We walk without speaking for several minutes until we crest the top of the ridge. She comes to a stop. I hear the sounds of a river flowing nearby.
“This is the place. It’s safe here,” she says.
“How do you know?”
“Because they’ve never caught me.”
She reaches into her pocket and comes out with something small and black. I can’t see what it is until she turns it on and her face is lit by the glow of her own iPhone.
“You’re allowed to have a phone?”
She shakes her head.
“No one knows,” she says. “And it has to stay that way.”
“Who would I tell?”
“Wrong question.”
“What’s the right question?”
“Who would believe you?” she says.
A warning. For a moment, her face looks ghostly in the screen’s light.
“Who do you call from up here?” I say.
“There’s nobody to call. I read the news, look at YouTube. I want to see what’s going on in the real world.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why? You thought I was a good girl?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Then what are you?”
She looks away from me, stares into the woods.
“Complicated.”
It’s quiet now, the evening punctured only by the call of night birds and the distant sound of running water.
“Is that a river I hear?” I ask.
She nods. “Liberty survives because of that river. It leads down into camp. We use it as our water supply.”
“What about in the other direction? Where does it go?”
“I’ve never followed it there.”
She presses something on her phone.
“I’m going to read the paper,” she says. “Why don’t you make your call? We don’t want your mommy to worry about you.”
“Hey, I’m a momma’s boy, just like you said. I’ve got no shame about it.”
“Eventually you have to leave the nest.”
I gesture toward her phone. “Is that what you’re doing? Breaking your father’s rules?”
“We’re not talking about me right now. I notice you have a brilliant way of turning conversations around.”
“Maybe I’m uncomfortable talking about myself,” I say.
“So it’s a defense mechanism?”
“One of many.”
“What do you have to defend yourself against?”
I point to the world around us, mirroring Lee’s line from earlier:
“Enemies,” I say.
She stares at me.
“You’re an interesting person, Daniel.”
“I’m interesting now, and you hardly know me. Imagine what I’m going to be like in a few days.”
“I hope you make it a few days,” she says with a devious smile.
I wink and turn my back to her. I’m planning to be here only as long as it takes to finish the job. That’s why it’s critical that I talk to Father.
I use the unique finger gesture to open the alternative operating system on my iPhone.
The phone instantly goes into secure mode, giving me access to a suite of security apps unimaginable to the average user. I open the Poker app, arrange a hand of cards that represents Mother’s phone number.
If Father isn’t answering the temporary public number, I’ll dial into the permanent secure number that guarantees a nearly instantaneous connection with Mother.
I glance over my shoulder at Miranda. She’s turned her back to me, giving me privacy.
I listen in the digital silence, waiting for the inevitable click of a line opening and Mother’s voice answering. Any time of day or night, anywhere I call from, she is there. This has been true over two years and across multiple missions.
It’s not true tonight.
There is only silence.
First I check the cellular signal. Four bars. Full reception.
Then I back track, closing the app and reopening it. I rearrange the poker hand, checking to make sure the cards are in the proper order by number and suit.
Again, I wait for the connection, and again nothing happens.
I turn off my phone.
“Did you speak to her?” Miranda asks.
“You were right,” I say. “She must be sleeping.”
“So much for being a worrier.”
“She’s also an Ambien user. The two kind of go together.”
I walk toward Miranda, slipping my phone into my pocket.
“I want to ask you something serious,” I say. “Earlier tonight in the truck, you told me to stay away.”
She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Things are changing here, Daniel.”
“How are they changing?”
“It’s not just a camp anymore. My father. He’s different since my mother left. I think she kept him calm in some ways. No more. Now he’s got plans.”
“What kinds of plans?”
She comes even closer, our faces nearly touching.
“Frightening plans,” she says, her breath soft on my cheek.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I can’t say more,” she says.
I lean toward her, our faces inches away from each other.
“But you didn’t even know me when we were in the truck. Why bother to tell me anything?”
She looks at the ground, suddenly shy.
“I liked you right away,” she says.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“I’m used to being around military-type guys,” she says. “I guess it’s made me kind of tough.”
“But the warning—?” I say, getting her back on track.
“I didn’t think it was fair to bring you here without you knowing what you were getting into.”
“I’m trying to register for the next camp session. That’s a good thing, right?”
“My father canceled the next camp session. That event was just for show.”
“There’s no camp this summer? Then what am I doing here?”
“He wanted you here. From the very beginning, the moment you walked into the community center. They were talking about you before the event. I overheard them.”
“Them?”
“Francisco and my dad.”
“That’s strange.”
Moore rejected me after his speech and refused to meet me. He was trying to keep me out, not bring me in.
So why would she say the opposite?
“Nothing happens without my father wanting it to,” she says.
“Nothing?” I glance at her phone.
“Almost nothing,” she says.
Maybe it’s the night, or the girl, or the sense of danger all around us. I just know I want to step forward and kiss Miranda.
It could help my mission or harm it. I can’t be sure.
So I step back.
“It’s getting late,” Miranda says, obviously uncomfortable. “We should probably go back before they notice we’re not in camp.”
“It was fun while it lasted,” I say, and she laughs, a sweet laugh that makes me wish I had kissed her.
But I am a soldier. I am here to accomplish a mission. Nothing else.
Miranda moves away from me through the forest.
“Hey, what’s the best way down?” I call to her.
She keeps moving.
“You were talented enough to make it up here,” she says, her tone suddenly teasing. “Can’t you find your way back?”
“I can if I follow you.”
“I’m going down alone,” she says. “I don’t want to risk us being seen together outside of camp.”
Her outline is faint now.
“Either I’ll see you at breakfast,” she says, “or I’ll see you after the search party finds your body.”
“Wait a second….” I say.
But she doesn’t. She disappears into the night.
I’m alone in the dark now, thinking about what just happened.