By 1:44 P.M., they were back on the highway and heading west. Olsen and Greg were in the cab of the Ford F-250, with Barnes behind the wheel. Will sat in the back with Ray, Leo, and Natasha. They had given him one of the M4s from the gun battle, but there were still no signs of his M4A1. Besides the carbine, he was wearing a dead man’s gun belt and a holstered 9mm Sig Sauer, though not the same one Michael had given him earlier.
The optimist in him hoped Danny and Gaby had already arrived back at the marina and were on their way to the island right now. They needed to be there before nightfall. They had to, because it was going to happen tonight. He could feel it in his bones. Lara had managed to stall them with the help of the new guy, Keo, but that was a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. She was counting on him to return, and the last thing he wanted to do was let her down.
Dunbar’s people had a map of the state and knew the way down to Song Island, and Will had told them about Salvani. He was worried about a potential ambush along the way — Mason had shown enough foresight to set one up for Danny and Gaby earlier — but he didn’t tell the others about that. He should have felt guilty about the omission, but he didn’t. He was using them, yes. He couldn’t avoid that even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to.
He had to get to Song Island. He had to reach Lara before tonight. That was all that mattered.
It was chilly in the back of the truck with the wind ripping at his face, because Will was sitting with his back against the right side of the bed, facing Leo. He had chosen the spot on purpose, because it allowed him to see both in front and behind him. Natasha sat to his right, with Ray next to her. The ammo belt attached to the M60 draped down from the roof and into the can of ammo sitting between them. Dunbar’s fighters hadn’t said a word since they started on their way, but every now and then he caught them glancing up at the sun, as if to make sure the night hadn’t snuck up on them when they weren’t looking.
Will passed the time by watching the never-ending stretch of road flashing by, a constant sea of unyielding gray structures. How long would the roads last? The highways, big and small? The buildings? The businesses and homes and vehicles? Man’s time was over. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. He sure as hell wasn’t one, and he knew that.
After a while, he became aware of Natasha staring at him again.
“What?” he said, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the roar of the wind in his face.
“There were two vehicles this morning,” she said. “You were in the Tacoma.”
He nodded.
“You rammed the trucks that were blocking the streets,” she continued. “Why?”
“They were in the way.”
“But you rammed them. You could have tried to go around.”
“Maybe. But there wasn’t any time. I made a split-second decision.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Why?”
“I don’t understand,” he said, wondering again just how close Natasha had been to the action this morning to have seen all of that.
“You sacrificed yourself for your friends,” she said. “By opening up a lane for them to drive through. Why?”
“I didn’t think I was sacrificing anything,” Will said. “I just misjudged how badly the truck would go into a tailspin after the impact.”
“You screwed up, is that it?”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
He wasn’t sure if she believed him. For that matter, did he believe it? Or had he really been thinking about sacrificing himself so Danny and Gaby could reach Song Island, instead of all three of them not making it?
It wasn’t as if he’d had the time to think about it since this morning. He had been too preoccupied with trying to survive since waking up from the crash.
But now that the question was posed to him…
Doesn’t matter. Danny and Gaby are on their way home, and so am I.
That’s all that matters now.
“You might have gotten through if you had been driving the bigger car,” Natasha was saying.
He shrugged. “We had kids in the backseat, and we needed the extra space.”
“Still…”
“Yeah, well, they got through. I just hope they made it to the island.”
“That was your first mistake.”
“What’s that?”
“You still have hope,” Natasha said before looking away.
“I’m sorry about your daughter, about what happened in Dunbar,” he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t. Natasha didn’t care about his condolences. She had lost a child, and some stranger telling her that he was “sorry” wasn’t going to do a damn thing for her.
So Will kept his mouth shut and laid the M4 across his lap instead.
Besides, there was a very good chance he was sending these people to their deaths with an elaborate series of lies and half-truths. Then again, guilt was for survivors, and if he was lucky enough to call himself that after tonight, then he’d embrace it and carry on like he always did.
But first, he had to get home.
Get to Lara.
Whatever it took, he had to get back home to Lara. Nothing else mattered before and after that.
CHAPTER 10
GABY
No one fired a shot as they drove up to the roadblock, and the clatter of gunfire was still unnervingly absent when they parked and climbed out of the truck. She expected to be fighting for her life the moment her foot touched the hard concrete, and when that didn’t happen, Gaby had to spend a few seconds adjusting.
It’s the uniforms. They’re not shooting because of the uniforms.
I can’t believe it’s working.
The men pointing the assault rifles at them saw the familiar camo print and must have breathed a sigh of relief almost right away. Or it could have been the sight of a very assured Nate walking forward with his rifle held loosely at his side before stopping near the hood. He was non-threatening, but somehow still aggressive enough to draw their eyes to him.
If he was scared, Nate didn’t show it, especially when he shouted over at the soldiers, “What the hell, guys? Stop pointing those guns at us! They told us to come up here and back you up, not to get shot in the face!”
‘Shot in the face,’ Nate?
That was a nice flourish. Someone who didn’t belong here would have reacted differently, and not with the righteous indignation that was clearly evident in Nate’s voice. That seemed to relax the men even further. Or, at least, she hoped so. She could have been reading the whole situation wrong and not know it until it was too late.
Gaby had her rifle in her right hand, but she held it loosely at her side, almost cavalierly in order to give off the right impression. Like Nate, she was playing a role, trying to sell that she belonged here, that she wasn’t afraid of the rifles pointing — relaxed, but still pointing—at them. Her body might have seemed calm, but her hand was clutching tightly onto the rifle. Maybe too tightly. She couldn’t be sure because she didn’t look down, but it felt as if her entire arm had gone numb.
Relax. This is going to work.
Because we’re all dead if it doesn’t.
God, I wish Will was here…
She was certain there were just the same four men she had seen from inside the truck as they pulled up. If there were more hiding, maybe even on the other side of the divider like last time, that was going to throw everything off. It would mean they had to adapt on the fly, which might not be possible when the bullets started flying.