D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

As she stared out the window she saw the ghost of a reflection approaching her. Camilla walked up silently and wrapped her arms around Sarah’s waist giving her a long, gentle hug. “What’re you thinking?” She asked.

Sarah took a deep breath and said in a sigh, “I was wondering what was going to happen to us.”

“Do you mean you and me – us, or us – everyone involved?”

“Both.”

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” Camilla said as she let go and stood next to her.

“In a way,” Sarah replied. “We were careful not to leave a trail. The FBI knows who I am, and they might know about Seth and Jerry as well, but knowing that people exist is a lot different than knowing where they are. I think we’re safe for now.”

Sarah had enough fake identification to get out of the country, and once she did, she could easily disappear for good. She didn’t tell Camilla this though.

“Then what’re your plans now that we know that they’re onto us?” Camilla asked.

“Let’s wait until Seth gets back, Camilla,” Sarah replied. “Maybe we should split up. That way there would be no way for you to be implicated if they did catch up with Seth and me.”

Camilla gave her a fake smile and said, “I really wanted to hang here with you, Sarah. I’ve been looking forward to it, but going to jail…”

“I’m right there with you,” Sarah said. “I’d rather be dead than in jail for the rest of my life.”

The two women silently contemplated this last statement until Sarah said, “Where’s Chris?”

“He’s with Jerry and Mark downstairs.”

“Let’s go see what’s going on,” Sarah said.

Camilla wrapped her arms tightly around her and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. When she finally let go, Camilla said, “I love you, Sarah. No matter what happens, I’ll always know that we were doing the right thing.”

Sarah had to catch her breath before she could reply. “I know, Camilla. I know.”

Why had he let them get on the computer this morning? And they had definitely heard the confrontation with Foster. It was all a bit frantic and those two bad decisions ensured the Carriers were nervous wrecks now. Seth had forced Albert to drive. He had protested vigorously but Seth wanted to spend the ride calming and focusing the Carriers and he strong armed Albert into coming along.

“You’ve all got your packets?” Seth asked as they rolled through town toward the airport.

Each carrier said they did. The packets contained credit cards, tickets, cash, and lists of destinations. They also carried Gen96. Some had it in liquid form; others had it in aerosol cans disguised as hair spray or deodorant.

“Don’t let what you saw this morning get you upset,” he said. “I know it’s distracting and you’re bound to be nervous, but everything will still go as planned. You have your numbered accounts in Switzerland with your payday. There’re only two of us who know who you are, and we’ll never tell a soul.”

He looked at each person individually and tried to loosen them up and calm them down. A few tried to smile but failed. They had the same look on their faces that men about to go into battle have – jaws set, lips pressed together, eyes alert. Seth was the general, pumping up his young troops in a rocking boat off the coast of Normandy.

“Your stories are simple – you’re taking a semester off. Young people out experiencing the world like college kids have always done. You’ve got all of the papers and supporting documents you’ll ever need. You’ll be safe as long as you keep your cool.”

He expected some sort of response from at least one of them, but got nothing but silence.

“This is going to set you up for life,” he said as he turned back toward the front of the Suburban. “Hell, I wish someone would have given me half a million dollars to travel when I was your age.”

He pulled the pistol out and placed the shotgun on the floor between his feet as they pulled into the entrance of the small regional airport. There was a single two-story terminal – the top deck for departures, the bottom for arrivals. They drove toward the swooping ramp that led to the main drop-off area. Two Delta employees stood on the other side of a hurricane fence that separated the road from the tarmac. The two men stared at him until his eyes met theirs, then they hurriedly turned and went about their business. Seth gritted his teeth and cracked his neck. He had been getting more skittish over the past few days and assumed that this nervousness was just an extension of that. Surely those men weren’t anybody who would be after them. The Feds weren’t behind every tree or fence. Stay cool, his own words echoed in his head. Stay cool. It was easier said than done.

He glanced across the seat at Albert whose knuckles were white from clenching the wheel. He seemed to be looking everywhere but at the moderately busy road as he drove.

“Relax,” Seth said.

Albert nodded. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His scalp and face were flushed a light pink. “I can’t help it,” he replied.

They were now under the roof of the terminal and approached the unloading zone. Seth scanned the busy area – vacationers, business travelers, some security, and skycaps – a normal day at the airport. But he had a feeling, a premonition. Something was terribly wrong. The truck slowed down and pulled over to the curb.

He looked frantically up and down the sidewalk and was about to put it off to nerves again when it clicked. All of the airport personnel looked as though they had just stepped out of the gym and barbershop. Each was clean-shaven, well groomed – not one of them was overweight. These people were not your normal, motley crew of airport workers.

“Don’t stop, Albert!” He cried. “Get us out of here.”

“What?” Albert said as he continued to pull over and decelerate.

Seth instantly raised the cocked pistol and said, “You heard what I said. Get us out of here!”

A stocky, middle-age man walked toward the crawling Suburban as Seth rammed the pistol into Albert’s ribs.

“Drive this truck right now or you’re a dead man.”

Albert stomped on the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward.

“What’s going on?” Albert screamed at Seth as he pulled from the curb and accelerated down the airport road. Several of the Carriers yelled from the back.

“Something wasn’t right,” Seth said as he glared at Albert, who didn’t turn to meet his icy stare. “What do you know about that, Albert?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed to hesitate a lot back there – like you were debating what you should do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seth grunted. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now just get us the hell out of here and fast.”

He turned and looked out the back window.

“Someone’s after us,” one of the Carriers said.

Seth picked up the shotgun, jacked a shell into the chamber and rolled down his window. The Suburban was approaching seventy miles an hour as they rounded the turn that led toward the main exit. This vehicle was not designed for high-speed cornering, and Albert wrestled with the wheel to keep the truck on the road. As they sped toward the exit, two cars came from out of nowhere and skidded to a stop in the middle of the road blocking the exit.

Several of the Carriers had worked themselves into a frenzy. They pleaded to be let out.

“Cut it to the left, behind that building!” Seth screamed.

The men in the cars blocking the exit crouched behind the makeshift barricade and started to shoot at the Suburban. The windshield turned into a spider’s web of cracks as high-powered, well-placed bullets slammed into it.