Dream Sky

3

A cold wind blew down the barren mountain, passing through skin like water through cloth and chilling the bones beneath. Teeth chattered, hands were stuffed in pockets, necks were buried under scarves, but no one said a word in complaint.

The grave was dug on high ground, well away from the flash-flood channels and dry riverbeds that latticed the area. The coffin was a pine box hauled in from a mortuary in Ely. A fancier one, with metal handles and ornate scroll work, could’ve been chosen, but Rachel Hamilton had said Matt would have wanted things simple.

All but the most essential personnel had made their way out of the warren of rooms and tunnels that made up the Resistance’s base, and trekked the quarter mile to the gravesite. Despite the frigid air, there was no snow, only the dirt and the shrubs and the wide-open sky playing home to a tiny, distant sun.

Ash glanced at Rachel. Her eyes were locked on the pine box that held her brother. Ash let her mourn in silence for several more seconds, and then moved to the head of the grave.

“As you can imagine, I’ve thought long and hard about what I was going to say here today, but I realized no matter what words I chose, they would be inadequate. To say Matt has been an essential element of our cause would not do him justice. Matt was the embodiment of why we are all here. Without him, it’s doubtful any of us would be alive today. He was our leader. Our friend.” He looked at Rachel. “Our brother.” He paused. “It would be easy to say we are now lost without his guidance, that our only choice is to give up. But if we are going to truly honor Matt’s memory, then we can never give up. We must fight on.” A silent beat. “I will miss him every minute of every day.”

He nodded to the men standing next to the coffin. They moved the box over the hole, using cloth slings, and gently lowered it inside.

“If anyone has anything they’d like to say, please step forward,” Ash said.

One by one, people shared their stories and thoughts and wishes. When the last finished, Ash caught Chloe’s attention, silently asking if she wanted to take a turn. For a moment, he thought she was going to say something, but then she shook her head.

“Go in peace, my friend,” he said, looking down into the hole. “We’ll take it from here.”

Slowly the mourners began to drift back to the base. Once most were gone, the men who had lowered the coffin picked up shovels and started to fill in the grave.

Ash walked over to Rachel and put an arm around her shoulder. “We should go back.”

“Not yet,” she said.

He could feel her shiver.

“You’re going to get sick if you stay out here any longer,” he told her.

“Not yet.”

As he started to take a step back to give her privacy, she touched his arm.

“No. Stay.”

Ash caught Chloe’s attention, and motioned with his eyes toward where his children were waiting with Ginny Thorton. Chloe nodded, collected the kids, and led them toward the base.

Soon, the only ones left by the grave were Rachel, Ash, and the four men burying the casket.

“Walk with me,” Rachel said.

She started down a path leading away from the base into the empty desert, Ash walking at her side.

“I can’t do this,” she said after they were out of earshot of the others.

Ash said nothing.

“I’m serious. I’m not qualified. I don’t know what he knew, I didn’t have his experience. I can’t…it’s too much.”

“None of us is qualified,” he said.

She turned to him. “You are. You have a military background. You should take his place.”

“No one is going to take Matt’s place.”

“But that’s what everyone’s expecting me to do.”

“No, they’re not. They are expecting you to lead us, yes, but they know you’re not Matt.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.” He paused. “The people here look up to you. They always have. They wouldn’t accept anyone else in charge but you.”

“But I can’t do what my brother did! I wasn’t inside the Project. I don’t know what he knew.”

“I don’t, either. And neither does Pax or Chloe or anyone else. That’s something we’ll have to move forward without.”

“But Matt always knew what to do.”

“Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you have to lead the same way he did. You can rely on others to advise you and help decide courses of action.”

She turned back to the desert. In a near whisper, she said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Chloe was waiting near the entrance when Ash escorted Rachel inside thirty minutes later. She was pretending to inspect some equipment, but he knew she was waiting for him.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked Rachel. “Your room?”

Rachel thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Please.”

As they headed toward the tunnel leading to the residential sections, Ash caught Chloe’s eye and patted the air with his hand, telling her to stay. She frowned, but he knew she would do as he asked.

The few people he and Rachel passed on the way to her quarters moved quickly to the side, muttering their condolences. Rachel greeted the first two with a “thank you,” but seemed to lose steam after that so Ash took up the task.

When they finally reached her room, he said, “If you need anything at all, want to talk or whatever, have someone find me and I’ll come right away.”

She put a weak hand on his arm. “I know you will, and I appreciate it.” She opened her door and disappeared inside.

The moment the latch slipped into place, he headed back the way they’d come.

As soon as Chloe saw him, she said, “Okay?”

He nodded.

But before they could leave, they heard steps coming toward them from one of the other hallways. They held their position and were joined a few seconds later by two men from engineering, toting tool boxes and dressed for the outside.

“Captain,” the lead man said. “Chloe.”

His partner nodded.

“Morning, Caleb,” Ash said. “Problems?”

Caleb Matthews stopped next to the outside door and adjusted his scarf. “Stupid solar panels,” he said. “One of them decided it didn’t want to work today.”

He opened the door and let a blast of cold air into the room.

“This is going to be fun,” the other man — Devin — said as he pulled his hood over his head.

“This is not my definition of fun,” Caleb shot back.

“Hello, it was a joke,” Devin said.

“Not a funny one.”

“Be careful out there,” Ash said.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Caleb replied. “Devin’s doing all the work.”

“I don’t think so,” Devin said as they stepped outside.

Caleb said something back but it was lost behind the shutting of the door.

“Come on,” Ash said to Chloe.

They returned to the residential section and stopped in front of Matt’s room.

Until that morning, it had been where their friend’s body was kept. As a show of respect, members of the Resistance had taken turns sitting watch. All very thoughtful and good, except it meant the room had not been vacant since Ash, Chloe, and the others had brought Matt to Ward Mountain.

Augustine. Dream. Sky.

Those had been nearly the last words Matt had spoken before he died. He had been desperate for Ash to remember them, but had failed to explain their significance.

During the journey back to Nevada, Chloe was the only one Ash told about the words, but she’d had no more ideas than he did about their meaning. What they did know was that the words were important or Matt wouldn’t have wasted his last breaths passing them on. And since he’d kept them secret, they agreed to be careful about who they asked about the words’ significance.

Rachel was the obvious one to talk to, but she had been in a deep depression since they’d radioed ahead about her brother’s death and was having a hard time focusing on anything. So Ash had been reluctant to approach her and had even considered putting it off. It was Chloe who finally convinced him it was not something that could wait. With her help, he’d arranged a few moments alone with Rachel the day before.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he’d said, “but I need to ask you something.”

It took her a moment to look at him, as if his words were traveling at a fraction of the speed of sound.

“What?” she asked, even that single word a struggle.

“Matt said something to me before he died.”

She looked confused.

“I didn’t understand what he meant, but thought maybe you would.”

“What did he say?”

“Augustine dream sky.”

A blank stare, then, “Sounds like gibberish to me.”

“He was very insistent. Wanted me to remember.”

“I have no idea what he meant,” she said, her face hardening. “If it’s not gibberish, then it’s probably something that will get our people killed. Forget it. Forget he said anything.”

“I thought it might be good if we—”

“I said forget it.”

He should have waited, he realized, let a few days pass, maybe a week or two. Her brother’s death was still too fresh. He could see all she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and he couldn’t blame her for that. But he couldn’t ignore Matt’s message, and a delay of a week or two could very well be too long.

The only other person who might’ve known something was Rich Paxton. But while Ash was relieved to hear Pax was alive and had returned from northern Canada, Matt’s old right-hand man had left for Latin America to help a group of survivors, so a private conversation with him was currently impossible.

The only option left was for Chloe and Ash to check through Matt’s things to see if they could find an answer.

Obtaining a key to Matt’s room had not been a problem. With Rachel overwhelmed by her brother’s death, and Pax off site, Ash had been seen as the next in command. No one noticed when he kept one of Matt’s keys.

The hallway empty, they slipped inside the room and closed the door.

The bed where Matt’s body had lain was rumpled, the top cover off center from when the pallbearers had come to carry him out to the casket. Piled against the back wall were the four boxes and two large duffel bags containing all his personal possessions from the Ranch, waiting to be unpacked. Though in death Matt had occupied the room, he had never lived there.

Working silently so as not to disturb Rachel in her suite next door, Ash and Chloe started going through the boxes. Sweaters, long underwear, socks, T-shirts, buttoned shirts, pants, and shoes — all four boxes full of clothes.

They carefully taped the boxes back up and moved on to the duffel bags. The heavy one was stuffed with books — a survivalist’s how-to treasure trove of instructions on how to do everything from simple farming to advanced electronics. Ash could imagine Matt sitting up late reading through them.

