CHAPTER 42
Liz rubs at her wrists, feeling phantom handcuffs as she and the team follow Callahan across the sprawling base to the barracks. She was unsure of how much truth there was in General Langford’s words, but seeing everyone puttering about their business, has her feeling optimistic.
Each person they pass pays them no mind. The team receives a few stunned glances that are quickly averted and the occasional slight nod. It is the first time in weeks she truly feels like they may be safe, at least until their week is up, that is. Safe or not, that doesn’t stop her from eyeing each person, watching them as if they will attack at any second. Matching Riley’s pace, she falls back to where Mikey is lazily walking behind them, picking her hand up as they go.
“Do you want to tell me what was so funny back there?” Riley asks, looking straight ahead as they continue walking.
“It was nothing. He just reminded me of a character from a show that was on when I was a kid. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m sorry,” Liz says, resting her head against his shoulder as they walk.Mikey’s footsteps pick up somewhere behind her, clomping across the cement.
“Don’t apologize, love. It was cute, but now I need to know who he reminds you of,” Riley says.
“It’s dumb. Just this cartoon about fairies. Their leader was a giant, buff guy in camo—” she begins only to be cut off by Mikey.
“Oh my god, yes! I know who you’re talking about. That’s exactly who he looks like,” he says excitedly, inciting confused looks from the group ahead.
As they approach the building, Liz watches the team look around, no doubt looking for any potential ambush, just as she finds herself doing. Her grip around Riley’s hand tightens when they step into the near empty building. They march, one corridor after another, until they reach a hallway that looks like something out of a horror movie. There is not a single sign of life anywhere. The fluorescent lights radiate a high-pitched buzzing, flickering softly above them.
“There were only a handful of rooms available. General Langford thought you may want to be somewhere more secluded. This is the best we can do. There are three rooms. You’re not under our jurisdiction, so divide them up however you would like. You have one studio with bunks, and two, two bedrooms. One has a large bed, a bunk, and a single. The other has a large bed and bunks,” he says signaling to each accompanying door. “Mess hall is across the lot from the door we came in. Armory is in the east wing of the base. We also have a small general store where you can get fresh clothes and toiletries,” he says before turning on his heels and marching away, leaving the team standing in the hall to divide the rooms.
It doesn’t take long to decide, although Riley is not too happy with the choices. They all agreed Lauren and Maya will get the single room. Alex and Tyler will take the room with the extra bed,opting to bunk with Neil, John, and Liam since they have helped the team before. Despite protests and Riley’s failed attempt at pulling rank, they are forced to bunk with Mikey and Matt. She assures him they will be fine and reminds him that if Matt were to try anything like he has in the past, well, she has two of the best soldiers at her side.
The team splits, each group going into their respective rooms to get settled in before gathering in her room to make their final plan.
Tyler and Alex will spend every moment they can in the control room, hijacking equipment and recruiting anyone willing to help with satellites. Lauren and Maya are tasked with securing passage anywhere they may need to go, while Liam, John, and Neil get every weapon and piece of gear on Riley’s list. Riley and Mikey begin mapping out plans for every environment they can think of. Matt is to stay with one of them at all times, while Liz is just to help with whatever is needed. They will take the night off to rest. First thing in the morning, the real work begins.
The days seem to pass in a blur. An endless cycle of meetings and disappointment. While most tasks are going smoothly, or even completed, they are still no closer to finding where their missing general is hiding. Alex has successfully taken over half of the command center, convincing the men and women working there to help their cause. The team works round the clock, checking base after base, looking for any sign of their old boss. It’s been nearly four days of searching with little to no luck and morale is dropping fast.
Liz paces the living space, rattling off anything she remembers Dmitri talking about during her time with him. Nearly everythingshe overheard is long since outdated. Most of his compounds have been abandoned, missions scrapped, men killed. All come up as dead ends. Liz tries to ignore Riley pulling into himself, knowing he feels as if he is failing his team. There is nothing any of them can do to get him out of it. He runs on no more than three hours of sleep a night, spending every waking hour going over every mission file he can get his hands on.
“Why don’t we just call it for tonight and start fresh in the morning,” Alex suggests, closing his laptop.
“We only have three days to find him. You can go if you need to, but I can’t stop until we have another lead,” Riley snaps, not looking up from the mountains of papers in front of him.
“Ry, we have half the control room looking for him. We are there checking every location we know about and every location you two give us. There isn’t much more we can be doing in the middle of the night,” Alex protests.
Riley sighs, letting his shoulders slump.
“You’re all free to go. I’ll see you all back here at sunup to keep going,” he says, digging back into his work.
Liz stops her pacing, saying goodbye to her friends as they file out the door. With the room nearly empty, she strides to where Riley sits. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she places a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.
“He’s right, you know. Staying up all night, going over what you already know isn’t going to find him,” she coos in his ear. The folder drops from his hand with a softthudonto the table. His hands grip her arms, holding her against him.
“I know he is, but stopping isn’t going to end this either. No one at his base will be safe until it’s over,” he says. There is a deep sadness in his voice at the mention of all the men and women still suffering at Scott’s hand. Too many families are missing lovedones because of Scott’s hatred toward them, and she knows Riley blames himself for that too.
“Well, I’m with you. They can rest, and we can keep going,” Liz says as she nestles her head into his neck. The moment he tenses under her grasp she knows what he is thinking. He wants to suffer alone, punishing himself while his team is fast asleep. She refuses to let that happen.
Liz releases him, finding Mikey and Matt watching their interaction. She gives them a small nod toward their door, silently asking them for privacy. With a small wave, Mikey shoves Matt into their room, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Okay. So, where you found me was blown up, where we found you is abandoned. The three compounds that were raided to find you are also empty,” Liz begins, picking her pacing back up. The loud scrape of a chair sounds behind her. Riley forces her onto the couch, beginning his own slow lap around the room. “I know you don’t want me to know all the details of what happened to you, and I respect that, but maybe talking about everything you overheard will help.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to know, it’s that I don’t want to upset you. I know you’re still pissed at me for what happened, and picturing what I went through won’t help,” he says, stopping to look down at her, his eyes softening the moment they meet hers. “But, telling you what I remember can’t hurt.”
Soft light peeks in through the window. Hours have passed since Riley began telling Liz everything he had overheard. Jotting down each person or place, Liz cross references them with her own list. Nothing. Very few places match what she was able to remember, and even fewer people. Feeling hopeless, she picks up the list Tylerhad left. Sounding out each word, she checks it against her own butchered spelling. Only one word doesn’t quite seem to match up.
“Tell me about this one,” Liz says, tapping her finger on the paper. “I spelled it how it sounds, sorry,”
“I don’t know why I mentioned that, love. That was a fever dream.”
