Ever Hayes - Redemption

I didn’t know what to say. I watched her sit on the bed and put her head in her hands. I sat down beside her but didn’t touch her. “What are you thinking?”

“We have to do something.” I was afraid you’d say that . “Deacon says there’s nothing we can do, but I don’t accept that.”

I knew you wouldn’t . “Maybe they’re—”

“Don’t say it.” She stood and angrily shoved a drawer closed. “Don’t you dare say it. Don’t tell me they might be right. I don’t accept there’s nothing we can do.”

There were tears in her eyes. I struggled to find the right words. “Tara, we have to trust them. I’m sure they have a plan.”

Her eyes burnt into mine then—so much so that I had to look away. “Ryan, is there something you’re not telling me?”

I should have said yes. I should have told her. But I didn’t. Instead I shook my head. Instead I said, “No. Of course not.”

I could tell she didn’t entirely believe me. It was also obvious she was really angry. She didn’t say another word to me. We finished packing and took our gear over to the tree house. I ignored my dad’s glare as we carried our bags through the kitchen and climbed the stairs to the deck. He had been right. We both knew that. I just didn’t listen.

We lowered our packs down the zip line to the docks and loaded up the boat for the ride to Oahu. Looking out to the open water, it already didn’t look good. The waves were bigger than normal—rougher than usual. It would have been one thing if they’d all been rolling in the same direction, but they weren’t. Deacon was driving the boat, and he was clearly uncomfortable taking us out into the open water. I saw him glancing at Kate, who had already thrown up once, and we’d barely hit any rough patches yet.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Deacon hollered into the wind. Dad and Tara were both nodding, so I nodded too. Deacon turned the boat around and took us back to the docks.

Royce was going to take the other boat to Kauai after we left—to join Trigger and Twix. He was still standing on the docks when we came back in. “What’s going on?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Dad replied.

“Unless the water really calms down,” Deacon chimed in. “There’s no way I’m taking them out there. The boat capsizes and we’re dead—all of us.”

As the others headed back up to the tree house, I turned and saw Royce and Deacon standing on the beach, staring across the water at Kauai. They were probably trying to decide where they were needed most. Did they leave us here and go help with the rescue attempt, or stay here and help us face the storm? I hollered ahead to Tara that I’d catch up, but she never even looked back. Awesome . I jogged back to the guys on the beach.

“What’s up, Ryan?” Deacon asked.

“I was in the bathroom when you guys were talking about the rescue.” I watched for a reaction but didn’t get one. “Anyway, I don’t know anything about military operations, but it would seem to me that four would be better than two for that.”

They glanced at each other, and Deacon nodded. He patted me on the shoulder. “You’re right, my man. But we can’t exactly leave you guys here either.”

I picked up a rock and skipped it across the cove. “I get it guys. It’s your call. I just would hate to see Trigger and Twix fail because they didn’t have all the angles covered. And I live with someone who would take it worse than you can imagine. Dad and I have this under control. Seriously. You can go.”

I turned then and walked away from them. As I reached the top of the path, I heard a motor rev and glance back down at the cove in time to see a boat cutting out into the open water. They were both heading for Kauai.

I didn’t know if I felt good or bad about that.

We were on our own against this storm. This could get interesting.

We found four dead unarmed Qi Jia soldiers covered by a net—an actual net—of leaves in a ditch at the base of Knights Peak. Had the bomber been hiding here? Had he been alone? We left the bodies as they were, given that we were only a few hundred yards from the plateau crawling with angry troops, and followed a series of oval, slipper-like, prints leading southwest. Sometimes there were three sets, sometimes four. They weren’t always clear, and we lost them in grass patches, but we were able to pick them up again until we got to a large grass yard near a burnt-down farmhouse.

It was almost dark at this point, and we were looking for any signs of life on the property—a light, a movement… anything. We saw none. A couple hundred yards beyond the crumbled farmhouse there was a small shed and a two-story old barn. Between the farmhouse and barn we could see a swing set, a doghouse, and an intact propane tank. The tank was partially obscured by a stack of hay bales, and there were other hay bales scattered randomly around the property. As a trained Marine sniper, alarms were going off in my head. There were too many places the bomber could hide and wait. We couldn’t afford to step out into the open, forsaking the cover of the forest, and expose ourselves to whoever might be out there. It was possible they knew they were being followed. It was equally possible they’d set a trap for us. Given there were no signs of pursuit behind us, we elected to wait for total darkness.

I decided we needed to stay together. Splitting up could allow us to be picked off one by one. If the bomber—or people—we’d followed knew we were here, they’d have to come for all of us at once. They’d have to be able to fight all of us at once. Thanks to our sniper encounter on the ridgeline, we all were now armed with Qi Jia Berettas and night-scoped, infrared-equipped rifles. The fight was finally semi-fair, from our perspective.

On the other hand, we couldn’t cover the entire property from this one spot. I also knew we were only a little more than a mile from the building the mystery man had blown up. A couple hundred soldiers would be all over these woods by morning, probably even with aircraft and radar assistance. Sitting still was not a long-term option.

I’d been trained in many operational skills as a sniper, and stealth was always paramount. I’d had to infiltrate buildings full of people without being noticed. I’d crossed properties undetected by soldiers and guard dogs. It was one thing to know your enemy and to know what to be on the lookout for. It was another entirely to have no idea what you were up against. Four sets of tracks indicated—obviously—four people. But were they all armed? Were they all traveling together, or had the bomber followed an old trail to mask his escape?

I was now kicking myself for not looking at the dead soldiers a little closer. It would have been useful to know how they’d died—by knife, gun, broken neck, or whatever. But there’s been no time. Even now we were short on it.

The night’s heavy cloud cover was a blessing. If the moon was out, we couldn’t tell. It was dark. Dark dark. At 10:00 p.m., I decided we needed to approach the house and check for a basement. There was one, but it was empty, and the barn didn’t seem to have any subterranean compartments. From the barn we scoured the entire property and finally saw something we hadn’t been able to see from the opposite side of the property—from our earlier scouting position in the forest. Behind the propane tank—fifty yards or so from the back door of the farmhouse—there appeared to be a door in the ground behind the stack of hay bales. We were about to inspect it closer when we saw the door lift a couple inches off the ground. A minute later it dropped back down. A storm cellar. And someone is definitely in there . Ten minutes later it lifted again. Apparently, whoever was in there was able to peek through the bales of hay to check for any signs of pursuit. But he couldn’t see in our direction. I flipped the infrared switch on my scope, but it didn’t show me anything, even when the person lifted the door. That could only mean one thing. Whoever was in there had something to block infrared. Hayley wouldn’t have it—wouldn’t even know about it—but Lazzo might.