The lighter bag held a box of photos, a few pictures in frames, and several journals, each tied closed by strings. Chloe pulled the top one out, untied it, and opened the cover. On the front page was a thirteen-month date range from several years earlier.

Ash motioned for Chloe to flip through the book.

Every single page was filled with handwriting they recognized as Matt’s. She randomly stopped at one of the pages and held the book out so they could both read.

At the end of the entry were several numbers, in distinct sets.

A quick glance at some of the previous entries revealed a few of them also ended with numbers. Ash could discern no obvious meaning, so told Chloe they could figure out later if the numbers were important or not.

They quickly went through the rest of the books, eight in all. Each was filled front to back like the first.

“We’re missing one,” Chloe whispered.

Ash nodded. He’d noticed it, too. The journal covering the last four months wasn’t there.

He stepped over to the pack Matt had taken with him on the trip south to New Mexico, and searched through the pockets. He found the journal wrapped in a shirt at the very bottom of the main section.

“Done here,” he whispered, showing her the book.

They closed the duffel bags and arranged them and the boxes exactly as they had been before. At the door, they paused to make sure the corridor was quiet before leaving with their old friend’s journals.

4

“How you feeling?” Robert asked, raising his voice enough for it to carry through the wall into the next room.

“No change,” Renee’s muffled reply came back.

Though he was still pissed off at her, his anger was far outweighed by the relief he felt from her response.

Twenty-four hours earlier — two days after Isabella Island had been doused with the Sage Flu virus by an organization apparently known as Project Eden — Renee had walked outside.

While Robert knew that eventually someone would have to test the effectiveness of the vaccine they’d been given, he’d fully intended to be the one leaving the confines of the dining room where everyone had holed up. Leave it to Renee to sneak away and do it herself. When Robert found out, it took Rich Paxton, Estella, and several of the others to keep him from running out after her.

“We only need one guinea pig,” Pax had said.

Renee had stayed outside and exposed herself to the virus for several hours before moving into the restaurant manager’s office on the other side of the wall. Robert had yelled at her at first, but soon tempered his emotions when he finally accepted that what was done was done. Since then, he had spent most of his hours leaning against the wall, talking to her and checking on her, and sometimes not saying anything at all.

Pax had told them it could be anywhere from a few hours to a couple of days before she’d show signs of infection, but given the concentration of the virus she’d been exposed to, he was leaning more toward the former than the latter. Robert’s own experience with the Sage Flu was minimal. Dominic was the only one he’d watched die, and it hadn’t been much more than a day before his friend had shown signs. Surely Renee would have come down with it by now.

“No sniffles? Fever?” he asked. “You don’t feel tired?”

“No change means no change, Robert. I feel fine. Can we talk about something else?”

“Uh, sure. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t care. Anything.”

Robert was saved from having to come up with a subject by Estella’s arrival.

“Pax would like to talk to you,” she said.

“About what?”

She shrugged. “He was on the phone to his people, then he wanted you. That is all I know.”

“Hey, you still there?” Renee asked.

“Go,” Estella said. “I will keep her company.”

Robert found Pax across the room. “You were looking for me?”

Pax nodded toward the buffer room and headed over. The area next to it was a quiet place to meet, most people not wanting to get so close to what was right on the other side.

“The arrangements are set,” Pax said. “But we’ve got a bit of a time crunch so we need to start getting things moving.”

The island — coated now with the virus — was no longer a safe place to stay, even for the inoculated, so Pax had been working on a way to get them all off.

“When will the planes be here?” Robert asked.

“That’s part of the problem. They can’t come here exactly. If we had enough seaplanes, maybe, but with only one or two, it would take far too long to get everyone off. They’re sending a passenger jet. It’ll land at the airport over in Limón tonight. So that means we have to get ourselves over there.”

“But we don’t have enough boats,” Robert said. The resort had only a few speedboats and some diving boats. “Even if we overloaded them, it’ll take at least two trips to get everyone across. And if the water’s at all rough, I don’t want to think about how dangerous that’ll be.”

“We’ll take them all at once,” Pax said.

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“A ferry.”

“But the ferry is at the coast.”

“Which is why,” Pax said, “you and I are going to go get it.”

“We’ll blow the horn as soon as we reach the bay,” Robert said after he explained to everyone what he and Pax were going to do. “That’ll be your signal to head for the dock. Until then, stay in here.”

“Are you sure it’s okay to leave?” someone asked.

“Renee has shown no signs of the flu,” Robert said.

“Doesn’t mean she won’t,” someone else countered.

“What about our stuff?” a man near the back asked. “Do we grab that on our way out?”

“If there is something vital you need to bring, then you can get it. But no suitcases, no clothes, nothing bulky. They’ll take up too much room.”

“What’s the hurry?” a woman asked. “Isn’t it safer if we just stay here?”

“I’ll take this one,” Pax said. He stepped forward. “In all likelihood, your system is now as immune to the Sage Flu as it’s going to get. So, from that point of view, staying in here or leaving would be the same.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then how can you know that?”

“Because I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you.” His words came out sympathetic, but firm. “There is a very good reason not to stay here, though. The people from Project Eden will be back soon. It’s a pattern my people have seen elsewhere. They’re going to want to make sure the disease they dumped on the resort took hold. They’ll expect to see a quiet island with perhaps a few bodies spread around. If they don’t, they’ll very likely send in a squad of armed personnel to see what happened. From our observations, this can take place anytime from now through the next few days. So, no, it’s not safe. And, yes, we are in a hurry.”

Several people shouted at once.

“Listen to me,” Pax said loudly enough to cut through the clatter. “I would love to stand around and answer all of your questions, but every minute Robert and I delay our departure is another minute closer to their return. You can argue all you want with each other, but we’re leaving now.”

He started toward the buffer room. Robert stood there a moment longer, feeling the need to reassure everyone.

“Are you coming?” Pax asked, looking back from halfway across the room.

Robert turned to the group of residents. “We’ll be back as quickly as we can,” he said, then headed after Pax.

Two steps into the crowd he felt a hand on his arm.

“Be careful,” Estella whispered. She kissed him on the cheek before letting go.

“Make sure everyone’s ready,” he said.

“I will.”

He doubled his pace and met Pax at the plastic flap that served as the buffer’s door.

“They’ll be fine,” Pax said, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I know.”

The older man pulled the flap back enough to duck through. As soon as the way was clear, Robert followed.

Renee was waiting for them as they stepped outside. “What the hell is going on? I could hear people shouting, but I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying.”

Robert quickly explained the plan.

“You’re taking me with you, right?” she said.

“One of us has to stay here,” he said. As she opened her mouth to argue, he added, “If we don’t come back, you need to use what we have here and get everyone off, no matter how many trips it takes.”

She frowned as she closed her mouth, but didn’t fight him.

“Keep an eye out for us,” Robert said. “If you see us coming before we get into the bay, you can get the others started.”

She shook her head. “I make the sacrifice, you get the glory. Typical.”

He winked at her. “I’ll make sure they put an asterisk by your name in the history books.”

“Get out of here before I throw you off the deck.”

Heading down the stairs, Robert couldn’t miss the spots of residue along the railings and on the steps. He wanted to pull away from them but the gunk was everywhere.

When they reached the sand, he moved in front of Pax and led them down the path to the dock. One speedboat was tied to a buoy in the bay, while the other — Robert’s preferred boat — was at the dock.

While he started the engine, Pax untied the mooring ropes, and within moments they were moving across the bay toward the channel that led to the sea.

“How long is it going to take?” Pax asked.

“In this, not more than an hour, less if the sea’s calm.”

He slowed as they turned into the channel, and slowed again as they exited the other side. The sea was choppy but not too bad. He didn’t open the engine all they way up, though, until they circled around to the side of the island that faced Costa Rica.

“You might want to hang on,” he said, and then pushed the throttle forward.

The town of Limón was located on a little bump of land along the Caribbean side of Costa Rica. With the exception of a few scattered villages, it was the only real civilization on the country’s entire eastern seaboard, and the only place able to accommodate the ferry that had shuttled guests to and from Isabella Island.

The first indication that Robert and Pax were getting close was the sight of red and white antenna towers peeking above the horizon. Soon after, the buildings that crowded the coast came into view. From the sea, the town looked to Robert like it always did. It wasn’t until he and Pax were closer that he could see the roads were empty and there were no people about.

Robert tried not to think about it as he guided the boat around the southern end of the land bump to where the main port was located. As soon as it came into view, he stared in surprise.

Limón had always been a stop for cruise ships touring the Caribbean. In the past, Robert had never seen more than one docked at the pier at a time, each ship usually staying only a few hours before heading back to sea. Now, however, three giant vessels were in the harbor — two on either side of the main pier, and the third tied to the ship on the east side.

