“Honey, come closer. I need to tell you something.” Eyes bright, she whispers, “A tunnel to the outside runs under here.”
So, that’s how she escaped. Still, something isn’t making sense. Why put us back in the same cells she was able to escape from? I have so many questions and so little time.
Beneath the watchful eyes of two survivalists stationed in the tunnel, I wander toward Slate, sitting next to Lilac. “What part of ‘rescue them’ did you not understand?”
His scowl deepens. “Before we reached the top level, the two we left alive jumped up ugly, then sounded the alarm. Suds and Idid the math. Someone on our side would likely have been killed, especially with you gone.”
He’s right. I was the one who didn’t stick to the script. Nonetheless, had I not pursued Gwen, I have no doubts I would be a widower.
I want to explain, but the mind-reader nods, “I hear ya. I would’ve done the same.”
When he glances down at his wife, the only one still unbound, his face softens, and I swear he tears up.
Giving him a moment to regain his composure, I gaze at his pregnant spouse, sleeping on the cot. “How is she?”
“She’s been having Braxton Hicks…” He says it like I would know what it means.
My uncommitted grunt makes him shake his head and chuckle.
Now that he has his emotions in check, he can explain. “They’re normal pains but can be uncomfortable.”
While we chat, Suds stealthily makes his way across the crowded cell. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We have a slight glitch.” After I explain the microdot, the office debacle, and the possibility of torture, the two men grimace.
The southerner scratches the short, dark growth on his chin. “And you got no idea what’s on it?”
“No, but it’s important enough to send the CIA to get it.” When their jaws drop, I remember I forgot to mention the part Dolly played in all this.
“So, wait.” The private detective's brows crease as he studies the fifty-ish woman. “She’s with the agency? No way.”
Slate’s frown deepens. “For them to risk working on US soil, it must be massive.”
“And your wife just tossed it out the window? Holy Jesus, lord, have mercy. That was a bold move.” The ex-SEAL sounds impressed, but I’m not.
I’m worried as fuck. “I’ll give up the location before I let anyone lay hands on her.”
Lilac, her head on his lap, opens her eyes. She had been so quiet I forgot she was there. “You won’t have to. Follow my lead.”
A second later, she bends at the waist. Holy fuck, she screams so loud everyone rushes to her side. “Ow, ow, ow. Oh my God, the baby is coming. I need an ambulance. Now!”
Sam scampers over to where our guards sit outside the iron bars. “Please, you have to call for help. You’re survivalists. You must have a midwife.”
The twentyish blond man, an ex-Marine judging from the anchor on his forearm, scratches under his armpits. “I d-don’t know. Armageddon wasn’t supposed to happen for years.”
Blake, Jack’s lovely shrink, rises, walks toward the front, and speaks slowly and steadily. “Listen to me. There was no EMP pulse. It was all a ruse. We are not at the end of days. Lewis blocked your phones, turned off the power, then killed the internet. It would be easy to pull off. You’ve been duped.”
While they argue, I motion to the guys. “Block me from their view.”
Free from the guards’ eyes, I take a deep breath. Ignoring the plastic cutting into my wrists, I open my elbows behind my back to make a hoop. One knee at a time, I shift my weight forward to step back into the circle. With my hands in front of me, I lift high and snap the plastic apart over my knee.
As I rub my palms, a door slams, and footsteps sound. Gliding in on a breeze of cheap pine soap, Lewis arrives.
Smiling, he gives our guard a fatherly pat on the back. “At ease, soldier. Go outside and join the others defending our homes.”
“Owwww. The baby is coming.” Lilac, God bless her soul, takes her screams up a notch, giving me time to clasp my hands behind my back.
Her performance is so believable that her stoic husband pales. The nut-job leader, however, remains unmoved.
