He looked back at the five women huddled in the truck with Elsie, all thin and terrified, then focused on those willing to leave. “You’ll translate for me?”
“Oui. Yes,” she said.
Hiram directed the thirty remaining women down into the stream. They whimpered as the cool mountain water encircled their bare legs. Around the bend and out of eyeshot from the road, six inflatable boats and one kayak waited for Hiram’s return. Each boat held up to six women, the kayak only two. Since six of the thirty-six women that travelled on the two trucks wouldn’t be coming along, they would use only five of the boats. Getting the women loaded into the boats from the waist deep water took a few minutes, but they all managed to get in. Once they settled in the boats, Hiram considered giving a lesson on the life vests stored in each boat. Time wasn’t on his side.
“This will be easy,” he explained. “All you need to do is guide the boats downstream.” He used a paddle to demonstrate. “A half-kilometer from here the stream will cross under a bridge then diverge from the road, heading off into the wilderness to the north. About three kilometers from there you’ll see a spot where a large tree has fallen across the stream. If I haven’t caught up to you by then, wait for me in the still water behind the tree. Stay in the boats◦– do not get out on shore.”
“Where are you going?” the woman in the green scarf said.
“I have to clean up this site so we can’t be followed,” he replied. “I’ll be along as soon as I can.” He severed the ropes securing the inflatable boats in place with his combat knife and pushed the boats downstream. “Now get moving◦– you need to make it be past the bridge before anyone comes up the road from the east.”
Hiram sent a recall signal to the ground recon robot and the larger combat robot, then took hold of the remaining boat and cut its anchor line before dragging it to shore. He collapsed the boat by removing its internal ribs and deflating the internal bladders. Hiram waded back into the river and retrieved the six boat anchors, carrying them two at a time to a large boulder near the far shore. He laid his backpack out on the rock, activated the portal within, and dropped the anchors into the pod. The collapsible boat and its paddles followed. He lowered in his sniper rifle, attaching the weapon to the mount on the wall nearest the opening. When the combat robot arrived, Hiram activated the robot’s portability mode and the device began to fold in on itself. The machine gun arm retracted and the six road wheels rotated and disappeared into the robot’s belly. He pushed the device through the portal as the recon robot arrived. Hiram scooped up the smaller device, along with his backpack. He slung the assault rifle over his shoulder and made his way back to the kayak still waiting in the waist deep water. Once the rifle, robot, and pack had been stored and sealed in the cargo hatches, Hiram climbed in himself, pulled up the anchor, stowed it in its storage compartment, and set off downstream.
Three kilometers past the bridge, Hiram caught up to the five inflatable boats, all huddled close to the fallen tree partially blocking the stream. Several of the women held on to adjacent boats, keeping them from drifting farther downstream alone. As he floated toward the cluster, he stowed his paddle and pulled the C2ID2 auxiliary monitor from its storage pouch on the front of his combat vest. The view from the aerial drone showed a swarm of French policemen filtering through the choke point coming from the chateau. The policemen carried small caliber weapons and no watercraft. Any immediate search for the missing women would be conducted on foot.
“I hope you’ve had a chance to get used to the boats,” Hiram told them once he had paddled into their midst. “The water gets a little rougher from here. We’ll be moving deeper into the wilderness as we go, so we’ll be less visible.”
He reached into the storage compartment of his kayak and pulled out a metallic bag, then held it up for the women to see. The bag held enough high-protein meal bars to satisfy at least ten of these women. The bars were labeled with English food names like beef wellington and grilled tuna, none of which matched the actual taste of the thing inside. Every food he pulled out of the portal tasted the same, smelled like animal feed. He assumed the pod caused the unsavory flavor. “This is food. You will find one of these bags in each of your boats. You open it like this.” He pinched the tab at the top of his package and pulled the seal away. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
The woman in the green scarf translated for the other women, showing them how to open the bags just as he had.
“Your name?” Hiram asked the woman.
“Deborah Lowenstein,” she said.
“You speak French?”
“Most of us do. Much better than Hebrew. Except for Maria, she speaks better Spanish.”
Hiram nodded, disappointed. He never learned a bit of Spanish.
“What about English?” Deborah said in English.
Hiram smiled. “Everyone speaks English too?”
“No, but Sarah and I do.” She pointed to another of the women who held up her hand.
“It will have to do.” He kept his eyes on Deborah. “You tell them what I say when they need to know.”
Deborah nodded.
“Go on. Eat,” he said. Though Hiram detested the protein bars, the women seemed to savor each tiny bite. He caught a glimpse of a few pleased smiles with brown flecks of food stuck between their teeth.
The remaining journey downstream was quiet. Hiram supposed the joy of a full belly paired with the prospect of freedom contented the former prisoners. If nothing else, they paddled hard and took direction well. The little flotilla covered another twenty kilometers downstream before the sky began to darken. Hiram directed the exhausted women toward a rocky slope at the water’s edge. Each boat came to stop amid a hurried mix of splashing and whimpering as the women jumped out into the frigid water and began pulling the boats to shore.
After grounding his kayak, he jumped out and pulled his gear out of the storage compartment. He laid his pack on the rocky shore, away from the women, and spread it open. Reaching into the kayak, he removed the ribs that gave the kayak its shape, so it collapsed into an eight-foot long pile of canvas and plastic stays. After another two folds, the kayak was portable.
“We need to do the same with your boats,” he said. Hiram showed them how to remove and fold the ribs and deflate the boats. Each boat compacted down to the size of a briefcase. The five boats sat lined up on the rocky shore. Thirty women walked about the low-lying area working out the stiffness of sitting for so long.
He opened his pack and activated the portal, exposing the white surface inside. One by one, he picked up each of the compacted boats and began to send them through the portal. His pack did not grow fuller. He pushed two of the boats through without question, but the third drew attention. Deborah spoke up first. “How can— What is—?” She stepped back from him. “Magic?”
“No, not magic. I mean it looks like magic.” He paused for a moment, uncertain if the truth would hurt the situation. “In basic terms, it’s a portal, like a door to someplace else.”
“To where?”
Some of the other women ventured closer, watching. He picked up another boat and pushed it through the portal.
“It’s a storage area. A place I can keep things.” He reached in and felt around for something detachable and pulled out a spare spotter scope mounted near the portal’s location in the pod. “Until I need them.”
Deborah reached toward the milky white surface. “Can I try?”
“No!” He stepped between Deborah and the open portal.