Robert wondered if the flu had broken out on board the ships first, or if the vessels had rushed to shore upon hearing news of the outbreak. As the speedboat neared the docks, he was able to get a better look at the third ship. It appeared it hadn’t pulled up next to the other one, but had crashed against it, buckling metal and scraping off long streaks of paint. He could see hastily rigged gangways between the two vessels, apparently so that passengers could cross onto the ship at the pier and then to shore.

Jesus. They must have been in full-on panic.

“Where’s the ferry?” Pax asked.

The haphazardly docked third ship was blocking their view of the dock where the Albino Mer was normally tied up.

“Should be on the other side,” Robert said, hoping the bigger vessel hadn’t clipped the ferry, too. If so, the Albino Mer wouldn’t have suffered a few dents and some lost paint. It would be on the harbor floor.

He exhaled a deep, long sigh of relief as they came around and saw the Albino Mer tied to the next dock, pretty as a picture.

He maneuvered alongside it, and after their boat was tied to the ferry, they climbed on board. First stop was the engine, accessed through floor panels near the rear of the boat, where Robert checked the tank.

“Almost empty,” he said. “It don’t think there’s enough to make it back.”

“Where do we fill up?” Pax asked.

Robert stood up and scanned the port. “I’m not sure. I never even thought about it before.”

“I don’t see any pumping stations.”

“Me, neither. But they had to fill up all the time so there’s got to be a way.”

They hurried down the dock to shore and took another look around.

Robert’s gaze stopped on a pickup truck with a large tank permanently affixed to its bed. It was parked in the shadows, next to one of the buildings fronting the piers. He pointed and said, “Maybe that.”

As they jogged over, they were enveloped by the strong smell of fuel before they reached the truck. A quick peek into the top of the tank showed it was nearly full.

They found the vehicle’s keys under the front seat. Its engine wasn’t happy about being started again, but after a few sputters, it rumbled to life.

“How long’s the trip back going to take us?” Pax asked as they drove toward the ferry

“About twice as long as the speedboat took, give or take.”

Pax frowned. “By the time we get to the island, get everyone on board, and head back, it’s going to be close to sundown. I had hoped to locate a few buses before we returned so they’d be here waiting, but that’ll waste even more time.”

Robert slowed as he turned onto the pier. When they were as close as they could get to the boat’s engine, he engaged the parking brake and turned off the truck.

“It’ll take me at least fifteen minutes to fill up,” he said. “Gotta be some buses parked nearby, if you want to take a quick look.”

“Not a bad idea.”

While Robert ran the fuel line to the ship’s tank, Pax jogged back to shore. The next time Robert looked up, Pax had just reached the buildings and within seconds disappeared between them.

Robert opened the valve and let the fuel flow out. As the ferry’s tank filled, he entered the covered passenger section and walked over to the small corner that served as the snack bar. There he found a couple dozen Cokes in a cooler. The ice that had kept them cold was now a puddle of water at the bottom. He grabbed a can and popped the top. The liquid was lukewarm — not ideal, but drinkable. From under the counter, he snagged a bag of spicy chips and a chocolate bar and headed back to the tank.

A few more minutes passed before he heard the fuel sloshing near the top. He backed the valve down, slowing the flow, and cut it off completely as the tank reached its maximum. The ferry had more than enough fuel now to get them to the island and back and then some.

Once he recoiled the hose onto the back of the truck, he moved down the pier toward shore, searching for Pax, but except for a few birds, the area was empty. He checked his watch. The fifteen minutes he had given Pax were verging on twenty.

He walked to the end of the pier, cupped his mouth, and yelled, “Pax!”

Several of the birds fluttered into the air.

“Pax!”

Surely Pax wouldn’t be so far away that he couldn’t hear Robert. He was the one wanting to leave for the island right away after all.

“Pax! We’re ready to go!”

He scanned the buildings and roads that ran in front of the docks, but he was the only one there.

What if Pax had been hurt? Maybe twisted an ankle or something and was having a hard time getting back?

Robert tried to remember the exact buildings Pax had passed between. He crossed over to them and entered the passageway.

“Pax!”

Receiving no response, he raced out the other end and didn’t pause until he reached the edge of a four-lane divided road. He checked both ways for movement, but saw none.

What the hell? Pax shouldn’t have gone any farther than this.

“Pax! Shout if you can hear me!”

Not a damn thing.

He decided to cross the road and keep going north for a few blocks. If that didn’t work, he’d try east and west.

“Pax! Can you hear me? Pax!”

All remained silent, until he neared the point where he’d planned to turn back.

It wasn’t a voice he heard, not even something rapping against the ground to get his attention. It was an engine, and by the sound of it, one belonging to a large vehicle, like a…

…bus.

Relieved, he started jogging back down the street. He was still a good half block from the divided road when a tour bus came speeding through the intersection. He slowed, surprised. While he had clearly seen Pax behind the wheel, the older man had not been alone.

The people Pax worked with must’ve shown up early, Robert decided.

He sprinted back to the buildings in front of the port, and reached the ocean-side corner of the passageway moments after the bus pulled to a stop. He was just about to step into the clear when the vehicle’s door opened and Pax stumbled out.

Robert paused, still mostly hidden behind the building.

The second person to exit was a man carrying a rifle. He shoved the weapon’s stock into Pax’s back, prodding him forward. Four more people piled off — two men and two women. The men and the younger woman were similarly armed.

They had a desperate look to them as they conferenced at the end of the dock. The talk seemed heated, one of the men gesturing angrily at Pax. Then a man and the armed woman ran down the dock and disappeared onto the ferry. Robert could see them moving quickly through the boat, and knew they had to have been looking for him. When they returned to where the others waited, the man shook his head and the woman said something.

The guy who’d shoved Pax shouted a curse and turned Pax away from the water, not quite angled at Robert, but close enough.

“I know you’re out there!” the man yelled. “I saw you and your buddy come in! So you might as well show yourself.”

Robert didn’t move.

“Here’s the thing,” the man continued after a moment. “We’re taking your boat. Now your friend says he can drive it for us, but you were the one behind the wheel of the one you two came in on, so I’m thinking you’re the pilot. Or captain. Whatever. I think your buddy here is useless. So, unless you want to watch me kill him, I need to see you walking over here.”

What the hell was wrong with these people? They didn’t look sick. Shouldn’t they have been happy to find others alive?

“Thirty seconds,” the man announced, “or I swear to God I will shoot him in the back of the head, and we’ll try to figure out how to sail this thing ourselves.”

“I told you I can do it,” Pax said, his voice not quite as loud as the other man’s. “My friend’s long gone by now. He’s not coming back.”

“Is that right?” The response was yelled so Robert could hear it. “You the kind of person who will just leave your friend to die?”

Robert didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want Pax to get hurt, but who was to say these people wouldn’t kill both him and Pax if he did as they asked? Robert’s main responsibility was to those still on Isabella Island. Without him, they would never get off. Of course, without the ferry, getting everyone to the mainland would become infinitely harder.

“Goddammit! Where the hell are you?” the man screamed. He grabbed the back of Pax’s shirt and shoved the end of the rifle into Pax’s neck. “I’m fucking serious! Show yourself!”

One of the man’s companions came up and said something Robert couldn’t make out.

“I know what I’m doing!” the agitated man shouted. “I know what I’m doing!”

“I can pilot the boat for you,” Pax said, his voice surprisingly even.

“Jacob, his buddy’s obviously not coming back,” the man who’d walked up said, his voice louder now. “We need to let this one try. What other choice do we have?”

“Come on! Where are you?” the man holding the rifle — Jacob — yelled.

“Let’s just go,” the other man said. “He’s not coming. We’re wasting time.”

Jacob grunted in frustration and then lowered his rifle. After twisting Pax around, another conversation ensued, again too low for Robert to hear. When it ended, Jacob shoved Pax toward the Albino Mer.

The only time in his life Robert had felt more helpless was when he realized Dominic had contracted the Sage Flu. From his hiding spot, he watched as Jacob led Pax onto the boat, while the other four retrieved several suitcases from the bus and carried them to the ferry.

As the two women untied the lines holding the boat to the pier, the engine kicked to life. For a few moments, the Albino Mer simply drifted in place. Finally, the rumble of the motor increased and the ferry pulled slowly away.

Robert noticed activity along the opposite side of the boat. He couldn’t tell what was going on at first, but when the ferry cleared the end of the dock and turned to the northeast, he saw two of the kidnappers repositioning the speedboat he and Pax had arrived in so that it could be towed behind them.

