He paused, listening for anyone who might be in the car, and letting his eyes adjust to the daylight. Finally, having heard nothing, he pushed the top all the way open and sat up.
For some reason, he thought he was going to find that they were parked behind one of those giant truck stops, and that the woman had just gone to use the facilities or maybe even grab something to eat. But there was no truck stop. In fact, there were no buildings of any kind, just wilderness, broken only by the distant ribbon of the interstate about two miles away.
The car appeared to be parked in a small valley. While there were a few trees here and there, most of the vegetation was lower to the ground. It was what his dad used to call high chaparral country.
A deserted, two-lane road ran out from the highway in his direction, passing the large dirt lot his ride was parked in and heading off into the hills. Apparently the woman had turned off on one of those exits only a handful of locals would use.
The most surprising thing, though, was that she was nowhere to be seen. Where she’d gone, he had no idea. But unless she was crouching right next to the car, he was entirely alone.
He pushed himself out of the box, threw open one of the doors and climbed outside. The air was cool, almost brisk. He reached back in and retrieved the jacket his guide had given him. He was tempted to pull on the stocking cap and gloves, but instead he just stomped around a little to warm up. Then, after a moment of unnecessary self-consciousness, he relieved himself behind the car.
Not knowing what he was supposed to do now, he decided to see if the woman had left the keys. Maybe the idea all along had been for him to take the sedan and get lost. Maybe that’s what this had been all about. They got him away from trouble, and now he was on his own.
He opened the driver's door and leaned in. The keys weren’t in the ignition, tucked above the sun visor, or lying in the seat. What was in the seat, though, was a white legal-size envelope with MR. THOMPSON typed on the front. It took him a couple seconds before he remembered that Thompson was the name on the false ID he’d been given earlier.
The flap of the envelope was only tucked in, so he flipped it out and removed a single sheet of paper from inside. Like his faux name on the envelope, the note inside was typed. It was short and to the point.Wait here. Once it's dark, someone will come for you. Before then, burn this and your IDs. There is a lighter in the trunk, along with some food if you get hungry.Good luck.
He read it twice. It was just another mysterious piece in his ultra-bizarre day. But the mention of food did remind him that it had been almost twenty-four hours since his last meal.
He pulled the trunk release, then moved around back and looked inside. In a brown paper bag, he found a couple of apples, a bag of trail mix, a few energy bars, and three bottles of water. Not exactly the juicy hamburger his stomach was hoping for, but it would do.
There was also one of those long-nosed lighters people used to light campfires and barbecues. But he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to burn his IDs. He’d begun to entertain the idea of taking off on his own. If he did that, the IDs could come in handy. He decided to eat first, then figure it out after.
Within ten minutes, he’d devoured both apples, two of the energy bars, and a good portion of the trail mix. The remainder he wrapped inside the brown sack and slipped into his messenger bag.
He moved to the end of the car and stared at the highway for several minutes. At a fast walk, he could get there in no time then hitch a ride to the next town.
What then, though?
Go to the police? Back to the Army?
The man who’d gotten him out of the building had said if he went back to the Army, the people who’d held him would find him again. Ash wasn’t convinced there were “people” yet. It still could have just been the Army doing what they thought was best for the greater good. But he couldn’t deny something very strange was going on. And if he wanted to find out why Ellen and the kids had been killed, his best bet at the moment was to stay free until he had more answers.
His mind made up, he retrieved his fake IDs and placed them on the ground with the note and envelope from the car. They burned easily, and soon were no more than ash and melted plastic. He mixed what was left into the dirt, then climbed back into the car and waited for the sun to go down.
10
“He’s out,” Pax said over the phone.
There was no need for anyone to reply. So far, this was only a one-way conversation.
“Grabbed his coat…taking a piss.”
Silence again.
“A lot of looking around…checking the car now.”
This should be it,Matt thought.
“He found the letter.”
Yes. Good. Now what are you going to do, Captain?
“He’s read it, and now is checking the trunk. Looks like he’s going to eat something.”
The silence stretched for nearly ten minutes.
“Looking at the highway again.”
Are you walking or are you staying?
“Still looking…still…wait. He’s going back to the trunk…got the lighter…he’s burning everything. That’s a confirm. He’s moving back inside and….sitting in the car.”
“Janice, Michael,” Michael said into the phone. “Pickup is a go. Jordan, get ready to disable the satellite.”
Welcome to the team, Captain Ash.
11
The watch Ash’s wife had given him on their fifth anniversary had been taken away the night he was put in the cell, so he wasn’t exactly sure what time it was when he saw a pair of headlights exit the freeway and head in his direction.
As they neared, he realized they didn’t belong to a car, butan old Winnebago motor home. It slowed to a crawl as it turned off the road, then stopped in front of his sedan.
After a few seconds the side door opened, and a man and a woman emerged. They looked maybe ten years older than Ash, and smiled as they walked in his direction. When they neared his car, the woman stopped several feet away, but the man came right up to Ash’s window and leaned down.
As soon as Ash lowered it halfway, the man said, “Sorry we're late.”
Ash made no reply.
The man rubbed his arms with his hands. “It's a little chilly out. So if you’re ready to go, I’d love to get back in the 'Bago.”
Ash hesitated a moment. The thought of going it alone once more passed through his mind. But the conclusions he’d come up with before hadn’t changed, so he grabbed the messenger bag off the other seat and got out. Immediately, he pulled his jacket tight around his neck. Though it had been cold in the car, it was near freezing outside.
“We've got coffee in the motor home, if you'd like,” the man said, then nodded toward the woman. “Janice just heated up a pot before we turned off. If you're hungry we can cook you up something, too. There’s plenty of leftover chili from lunch. I'm Mike, by the way.”
He held out his hand. Ash shook it.
“Coffee sounds good. My name’s—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I already know who you are. You're Sam Wolverton. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
Apparently Craig Thompson was out, and Sam Wolverton was in.It was as good a name as any, Ash thought.
Mike and Janice led him over to the Winnebago, then inside where the temperature was a wonderfully bone-thawing forty degrees warmer. Ash slowly stretched his stiff cold fingers then rolled his shoulders, trying to bring his muscles back to life.