Ever Hayes - Redemption

Eddie glanced back at the camera. The red light was on now. He told himself not to look at the camera again, as his fingers clenched tightly around the object that had been folded into the paper—a brass key.

Lazzo was in America again. Supposedly he was on his way to Denver to give Commander Boli the book he’d spoken of. Once Boli had that book, he’d have no further need for Lazzo, for Eddie… for any of them. It sounded to Eddie as if that time was imminent. Could be tomorrow, could be a week… could be more. Eddie had to get out of here. He had to save their families. He had to warn Lazzo—stop Lazzo—but how?

I assumed the paratroops were coming for us. Keena, Blake, and I had only arrived at the Pringtime Reservoir two hours ago. I was certain the enemy’s radar had detected our Desert Patrol Vehicles cutting across Colorado—that the high-tech scramblers our Area 51 “DPVs” were equipped with had failed to do their job. This was the third set of planes I’d seen fly over and drop off troops. I was certain they were coming for us. Their approach was just a bit unorthodox—landing so far away. Assuming I was right about our equipment’s shortcomings, I kept our radar off, hoping to buy us time and maybe even a little luck. As a result, we were blind—I had no idea how many other vehicles might be closing in on us right now. And then the drones flew over and didn’t pay any attention to us whatsoever. They didn’t really even come close. Maybe they weren’t here for us.

What the heck? Why are they staying so far south? They could easily surround us at the reservoir. The drones could literally blow us out of the water. Why not try to do so? Keena, Blake, and I were flipping through the map book, trying to figure out where the troops were coming down. Best as we could tell the last troops—just after sunset—had been dropped about two miles southeast of us near another lake like this one—Skaguay Reservoir. We were still 16 miles from the coordinates on the instruction sheet I’d been given on Kauai but couldn’t afford to go any further tonight.

We had parked the two DPV’s in a deep ditch and did our best to cover them up. We laid thick branches over them, covered those with a tarp, and then covered the tarp with dirt and leaves—like a tiger pit. It would have to do. With all the troops falling out of the sky, we had scrambled to get out to the island. Cold water was always our friend in these life or death hide-and-seek “adventures.”

Throwing only the most essential supplies into our waterproof backpacks, we made the swim out to the island in the middle of the reservoir. Blake was the only one with night-vision goggles—which would be useful in a couple hours. He also had the only effective long-range weapon—Keena’s MK20. Keena had given me her Springfield 9mm, leaving her with just a knife. The DPVs had .50-caliber machine guns strapped to them—and we had a thousand rounds for each—but none of us was going to lug those suckers around. We had to make do with these items, a couple Himalayan sleeping bags—no bigger than a roll of toilet paper when packed—a first aid kit, MREs, water, camo paint, flint, flashlights, a compass, our Marine “ghost suits” and the book. I still had the book.

Midnight came and went—six hours after we’d reached the reservoir—with no sign of Axel. It seemed a certainty he was gone for good. That sobering reality locked each of us into our own train of thought for a while. Around 1:00 a.m. I caught myself dozing off, shook my head to clear the cobwebs, and stood to wake the other two. “We’ve gotta move, guys.”

Unless things had changed since we’d initially fled the country, Qi Jia didn’t like to send their drones out at night. Given that it was hard to tell the difference between person and large animal with thermal, that made sense. That made the cover of darkness—like cold water—another of our valuable “natural” friends. Of course, we were well aware of the natural hazards out there too. I still had nightmares of mountain lions and Cameron’s death—occasionally—and just the thought of one of the big cats could send chills up my spine. They could sense our presence, and stalk us, long before we could see them.

Blake and Keena repacked their sleeping bags, and pulled their still wet Marine jumpsuits back on. The jumpsuits—or “ghost suits”—were great for cover. They were reversible—black on one side, tannish green on the other—but they did not dry well. That sucked.

We hadn’t seen or heard a single enemy soldier at the reservoir. They either weren’t here for us after all, or they were waiting for dawn to close in . We swam across to the other side of the reservoir and slowly made our way toward Knights Peak.

Given the extreme elevation changes, darkness, and treacherous topography, it took us five hours to cover nine miles—just over halfway to Knight’s Peak. A deep growl had held us in place for one twenty-minute period—around 4 a.m.—but we’d otherwise moved without more than an occasional breather. Traces of light were beginning to show in the sky ahead of us at 6 a.m. We knew we needed to climb—quickly—and find a place we could hide out for the day. Somewhere we could easily keep an eye on the area around and below us.

We found such cover under some large boulders near the summit of a treeless peak, just east of Elk Ranch Road. With this perch and our binoculars, it would be impossible for anyone to get within two miles without us seeing them coming. We’d move again as soon as darkness came, but this could be the only rest day we’d get. We drew pieces of straw for who would take which three-hour watch shift, and I drew the shortest—first slot. That was fine with me. I was wired.

The idea that Hayley could already be there, at Knights Peak—no more than six or seven miles from us now—was pumping the adrenaline through my veins. That and the thought of what I was going to do to Lazzo when I found him. If he thought I was just going to hand this book over, he had another think coming.

We were getting closer to Knights Peak, but the sun was up now. There were so many open spaces we had to cross, and I was getting more nervous with each step. The paratroopers still hadn’t caught up to us, but that didn’t mean we weren’t walking right into more of them. I tried to convince Lazzo that we needed to find shelter and rest for a while, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I was concerned his rush to rejoin his family was making him less cautious—and prudent, for that matter. I wanted to see Danny, too—of course—but I knew that was out the window if we were caught.

We crossed a dirt road and approached a huge clearing, about a half-mile wide. As we stood on the edge of the trees and gazed across it, I glanced up into the adjacent hills, and for the first time I saw signs of the enemy. Figures that looked like gorillas were moving among the rocks. Snipers . I pointed them out to Lazzo. “They’re watching these clearings now. We have to stop.”

This time he didn’t argue. Best as we could tell, we were about six miles from Knights Peak. It was a crystal-clear blue-sky day, and I hated that. Our dark clothes were too dark, the sun too bright, and the gaps between the trees were far too wide. We wouldn’t blend in with these surroundings, and the troops coming behind us would be closing in fast. We considered moving further south to try to sneak east, but seeing the snipers had spooked us. We at least knew they were there. We weren’t sure what else could be south of us. We were going to throw the entire day away and stay here. Talk about frustrating .