When she reached the southbound side, she stopped and began waving both arms over her head. “Ben!” she yelled. “Ben!”
Behind her, one of the other bikes pulled up.
“What the hell, Martina?” Noreen asked.
“That’s Ben’s Jeep,” Martina said, her gaze still on the approaching vehicle. “I know it is!”
The Jeep was only a few moments away now, but given that it hadn’t started to slow, she realized Ben hadn’t seen her yet. She stood up, one foot on the ground, the other on the bike’s footrest, and waved again. “Ben! It’s me!”
That did it. The Jeep began to decelerate.
“It’s him,” Martina said to Noreen, a huge smile on her face. “It’s Ben.”
She was starting to hop off her bike when the Jeep sped up again.
She waved her arms faster. “Hey, Ben! Stop! It’s me!”
As the vehicle blew past her, she realized two things: first, it was indeed Ben’s Jeep, the license number and the dent in the front fender being proof of that; and second, the person behind the wheel wasn’t Ben.
The driver — a woman with wild brown hair — glanced stone faced at Martina before looking back to the road. Martina had met a few of Ben’s friends, but this woman wasn’t one of them.
But whoever she was, Martina was certain the woman knew where Ben was.
Without thinking twice about it, she fishtailed into the southbound lanes and raced after the Jeep.
27
Matt knew he and his team had caught a break. Bad weather was coming — there was no missing the wall of gray clouds following them southward — but so far they had been able to stay ahead of the storm and make excellent time.
As the town of Alamogordo came into view, Matt said, “We’ll stop here for a bit.”
“Yes, sir,” Hiller said. He’d taken over driving Matt’s Humvee. “Any place in particular?”
Matt checked his notes. “East on 10th Street. Should be a big market four or five blocks in on the left.”
“Got it.”
Matt shifted in his seat and looked out the side window at an ocean of shrubs and dirt. Though it had been a long time since he’d been in this part of the country, it looked exactly the same.
How naïve he’d been back then, enough to become a member of Project Eden without fully understanding what the organization’s real mission was. He had been an engineer, working on what he then considered a dream job, helping to build secret underground facilities throughout North America.
It had been interesting.
It had been cool.
It had been a huge mistake.
Plumbing, that had been his specialty. He’d spent six years of his life overseeing the installation of pipes and vents and toilets and sinks and showers.
The horror he helped create.
The unimaginable he helped bring about.
There was no forgiving his participation. It didn’t matter that as soon as he and several close friends who were also members figured out what was truly going on, they began planning how to get out. Nor did it matter that Matt had dedicated every moment of his life since to fighting Project Eden.
Blame for the deaths of the billions lay at the hands of anyone who had ever helped the Project.
Lay at his hands.
He knew nothing he could do would ever change that, knew he wasn’t fighting Project Eden to right his own sins. He was fighting them because he had to, because not to fight wasn’t an option.
His convictions could only take him so far, though. The resistance organization he’d built to combat the Project had achieved no more than minor victories at best. Even the destruction of Bluebird had not stopped the Project from unleashing its genocidal pandemic.
But as he’d told Ash, eliminating the previous directorate was a start.
And now Matt had a chance to add to that.
And by God, it was a chance he would take.
They parked their vehicles near the entrance to the Lowe’s Marketplace grocery store. Matt tasked his men with checking inside and stocking up on any useful supplies.
“Hiller,” he said, before the team leader could walk off with the others.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’d like you to come with me.”
With Hiller beside him, Matt limped his way toward the gas station at the opposite end of the parking lot. Three long days of riding had stiffened up his leg more than usual, and left him with a dull, constant ache radiating from his knee.
If Rachel had been there, she wouldn’t have let him even leave the truck.
His sister. His beautiful, loyal, wonderful sister. What a mess of her life he’d made. She hadn’t been part of the Project, hadn’t known anything about it. He had let her believe he was dead for nearly a year, but it had been the only way to ensure that the Project forgot about him.
And what did he do when he finally contacted her? Pulled her into his madness.
Yet one more thing I’ll never be forgiven for.
As they neared the station, he told Hiller, “Stay here and make sure no one disturbs me.”
“Yes, sir,” Hiller said.
Matt walked past the pumps, pulled the satellite phone out of his pocket, and checked his watch. The correct window of time had just opened up, but, to be safe, he waited another thirty seconds before dialing the number.
The line was answered after half a ring.
“Yes?”
“It’s me,” Matt said.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” C8 said. “Like why the hell you think you need to come here yourself?”
“Because you can’t do what I can.”
A pause. “It’s an unnecessary risk,” the man said.
“Not to me.”
C8, like most of the Resistance’s other moles, was not someone who’d infiltrated the Project from the outside as Matt had always portrayed it, but a man who’d been a member since when Matt himself had been a part of the organization.
“When will you be here?” C8 asked.
“I’m an hour away right now.”
“What?”
“I told you I was coming.”
“I know…I just…I thought…”
“This is an opportunity we can’t afford to miss.”
“I realize that.”
“So you can get me inside?”
A slight hesitation. “Yes.”
“Tonight?”
A much longer pause. “Yes.”
“Where do I meet you?”
Matt walked back to Hiller, the sat phone once more in his pocket.
“Everything all right, sir?” Hiller asked.
“Yes. All good.”
As Hiller turned to head back to the others, Matt put a hand on his arm.
“One moment,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. If your leg’s bothering you too much, I can go get the truck and bring it over.”
“Thank you, no. I actually need to talk to you.”
“Of course,” Hiller said. “What can I help you with?”
“We’re going to stay here in Alamogordo for a little while.”
Hiller’s brow furrowed. “What about Las Cruces?”
“We’ll get there, but not until it’s dark,” Matt said. “We won’t go together, however. I’ll leave first. You and the rest of the men will follow twenty minutes behind me.”
“You’re going alone, sir? I don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand because you haven’t been given all the details. And I’m afraid it’ll have to stay that way for now.” He gave Hiller the directions to a shopping center in the south side of the city. “You’ll wait there in case you’re needed.”