The two helicopters were only visible to him for a couple of seconds and then had vanished. Where they were headed he could not determine; however, he believed that they would have to follow the same route on their egress. This would afford him the opportunity to signal, somehow, the crews in the aircraft. He had no lighter or matches to ignite a fire, nor did he have any means of signaling. The enemy, over the last week of his capture and subsequent escape, had stripped him of every usable means of signal, including the infrared patches that were attached to his uniform.
Faint with cold and fatigue, he slid down against the rocks, watching the Kunar wander past him toward Jalalabad. His sense of Amanda’s need was the most palpable he had ever felt. How, from a world away, he wondered, could he see the image of his daughter so clearly and feel her calling, feel her need for protection. Something horribly wrong was occurring not only to her, but within her.
“Come on, Amanda, talk to me,” he whispered to the flowing current, which soaked in his words and carried them downstream.
He closed his eyes, feeling light-headed, the pain returning to his leg, but not to the exclusion of the rest of his body. He was reeling now, swooning as if to sleep. He consciously knew that he was suffering from the pain, which was causing his body to shut down.
He dreamt, or was offered a vision, he wasn’t sure which. Perhaps it was their two parallel universes colliding. Amanda was sitting at her home, crying into her hands, silken strands of light-brown hair cascading over her slender fingers, which were perched against her forehead as if in an awkward salute. A bluish light bathed her face. Through her eyes, he could see the documents scrolling along the computer monitor. Each was so intently focused on the area it was possible for both to believe that they were in a sense channeling with their target.
Zach saw her. First she was flipping through official-looking documents. Next she was reading letters he had written to Melanie asking if Amanda could stay with him long enough to reestablish their relationship. She would read, weep, and scroll. He saw her as clearly as if he were in her room. Then, again through her eyes, he saw his house in North Carolina, in a heap of black ashes looking like ruins amongst the tall, charred pines, and Riley’s battered image floated into his mind as if she were lying in a hospital bed. He was twinning now with Amanda, in synch, siphoning her thoughts, or more appropriately, splicing into them, as if reading over her shoulder. He visualized placing an arm around her, telling her it was going to be okay, that she just needed to be strong.
Emotions raged inside her like small vessels in a violent storm off the coast of Cape Hatteras, tides clashing, winds whipping, and ships sinking. Springing from the well of her energy, he saw something emerge for which he was unprepared, but which he should have expected. He saw Amanda’s countenance shift from peaceful and loving to calculating and… vengeful? She was, after all, her mother’s daughter. What would she do with the newfound potency, he wondered? Like a sorcerer’s apprentice, the powers could be wildly devastating.
Suddenly, he felt hands upon him, lifting him. He heard voices, familiar ones. “Yes, that’s him. Be careful. Okay, easy now, he’s bleeding.”
He was surprised that he hadn’t heard the helicopters, but was glad to be in the arms of a friend.
He felt a blanket pass over his face as he was loaded onto the aircraft. He tried to remove the cloth they had pulled over his head, but his arms wouldn’t move. He spoke, but there was no sound.
And suddenly it was clear to Zach why he had pulled over the boat, and why he had been able to so easily enter Amanda’s universe, watching her. It would be okay, he thought to himself, if it stays this way. Just give me unfettered access to Amanda, Lord, to guide her, be her angel. That’s my only request.
Zach figured it might be an acceptable one, for he wasn’t asking for a last cigarette or a steak and shrimp dinner. He just wanted to take up spiritual residence closest to Amanda.
He could think of no greater glory for a dead father to do for his abused daughter. With that, he thought of a saying: Perfect speed is being there.
So get me there, perfectly.
CHAPTER 61
Amanda closed the video file and did the only thing she knew to do, which was send it as an attachment to her e-mail address. Of course, the file being so big, the hourglass continued to pour out sand as if she were playing Scrabble and had two minutes to come up with a word.
Finally, the Sending Message prompt disappeared and she quickly repeated the signature deleting process. Confident the computer was relatively in the same configuration as she’d found it, she bolted out the door. Instead of going down the steps, she hooked a left into the guest bedroom, dodged the bed and bureau and found the window, which was sealed shut.
She flipped the brass latch at the top, lifted the inside frame, and popped the screen off the bottom hinge. She looked below and saw that she could make the screened porch roof if she was good.
She slithered through the bottom of the screen and turned to pull the window down. She would not be able to lock the brass latch, but figured that was a chance she would have to take.
Standing on Dagus’s sloped roof, she eyed the more gently sloping surface of the screened porch ten feet away. In her hand she held the pages that she had printed from his computer and the notes she’d scribbled as she undid his anagram. She looked over her shoulder and noticed a dim light flick on through the window.
Without hesitation she jumped, landed with a thud, and rolled to the edge of the screened-porch roof. She was staring down directly onto the rock where she had retrieved his key. Knowing that he would have heard the noise, she scrambled to her feet and leapt the remaining ten feet into the grass, rolling into the side of the fence. She stood and ran to the gate. She unlatched it, bolted through, and darted across the parking lot to her car.
She pulled her keys from her pants pocket, fumbled with the fob, and then opened the driver’s door. She didn’t notice the commotion behind her as she backed out and sped away until, in her rearview mirror, she saw someone moving in the backyard.
When she got what she thought was a safe distance away, she checked her messages, only to have it vibrate immediately with a number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Amanda, this is your Uncle Matt. I need you to come to Arlington National Cemetery Friday.”
The rest of her trip home was simply a blur.
Dagus had come into the house through the garage door. “Amanda,” he’d called out in a pleasant voice, nerves and anticipation building inside. How much easier could it get? He’d wondered. She was feeling alone and afraid, and she’d come to him looking for comfort.
“Amanda? Where are you?” He made a motion to look in the kitchen when he heard a sound on the roof. Initially confused, he jogged upstairs to find the unsecured window latch. He slammed the window shut and ran downstairs and out into the backyard in time to see Amanda’s Mercedes speed out of the parking lot. He immediately went back inside and made a phone call.
“I need you.”
“I–I can’t. I have to—”
“Now! I need you here, now!”
An hour later, he looked at Brianna Simpson standing in his foyer. Her thin blonde hair was falling softly on her shoulders. Her wide blue eyes showed confusion, perhaps fear.