Part 7 (1/2)

A hesitant knocking at the door drew David Quinn's attention away from the dark knot in one of the uneven ceiling planks directly above him. The same knot he'd stared at, off and on, for the past few hours, during bouts of consciousness. He was past the point of sleep deprivation, caught between the waking and sleeping world in a form of purgatory, where the certainty of his current situation remained slightly out of focus. Where his wife's death didn't feel real.

Another knock. David's eyes lazily drifted toward the door, wanting nothing more than to continue staring at the ceiling.

”Yeah?”

The door cracked open, a partial face visible but undefined through the slit.

”Can I come in?” Nathan.

”Yeah. Shut the door behind you.”

Nathan slid inside the room and closed the door while David sat up-still dressed in a bloodied, dust-caked uniform. Alison's blood. Nathan patted a loosely folded stack of clothing on the battered wooden chair next to the door. Military-style clothing, from what David could tell. He barely remembered the clothes being there. He'd collapsed onto the mattress when they'd removed his hood and showed him into the room.

”They thought you might want to change out,” said Nathan.

”I'm good.”

Nathan surveyed him and his filthy clothes from head to foot, nodding without comment. They stared at each other for a few awkward moments.

It was all he could do to look at Nathan, let alone carry on a conversation with him. Rationally, he knew he couldn't blame him for Alison's death, but David was still pretty far from sustaining a logical inner monologue. He needed time-and separation-from all of this. He suspected he wasn't about to get either.

”So. What's going on?”

”Jose wants to show us what they're up to,” said Nathan.

David shook his head, keeping quiet.

”I'm guessing it's a sales pitch for joining the cause,” said Nathan.

”Not interested.” And that was an understatement.

”I didn't think you would be,” said Nathan, followed by another long pause that Nathan finally broke. ”Listen,” he said. ”We need get out of here sooner than later. This is an old cartel bunker. Probably a holding point back in the day for drug packages that went into the cars and backpacks pouring through the border control station. So this place isn't even close to being off the radar. A little Cerberus money in the wrong hands, and we've got a problem.”

The mention of Cerberus cut through the thick fog of guilt and disbelief clouding his mind. David suddenly understood why Nathan was standing there, watching him like that. Nathan couldn't see the crippling storm of self-doubt and remorse clouding David's thoughts. He still saw Captain David Quinn, United States Marine Corps. His family's protector and savior.

The thought buoyed him for a moment before the heavy curtain of reality closed on him. Nathan was one of very few people he had managed to adequately protect and save last night. David put his hands on the sides of his tightly shaved head and squeezed, exhaling deeply. Nathan was thinking clearly. Mexicali was the worst possible place for them to hide. The city was a graveyard waiting to be filled. He had to get a grip on himself.

”Does it look like we can slip out of here?” said David, fairly certain of the answer.

”They have the place locked down pretty tight.”

”I a.s.sume they have our gear locked down pretty tight as well.”

”They delivered our rucksacks, but no weapons or helmets.”

”That's no good,” said David. ”Liberating the rifles and helmets needs to be our first priority. And the satphone.”

”They took your satphone?”

”They're operating under strict emissions control security protocols here. I get that, but we can't leave without the phone. That's the only secure link to your dad and mine.”

”We were supposed to contact them this morning. They have to be worried out of their minds.”

”Maybe. Maybe not. It's quite possible that Major General Nichols, First Marine Division's commanding general, knows our status. We can only hope he reached out to my dad.”

”So is that our play? Head north somehow?”

”With an emphasis on the somehow.”

”What about going south for a while?”

”Is Jose still offering an all-expense-paid yacht trip to Cabo?” said David.

”I'm not sure. My guess is no.”

”We can't go south on our own. We'd draw more attention to ourselves south of the border than north of it. Gringos are persona non grata in Central America after the trade shutdown. South America, too, for that matter. We need to vacate this bunker, p.r.o.nto, and work on that somehow-head-north thing. I can't imagine they'll loan us a four-wheel-drive vehicle after we politely decline their offer to join the resistance, or whatever they're operating.”

”Jose didn't sound very optimistic about our survival prospects on the mean streets of Mexicali,” said Nathan.

”That's why we need to get our s.h.i.+t back. A suppressed rifle and night visionequipped goggles can work miracles after dark,” said David, feeling alive again.

”I don't think we're collecting our s.h.i.+t or slipping out of here without either sitting through his sales pitch or raising some serious h.e.l.l. I say we give him our attention and take it from there. I feel like we owe him that much.”

David nodded reluctantly. He couldn't deny the fact they would be stuffed in dark green government body bags, tidily arranged inside a sweltering Yuma air base hangar, if Jose's force hadn't intervened. Or whoever had initially intervened on their behalf. Mexican Special Forces? He'd love to hear how Jose had managed to arrange what amounted to a foreign invasion-if it didn't take too long.

”I'm not opposed to hearing what he has to say,” said David. ”But we're out of here as soon as the sun sets. We need to be as far as possible from Mexicali when Cerberus gets its first sniff.”

”What if they oppose our departure?”

David pulled a compact semiautomatic pistol from a zippered compartment concealed behind his tactical vest's ballistic chest plate. ”We're leaving tonight. One way or the other.”

Nathan glared at the pistol and nodded, a look of discomfort was.h.i.+ng over his face.

”It won't come to that,” said Nathan.

”Let's hope not.”

CHAPTER 12.

Keira checked her watch again and squeezed her legs together. Where the f.u.c.k did he go? She needed to use a bathroom but had no intention of leaving her son alone in this room. Owen lay curled up on the mattress, breathing deeply, an olive-drab wool blanket pulled up to his chin. He needed every bit of rest he could get, especially if they intended to spend the night on the road. She couldn't imagine any one of them sleeping in a car again-ever. Not after last night's interstate ambush, and especially not with Cerberus hunting them.

She watched Owen for a few moments, envious of how deeply he slept. She'd pa.s.sed out as soon as Nathan had pulled the blankets over them last night, but her sleep had been scattered. She'd spent much of the morning awake, sensing that Nathan was plagued with the same problem. Neither of them wanting to disturb the other, or Owen. Of course, he'd barely stirred when Keira and Nathan had gotten up. She wasn't sure that was a good thing.