“They haven’t,” I said. “What’s next?”
We were huddled just below the tree line. If we stepped forward two feet, we’d be potentially exposed. I stuck my head up slowly and looked; the front end of a tan Winnebago was visible around the corner of the building. A lone man stood in front of it, cradling a weapon. I couldn’t see the other direction, but assumed they were still there as well.
“What if they’ve got foot patrols?”
“We’ll have to take them out,” he said.
I glared at him. “I’ve never taken anybody out before!” I whispered. “They’ve got guns!” I wished I hadn’t made him leave the guns at home.
His white teeth shown in the darkness. “Nothing to it. Listen, dude, I’m going to crawl up to the tree line and cover the area. You’re going to play hero.”
“I’m going to what?”
“You’re going to crawl on your belly up to that gate and rattle it just a bit and hope somebody comes out.”
“Oh, shit,” I said. “You up for it?”
“Oh, shit,” I said again, then gulped. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
He moved forward and poked his head out of the underbrush. He leaned as far as he could to the left, then back to the right. Then he motioned with his arm.
I crawled up next to him. “I think I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Stop joking.”
“Who’s joking?”
He turned to me. “You going or not?”
I moved up past him. He touched my arm. I looked back. “I see anybody coming, I’ll rustle the bushes, okay? Then you haul ass out of there.”
I nodded, then slid the pack off my back. I gently pulled a clump of vines out of the way and crawled forward. Every time a stick cracked, my heart stopped. Sweat ran down my sides. I crawled forward a few more steps, then past the tree.
I was out in the open, on a lawn that needed mowing and was wet with dew.
Thank God for high grass, I thought as I hugged the ground and moved slowly toward the chain-link fence. I figured there had to be a gate somewhere; it was just a matter of finding it. It was too dark to see, so I crawled along feeling a few feet at a time. For once in my life, I took the right direction the first time. I got to the gate and reached forward to rattle it, then looked up. The padlock was hanging there. Open.
God, what a woman.
I looked to my right, then left. The only person I could see was the lone sentry at the head of the last Winnebago in the circle. He had his back to me. I stood up slowly, lifted the padlock out of its hole, lifted the latch, and pulled.
The gate squealed. I stopped, hoping not to need a change of shorts before this was over. I pushed, putting pressure on the metal hinges, then pulled again.
The hum of the generator helped. Then the compressor on the air conditioner for the cooler cut in and I nearly jumped a foot. The fenced-in area was knee-high with uncut grass. I stepped quickly across, to the door, and turned the knob.
It moved in my hand. Please God, don’t let them have any lights on.
I opened the door and stepped into the darkness. I pulled the door shut behind me.
“Marsha?” I whispered.
Then she was all over me, with flashlight beams held by four desperate people dancing behind her. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me so hard I nearly broke. I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her off the floor. She wept silently, choking sobs caught in her throat, tears pouring down her face.
We rocked back and forth, locked together until our muscles gave out.
It was the finest moment of my life.
Somebody came up and put an arm on my shoulder. I turned. Kay Delacorte’s tired, dirty, tear-streaked, gorgeous face stared at me, “Hi,” she whispered.
I let go of Marsha for just a moment and wrapped my arms around Kay.
“We thought you’d given up,” Marsha said.
I looked back at her. “Just late, as usual.”
The three men stepped over. Marsha held out her hand. “Harry, this is-”
“No time for introductions,” I said. “We’ll have a party later. For now, we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
“Okay,” she said. “How?”
“Kill those flashlights,” I said. “In fact, leave ’em behind. We’ve got plenty. Lonnie’s waiting for us at the tree line. We cut a hole in the fence. We’re going to scale down the bluff. There’s a boat down there. When we step out of here, drop down on your bellies. Go through the gate and straight for the trees. There’s one sentry, to our right by the last Winnebago. He’s the only one I’ve seen. I’ll lead. Kay, you follow, then Marsha. You three guys take up the rear and watch out for each other, okay?”
“Okay, man,” the oldest guy said. “Let’s go.”
The flashlights went out, submerging the room into complete blackness. “We’ve only got about twenty feet of open ground,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Then we’re in the bush. Once we get there, we’re fine. Be careful, and good luck.”
Marsha touched my arm, and in the darkness I leaned over and kissed her quickly. There’d be more time for that later. I dropped to one knee, pulled the door open, and peered out.
Nothing.
I went out first, low, on my belly until I hit the gate. Vague black shapes followed me, their movements clumsy and slow. I crept across the slick grass, slithering side to side, hoping I’d get us back to the hole in the fence on the first try.
By the time I crossed the spread of open lawn, I realized I’d hit it wrong. We were on the wrong side of the big oak. Lonnie’d cut the hole on the left side, not the right. I hunkered down and followed the fence, hoping everyone was still behind me. Random night noises caught my ear: a siren in the distance, a tugboat’s deep whistle upriver.
The breathing of people behind me.
My senses seemed on edge, on fire. I felt the ground beneath me as if it were moving itself, breathing in and out as we crawled across it like fleas on a dog.
Finally I came to the hole. I pulled off to the side. Lonnie poked his head out from behind the tree.
“Got ’em,” I whispered. He held an index finger to his lips.
Kay Delacorte came up behind me. I leaned in to her. “Sit up on your butt, then slide legs first through the hole. Get out of the way and be quiet until we’re all through.”
I pulled a piece of the fence aside, Kay sat up, pushed herself up on her haunches, then slipped in the wet grass and raked her leg across the cut chain-link wire, ripping her pants and gashing her leg bad enough for me to see it even in the darkness.