Maintaining that element of surprise was already a difficult task. And it would be near impossible if we had to deal with prisoners. We lacked proper restraints. So, we’d have to knock them out and hope they stayed unconscious or I’d have to leave someone behind to guard them. Neither option appealed to me.
But I knew from experience that killing people, even murderers, tarnished one’s soul. Not right away. But later, when things had quieted down. The guilt stuck in the brain and in the heart. There was no escaping its relentless assault.
“We’ll give them a chance to surrender,” I said. “But if they go for their guns, kill them.”
Chapter 57
As quietly as possible, I stole down a steep slope. I moved in a crouch, staying low to the ground.
The two guards continued to work the soil while the third one kept a casual eye on their progress. They chatted quietly amongst themselves and seemed more interested in the ever-present dust storm than their surroundings.
Aren’t they worried about the Grueler?
According to Carrie, the guards knew about the Grueler. So, why weren’t they keeping a lookout for it?
East of the guards, Beverly snaked down a winding trail. Graham, taking a separate trail, descended west of them.
I stopped at a boulder. I was about ten feet above ground. Glancing east and west, I checked on Beverly and Graham. Then I drew my pistol. “Freeze,” I called out.
The men froze in place. Slowly, their faces turned toward me.
“Place the rifle and shovels on the ground,” I commanded. “Then back up and lie down.”
The two diggers looked to the third man. His brow furrowed as he studied me. “I saw your picture a few days ago. You’re that salvage expert. How the hell are you still alive?”
“I won’t ask again. I want—”
The third man lifted his rifle. His finger squeezed the trigger. Gunfire filled the air as I ducked my head.
The other two guards dropped their shovels. They ran to the truck. One of them yanked the passenger door open. The other one reached inside and grabbed a pair of rifles.
More gunfire, largely drowned out by the wind, rang out. Peeking over the edge of the boulder, I saw a stunned look cross the third man’s face. Then he dropped the rifle and collapsed to the ground. Blood poured out from the back of his head, trickling toward the half-dug grave.
The diggers whirled around, guns in hand.
Deafening blasts erupted. Their faces froze.
Then they collapsed into heaps.
Pistols drawn, Graham and Beverly emerged from their hiding spots. While I covered them, they crossed the burial ground and checked the guards.
“Dead,” Beverly called out.
“That was loud.” Graham glanced toward the research station. “Do you think anyone heard it?”
The wind stiffened as I made my way to the ground. It cascaded against the boulders, causing pebbles and dirt to break away and clatter against each other. It ripped small branches from nearby trees and stirred fallen ones up from the soil. They whirled about, passing over and all around us.
“The wind is pretty fierce,” I said. “Hopefully, it drowned us out.”
Rocks banged against each other. Spinning around, I aimed my pistol at the boulders.
Benigno appeared. Without hesitation, he half-ran, half-slid to the ground. He sprinted to the truck and hoisted himself into the cargo bed. The sound of ripping plastic filled my ears.
Akolo ran down the hillside. He started for the cargo bed, but Carrie grabbed his shoulders. He resisted. Then she whispered a few words into his ear. He frowned. But he didn’t go any closer.
I studied the guards. Unfortunately, their uniforms were covered with blood splatter. We’d have to look elsewhere for disguises.
Twisting around, I climbed into the cargo bed. Using my machete, I sliced through several layers of plastic. A man’s face appeared. He looked old and sickly.
I moved onto the other bodies, making quick work of the plastic. The remaining bodies belonged to four women. The youngest looked to have been about twenty-five years old. The oldest woman had been pushing seventy years. Their physical attributes — height, weight, skin color, body type, and other things — differed wildly.
I cut away more plastic. I saw no wounds or abrasions. They showed no obvious symptoms or other signs of sickness.
Benigno collapsed to his knees. He lowered his head to the ground, sobbing softly.
A small lump formed in my throat. Sheathing my machete, I cast a look at Beverly. She stood nearby, her eyes focused on our eastern flank.
Dim light shone on her neck. Her hair danced in the wind. Her sweat-drenched shirt clung tightly to her body.
What would I do if something happened to her? She was everything to me. Everything and more.
Benigno took a deep breath. “I can’t believe it.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He wiped his eyes. Then he leaned back and looked at the sky. “She’s not here.” A soft chuckle escaped his throat. “She’s still alive.”
Chapter 58
Laughing loudly, Benigno climbed out of the cargo bed. Akolo ran to him, threw his arms around him. They hugged tightly.
Benigno’s laughter proved contagious. Akolo started to laugh. Beverly smirked. Her lips quivered. Then she started to laugh as well. Graham emitted a great big belly laugh, like a drunken Santa Claus. Only Carrie, now perched in the cargo bed, didn’t crack a smile.
As I hopped to the ground, I stared at the research station. It was hard to believe we’d been on the island less than two days. It seemed more like two years.
Carrie appeared at my side. “I found Rowena.”
I exhaled. I’d nearly forgotten about Carrie’s source.
“I didn’t know her all that well,” she continued. “But she didn’t deserve to die.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet.
She took a deep breath. “I had a soft spot for Simona. Even when her people tried to kill me, I didn’t hate her. How can you hate a person that’s trying to save the world?”
I cocked my head.
“I just thought … you know, the greater good and all that.” A frown crossed her visage. “But I was wrong. I see that now.”
The greater good.
The greater good was an attractive concept. But not to everyone. Someone always paid a price. The only way the masses could have their so-called greater good was if they crawled on someone else’s back to get it.
Maybe Simona’s research station would slow climate change. Maybe it would save lives. But was it okay to kill other people just to make that a reality? Did the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few? When I was part of the so-called many, it seemed like the righteous thing. But viewing it from the other side was a whole different matter.
Lila Grinberg. God’s Judges. Milt Stevens. The Pagan Nation members. Rowena. The people buried in these graves.
Were their deaths righteous?
Could righteousness ever come from evil?
“You’re a reporter, aren’t you?” I shrugged. “Write about Simona. Tell the world what she’s done here.”
“No one will believe me.”
“They might.”
“They won’t. And even if they do, no one will care. Simona will hire lobbyists and problem solvers. She’ll pay off bureaucrats and politicians. At worst, she’ll look like a flawed heroine who lost a few lives in hopes of saving the world.”
I exhaled.
“Maybe we can stop her.” Her voice was soft, hesitant.
I arched an eyebrow. “How would that work?”
She didn’t answer.
“We’ve got three guns between us. Eco-Trek has guards, guns, drones, even missiles.” I shook my head. “If it wasn’t for the reliquary, I’d be long gone by now.”