“Faster, faster,” Prig said.
Elna realized she had slowed down, so she turned away from the kid and picked up the pace. They reached the far side of the first hill. Elna expected Prig to stop, to maybe assess their surroundings and make sure they were clear, but he kept going. Turning to the left, he began to carve a wide circle around the camp in a counterclockwise direction. Poor Golf was just along for the ride, occasionally grunting in pain, but mostly just dragging the toes of his boots through the dirt.
“Is this the way, sir?” he asked, at one point. “Where are we going?”
“Taking you to a beautiful island paradise,” Prig replied.
Far to the north, Elna saw a glint of water and realized it was the pond they’d seen before. A guard was racing back to the camp from the pond. Some civilians slunk along behind him, dragging fishing poles and wicker baskets. Apparently, the day’s fishing trip had come to an abrupt end.
Elna heard another series of gunshots from somewhere in the camp. It seemed really far away.
Malin, just get out of there, she thought. Whatever it takes, get out of that camp and meet us on the beach.
She did her best to avoid looking in the direction of camp, afraid making eye contact with someone would draw attention. Prig seemed to know where he was going, following a broad, circuitous path, keeping mostly on the backsides of the small hills. It felt like it was taking forever, and all the while, the shouting and chaos in camp never stopped.
They were somewhere on the north side of camp, due south of the pond, when Prig stopped suddenly, pointed at Elna, and pointed toward the camp. Then he started moving in that direction. He had the rifle in his left hand, but Elna wondered if he would be able to fire it in time if they ran into a hostile guard.
Ahead, just behind a tent, she saw the gear they’d left behind. It was the place where they’d changed clothes and dumped some of their packs. Elna stooped down and grabbed her pack, slinging it over her shoulder. Prig dragged their uniform shirts out of the dirt and flicked them over his shoulder. Then he cut back toward the beach.
The shouting from within the camp seemed more desperate, so Elna dared a glance as they passed between two hills. She saw guards moving just inside the camp, swinging their rifles back and forth as they went, as if looking for someone. After a second, she saw two more guards deeper in the camp checking each tent one by one.
If they’re searching the camp, that means they haven’t found Malin, she thought. She dared to hope.
Prig moved farther from the camp as he headed west. Off to the left, Elna saw the dirt bikes in their little fenced area. A couple of guards stood between the bikes and the camp, as if they thought someone might come out and try to steal them.
“Don’t look back,” Prig said. “Keep your eyes straight ahead. Don’t want to trip and fall and draw attention.”
When she turned back around, she saw the slope just ahead of them, the sandy drop down toward the beach. In the distance, the beautiful blue-green water of the bay beckoned them, and she saw the Betty Lynn anchored out in the water. The rush of relief made her breathless. They’d done it. Somehow, by God, they’d done it!
As she eased down the slippery slope, she spotted figures on the beach. Prig took off at a brisk pace, dragging Golf alongside him, as the distant figures turned toward them. Malin, Archer, and Spence. They were just standing there on the beach, as if they’d come to enjoy the surf and sun. Only the large packs on the ground behind them gave away their purpose.
“Elna, guys, you made it,” Malin said, running toward them.
She ran to meet him, and they embraced. She wanted to cling to him, to hold tight, as elation swept over her, but they weren’t out of it yet.
“Let’s go home,” she said, pulling out of his arms.
“Man, it was crazy,” he said. “We were running and shooting. I can’t believe we got out of there alive.”
“Tell me about it on the boat,” she said.
Archer and Spence rushed to their rescued friend, Golf, patting him, shaking his hand, even as he winced and tried to wave them off.
“Man, we should burn this camp down for what they did to you,” Spence said. “Look at your face!”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Golf replied. “Is that our boat?”
As Elna and Malin joined the Marines at the water’s edge, Prig pulled out his radio. Elna could see Raymond on deck, and he seemed to be gesturing with his hands, as if trying to communicate something.
“Hey there, Cap’n Crunch,” Prig said into the radio. “Want to come in a little closer? We’ve got an injured man here.”
The radio squawked, and Raymond replied through static. “Can’t come closer. Tide’s lower now, and we’ll run aground. You’ll just have to wade out here.”
Prig grumbled under his breath then said, “Okay, got it. We’re on our way.” He stuffed the radio back into his pocket and stooped down to pick up Golf. “You heard him, folks. We’re wading out there.”
As he hoisted Golf up by his side, he stepped into the water, headed for the boat. Spence followed. Archer paused and hoisted her full pack above her head.
“Keep your pack out of the water,” she said to Malin. “Some of the medical stuff ain’t waterproof.”
Malin picked up his own pack and tried to raise it over his head. He was in good shape, with a muscular build and strong arms, but he
