ZACH
I’m woken up by a noise outside. It’s the sound of tires on gravel. A vehicle is approaching. In a panic, I grab the rifle next to my sleeping bag and jump out of my tent.
“Aiden!” I call but get no response. Where his tent once stood, there’s only a smattering of footsteps in the dirt. No backpack. No Aiden.
My heart drops into my stomach.
But our car is still here. I reach into my jacket pocket and find the car keys. He must have slipped them in when I wasn’t looking. And there’s a note. But I have no time to read it. A truck pulls up beside our car. The headlights blind me. The sound of doors opening and guns cocking fills the campsite. A voice shouts out from behind the lights.
“Drop the gun, or we drop you!”
*
AIDEN
It takes an agonizingly long time to get back to camp. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity. I run around the knoll where we set up our tents to find the campsite in shambles. Zach’s tent and sleeping bag are ripped up and his belongings scattered. He’s gone.
Zach is gone.
I crumple to my knees and start weeping. I failed him. Out of my own misguided need to protect myself, I sacrificed Zach.
The sound of tires on gravel nearby snaps me out of my misery. I jump up and run around the knoll. A few hundred feet away, two trucks and our little Corolla head down the road. Ijustmissed them. Thirty seconds earlier, and I might have stopped them. But there’s still a chance.
I race after the vehicles, staying low and trying to keep out of sight. The vehicles move slowly on the gravel road, and I’m almost able to catch up to them. But then they make it to the highway and turn to the south and start to speed away. Even if it’s hopeless, I’ll run for as long as I can. I’ll run all night if I have to.
Then, the vehicles slow down and take the next right turn into Wanapum Dam. My spirit soars. I might catch them. My lungs burn as I sprint, but I welcome the pain. I deserve the pain. It’s nothing compared to what Zach will feel soon if I don’t rescue him.
As I run up the drive, the Corolla and trucks are ahead of me. They park at a building connected to the dam. Four people get out, armed with rifles. A fifth person has a bag over their head. From the body and clothing, I can tell it’s Zach.
He’s alive.
Up to this point, I’ve been going on pure instinct and adrenaline. My plan has only been to catch up. But running into this group and fighting them all isn’t an option. They’ll kill Zach immediately. It’s me and the vials they want. Once they see me, he’ll be of no more use to them.
So I stop, take cover behind a boulder, and watch. One man shoves Zach, and he almost falls over. Rage courses through me. All I can think of is protecting Zach. I have to fight back the urge to run right into them.
They enter the building attached to the dam. Once they are out of sight, I take deep breaths to calm myself down. My anger, fear, and fatigue slip away, replaced by a steely resolve.
Staying low to the ground, I head up to the door they entered. This will take all my training in stealth and arm-to-arm combat. But I’m ready. I have to do this for Zach. I reach for the doorknob, ready for my fate.
Locked. Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Dam
ZACH
I see nothing. The bag over my head rubs against my face. It’s tied so tightly that it constricts my airflow. My hands are bound behind my back with a plastic zip tie. It’s digging into the skin around my wrists.
Hands from behind shove me forward. I nearly trip but get my feet under me enough to keep me from smashing my face on the floor. My captors lead me from room to room, going down flights of stairs along the way. Earlier, I heard loud flowing water. I must be at the dam.
I don’t understand what happened. Aiden was gone when I woke up. Did they already capture him? But how could they have done that without me hearing? Aiden must have left on his own. Left me again.
Our footsteps echo in what sounds like a cavernous room. A shove to my chest sends me backward, falling hard into a chair. A cutting pain hits my ankles as my feet are bound, followed by a zipping sound of plastic ties mercilessly tightened. The left tie goes under my pant leg and digs into my skin.
I sit there for what feels like forever, but my sense of time is distorted with the bag over my head. Then, footsteps approach, and out of nowhere, my gut explodes as a fist hits me hard in the stomach.
“That’s for the gas station, punk.”
