But I had to have Angie ready to bolt. And that was still going to be, as far as I could see, the biggest problem. I needed her splinted up. And I desperately needed any working vehicle that Randall might have. Anything less and we were going to be sunk.
Hopefully, his story of a running truck had been true…
Logan returned with a long green bag and a sizable first aid kit, then, and Randall unzipped the bag, reached in, and pulled out a tall walker splint that seemed sized for a woman and would reach to just below Angie’s knee. I stared at it, surprised. Why would he have something like that? Just in case some damsel in distress happened along?
Well, they were survivalists, I supposed. Perhaps this was the sort of thing that such people kept around.
I was pulled back to the reality of the situation by Randall suddenly leaning toward Logan, his face drawn up in a sneer.
“Now that everything’s changed, we need to move up the timetable. First, we take care of our little problem; then, as soon as the storm lets up, we head toward town.” His raised eyebrows revealed that his eyes had taken on a manic glow, and I had to fight to keep my face calm, as if I hadn’t heard anything at all. “We’ll take back what’s ours and then start gettin’ prepped for the next phase.”
Right. Okay, so we were definitely moving toward a quick resolution, then. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, but kept my face neutral. He couldn’t find out that I’d heard him. Couldn’t know that I’d even begun to guess what he was up to.
I needed to keep acting like nothing was wrong. Until I was ready to hit the gas pedal.
While Randall changed Angie’s dressing, amid her moans, I mentally went through three possible escape scenarios. None of them was great, but they were our only options—which meant I’d have to go with one of them, at some point. As soon as I saw an opening. I gave a mental nod to the one that would shed the least blood as being the most useful, though I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that saving the lives of these men would be necessary—or even preferable.
At the end of the day, our secondary problem would be making sure they didn’t come after us. And with that in mind, I thought, it might actually be better if I killed them outright as we escaped. Something inside me was grabbing onto that idea with relief. Something inside me smelled the imaginary blood and wanted action. It wanted a clear objective and a green light to execute. It felt good to have an enemy again, to have that clear sense of black and white, us and them.
But that wasn’t the mission. Angie was.
I might see Randall and his cousins as enemy combatants standing in the way of my objective, but I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted by the thrill of action. I needed to focus on getting my wife to safety. That was all that mattered. Then, if we survived that long, I would find a way to get us back to Ellis Woods and to Sarah.
If I killed Randall and the others in the process, that was what it was. But I couldn’t make that my prime objective.
Randall moved on to the splint, lining it up on either side of Angie’s thigh and lashing it into place. It was excruciating to stand by while her moans ripped through the cabin, but I held her hand and watched, knowing that I needed that splint in place for what I was going to do next.
Once Randall was finished, he moved away, leaving me alone with Angie. For the moment.
“John,” she whispered through clenched teeth, her body tense with pain. “They know who I am, they… they—”
“I know, honey.” I kept my voice low and soothing, trying to sound like I was just comforting her. “I heard. Just hang in there. I’m going to get us out of this.”
“Just be careful. These assholes are dangerous.”
I met her gaze and allowed my eyes to harden and a cold calculation to settle over my mind. I’d never had to take care of her like this before. Now that I had the chance, I knew I was going to do whatever it took to make sure she came out the other side. No man left behind, I told myself.
“So am I.”
Randall gave out some more orders, then, and Dee and Dum went to the food shelf and opened several cans of beans and vegetables, putting them in two pans and beginning to heat them on the stove. The food, basic as it was, satisfied us just enough. It would hold us until we could reach relative safety. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think that we were all just going to sit down and have lunch like we were old friends.
When it came down to it, I didn’t have to wait long. Randall hung back while Dee and Dum wandered over, casually flanking me on either side where I sat next to Angie on the sofa. Her hand moved down to grasp mine, and I gave hers a squeeze, sending her the sign—I hoped—that I knew what I was doing.
Logan stood up in front of us, scratching at a scab on his bald head.
“Come over here a second, man,” he said on a sneer. “Need a word with you.”
A word. Right… I kept my breathing steady, retreating into that part of my mind where I could still think and reason while fear and uncertainty raged around me. The place I’d found on my first tour of Afghanistan—and the place I’d gone to again and again whenever we had to go into dangerous territory. The place where I could keep my wits about me, even when shit was going bad.
“Sure,” I said.
I stood up slowly, only partially needing to fake my exhaustion. These boys were using a strategy so simple as to be almost laughable. Separate me from Angie, surround me, then beat me into submission. They’d make her watch so that she knew how dangerous they were—and force her to think that she couldn’t afford to fight them. That she wouldn’t be big enough, or that they’d do the same to her if she tried.
Once I was dead, they’d use her for whatever they wanted to use her for, and that would be that. Probably kill her afterward.
The thing I knew and they didn’t was that I’d spent years training for exactly this situation. And they were never going to see my moves coming.
When it started, I cried out in fake surprise. Logan swung a meaty fist at my head and I went with the blow, dropping to the cabin floor. Yeah, I’d known it was coming, but that wasn’t going to make this any easier. I was outnumbered here, and Randall had a gun on him—even if it was a small one. I couldn’t take the other three out without drawing fire from our host. Our guns were too far away and I didn’t want Angie getting hurt any worse than she already was.
So my plan was to take the beating and wait for an opportunity. It wasn’t a good plan. But I’d had worse.
I let the cousins rough me up, slipping away from the worst of the blows in a way that they wouldn’t be able to notice. I absorbed the others, twisting and turning so that they were distributed all over my body rather than focused in any specific place, and making sure that none of them landed on a spot that would do too much damage.
These guys were just like any others. They thought kicking you would take you out. They didn’t realize that fighting that way meant that you were hitting the same spot over and over again—and that it made you easier to avoid. I would be bruised and sore later, but nothing would be broken. Most importantly, I would still be able to function. And I wouldn’t have wasted any strength on fighting back.
I was planning on using that strength for something else entirely.
When they thought they were done enough, they tied my hands behind me and ran a length of rope from my hands to my tied ankles so I couldn’t stand up. This, too, was laughable.
I’d have been able to get out of those knots in my sleep. But I wouldn’t do it until I was ready.
When they pushed and pulled me over toward the wall and left me leaning against it, I did finally smile. My pack sat less than a foot away from me. And that was exactly what I needed. The opportunity I’d been waiting for.