Elna tried to puzzle out the situation in her mind, but something about it didn’t quite add up. “Why would they send you all the way here just to salvage some old communication equipment? Hell, why is there communication equipment on the island in the first place?”
Prig finally seemed to have reached the limits of what his wine-softened mouth would say, and he pressed a finger to his lips, as if he were shushing himself. Instead, Norman answered.
“Seems to me it’s the location,” Norman said. “If the equipment survived, this island is in a perfect strategic location to mount a defense of the West Coast.”
This caused murmuring all around Elna, and she glanced around, seeing shocked expressions on the islanders’ faces. A defense of the West Coast?
“Well, if I’m right, I say it’s about time,” Norman continued. “If someone attacked us, we gotta fight back. We’ve just been sitting here in the dark twiddling our thumbs.”
“Exactly,” Prig said, jabbing a finger in Norman’s direction. It was as close to confirmation of Norman’s guess as they needed. “This guy gets it.”
“Would you mind if some of us went with you to the lighthouse?” Norman asked. “I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I’d like to see the bunker, if that’s okay.”
“I’d like to go too,” Malin said.
Prig was nodding and seemed on the verge of saying something, but Spence cleared his throat and spoke instead.
“There’s just one problem, folks. An integral member of our team was captured by that militia group back on the mainland, and we need to get him back.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Prig said with a sigh. “That has to be priority one, and we’ll need to move fast. There’s at least one other group that knows about the existence of the bunker, and they might also be coming to the island. It’s a matter of national security. But we don’t leave a man behind. We rescue him first.”
Prig could look like a goofy hick, but at that moment, Elna saw a hardness in his eyes, something cold and determined behind the thick, syrupy accent. The situation was worse than she’d feared.
My poor island, she thought. I guess it’s no longer mine, though, is it?
5
“We’re very familiar with that militia group on the mainland,” Elna said.
“How familiar?” Prig asked, studying her face, as if he suddenly suspected she might be in cahoots with them.
Elna hesitated a moment but decided it could only help to tell the truth. “The leader of that group, a man named Rod Smith, is my ex-boyfriend. We had some trouble with them at one time and were briefly held prisoner in their camp before we broke out. Rod is familiar with our island. He knows we’re here.”
“Why were you held prisoner?” Prig asked.
“My father…” She glanced at George. He was sitting in the corner near Joe and Rita, watching this conversation unfold with a sad look on his face. “He wanted to trade some of our wine for food and other supplies. They took the wine, but then they also detained us. At first, it just seemed like strange hospitality, but I overheard Rod telling one of his men that they did not intend to let us go. That’s when we made our break. They chased us across the causeway, but we raised the drawbridges to block them.”
The staff sergeant watched her tell the story with an intense look on his face. “Wow, so you’ve been in the camp,” he said, when she finished. “You’ve actually been in there.”
“For a short time, yes,” she said.
“What can you tell me about it?” he asked. “Any details you can remember would sure help us out. I’d be grateful.”
It seemed like a smart course of action to help the Marines if only to keep them friendly, but Elna was conflicted. She didn’t fully trust them. Nevertheless, she tried to think back to her time in the camp.
“As best I could tell, there are a few hundred people over there,” she said. “The guards are armed, constantly patrolling, and ready for a fight.”
“Some of the people are there against their will,” Malin added. “They have iron cages, like prison cells, but we were held inside a tent. They wanted to make us slaves, basically, and that’s probably happened to others as well.”
“Yeah, but you can tell the soldiers from the civilians easily,” Elna said. “Rod’s men all wear that same stupid uniform with the camouflage t-shirt and cargo pants. Plus, the soldiers tend to walk around the camp boldly, while the civilians keep their heads down.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Elna saw the woman and young child, Miriam and Chloe. The woman had visibly reacted to Elna’s story, flinching as if the words had wounded her, and the little girl in turn hugged her tightly, burying her head in the folds of Miriam’s shirt.
Selene also noticed this response, and she rose, grabbed the backrest of her chair, and dragged it over to the corner. Though Miriam and Chloe had intentionally tried to sit by themselves, they seemed to tolerate Selene’s presence when she sat down with them. After a moment, Selene leaned in and started talking to Miriam, though she was too quiet for Elna to overhear.
If anyone can comfort those two, it’ll be Selene, Elna thought. The woman had a gentle, wounded soul. Maybe Miriam would feel a kinship with her.
“Where is the leader located within the camp?” Prig asked, drawing Elna’s attention back.
“Rod Smith has a command tent near the center of camp,” Elna said. “It’s easy to spot. It’s bigger than the surrounding tents and has a big silver star fastened
