“It was the guy who got away,” Malin said. “He must have reported us.”
“Of course, he did,” Spence said. “You just had to stand there and babble at the guy, didn’t you?”
“He’d already seen us,” Malin said. “Our cover was blown as soon as we stepped out of the tent. We should have gone the way we went in.”
“Would’ve been hard to get the loaded packs back under the canvas,” Spence said. He punched the ground between his feet and uttered a long, breathless string of curses. “We were so close. We had everything. All we had to do was get out of here!”
As the strange, warbling alarm faded out, it left a ringing in the air. Malin heard guards moving back and forth, shouted commands, questions, the clank of rifles. The junkyard provided decent cover—they had piles of junk on three sides—but people were close. Getting out of the camp was going to be a problem.
Spence was still cursing and punching the ground, but Archer grabbed him suddenly by the collar and pulled him close. Then, with her free hand, she dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a mostly empty pack of Mentos.
“Would you eat one of your stupid mints and quit freaking out?” she said, shoving the pack at him. “Punching the earth doesn’t fix anything. We have to get out of this hellhole, and you’re the man in charge here.”
Ducking his head, Spence grabbed the pack and worked a mint out with his thumb. He popped it in his mouth, rolled it around so that it rattled loudly against his teeth, then sighed. “Sorry. I guess we knew this was a possibility. We strolled into camp and looted their medical tent.”
“Exactly,” Archer said. “What’s the exit plan now?”
“All of the noise and activity will be centered around the medical tent,” he said, “so let’s try to avoid the area completely and circle around to our origination point. Maybe we’ll meet up with Prig there. If not, we head straight to the beach.”
“We’re going to encounter people along the way,” Malin noted. The sounds of guards dashing about were only intensifying. “We can’t avoid them. Guards or civilians.”
“Yeah, well, there’s no reason to play nice now,” Spence said. “We’re fighting our way out. Boss said if we get into trouble, run and gun.”
If slitting throats and dumping corpses in tents was playing nice, Malin was afraid to see the alternative.
“Archer, Malin, you two stay behind me,” Spence said. “I’ll try to avoid people, but I’m going to clear the path if I have to. Try to keep a low profile, okay? You’ve got the supplies. Even if something happens to me, maybe they won’t notice you guys, and you can sneak out of here with the stuff. But I’m sure as hell not getting captured like Golf. Got it?”
“Got it,” Archer replied with a nod.
Spence gave Malin a sharp look, and Malin finally nodded. Whatever you say, buddy, he thought. You’re the man with the AK.
With a loud expulsion of breath, Spence rose, looked left and right, then headed west, circling around a junk pile and moving toward the rope in the opposite direction from the medical tent. Archer went next, leaving Malin to bring up the rear. He tried to hunch over a little as he walked to make himself seem smaller, but the enormous rattling backpack didn’t help.
The layout of the camp seemed completely chaotic to Malin now. Just tents, firepits, trash, and junk scattered all over the place. Paths felt narrow and cluttered, claustrophobic at times, and he had to keep checking the position of the sun to avoid getting completely turned around. He didn’t see anyone in their immediate vicinity, but he heard people moving about close by.
Spence cut a zigzag pattern, moving from row to row, turning without warning. Malin found it difficult to keep track of him. They came around a corner and saw civilians gathered around a small camp stove. At the sight of Spence, they scattered in all directions like cockroaches. Some crawled into tents, others threw themselves into shadowy places.
It was impossible to tell how close they were to the edge of camp. The place seemed so big that it just consumed everything around them. At the moment, Malin had the strange sense that the tents, fires, junk, and gray civilians went on in all directions forever.
“You there!” someone shouted from the right. Malin saw a guard rushing toward them, snapping his fingers at Spence. He was a small guy, wiry, with a blunt face, the brim of his camouflage cap pulled low. Little tufts of brown hair stuck out on either side. He had a rifle in his hands, a make and model Malin didn’t know, but he was pointing it at the ground.
“Commander says spread out,” the guard shouted at Spence. “Head for the perimeter. Make sure no one enters or leaves the camp. No one.”
“Oh, didn’t realize that,” Spence said. “I’ll do it right now.”
And then, even as he was still speaking, Spence raised the AK-47—so fast the guard didn’t have time to react—and shot him in the throat. There was a small puff of red just beneath his Adam’s apple, a kind of red cloud behind him, then he grabbed his throat, made a low gurgling sound, and fell. This time, Spence didn’t bother dragging the body into a tent. He just resumed running.
Unfortunately, the sound of the rifle was quite loud. Malin could hear it rolling over the camp like thunder. Spence picked up speed, even as he continued to dodge and weave through the camp. Malin followed him past some barrels and saw a group of civilians huddled on the ground between the barrels. They were clutching at each other and crying.
Malin made eye contact with one of them, a woman holding a small child in her arms. They both looked dirty and emaciated. He wished then, though he knew it was foolish, that he
