Prig ducked into an open tent. Though Golf was on his feet, Prig was practically carrying him, bearing his entire weight with one bulging arm. Elna stepped in behind them and found herself in some kind of storage tent with shelves set up along the outer edge. Folded cloth of various kinds was stacked on the shelves.
“I hope the other team didn’t run into trouble,” Elna said.
“Must have,” Prig replied. “I guess they failed.” He stuffed the radio back into his pocket. “No sense trying to talk to them now. If they’re in hiding somewhere, I wouldn’t want to give them away.”
“You think it’s possible they escaped?” she asked. She had assumed the worst, but the guards wouldn’t raise an alarm if the threat was already neutralized.
“It’s possible,” Prig replied. “Maybe they looted the medical tent, and someone just realized it. Let’s hope they’re already out of the camp and headed down to the beach.”
“Shouldn’t we try to help them?” Elna said, gesturing at the rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Nope,” Prig replied sharply. “We have our mission. They have theirs. This is what my people trained for. Don’t worry, they’ll do everything they can to keep your boyfriend safe. As for us, Golf here is our priority. He has important work to do on the island.”
Prig gingerly set the injured Marine on the ground and went to the nearest shelf, picking through the piles of folded cloth.
“Maybe instead of hiding like rats, we should be running like heck to get out of this place,” Golf said, massaging his right shoulder.
“I came in here for a reason, dummy,” Prig said. He picked up some folded gray cloth and flipped it open to reveal a civilian’s shirt. “Can’t have you traipsing about in prison stripes.” He found a pair of pants, then tossed the clothes at Golf. “Let’s get you all prettied up there, Golf. They treat civilians like garbage in this camp, so all your welts and bruises shouldn’t stand out.”
As Prig helped Golf change clothes, Elna stood guard at the tent flap and listened carefully for any sounds coming toward the tent. The alarm blared out again across the camp. She found it a haunting, tooth-jarring sound. It went right down her spine.
Malin, just get out of the camp, she thought. Do whatever you have to do, but get out of the camp. Don’t let these people take you. I don’t want you to wind up like Golf—or worse.
16
The man in the lab coat stood in front of the tent, gaping at them. Archer and Spence kept going, but Malin hesitated a second, wondering if he should say something to distract the man. Slowly, the man’s eyes went down to the ground, where they froze, fixed on something. The clipboard in his hand seemed to dislodge and gradually slid out of his hand.
“We’re running an errand,” Malin said. “Hey, you know…the captain…the captain over there…he wanted to see you. Better go…” The lie wasn’t working, so he let it trail off. Finally, he looked down and realized what the man was staring at.
Bloody footprints on the ground from Malin’s shoes. Malin quickly tried to wipe his shoes off. As he was doing that, the man took off running. He didn’t say anything—no shout, no cry for help, no scream of terror—he just ran away like he’d had a brush with the Grim Reaper. Malin watched him disappear behind a tent.
He considered going after the man, but then he heard a sharp little hiss behind him. When he turned around, he saw Spence and Archer some distance away. Spence was beckoning him with a furious look on his face. Malin hurried after them. When he got close, Spence grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him forward.
“What are you doing? Having a conversation? We have to get out of here,” Spence said.
“I was trying to deal with that guy,” Malin replied.
“No, there’s no more dealing,” Spence said. “Now, we leave. That’s it.”
Ahead, beyond another row of tents, a roped-off area contained a bunch of junk that appeared to be mostly salvaged electronics and mechanical parts. There was no one in the immediate vicinity, so Spence headed in that direction, beckoning the others. Archer took a second to give Malin a withering look of disappointment before she resumed moving, pulling the shoulder straps of her backpack tight. Malin found running with the stuffed backpack rather awkward. It shifted from side to side with every step, making his gait a kind of off-balance shuffle. Spence was moving fast, though not quite running, and he found it hard to keep up.
The barrier around the junkyard was more symbolic than functional, a single strand of nylon rope tied to wooden stakes around the edge of the area. Spence stepped over the rope, Archer behind him. Malin had just stepped over when the whole camp seemed to erupt. A strange series of discordant notes filled the air, as if a bunch of people had picked up an assortment of brass instruments and started blowing random notes on them. It was loud, ear-straining, and made his heart leap into his throat. The sound was coming from somewhere directly behind him, but daring a glance over his shoulder, he didn’t see the source. However, it was followed immediately by the sound of guards shouting at each other.
“The medical tent,” someone said. “The medical tent!”
Well, that’s it, Malin thought. We blew it. They’re onto us.
He followed Spence and Archer as they ducked behind a large pile of junk. Spence hunkered down, muttering curses. As Malin drew near, he grabbed his arm
