MIDWAY THROUGH another day of driving, both vehicles pulled onto a pockmarked plain of asphalt in front of a concrete bunker. By the building was a sign reading “Unitas Border Security, Entering Unincorporated Territories.” There were at least a dozen other vans in the lot, some of which were smashed and dented and had bullet holes ventilating the sides. Two men in full armor emerged from the building as the vans pulled to a stop, speaking into handheld radios as they strode toward the convoy. When Apostle Ames emerged from his van, the men stopped in their tracks and allowed their radios to fall squawking at their sides.
“Sir, it is a real honor,” said one of the guards, his spine ramrod straight. “We were told you’d be coming our way. I trust you’ve had an uneventful journey?”
“We’ve gotten an eyeful but no action,” Ames replied. “I wasn’t expecting to hit the border for another day. Why are they keeping you two posted way out here?”
The talkative one cleared his throat. “The advance teams were able to run most of the Lilim back toward Babylon, but some of the border Tribes we’ve been working with for years have started driving Witnesses out. It’s getting a little dicey west of here, so the council decided to push the border back until we could secure the area.”
“Does that mean we foot it from here?” Ames asked, squinting westward across the windswept valley.
“It does, sir. We’ve got some extra rations here if you need ’em, since it will be a longer trek than you expected.”
Ames raised a hand. “My teams are adequately supplied, thank you. This isn’t my first rodeo, boys.”
The three men laughed and strolled toward the building to confer. After a bathroom break, Sykes ordered the Witnesses to organize their packs. Each load already topped fifty pounds before they were supplemented with the extra provisions Ames had put aside in the event of an emergency. When Gabi tried to raise her pack into an upright position after stuffing an extra water filter and additional envelopes of food into it, it refused to budge.
“Here,” Jordan offered, “I’ll lift it, and you can just back into it and buckle up.” He’d recovered somewhat from the trauma of the day before, but the circles under his eyes attested to a sleepless night. He grabbed the nylon strap across the top of Gabi’s pack in preparation for lifting it, offering her an encouraging smile.
“Okay,” Gabi said, looking to make sure Ames was still safely inside the bunker with the guards before nodding to Jordan. She didn’t want him to see her getting help with her pack. “Ready.” Jordan hefted the pack with a grunt as she slid her arms into the straps and buckled the waist belt. The bag’s rigid embrace caused a flash of panic, and when Jordan released his grip, Gabi needed all her attention to stay on her feet. The weight of the pack threatened to buckle her knees, but she found that by leaning forward at the waist and keeping a bend in her legs, she could stay upright as long as she kept moving forward. It was more like falling and catching herself with each step, but with Marnie in front to grab on to if she tipped and Jordan behind to boost the pack from underneath, she was able to keep up. The “breaks” were another matter entirely.
After every three hours of marching down the shattered asphalt highway that bisected the valley floor, Ames called them to a halt. The day was clear, and the valley warmed quickly in the late afternoon sun. There were only a few scaly patches of snow left to traverse, but the glare was still punishing, requiring the use of the UV sunglasses and ugly flapped hats they’d been issued. The actual resting part of the breaks only lasted as long as it took for the Witnesses to drop their packs and relieve themselves behind whatever cover they could find. After reassembling, Ames and Sykes led the Witnesses through a grueling series of squats, push-ups, lunges, and core exercises until they were all gasping on their backs. Ames insisted the conditioning sessions were necessary given how short, and in some cases nonexistent, their training had been.
Even Marnie, who kept pace with the veterans during the calisthenics, began to flag after the second break, her lean cheeks streaked with sweat and salt grime. The temperature couldn’t have been much higher than fifty degrees, but they all stripped down to the black-and-gray all-weather suit they’d all changed into before leaving the guard station. As for Gabi, by the start of the first conditioning session, she was long gone. When Ames commanded them to drop and give him twenty, Gabi slipped through the hatch in her mind and stayed there, right up until they stopped to make camp for the night. The fact she was still moving after nine hours of hiking, three conditioning sessions, and the exertion of setting up all the tents on her own—Ames was gleefully taking her at her word—was miraculous.
Mathew was still giving her the silent treatment, though she didn’t notice it until they got to their campsite on the first night of the trek. Talking during the day was discouraged, and no one had the energy for it anyway, but she had felt her brother’s eyes on her the entire time. Gabi was grateful for the ugly hats they all wore, as the flaps hid her agony until darkness could shield her. She had no energy to put