Robert waited until the ferry disappeared behind the cruise ships before stepping out from the building. If he didn’t already have proof the world had changed, he had it now.

Pax’s kidnappers had made a serious mistake, though.

They had taken the boat Robert needed to help his people.

Perhaps old-world Robert — the one who had to worry only about himself — would have done nothing.

But, like the changing world, he wasn’t the same anymore, either.

5

Noreen drove her motorcycle slowly down Moonstone Beach Drive, looking into the motel parking lots that lined the right side of the road. To her left, she could hear the waves crashing on the beach just below the short bluff.

Noreen, Riley, and Craig had been searching for Martina for three days now. When their friend had sped off in pursuit of the red Jeep, Noreen, the closest one to Martina at the time, had immediately followed. For over an hour, she was able to keep Martina in view, but ten miles north of Paso Robles, her bike began to sputter as it used up the last of her gas. Rolling to a stop, she had watched her best friend disappear around a bend a half mile south.

When Riley and Craig showed up ten minutes later, she sent Craig after Martina while she and Riley refueled Noreen’s bike. They found Craig on the bridge just north of Santa Maria waiting for them. He had never even caught a glimpse of Martina and wasn’t sure she had come that way. They had continued south, though, thinking that staying on the 101 made the most sense.

When they reached Santa Barbara, they finally stopped. Any farther south and they would be encroaching on Los Angeles, where there would be a near infinite amount of routes Martina could have taken, and an equal amount of odds against them finding her. They decided their best course would be to check everywhere between Santa Barbara and where they had lost sight of her. That was what they had been doing.

“Noreen?” It was Riley, her voice coming over the CB radio they had installed on their bikes the day before. Each came complete with a new helmet that had an embedded microphone and speaker.

Noreen keyed the talk button. “I’ve got nothing over here.”

“East end of town is clear, too,” Riley said.

“Let’s check out the west end, then.”

“Meet you there.”

Cambria was a quaint tourist town along Highway 1 on the California coast. It was divided into several different areas, with most businesses either in east village or west village. Noreen entered west village from the ocean end and slowed again. Stores and restaurants occupied both sides of the street — gift shops and candy shops and antique marts and a barbecue place and a bar and grill. As she passed them, she had the sudden memory of being on this street before. It had been with her parents, some weekend trip God only knew how long ago, before high school, for sure, maybe even back when she went to Faller Elementary. They’d been in a magic shop, and she remembered being in awe of everything. But the shop seemed to be gone now.

She pushed the mic button, not wanting to think about the past. “Where are you guys? I don’t see you.”

“Not there yet,” Riley whispered back.

Noreen stopped in the middle of the road. “Something wrong?”

“There’s a grocery store between the east and west ends. We stopped to check it out.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Someone’s there.”

“Martina?”

“Not Martina.”

“Who is it?” she asked.

“We’ve seen two people, but there’s got to be more,” Riley said. “They’ve got a pickup truck and at least two motorcycles. And they don’t look friendly.”

Immediately, the memory of the guy who had shot at them in the hills a few days earlier came back to Noreen. “They haven’t seen you, have they?”

“Uh-uh. We parked our bikes on Main Street and snuck up the hill. Hiding behind a delivery van someone left here.”

“Enough talking,” Craig broke in. “They’re going to hear us.”

“You guys should get out of there,” Noreen said. “We don’t need to make any new friends.”

“We’re okay here,” Riley said. “They can’t — oh, God.”

“What is it?”

“Shhh,” either Riley or Craig whispered.

Noreen killed the engine to her motorcycle and wheeled it onto a side road, parking it at the curb.

“What’s going on?” she said.

She heard nothing, not even static.

“Hello? Are you there?”

She looked at the radio to make sure she hadn’t accidentally switched the channel. The power light was off.

What the…

Crap.

The CB was a handheld model with a charging cradle that, with the help of an instruction manual, they had wired into the bike’s electrical system. She snatched the radio out and switched it from external power source to battery.

“…there? Noreen?”

“I’m here. I’m here. What’s going on?”

“Hide! Now!”

Noreen looked toward Main Street, almost expecting to see a horde of the undead staggering toward her.

“What’s going on?”

Nothing for a second, then Riley said between rapid breaths, “One of them saw us. He…ran back inside to get his friends…and we took off.”

“Where are you?”

“No place to hide…getting on our bikes…”

In the distance, Noreen heard their motorcycles roar to life. Then, as their engines idled a bit, a bang.

“What was that?”

“It’s okay…we’re all right,” Craig said.

“Were they shooting at you?”

“Missed us,” Riley said.

Hearing motorcycles roar down Main Street, Noreen shot a look at the intersection and was just in time to see Riley and Craig race by. As the sound of their engines began to fade, she heard more bikes coming from the direction of the market.

“They’re following you,” she said.

Knowing she couldn’t be standing there when the other bikes came by, Noreen ducked around the rear of the nearby shop and crouched behind a Dumpster. She could hear three motorcycles race past back on Main Street. A few moments later, a vehicle she guessed was a truck followed.

What was wrong with these people? Why did they care about Riley and Craig?

Staying hidden, she spent the next ten minutes trying to reach her friends.

Finally, Riley answered. “We’re okay.”

“What happened?”

“We cut up a hill into a residential area. They must have thought Craig had taken the highway north. They sped off that way. We watched them for a few minutes, but can’t see them anymore.”

“Why did they chase you?” Noreen asked.

“Maybe because we were spying on them?” Craig suggested.

“I guess, but why shoot at you?”

The only reply was silence, but Noreen suspected she already knew the answer.

The rules of life they’d grown up with no longer applied.

Ben Bowerman had checked everyplace he thought Martina might be.

When he had arrived in her hometown two nights before, his intention had been to head straight to her house. He had been there only once and that had been the previous summer, so he had just a vague idea of its location. If Martina had lived in one of the housing tracts within the city limits, he was sure he’d have no trouble finding her house. But the Gables’ home was down a dirt road west of town, where everyone had his or her own few acres of desert.

It turned out there were a lot of dirt roads in that direction, and Ben’s search wasn’t helped by the sun going down. It took him until almost ten that night before he finally found the house, recognizing it by the large, detached three-car garage with asymmetrical sloped roof.

He felt a rush of hope when he saw Martina’s Toyota Corolla parked out front. He jumped out of his car and ran to the front door of the house. It was locked.

“Martina, it’s me!” he yelled, knocking loudly.

Nothing. Not even the creak of a floorboard.

He raced around to the back door, but it was also locked.

“Martina! Are you in there?”

He looked up at the darkened second-floor windows but sensed no movement beyond them.

He remembered Martina had said her family kept a spare key in the garage, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall where. So he grabbed a log off the firewood pile on the side of the house and smashed it through the window next to the rear door.

“Sorry!” he yelled through the opening just in case someone was there. “It’s me. Ben Bowerman. Martina’s boyfriend.”

He reached inside, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

“Hello?” he called. “Anyone home?”

No answer.

Reluctantly, he stuck his head a few inches inside and sniffed the air. Stale, but no smell of death. Relieved, he stepped all the way inside.

The house was quiet, the same kind of undisturbed silence he’d experienced pretty much everywhere he’d been the last several days. He felt along the wall until he found a light switch and flicked it up. Nothing. He hadn’t really expected it to work. He had seen no lights on anywhere else in town. So he returned to his car and retrieved a flashlight from the bag of things he’d been collecting to replace the stuff he’d lost when Iris Carlson stole his Jeep.

Back inside, he methodically worked his way through the house, hoping to find a note or some other indication of where Martina went. It was clear from the open drawers and closets in the bedrooms that the Gable family had left in a hurry, but he discovered no clue about their destination.

He slumped down on Martina’s bed, tired and frustrated and depressed. He had been so sure he’d find her here that he hadn’t considered what to do if he didn’t.

He hadn’t intended on falling asleep right there in her room, but that’s where he found himself late the next morning when he woke. Still unsure what he’d do, he headed downstairs to see if there was any food left in the kitchen. As he crossed through the living room, he looked out the row of east-facing windows. In the distance, he could see the hill with the large white B painted on it.

B Mountain, Martina had called it. The B standing for Burroughs High School. While the high school was in town, the mountain was located within the confines of the China Lake naval base.

The navy, he thought.

Surely the military had taken some action to try to save people. Maybe it had set up a safety zone within the base. Though Martina’s dad was a civilian, he worked for the navy. Wouldn’t the navy’s first priority be to save its own? Would that include civilian employees and their families?

Yeah. That has to be it.

With renewed purpose, he drove through town toward the base and found the entrance without too much trouble. The guardhouse was unmanned. That was to be expected. If there was a flu-free zone inside, any personnel would most likely be consolidated near it. They’d probably be jumpy, he thought. To be safe, he kept his speed down so he wouldn’t look threatening.

He spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon driving around the base, checking every building and road. He had been right in one respect. There had been an attempt to consolidate survivors. It had occurred at the airfield in the isolated northern portion of the base.

A series of roadblocks flanked by fortified gun stands had been erected along what appeared to be the only route to the isolated section. None were occupied, though. Because of this, Ben knew what he would probably find, but he had to check anyway so he weaved around the concrete barriers and didn’t stop until he reached the airfield.

Hundreds of people had camped out in the hangars — men and women, some in uniform and some not. And children, lots of children.

And every single person dead.

Ben stood frozen outside the main hangar for twenty minutes before he forced himself to grab a hoodie from his bag. Using the arms, he tied the pullover around his mouth and nose and headed into the hangars. He didn’t want to walk among the bodies, but he had to know if Martina’s family was there.

If she was there.

It wasn’t long before he lost the small breakfast he had eaten, and by the time he’d confirmed that the Gable family wasn’t among the dead, his stomach had revolted twice more.

Weak and in a daze, he had gone back to his girlfriend’s house and fallen asleep on her bed before the sun had even set.

When he woke up that morning, he drove up and down the streets of Ridgecrest, honking his horn every once in a while, but the town was as devoid of the living as the navy base had been.

With all options in town exhausted, he didn’t know what to do. Martina was still alive. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe anything else. But where was she?

A million possibilities raced through his mind before one finally pushed its way to the front.

A survival station.

Would she have gone to one?

Of course. That had to be it. He had assumed that if she was immune like he was, she wouldn’t have seen the need of going to one of the stations to get vaccinated, but her family wouldn’t be immune so she would stay with them.

Where was the closest one?

He hadn’t watched TV in nearly a week, right after the UN secretary general had first come on the air. Survival station locations hadn’t been broadcast at that point, and even if they had been, he would have only heard about the ones in the Bay area.

He looked around. He needed to watch the message again.

He ran over to a house half a block away, heaved a potted plant through the window in the door, and let himself in.

He grabbed the remote for the TV in the living room and hit the power button.

The screen remained dark.

He closed his eyes and groaned. In his excitement and hurry, he had forgotten the town was without power.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply to stem his frustration.

Los Angeles, he thought as he opened his eyes again. There had to be a survival station there.

If the Gables had gone anywhere, that would be it.

With renewed purpose, he headed back outside.

6

After finding nothing he could use at the port, Robert hopped into the fuel truck and drove through town toward Puerto Moin, the smaller auxiliary port west of the city.

His route afforded him a view of the sea, and it wasn’t long before he spotted the ferry meandering along just offshore, heading in generally the same direction he was. He increased his speed and quickly outdistanced the boat.

Puerto Moin was built along a small offshoot of the Caribbean that dead-ended several hundred yards from the sea. The dock took up the entire eastern edge of the miniature bay, allowing ships to pull right up next to the shore.

Currently, two freighters were moored at the southern edge, each looking as though it had been unloading when work was abandoned. The northern end of the port was empty. Robert raced to that end and stopped very close to the edge before hopping out.

Dammit, he thought. On at least two occasions in the past, he’d seen a speedboat tied up to the dock, but it wasn’t there now. He looked over at the freighters, thinking one of them might have a smaller vessel on board he could use.

There, mounted on the wall of the pilothouse of the nearest ship, was a Zodiac. The small rubber craft wasn’t the perfect solution but it appeared to be his only choice.

He ran over to the ship and up the gangway. As he made his way to the pilothouse, he caught sight of a much smaller dock on the other side of the channel. Lashed to it were three tugboats. He thought they would be too complicated to pilot, but the coast guard skiff moored next to them should be a cinch.

He raced back to the truck and drove around to the other dock, a plan beginning to form in his mind. It would take more time to execute than he’d have liked, but it would give him the best chance of success. Climbing out of the truck, he looked out toward the open water and saw the ferry continuing its trek up the coast.

Good, he thought. He had worried the ship had turned out to sea, that he had lost it.

He hustled down to the skiff and checked the gas tank. It was almost full, but given what he had in mind, he knew it would likely not be enough. He located several spare gas cans in a shed on shore and filled them from the tank on the pickup. Once he’d secured them in the skiff, he checked the craft’s built-in storage containers, looking for something he could use as a weapon. He found bottled water, diving gear, a blanket, and a first-aid kit, but no knife or gun.

Another check of the sea showed him that the ferry had moved past the point straight out from the port. In a few more minutes, the trees along the western edge of the channel would block it from view.

He jumped out of the skiff and hurried over to the first tug, where a quick search produced only a long metal pole with a hook on the end. He tossed it into the skiff and moved on to the second tug. Here he had much better luck. First he found a plastic case holding a flare gun and nine ready-to-use flares, and then he hit the mother lode — three identical handguns and two boxes of 9mm ammunition. One of the boxes was half empty, but the other was full.

He knew he should check to make sure the bullets fit the guns, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He could check once he was underway. He located a canvas bag and stuffed everything inside before hurrying back to the skiff.

The ferry was out of sight now, but that was okay. They couldn’t have gone far, and he was sure his little boat would travel a lot faster than the big ship could.

He untied the skiff from the pier and started the engine. The boat was indeed fast, and he was able to zip to the end of the channel in no time and enter the sea.

He spotted the ferry immediately. It was a white blob not much larger than a quarter, off to the left. Once he felt he was far enough from shore, he turned so that he was paralleling the coast on the same line the ferry was traveling.

After that, the hard part was trying not to catch up, his boat wanting to jump across the surface like a skipped rock while the ferry plodded through the water like a blunt instrument. When night fell, that’s when he would move in. Until then, he kept a soft hand on the throttle and his prize in sight.

“This stuff is useless,” Chloe said, tossing the journal she’d been reading onto her bed.

Ash looked over from the chair squeezed into the corner of her small room. “Maybe, maybe not. We need to go through everything.”

She glanced at the unfinished pile of journals. “I don’t think I can read another word.”

“I’ll finish them, then,” he said.

“Don’t tempt me.” She picked up the next journal and opened it.

They had been at it for hours, painstakingly going over each page to see if Matt might have written down something that would help them figure out what Augustine dream sky meant. So far, Ash had made a few notes about things that probably had nothing to do with his friend’s final words, while Chloe had come up with zilch.

He hoped the answer would be here somewhere, but he was beginning to think Chloe was right. Still, Matt must have felt Ash could figure out the message. Otherwise, he would have tried to give Ash more context, right?

Augustine dream sky.

What the hell did you mean, Matt?

Someone knocked on the door. Chloe jumped up to answer it.

From the hallway, Ash heard Crystal say, “Oh, good. You’re here.”

“What’s up?” Chloe asked.

“Bobby Lion just called in. He wanted to talk to Rachel, but…well, you know. I tried to find Ash, but I’m not sure where he is. Could you talk to Bobby?”

Chloe took a step away from the door. “Ash is in here.”

“Oh.” Crystal poked her head inside. “Good afternoon, Captain. Bobby Lion needs to talk to someone. Are you available?”

Ash stood up. “Sure.”

As Crystal disappeared back into the corridor, Ash set down the journal he’d been reading.

“I’d be happy to talk to him, if you want,” Chloe offered.

“What? And stop you while you’re on a roll?” He smiled. “I won’t be long.”

Ash followed Crystal through the maze-like tunnel system to her station in the communications room. Leon and Paul were manning the other two desks, each giving Ash a nod while they continued with the radio conversations they were having.

“Here,” Crystal said, handing Ash a headset. She donned a second pair and brought her computer screen out of sleep mode. “Let me get him back.”

After she made a couple taps on the keyboard, Ash heard ringing, then—

“Bobby here.”

“Bobby, it’s Daniel Ash.”

“Captain, how are you?”

Bobby and Ash had never met in person, and while Ash had tried to get Bobby to call him by either his first or last name, the former PCN cameraman, like most of the people in the Resistance, called Ash by the rank he’d held in the army prior to Project Eden’s test outbreak the previous spring.

“As good as can be expected. How are you guys?”

“Well, it’s finally happened. We’re jammed.”

Bobby and his colleague, Tamara Costello — the PCN reporter he had worked with before anyone ever heard of Sage Flu — were near Washington, DC, at an NSA facility. A few days earlier, they had been able to highjack the signal Project Eden was using to broadcast to the world, and replace it with Tamara telling everyone the truth — that there was no UN left, no worldwide vaccination effort, and the ironically named survival stations were meant to collect and terminate people the Project felt were no longer needed.

“They’re back on the air?” Ash asked.

