“Shit,” Reagan muttered. “It’s the governor.”
I heard a stream of curses. “What’s he so angry about?”
“He must have just found out about his wife.”
“His wife?”
“Yes. She was being held with us at the pink house.”
“Where is she now?”
Reagan paused and glanced back down the hall. “She’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“She killed herself. We only had four air tanks when the basement flooded. One of us wasn’t going to make it out. She made the decision for us.”
“And he’s just finding out now?”
Reagan didn’t answer the question. “Get some rest, Tara. Kate should be awake in a couple hours. She’s really going to need you. Her baby didn’t make it.”
Damn it! I knew it. My head hurt so much, and my eyes were so heavy I knew I needed the sleep. I just didn’t want it. “Hey, take care of my—”
“I will,” Reagan assured me as the nurse came back in. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
“Thank you,” I addressed Reagan first then focused on the nurse. “Thank God. Please tell me you can help with this pain.”
The nurse smiled. “I will. I’ll take care of it.”
I closed my eyes again as she played around with the machines next to me. “Oh, hey…”
“Yes?”
The nurse’s voice sounded really far away. “I was reading all these bracelets on my arm…and I think…” My speech sounds really slow—almost slurred. “I think you messed up. You messed up.” Am I drunk?
“There, that’ll help,” the nurse said. “The meds will kick in quick. So how did we mess up?”
“I think…I think you got me confused whiff…whiff her.” I tried to point at Kate but couldn’t even feel my fingers.
“How so?”
“There’s a…” Wow, I feel really weird. “There’s a pink band on my arm says ‘pregnant-five weeks.’” Did I just say five wheats? “That band should have been hersh… hersh… Kayshtes… and ish sood have said eight… eight wheats.” I did say wheats! “But isssshh okay. You can dust trow it away sho see no she it. She—it.” Shit!
I could barely understand myself. The medicine had taken over. But I still heard the last thing the nurse said.
“It wasn’t a mistake.”
SIXTY-FOUR – Three Strikes (Hayley)
The first arrow missed the C-4 cube by a couple inches. I don’t know if it was nerves or wind, or if I simply wasn’t strong enough to keep the bow still as the swirling water around me pulled at my legs. In any case it was close, but not close enough.
The second shot missed by a few more inches. Now I was sweating it. That time I was sure it was the wind. I tried to ignore Danny putting his head down, but it conveyed what he was thinking. He was starting to doubt I could do this. Heck, I was starting to doubt I could do this. “Come on, Hayley, you’ve hit harder targets than this before,” I whispered. Maybe not in three shots with lives on the line. My body was aching and the current around my feet was so powerful. Block it out… come on. The wind under the bridge had to be different than the wind around it. This was almost pure luck. No, it’s not. Luck has nothing to do with it. This is pure skill. You’ve got this.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to envision the arrow striking its target. Come on. Come on. One more deep breath and I opened my eyes. I glanced at the arrow as I loaded it into the bow. I was careful to make sure the vanes were perfectly aligned. One more deep breath and I let the third arrow fly. It seemed to travel in slow motion as it twirled toward the target. It looked perfect, and then I felt the wind kick up something fierce—then I heard Danny curse. He felt it too. The wind distinctly pushed the arrow a full foot to the right, almost the exact distance it missed the target by. I know I would have hit the cube indoors with that shot. But I didn’t hit it out here. Three shots. Three misses. So much for all those accuracy awards and records in Minnesota. When it counted, I had failed.
I sank down into the water with tears in my eyes and glanced over at Danny. He was looking back at me, but he wasn’t angry. He didn’t look upset at all. A little disappointed—maybe—but he actually had a small smile curving the corners of his lips. “I swear that last one was perfect.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“If you had one more arrow…”
“I’d have missed four times.”
“That’s not what I was—”
“I know.” I slapped the water. “I’m just disappointed.”
“This isn’t over.”
“What are you going to do?” I could see the wheels spinning in his head.
“There’s another dam-slash-waterfall about five hundred yards downstream. I want you to get on the other side of it, reverse the ghost suit to the all black, and get painted up. Ditch the bow and make sure your Springfield is loaded. When I get to you, we’re going to need to run. If I don’t make it to you in fifteen minutes, you’re going to have to run. There’s a map in your pack. You get your ass to Disneyland, with or without me. Understood?” He splashed water in my face and shoved my arm. “Hey.”
“Yeah.” I nodded, a million thoughts racing through my mind. “I understand. But you’d better be there.”
“I plan to be.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“Not a second more.” He pulled me to him and kissed my forehead. “Now get going.”
“Danny.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. You know that, right?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“All that stuff with Ava—”
“Water under the bridge.” He smiled. “You were doing what you’re supposed to do.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I sank completely down into the water. “Fifteen minutes?”
He nodded. “Not a second more.”
I pushed away and began floating down the river again. I lost sight of Danny after he climbed over the small dam wall. He was heading back to the bridge.
I reached the other small waterfall or dam—five hundred yards downstream—about seven minutes later. There was a gap in the middle of it where water was rushing through, but it was also coming around the sides of the debris pile. I slipped over the gap in the middle and quickly inverted the ghost suit from the desert pattern to the all-black. I opened my pack, loaded the Springfield XDM-9 I’d taken from the plane, and applied black hunting paint to my face to match the ghost suit. I had barely snapped the cap shut on the face paint when I heard several quick gunshots and a gigantic explosion.
I could see smoke billowing in the air and could hear screams, engines, and gunshots galore immediately after the explosion. Danny did it! He blew up the bridge. A five-foot wall of water—caused by the explosion and falling bridge—rushed downstream toward me, and I moved quickly away from the river as it surged over the falls. If Danny had triggered that explosion with those three initial gunshots, he must have been close to the bridge—close to the impact zone. He only had a handgun. How close could you be to such a blast and still survive? I waited frantically for any sign of him, but I saw nothing. Still, a steady stream of gunshots told me someone was shooting at someone. So the soldiers could see someone. But who? Danny? Blake?