Part of me wished I hadn’t convinced Deacon and Royce to go to Kauai. It would have been nice to have another male—or two—here with Dad and me. Kaci, Kate, Jenna, and Tara—with Ollie—were all sitting huddled—maybe even praying—against the tree in the middle of the kitchen. Ollie was amazingly calm, given the chaotic environment around him. He’d cry from time to time, but he mostly held tight to Tara. Dad was pacing, almost as much as I was. Our pacing was probably making everyone more nervous, but what else could we do?
The wind continued to howl. It was like being in a popcorn maker—or a vacuum cleaner. There were cracks and pops all around us, and objects swirled through the air. “Tell me if anyone sees a flying cow,” I joked. No response. “Like in Twister.”
Still nothing. Oh well. I don’t have any hurricane humor. I used to have the biggest crush on Helen Hunt—the star of Twister—until that Serendipity movie came out. Then it was all Kate Beckinsale. A large branch suddenly snapped off the tree above us and dropped mere feet from where I stood, crashing onto the east deck and splintering the floor. I’m certain I jumped. I looked up to where it had come from and then glanced back at the girls. I’d heard one of them shriek. There was another crash upstairs, and another…and another. It was definitely getting worse. I didn’t have any way of measuring the wind speed, but objects were starting to fly by the tree house—bushes, branches, and mud—lots of mud. I didn’t think the rain could get any heavier but it seemed to every hour. There was even hail mixed in. This was becoming more and more like the storm in that Karate Kid sequel, absent—of course—Mr. Miyagi or Daniel-son. There wasn’t anyone to help us out here.
Dad walked over to stand beside me. He put his arm around me. “I don’t know, son…this is getting bad.”
I looked at him and was alarmed by the sadness evident on his face.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he reiterated.
“Dad.” I put my arm around him too. “It’s going to be all right.”
“I don’t think so, Ryan.” He shook his head. “You need to go be with your wife.”
“Dad, what are you saying?”
“Ryan, people don’t live through tornados as exposed as we are, and this hurricane is bigger and stronger than any of those. I was hoping it would lose steam like they usually do out here, but—”
“Dad, you’re freaking me out.”
“I’m trying to tell you what you need to hear right now. Maybe I’m wrong, but if I’m right, you need to go be with your wife. You need to stay with your wife.”
I stared at him in stunned silence. This is totally not like him. He’s the most optimistic person I know. I turned toward the island counter—in the middle of the kitchen—that Tara and the others were now huddled under.
Another large crash prompted more shrieks and tears from Ollie, as it was considerably louder and much closer to the girls and the baby. There was a large branch sticking through the wall behind them. The winds had to be around eighty miles per hour now—and these weren’t just gusts—it was constant. “Girls, maybe you should move.”
“To where?” Tara yelled back at me.
Good point. I could only imagine what was going through her mind. Here we were in the middle of the worst storm any of us had ever been in, and she probably wasn’t even thinking about it. Her mind had to be on Emily. It had to be so hard for Tara not to be there instead of here. But then, if she were there and not here, she’d be worried about Ollie in pretty much the same manner. There probably was no preferred alternative. I followed Dad’s suggestion and slipped under the counter with everyone else. I wrapped my arms around Tara and whispered, “I love you” in her ear. She didn’t reply, but it did feel better to have someone to hold on to. “I’ll always love you,” I whispered again.
Man, what I would give to have a live feed of wherever everyone else is.
A live feed wouldn’t have helped much on Kauai at that point—at least not without infrared. It was pitch-black there and pouring like crazy. To make matters worse—or better in the long term, maybe—the compound was taking on heavy flooding.
From where the four members of the Pack were gathered, they could see a downed power wire flipping back and forth in the wind, sparking dangerously close to the water. It was keeping them from getting into their intended positions.
“Damn it.” Trigger watched the wire snap around. “We can’t move any closer than this until Damien cuts all the power.”
“How much more time do we have before he does?” Deacon looked at Twix.
Twix glanced at his watch. 9:38 p.m. “About twenty-two minutes.”
“The water’s already three feet deep,” Royce shouted into the wind. “It’s going to be slow moving in this shit.”
They couldn’t clear the fence until the power went down, and even then the captors likely had a generator on the property. That would give them about a minute—before the generator kicked in and rebooted the security system—to get over the fence and into tree cover away from the cameras. The ground was a little higher on that side of the property, so that would help them move quicker, but one slip-up—one tripped alarm or accidental sighting—and the prisoners would almost certainly be killed.
Everyone knew it. It didn’t have to be said. But Deacon reminded them anyway. Twenty-one minutes.
FORTY-EIGHT - Split Ends (Danny)
We had a problem—which was nothing new, but it was of a particular inconvenience this time. General Niles and Kellen were in one truck, ready to go. Tyler Sheffield was in the other Hummer, also ready. Tyler convinced me he could do this, no matter how close to death he honestly was. He’d go as far as he could—as fast as he could—and hopefully sell the decoy.
Those three knew they were basically on a suicide mission. None of them liked it, but Sheffield and Niles had at least accepted it. I could still hear Kellen trying to talk his way out of it, but Niles wasn’t listening. It felt wrong to let the general ride off like this. After all, he was our highest-ranked living military official. But he couldn’t physically drive or ride on one of the motorcycles, and he was going to get caught in the truck. He wasn’t going to make it out—or for much longer—no matter which direction they went. He knew what he had to do and why he had to do it. As long as it gave his daughter a chance to live, he was determined to make those odds as good as possible for her. That would make a huge difference for all of us.
But back to the problem. There were only four high-tech dirt bikes in the stalls. With seven of us—Blake, Hayley, Eddie, Cera, Flynn, Ava, and me—that left us a few bikes short. But that still wasn’t the problem. Cera, Eddie, and Flynn had never driven a motorcycle. That was the problem—Eddie. There was an incredibly short and dangerous learning curve when it came to learning how to ride a dirt bike—especially out here in the mountains. There was no “straight and narrow.” You hit a rock wrong or a patch of sand, and you went down. You might not get back up. But Eddie couldn’t exactly ride on the back of a dirt bike with anyone. Eddie, on his own, was nearly too large and heavy for one of these things. Like a circus bear riding around on a tricycle. With someone else—anyone else—he definitely was too big. If he sat on the back, he’d flip the bike. If he sat up front, no one could reach around him to steer. He was going to have to give it a go on his own. That was going to slow us down… dramatically.