“They’re going to see the plane.”
“Yeah, but they might ignore it. People, not so much.”
Barry nodded.
Outside, they stayed tight to the fuselage of their jet and scanned the sky.
“There,” Harlan said, pointing.
A plane was approaching the runway, a small jet like theirs. Right before it touched down, the two men scrambled back inside, shut the door, and monitored the other plane’s progress from the passenger cabin. Once the other aircraft started taxiing, it turned toward the air force side of the airport.
“Military?” Barry asked.
Harlan studied the new arrival. There was nothing on it to indicate any kind of association, military or otherwise. Just a plain white fuselage with its identification number painted on the side and tail. “I don’t know,” he said.
They both knew if it was carrying US military personnel, the two of them could be in a whole lot of trouble if found. Hopefully, whoever was on board would assume the Ranch’s jet had been at the airport for a while and ignore it.
The plane slowed as it neared the control tower, and Harlan was sure it would pull in right beside them. But after a few minutes, the noise of its engines increased again, and it began rolling faster toward the next building over. A hundred feet from the structure, it came to a complete stop, its engines shutting down.
The door opened and half a dozen men in fatigues piled out.
“Oh, shit,” Barry said.
“Grab the binoculars,” Harlan said. There was something about the soldiers that troubled him.
Barry went into the cockpit, and returned thirty seconds later with the glasses. “I don’t know if you should use these,” he said as he handed them to Harlan. “What if the lens catches the light? They might see us.”
“Relax. That’s not going to happen.”
To be safe, though, Harlan didn’t press the binoculars directly against the window, but instead looked through them from a few feet away in the dimness of the cabin.
The six soldiers had been joined by a seventh, who, given the fact he was doing all the talking, seemed to be the one in charge. After a moment, two of the men broke from the group and jogged around the side of the building, out of sight. Harlan returned his attention to the men still near the plane. Each had a rifle slung over his shoulder, and two were carrying duffel bags that Harlan figured held ammunition and more weapons.
He concentrated on their uniforms. There were no patches or anything else that identified which branch of the military they belonged to. Suddenly, the one in charge raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth.
“Here,” Harlan said, handing the binoculars to Barry. “Keep an eye on them. I’ll be right back.”
Staying low to prevent the soldiers from noticing any movement, he returned to the cockpit, where he donned the headphone for the plane’s enhanced radio. He searched around until he located the channel the men outside were using to talk on their walkie-talkies.
“…for now,” a voice said.
“Yes, sir,” another replied.
There was dead air for several seconds.
“Keys located,” the second voice said. “We’ll be right there.”
“Copy that.” A pause, then the first said, “Stevens?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We should be back by noon, latest. Check in with NB219. Let them know we’re on schedule and should be at Camp Kiley within an hour.”
“Copy that.”
Harlan’s blood would have gone cold at the mention of Camp Kiley if it hadn’t already turned to ice when the man said NB219. NB was the designation Project Eden used to identify its facilities. There was no way Harlan would believe the use of the letter-number combo was a coincidence.
He heard the rumbling noise of a diesel engine. He slinked back into the passenger cabin and looked outside. A sedan and a troop-transport truck came out from between the buildings and stopped near where the remaining soldiers were gathered. The men divided themselves up and climbed aboard the two vehicles. Then, with the sedan in the lead, they drove off.
“What the hell do you think that was about?” Barry asked.
Instead of answering him, Harlan retrieved the satellite phone and called the Ranch.
The turnoff was crowned by an old wooden sign arching over the entrance, with the name of the camp painted on it.
“See anyone?” Chloe asked.
Miller scanned the woods to either side. “No.”
It was a logical place for a guard to be positioned, but apparently those at the camp either didn’t have the manpower or thought it unnecessary.
Chloe turned down the road. The pavement ended after only half a mile. Past that point, the ground was a mixture of frozen mud and gravel that thrust up and down at random and forced her to reduce their speed. That was something she was loath to do, given the news Matt had told her about the Project Eden squad heading their way.
About a quarter mile shy of the camp, they came across an EMT truck parked at an angle along the side of the road. Painted on the door were the words BOULDER FIRE-RESCUE.
Chloe eased past it and stopped.
“Stay here,” she said to Josie.
She and Miller hopped out and cautiously approached the truck.
“Looks empty,” Miller said. “Maybe it’s just here in case they felt the need to block the road.”
A possibility, Chloe thought. But it seemed odd.
They looked through the windows without touching the vehicle. Definitely unoccupied. Chloe motioned for Miller to circle around one way while she went the other.
“Anything?” she asked when they met back up.
He shook his head. “Whoever left it here isn’t around anymore.”
Chloe glanced down the road. “Camp’s just around that bend. We should hike in from here. Get an idea of what’s going on.”
Miller shot a quick look back the way they’d come. “What about the others?”
She checked her watch. “We should be able to do a quick recon, then get in and out of there with Brandon before the Project Eden assholes show up.”
“Should be able to.”
“That chance goes down the more time we waste here. Come on.”
As much as she would have like to leave Josie in the car, there was no telling who might show up while she and Miller were off in the woods, so, after Miller retrieved their bag of weapons, the three of them headed out together.
“Look at this,” he said a minute later.
On a small patch of snow in front of him was a set of footprints.
“The person from the truck?” Chloe suggested.
“Got to be, right?”
Camp Kiley came into view a few minutes later. Closest to them were several long, rectangular structures in two rows. Staying under the cover of the forest, Chloe led them to the right so they could get a better look at the rest of the camp. From their new position, they could see a dirt parking lot and a couple larger buildings.
“Chloe!” Josie whispered harshly. “Is that…is it…”
Instead of finishing, she pointed at a dark shape lying in the lot.
A body. No question.
“Both of you wait here,” Chloe said.
“No. I’m coming,” Josie told her.
“You’re staying.” Chloe shot a look at Miller.
He put a hand on Josie’s shoulder. “We’ll be right here,” he said.
“What if that’s Brandon?” Josie argued.
“It’s not,” Chloe said, as she pulled one of the pistols out of Miller’s bag before leaving.
When she reached the tree line, she stopped and scanned the camp. She spotted three more bodies along the path leading down from the rectangular buildings. The rest of the camp was quiet. Much too quiet. Her pistol at the ready, she stepped out of the woods and crossed the dirt lot.