“No. Either they couldn’t swing that or decided it wasn’t worth the effort. My guess is that they uploaded a virus that shut all the broadcast satellites down. Well, not all of them. We’re still broadcasting to parts of eastern Africa, central Asia, and South America. Otherwise, though, we’re done.”

“No way to get you back up?”

Bobby hesitated. “Hell, I don’t know. There might be a way, but my skill level only goes so far.”

“We’re going to want to get the satellite system working again at some point,” Ash said. If nothing else, it would be a good way to get messages around the world in a hurry. “There must be someone here who could figure it out. I’ll look into it.”

“If you can, that’d be great. What I really called about was to find out what you all want us to do. Stay here or…what?”

Ash glanced at Crystal, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head and mouthed, “Nothing for them right now.”

“Bobby,” Ash said, “I’ll have to look into that, too. For now, why don’t you two just hold there?”

“If that’s what you want, we can do that.”

Ash was about to sign off when he had a thought. He put a hand over his mic and looked at Crystal. “Can you give us a moment?”

“Um, okay,” she said, and removed her headset. “I’ll, uh, grab a cup of coffee.”

“Appreciate it.”

He waited until she was gone before taking her chair and leaning forward so that the computer blocked him from Leon’s and Paul’s view. In a low voice, he said, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, not as good as before but—”

“I want to ask you a question, but I need you to keep it to yourself, all right?”

A pause. “All right. What is it?”

“You and Matt talked a lot, didn’t you?”

“On and off,” Bobby said.

“Did he ever mention the phrase Augustine dream sky?”

“That’s a phrase?”

“Did he ever mention it?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember that, which,” he said dramatically, “I don’t.”

Ash had assumed that would be Bobby’s answer, but felt it worth a try. “All right. Thanks.” Raising his voice to room level again, he said, “You guys rest up. We’ll get back to you.”

Crystal returned, holding a mug, as he was removing his headset.

“Any problems?” she asked.

“No. Thank you. Sorry I had to kick you out.”

She shrugged. “It’s not the first time. And quite honestly, I’ve got enough going on in my head right now, I don’t need any more crap crammed in there.”

“Fair enough.” He paused. “Have you heard from Pax lately?”

“Paul did, I think.” She glanced over at the other stations. “Paul?”

His head bobbed up. “Yeah?”

“You talk to Pax today?”

“Yeah, this morning.”

“Can we call him back?” Ash asked.

“He’s pretty tied up today. They’re trying to get everyone off that island and over to the mainland. I could try him, but I doubt he’d answer.”

Ash shook his head. “It’s okay. I can wait. But if he does call in and has a moment, I’d like to talk to him.”

“You got it.”

Bobby hung up the sat phone and set it in its portable cradle to keep it charged.

He glanced at the computer monitor. It was displaying status readouts from the various satellites. Six still showed the green OPERATIONAL tag. It had been seven before he’d started talking to Captain Ash. If the rate of attrition kept up, all of them would be in the red OFFLINE category by morning.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Tamara asked as she walked into the room carrying two microwaved burritos and two cans of soda.

“They’re not sure,” he said. “I think everything’s kind of a mess now that Matt’s gone. Captain Ash told us he’d let us know. Until then, I guess we camp out here.”

“Well, then, we need to look around for some better food because I swear this is the last of these I’m going to eat.” She plopped the burritos on one of the desks. “Beans and cheese? Or cheese and beans?”

“The latter, I think,” he said, picking up the one closest to him. After a few bites, he said, “Tam, did Matt ever talk to you about something called Augustine dream sky?”

“Is that a place?”

“I have no idea. Captain Ash asked me about it. Was kind of secretive, too. Told me not to talk to anyone else about it, but I assume he didn’t mean you.”

“What was it again?”

“Augustine dream sky.”

“Augustine…dream…sky,” she said, then shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”

7

Pax arched his back and rolled his head side to side. He’d been at the controls of the ferry for hours now, sometimes sitting on the cracked cushion of the raised captain’s chair, sometimes standing in front of it, but never traveling more than a few feet away from the controls.

Outside, the sea was getting dark as the sun began disappearing behind the mainland. At least the water had calmed somewhat. For the first couple hours it had been a rocky trip. He’d heard at least two of his kidnappers throwing up over the railing of the passenger deck.

The stairs leading up to the pilothouse creaked behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the fortysomething woman — the older of the two, whom the others called Kat — step into the cabin, carrying a mug of steaming coffee and a bowl of food.

“That for me?” the man leaning against the back wall said. His name was Luke, and he was the guy currently on guard duty.

“It’s for Mr. Paxton,” she said. “If you want, I can bring you up some, too.”

“Or you can give me that and bring him up another.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she said, and carried the food across the cabin to Pax.

“Nice mouth you got,” Luke said.

Kat rolled her eyes so that only Pax could see. Then looked over at Luke and said, “I apologize. I’ll go get you some food right now.”

“Screw that,” he said. “Take this and watch him. I’ll go get it myself.”

As he held out the gun, Pax turned and looked out at the sea again.

“I don’t know how to use that,” she said.

“Great. Now he knows that.”

“If you want to go get food, go. I’ll watch him. If he tries to leave, I’ll yell. But where would he go? It’s getting dark. If he jumped over the side, he might end up swimming in the wrong direction and never make it to shore.”

The overhead light in the cabin was enough for Pax to see Luke’s reflection in the window. The man appeared to be contemplating the suggestion, then his gaze zeroed in on Pax.

“Hey, you. Paxton.”

Pax turned.

“You try anything funny and you’re a dead man,” the man said.

“Like the lady told you, it’s not like I’m going to jump overboard.”

Luke narrowed his eyes as if assessing whether or not Pax was lying. Finally he frowned and pushed off the wall. “I’ll only be gone a couple minutes.”

As soon as he headed down the stairs, Kat placed the bowl and mug on the counter. “It’s just some canned beans,” she said. “But there was a hot plate down below so they’re warm.”

“Thanks,” Pax said, his voice flat.

They plowed on through the sea, neither saying anything, the food untouched.

There it is again, Pax thought after about thirty seconds.

The sound had come through the open side windows of the cabin, barely audible above the noise of the ferry. It was more an engine whine than a rumble. He’d heard it a few times before, but had thought it was just something wrong with the boat’s motor. This time the noise was a little louder, as if the problem was getting worse or the source was closer.

He nudged the throttle up a bit. The decibel level of the engine masked the other sound. He still wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but if it wasn’t from the ferry, he thought it was probably better if no one else noticed it. He left the engine at the increased RPM.

“I’m…I’m sorry we had to do this,” the woman said. “I mean, that they did this. I didn’t—”

“You could have just tried talking to me,” Pax said.

Pax had been trying to start the bus he found when the guy named Jacob climbed aboard and pointed his rifle at Pax. He ordered Pax to drive to a building in the center of town, where they picked up the others before heading to the ferry.

“I know,” Kat said. “I’m sorry. Jacob, he…”

“He’s an asshole?”

“He’s kept us alive,” she said, almost defensively but not quite.

Pax said nothing.

“We were all on the cruise ships. Me and Aiden were on one, Luke and Avery on another, and Jacob by himself. He pulled us together, you know? Helped us to get organized.”

“He the one who came up with this brilliant plan?”

“We have to get home.”

“Do you really think this thing is going to get you all the way to the States? Do you know how far away it is? I don’t even know if we’ll have enough fuel to last us past tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll find more. We’ll keep going.”

“Maybe. But I’ve got to be honest, the reality of that happening isn’t very good.”

“Then we’ll get as far as we can,” she said, her voice level rising in anger. “We have to get home. I have a son. He needs me.”

Despite his situation, Pax felt his heart clench. The chance that her son was still alive was minimal at best. He could see in her eyes that she knew it, too, but needed to find out for sure.

If his captors had asked him for help instead of forcing him to pilot the ship, he would have told them about the plane that would be landing outside Limón in another hour or two, but holding a gun on him from the start had blown any chance of that — not because of some personal retribution, but because he couldn’t afford to mix them in with the others.

“I’m sorry,” Kat said. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that.”

“Ma’am, I believe everyone who has survived to this point couldn’t have done so without building up a lot of anger.”

“Have…have you seen others? I mean, besides the friend you were with?”

“I have.”

“How many?”

He was saved from answering her question by the creak of the staircase announcing Luke’s return.

“All right,” the man said, juggling his bowl and mug with his rifle. “I got him now.”

Kat took a step back and said to Pax, “There’s plenty more coffee if you want some.” She looked at Luke. “Yell down when you’re both done and I’ll come get your dishes.”

The man grunted a reply and set to work on his beans.

