“What is it?” I ask, reaching the bottom and placing the duffle on the floor by my feet.
Devlan ignores my question, grabs the item I saw him working on earlier, and shoves it into the satchel from the Refuge. My ears register a low beeping noise that I’ve never heard before. Looking over to a panel on the far right wall I see a relay switch blinking in time with the sound. Devlan turns to me and pushes the satchel into my hands.
“That’s marker number three,” he says. “Two minutes before they reach marker number two.”
I stare at him, puzzled.
Markers? I think, trying to make sense of what he is saying. Markers? Mile markers…My mile markers…My race course.
“They who? Who’s coming?” I ask.
The second relay on the wall begins to blink, causing the noise to increase.
“Collectors…Collectors will be here. They must be in a vehicle to have reached the second marker already.”
The message finally hits home.
The course was not just for me to train on, but to also see how long it would take someone to reach the house on foot. Devlan always knew where I was in the course because he had a relay system synced up to the markers, alerting him to my progress. If they have passed marker two it will take them one minute to get here, but that’s on foot, so who knows how soon if they’re in a vehicle.
Devlan sees that I understand the situation, and rushes past me to a heavy wooden dresser that he keeps his scraps in, next to the ladder. He shoves it with all his strength, sliding it along the wall, revealing a four-foot-high hole. He picks up my duffle bag, turns me around, and shoves me hard into the hole, tossing the duffle bag in behind me. I begin to protest, but he is already moving the dresser back into place. I begin to try to move it out of the way when I stop, hearing pounding from the floorboards above us.
Devlan didn’t extinguish the rush lights, so the intruders will definitely know someone is below the kitchen. I hear shouts as wood is broken, furniture beginning to crash overhead. In the darkness, I turn around and notice the hole is actually a tunnel. I sit down on the red dirt, leaning against the dresser, trying to hear what is going on. There are more crashes and shouts followed by Devlan yelling. They appear to have made their way into the workshop.
I want to scream for them to leave when I glimpse small red lights beginning to blink around me in the tunnel.
Detonators.
The blinking means they have been activated, and the faster they blink, the closer they are to exploding. I grab my items and begin to crawl as fast as possible down the tunnel, but only make it twenty feet when the first of the detonators goes off, igniting the rest. I curl up in a ball, protecting my head from the debris raining down on me. The tunnel begins to collapse, so I sprint down the shaft, bent over, scraping my back against the ceiling as I go. The smell of fresh air begins to strengthen the farther I go, so I know I’m close to the exit.
I crawl up a slight incline to reach the surface, spotting my stolen motorbike parked a few feet away, as if expecting my arrival.
Before taking off, I strap the bags to the back of the bike. The urge to go back and help Devlan is strong, but my gut tells me to keep going, rather than look back to see what is happening to the place I have called home for the last ten years.
After going a mile, I reach a large mound of rocks. I park the bike at the bottom, rummage through the bag Devlan gave me, and find a pair of night vision goggles. Climbing the mound, I lie on my stomach at the top, and peer out at the landscape south of me.
The house is ablaze, fire licking every eave, as well as the shed. Three figures in dark clothing are rolling around on the ground, probably injured by the blast. I scan the yard and see two large vehicles parked by the boulders I use for target practice. Adjusting the setting on the goggles I zoom in for a closer look. Two people are standing by the vehicles, hands securely wrapped around weapons I don’t recognize. The intruders are heavily protected, including face masks.
The house begins to collapse from the fire, but I don’t see any sign of Devlan.
I know he is lost. My heart feels certain of it.
I stem the tears that try to escape my eyes.
Why should I mourn a man who denied me a childhood? A man who robbed me of my mother? I owe him nothing.
My focus changes to the attackers and their mode of transportation.
The vehicles are large, dark, and without headlights; however they do have a bluish light emanating from the undercarriage. The wheels are thick rubber, attached by hefty suspensions to accommodate for the rocky desert terrain. One window at the front and four doors, two on either side of the vehicle, are open. I can’t see inside as they are positioned perpendicular to me.
I’ve counted five people so far, and there are two more at the front of the house. Seven in total that I know of, but how many did they start out with? Their clothing is uniform; they’re all wearing the same
