Sick

but before she reached the door, the sound of multiple helicopters cut out any ability to have a conversation.

She moved to the end of the van. The area near the media area had seen a drastic increase in the amount of helicopters using it for a landing area. Every time they arrived, Tamara would check, hoping they’d be the two helicopters from earlier, the ones with the man who’d killed Gavin. But they hadn’t returned.

Until now.

“Bobby!” she yelled.

Realizing he couldn’t hear her over the noise, she ran back and grabbed his arm, then pointed at the camera. As soon as he picked it up, she pulled him to the end of the van. When he saw the helicopters, he raised the camera and turned it on.

Like earlier, several men climbed out of each helicopter, then gathered together. When they finished talking, they started heading as a group in the general direction of the media area.

“What are they doing?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t know,” Tamara replied. “But try to get a shot of each of their faces.”

“It’s a little dark.” While the landing area was flooded with bright light, the media area had to make do with a few scattered floodlights on poles.

“Do what you can.”

As the men got closer, she could see the two in front scanning around, looking for something. Then one of them seemed to settle on the PCN van. He said something to the other man, then the whole group veered slightly to the left and headed straight for Tamara and Bobby.

“What the hell?” Bobby said.

The men were still a good hundred feet away when someone grabbed Tamara and Bobby’s arms from behind. They both turned quickly. It was Peter Chavez.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” Tamara asked.

“I’m talking about saving your lives.”

“Saving our lives?” She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he didn’t let go.

Moving his face close to hers, he said, “Those soldiers? They’re here to kill you. Just like they killed those two kids out in the desert. Like they killed your brother.”

“What? How did you-”

“Come on!”

He pulled at her until she was running along with him. Bobby, who’d heard it all, fell in beside her. Chavez led them on an angle that kept the van between them and the approaching soldiers until they were able to duck around the back of a transmission truck belonging to a Los Angeles network affiliate.

“How do you know that’s what they’re here to do?” Tamara asked, shaken.

“They know about your report. They’ve killed it in New York, and they’ve already got Joe, but you’re still a loose end.”

“Joe? But how-”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, cutting her off. “We have to keep moving.”

He pushed off the truck, and ran toward the building the media had used to sleep in. Tamara shared a quick look with Bobby, then they both took off after Chavez.

“All the way through,” Chavez whispered once they were inside.

The large room in front still had cots set up all over the place, so they had to weave around them to get to the door on the far wall. Passing through it, Tamara glanced back at the building’s entrance, sure that soldiers would rush through and pursue them. But, so far, they hadn’t shown up.

Perhaps Chavez was wrong. How did he even know the soldiers were after them in the first place?

“Are you sure-”

“Come on, come on!” he yelled.

They were in a corridor now that seemed to run the rest of the length of the building.

“Peter, please,” she said, desperately trying to convince herself that everything was all right. “How do you know they’re really after us?”

Peter kept looking toward the door that led back into the main room, obviously anxious to keep moving. “I have a friend at your network. Dean Gaboury. Do you know him?”

“Dean? Yes, sure.” Dean was one of the suits in charge of afternoon news coverage.

“He told me your story’s been killed, and that Joe’s already been detained. He said they were coming after you, too, and asked if I could hide you someplace safe, until they can get this worked out. Your network doesn’t like the idea of its reporters being arrested.”

“Arrested for what?”

“Does it matter?”

“Jesus,” Bobby said.

“No kidding. Now, let’s go,” Chavez said.

Just as they passed through the door at the end of the hall that led back outside, a voice called out from behind them. “Stop right there!”

Tamara’s fear level skyrocketed.

“Over there,” Chavez said.

He moved across a short expanse of concrete, and pulled open the door of a building that looked very much like the one they’d just exited. Tamara was the last one to pass inside, but Chavez was still able to get the door closed before the soldiers exited the other building.

Halfway through, Tamara stopped. “Hold on, hold on. We can’t keep running like this. What’s really going to happen if they find us? They’ll put us in a room and ask us some questions?”

“You know what they did to those kids in the desert, to your brother.”

Her eyes widened. “But…but we’re on a base. People have seen us, right? They can’t do anything like that to us.”

Chavez stepped over to her and grabbed her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “All right. The truth. Those men arenotin the U.S. Army. They are something else entirely. They operate on a whole different set of rules. Their only goal is to get rid of loose ends. Joe is dead, and if you don’t come with me, you’ll both be next.” He dropped his hands to his side.

“Joe’s dead?’” Bobby asked, shocked.

Tamara stared at him, unable to speak.

“Blue pill or red pill,” Chavez said. “Blue pill, you stay in your ignorant world, go out there and talk to your soldier friends, and stay happy for maybe another hour until they put a bullet in your brain. Red pill, I save your lives.”

“I’m taking the red pill,” Bobby said quickly.

Tamara’s lower lip trembled slightly as she licked it. “Okay.”

Chavez nodded once, then continued down the hallway.

When they exited the building, they found themselves in a small parking lot. There were half a dozen cars, a couple pickups, and a medium-sized, white cargo truck. Chavez led them over to the truck. The back was already open so he jumped inside, then held a hand down to help them up.

“This is too obvious,” Tamara said. “They find us in here for sure.”

“Trust me. They won’t.”

Bobby climbed up on his own, then Tamara reluctantly took Chavez’s hand. Once she was on board, he went to the front of the cargo area and touched two of the screws holding the panels in place. A small section of the wall popped open about a quarter inch. He put his fingers into the gap, then pulled it all the way open like a door.

Inside was a three-foot-wide space that ran the width of the truck.

“It’s not a ton of room, but you’ll be safe. The walls are insulated. Still, I wouldn’t talk very much. There’s food and water, and a pot in case you need to relieve yourself.”

“How long do you think we’ll be in there?” Bobby asked, surprised.

“I don’t know.”

“Whose truck is this?” Tamara asked. “I don’t remember it from the roadblock.”