From outside, Pax started to hear the whine again, so he nudged the throttle forward once more.

“Eagle Eleven calling Rich Paxton. Pax, do you read?”

Static.

“Eagle eleven calling Rich Paxton. Come in, please.”

No answer.

The copilot of the passenger jet heading for the airport outside Limón, Costa Rica, looked at his partner. “I don’t like this.”

The pilot was silent for a moment before she said, “They’re moving a lot of people. Could be they haven’t gotten the radio set up yet. Keep trying.”

The copilot settled back in his chair and clicked his mic button. “Eagle eleven calling Rich Paxton.”

Robert began closing the distance between the skiff and the ferry as soon as the sky started to darken. Though he knew he could quickly overtake the larger boat, he approached at a much more gradual speed to minimize the chances of the others hearing him.

As he drew closer, he could see that most of the lights that were on were contained to the front portion of the main passenger level. He was still much too far away to discern any people on board, but he caught a few flickers of light near the front end that he guessed were caused by people moving around. There had been no similar flickers along the stern, leading him to hope no one was back there.

He was about four hundred yards away when the ferry seemed to pick up speed. At first he thought maybe he’d been spotted, but the increase wasn’t much, and there seemed to be no change in the activity on the lower level.

A hundred and fifty yards out, it happened again. Reflexively, he eased off the throttle and let the skiff fall back a bit. He scanned the boat, but still picked up no movement indicating he’d been seen.

He increased his speed again, moving past the resort’s speedboat that still trailed the ferry, and then eased back a little on the throttle as he inched his way along the towline. When he was only a few feet from the stern of the larger boat, he matched its speed and locked the motor in place to keep his boat from veering off to the side.

Knowing things could go haywire at any moment, he rushed forward, snatched up the line that was secured to the skiff’s bow, and jumped over several feet of open water onto the ferry, grabbing tight to one of the posts on the low wall that encircled the stern. He stayed there, crouched on the very edge of the boat, sure that someone would come to see what was going on, but all he could hear was the rumble of the Albino Mer’s engine.

Satisfied that he was at least momentarily safe, he pulled the skiff in close, tied it off, and hopped back on board to kill the motor. He then opened the canvas bag. In the hours he’d spent following the ferry, he’d figured out how to load the guns. He stuck one in the waist of his pants in back, and set another on the deck beside him. Next, he pulled out the flare gun, loaded it, and picked up his pistol from the deck before moving back onto the ferry.

The Albino Mer had been designed to comfortably hold a hundred and fifty passengers, and could cram in as many as two hundred in a pinch. The boat had three distinct areas — the main cabin level in the middle, an additional passenger level in the hull below that could be closed off when not needed, and a top deck that went all the way to the pilothouse at the front of the vessel. With the strong breeze helped along by the movement of the ferry, Robert thought it unlikely anyone would be up top.

He carefully scaled the side of the ferry until he could peek onto the upper level. The light leaking out of the side windows of the pilot cabin provided more than enough illumination for him to see he was right. The area was deserted. There were no windows along the back of the cabin, though, so he couldn’t see who was inside, but it wasn’t a stretch to guess that was where Pax was. At least one of the kidnappers would likely be with him.

Robert set the flare gun on the deck, jamming it between the railing and a box that held life preservers, and lowered himself back down to the main level. Starting only a few feet from where he was and extending three quarters of the way to the front were rows of padded benches. Beyond them was the structure that held the boat’s toilets and two sets of stairs — a private one that led up to the pilothouse, and a passenger one that went down to the lower deck. Passengers accessed the top deck via stairways on both sides of the boat.

Painfully aware of every creaking board, Robert moved down the central aisle between the benches until he reached the back wall of the toilets. He took a few deep breaths and brought his gun up to his chest, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it.

Sticking tight to the wall, he moved to the corner and peeked around. The bathrooms section blocked much of his view of the bow, but not enough to prevent him from seeing the back of a man standing at the front rail, looking out at the water.

Robert moved over to the other corner and looked around. He could see no one at the bow from this angle.

Five people had taken Pax. One was now at the bow. At least one other would be in the pilothouse. What about the rest? Were they all in the lower passenger area? That would make things a lot easier. All he would have to do was—

A toilet flushed.

Robert pulled back out of sight just as the door nearest him swung open. He heard someone clear his throat and head toward the bow.

“Where’s that beer?” a man said.

“Haven’t brought it up yet.” A different man.

“Hey!” the first one yelled. “Thought you were going to bring up some Coronas!”

“Can’t find a bottle opener,” a woman answered, her voice coming from the passenger area below.

“Jesus, I got one up here. Come on.”

Clop-clops up the stairs, accompanied by the clinking of bottles being carried together.

“Here,” the woman said.

“What about Kat?”

“I didn’t ask her.”

A snicker and the sound of bottle caps being removed.

“Cheers,” one of the men said.

So much for most of them being below. Plan B, then.

Quietly, Robert slinked back to the stern and climbed to the upper deck, this time pulling himself all the way up. He retrieved the flare gun and crept over to the pilothouse.

Eyes closed, he tried to remember the layout of the room on the other side of the wall. Carlos Guzman, the Albino Mer’s captain, had always invited Robert up anytime he was making the trip between the island and the mainland. But it had been several months since the last time Robert was on board.

The boat’s controls, he recalled, were located along a counter that ran across the front of the cabin. There was a stool bolted to the floor in front of the wheel, where Carlos would sit. Behind this was an area big enough for three or four people to stand in. To the right side was the door to the top deck.

No. That wasn’t correct.

The door was on the left, while the stairway leading down was on the right. There were some cabinets, a counter, and the boat’s controls, but that was about it, he thought. So if Pax was at the wheel, then whoever was with him would be standing in the area behind him.

Robert stepped over to the left corner, crouched, and moved around it. The window in the top half of the door was open. He started to rise so he could peek inside, but stopped before he reached the lower edge when he realized the front window was reflecting an image of the cabin’s interior.

He repositioned himself until he had a good view of the reflection. Pax was right where Robert expected to find him, and behind him was the third man of the group. The guy was holding a rifle and leaning against the back wall, looking bored. So that meant the final person, the other woman — Kat, perhaps? — was the only one in the lower deck.

Robert moved behind the pilothouse, aimed the flare gun, and pulled the trigger.

A flash of red light filled the cabin.

“Shit!” Luke said, surprised.

The glow quickly dimmed as a flare flew over the bow and out to sea. As Luke took a step toward the window, something thudded on the top deck outside the cabin door. In the reflection, Pax saw Luke change direction toward the noise.

“What was that?”

“Don’t know,” Pax said. “One of your friends playing with flares, I guess.”

The man pulled the door open. “Who the hell’s screwing around out there? You scared the crap out of…” His words faded as his gaze fixed on the deck toward the back of the pilothouse. “What is that?”

He stepped through the doorway. The moment he was out of sight, Pax hurried over to the trap door above the stairs, dropped it shut, and rammed the locking bolt into place, sealing the cabin off from below.

As soon as Robert fired off the flare, he tossed the flare gun down on the deck near the back corner of the pilothouse. He had to wait only a few seconds before he heard the door open.

“…scared the crap out of…What is that?”

Not Pax’s voice.

Robert was a mere two feet from the flare gun, his right hand raised above his head, holding the pistol like a hammer. He heard the man step outside and approach the flare gun without any caution. Robert caught sight of the back of the guy’s head as the guy leaned down to pick up the gun.

With only a slight hesitation, Robert smashed the pistol’s butt into the back of the man’s skull. The guy dropped to the deck and didn’t move. Robert wasn’t sure if he’d killed the man or just knocked him out, but he wasn’t going to waste time checking. He grabbed the guy’s rifle and moved up to the cabin door, ready to fight any others who might come up to see what was going on.

But the door to the stairs was shut, and the only one present was Pax.

“Was wondering if you were just going to follow us all night,” Pax said.

Robert pulled the second gun from his waist. “Here.” He tossed it to Pax. “Are they all armed?”

“Saw four rifles. But I think only the main guy really knows how to use one.”

Noise on the stairs below them, then someone knocking loudly on the trapdoor. “Hey, what’s going on up there?”

“Can you turn this thing around?” Robert asked.

“I got it this far, didn’t I?”

More pounding. “Hey, Luke! Why’d you shoot that flare?”

Another voice yelled, “Open this damn door!”

Pax started turning the wheel.

“What’s going on up there? Stop turning! Stop right now!”

“I’ll be back,” Robert said. “You be okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Pax said.

Robert knew that at any moment the others would come running up the side stairways. He figured his best position would be to get to the rear of the boat before they showed up.

The pounding on the pilothouse door lasted a few more seconds and then there was silence from below.

