jeff explains that Jasmine’s slipped him a secret stash of snacks and drinks. She insisted that he take them. I guess she understands just how quickly a simple trip can turn into a nightmarish plague of detours.

  Like a trick-or-treater proudly displaying his bounty, Jeff dumps the loot, sending water bottles rolling across the table’s surface. Snack-sized bags of cheese crackers, popcorn, and chips tumble out, landing close to their drop point.

  The temporary windfall makes the guys giddy. Jeff starts cracking jokes. “Hey, what did the baby corn say to its mom?” With raised eyebrows he searches his audience for a taker. Chris practically jumps out of his skin. “What? What?”

  “Where’s my pop corn?”

  Chris doubles over laughing, sending Jeff and Aidan into their own fit of chuckles. While I’m grateful for the slight recharge, the last thing we can afford to do right now is sit around laughing at corny jokes. Literally.

  “Did you hear the urgency in Bowen’s voice?” My tone is harsh, but I’m starting to ache all over, and it feels like we should just claim defeat. Walking isn’t going to cut it. We need a faster way to get home. “What are we gonna do?” My voice cracks, teetering between hopelessness and hysteria.