Robert reached the stern as one of the guys peeked onto the top deck from the stairway and raised his rifle, aiming it at the pilothouse. Robert let off a shot in the man’s direction. It flew high, but was enough to make the guy duck out of the way.

“Jacob!” The voice was almost directly below Robert. “There’s another boat back here!”

Robert heard someone running below him.

“Son of a bitch!” a second man — must’ve been Jacob — said. “Gotta be his asshole friend.”

“How the hell did he—”

“Shhh.”

Robert leaned down to the very edge of the deck, listening. Whispered voices, too low for him to pick up more than a word or two, were followed by the soft padding of feet and creak of the deck. Had they both walked off, or only one?

No way to know. The only thing he was sure of was that the fate of the one hundred and twenty-eight survivors on Isabella Island were in his hands, so he and Pax would either wind up in control of the boat, or he would die trying to make that happen.

Another set of feet slinking away. One of them had stayed behind, but he was gone now.

Robert quietly lowered himself over the side.

If not for the stars, it would have been impossible to see the coast. Even then, Pax needed to consult the compass to make sure he hadn’t overshot the turn and put them on a crash course for the beach. Once he was sure they were headed in the right direction, he straightened the wheel and used the bungee cord system the boat’s former captain had created to hold it in place.

The moment he stepped out onto the top deck, a rifle cracked and a bullet slammed through the pilothouse floor, a few inches from where he’d been standing.

“You must have missed,” one of the men whispered from the other side of the toilets.

Robert wasn’t sure what they were shooting at. He was only glad it wasn’t him.

Bang-bang! Two shots, one on top of the other.

“Dammit!”

Robert sneaked a look around the right side but could see no one. Taking slow steps to prevent the boards from revealing his presence, he slipped past the bathroom door and approached the front corner. As he neared, the back of a man came into view. Robert eased to a stop and put both hands on his gun. When the rifle fired again, he swung out from his hiding place, his gun in front of him. He could see both men now, the one farthest from him aiming a rifle at the roof.

“Drop ’em!” Robert yelled.

The nearest man whirled around and dropped his rifle to the ground the instant he saw Robert’s pistol. The other one — most likely Jacob — started to aim his rifle at Robert.

Robert pulled his trigger.

He’d been aiming for the man’s shoulder, but the bullet caught the guy under the jaw and exited by the ear. The man grabbed his face as he dropped to the ground, moaning.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” the other guy said. “You shot him! Why did you shoot him?” He dropped down next to his buddy. “Jacob, hold on. Hold on. You’ll be okay.” He looked at Robert again. “You fucking shot him!”

Robert knew that, knew it to the very core of his soul, but he also knew he would have done it again. “So he wasn’t trying to kill my friend?”

The man turned away. “We’re just trying to get home, man. We’re just trying to get home.” He put his hands on Jacob’s wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but blood continued to gush. “Oh, God.”

Robert took a couple steps closer. “Use your shirt.”

He wasn’t sure if it would help, but at least it would give the hysterical man something to do. The guy pulled his shirt off over his head and pressed it to Jacob’s face.

Robert was about to call up to see if Pax was all right when he heard a loud groan of wood behind him. He turned to see a girl, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, nearing the top of the steps, a rifle pressed against her shoulder.

When he heard the shot, he flinched, expecting to be hit, but her bullet apparently went wide.

No, he realized as his eyes refocused. It hadn’t gone wide because the shot hadn’t come from her rifle at all. She was the one hit, the bullet piercing her chest and sending her tumbling back down the stairs.

Robert looked over his shoulder and saw Pax at the other end of the bow, holding his pistol.

“Don’t shoot!” a voice called from below. “I don’t want any trouble.”

A woman, about twenty years older than the girl, appeared near the bottom of the stairs, her hands raised. She looked at the body, then up at Robert.

“I…I…I’m not part of this,” she stammered. “I never…never wanted them to do this.”

“Come on up, Kat,” Pax said as he walked over to Jacob and the other man.

The woman gingerly stepped over the dead girl and hurried up the steps, her hands still high. When she reached the top, she jerked to a halt at the sight of Jacob, but quickly recovered and said, “His own damn fault.”

Pax put a finger against the uninjured side of Jacob’s neck. After a moment, he looked at the other man. “You can let go now, Aiden. He’s done.”

The adrenaline rushing through Robert’s system finally crashed. That and the knowledge of what he’d done sent him running to the railing just in time to vomit over the side.

Pax and Aiden dumped Jacob into the ocean, and then with Robert’s help did the same with Avery, the young woman. Luke they left on the top deck with a nasty bump on the back of his head and his hands and feet tied to the railing. They would deal with him when and if he regained consciousness.

Pax knew they wouldn’t have any trouble with Kat. She’d only been along for the ride, glomming on to the only survivors she had found. Aiden wouldn’t be a problem, either. He was a follower, and with Jacob gone, he might complain a little but he’d do as he was told.

If there was anyone Pax worried about, it was Robert. When he didn’t see him for nearly thirty minutes, he put Kat in charge of keeping the ferry on course and headed down to the main deck. He found Robert at the back, looking out at the two boats they were towing.

“Was checking the fuel gauges,” Pax said as he walked up. “We’ve got just under half a tank left. Might be able to make a run at Isabella from here, but I’m not sure. What do you think?”

Robert was quiet for several seconds before saying, “We should refuel in Limón first. Don’t want to run out when we’re in the middle of the sea.”

“Yeah. Pretty much what I was thinking.” Pax leaned on the railing next to Robert and watched their wake for a few minutes. Then he said, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Robert made no reply.

“You, um, you going to be okay?” Pax asked.

“I doubt it.” A pause. “But who is really ever going to be okay again?”

“True.”

Silence.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Robert asked.

“I have.”

“Do you…remember it?”

“Every night before I go to sleep.”

Robert nodded. “I guess I have something to look forward to, then.”

Pax put a hand on Robert’s back. “You did what you had to do. If you hadn’t pulled the trigger, he’d have killed you, and then maybe killed me. If that had happened, this boat would still be heading in the other direction.”

Robert said nothing for a moment. “What about the plane?” he asked. “It should be there now. What are they going to do when we don’t show up?”

“My satellite phone’s still on the bus. Didn’t want these jerks getting ahold of it. We’ll call when we get to Limón. They’ll be there.”

“What if they’re not?”

Pax allowed himself a tiny smile. “They wouldn’t dare leave me behind.”

It was nearly midnight before they arrived back in Limón and were able to retrieve the sat phone. For a few minutes, Pax received no answer from the plane. Then, after at least a dozen attempts, he was greeted with a groggy, “Hello?”

As he’d hoped, the plane had not left. Pax set a new rendezvous time for late the next morning and signed off.

“Well?” Robert asked as Pax put the phone away.

“Like I said, still here.”

They took twenty minutes to motor back to the small tugboat dock at the auxiliary port where Robert had left the fuel truck, but instead of filling up then, they decided to call it a night. They were both exhausted, and didn’t think they could make it across to Isabella Island until after they’d had some rest.

They moved the now conscious Luke down to the lower passenger area, where Aiden and Kat were. With Pax holding the gun, Robert untied Aiden from the bench they had strapped him to, undid the bindings around Luke’s wrists, then moved back over to the stairs.

“Listen up,” Pax said. “We’re going to be spending the night here, so that means we’re going to lock the stairway door. You all will need to make yourselves comfortable right here.”

The two men looked annoyed but not surprised. Kat, on the other hand, looked terrified.

“Please,” she said. “Please don’t leave me down here.”

Her message was directed at Pax.

After a few seconds, he nodded. “You can come with us.”

“Thank you,” she said, all but jumping up from her seat.

“What the hell?” Aiden said. “If she gets to go up top, we should be able to, too.”

“She never held a gun on me. Just be glad we’re letting you sleep here and not throwing you over the side.”

With that, Pax, Robert, and Kat headed up the stairs. Once back on the main deck, they shut the door and secured it with a rope that even the most talented escape artists would have a problem removing.

Pax pointed Kat to a bench near the rear of the passenger area.

“If you try anything, we will desert you,” Pax told her. “Do you understand?”

“I won’t. I promise,” she said. “You know I won’t.”

“Good. I just want to make sure we’re clear.”

“We’re clear.”

Pax relaxed his stern expression. “I want to trust you, Kat. You know I do. But given what happened, that’s something you’ll have to work very hard to earn.”

She nodded but said nothing, and then sat down on her bench.

Robert and Pax moved to the other end.

“Maybe we should take turns standing watch,” Robert said.

Pax glanced back in Kat’s direction. “She’s not going to be a problem.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Pax lay down on one of the benches and closed his eyes. “Me, too.”