Fortunately, by the time she slipped through a gap on the east end of the fence, they seemed to have quieted down. Beyond the fence, there was about fifty yards of open, rocky ground. On the left, this led down to the shore. Straight ahead, it led to the dirt road that trailed up the backside of the island. However, on the right, a wall of trees filled the land between the rock ridge and the road. It was all overgrown there, full of brush and vines—not easy to navigate. Still, it was their best and only path to the hilltop without being seen.
“Move low,” Elna said to Malin. “Try to avoid making noise. We’ll have to go slow and avoid the worst of the underbrush, but it’ll be a problem.”
He clapped a hand over his mouth and nodded. Elna led him to the trees. She selected a broad opening between two large black walnut trees and slipped through, feeling brush dragging against her. It was noisy, too noisy, but there was no clear path before her. It was like pushing through an endless green wall, but she moved as slowly and carefully as possible. Maybe they would sound like the island foxes scampering about.
Soon, the ground began sloping upward, becoming ever steeper. This, at least, caused the undergrowth to spread out a bit, and the roots bulging out of the slope gave her something to grab on to as she ascended. Unfortunately, it was excruciating on her shoulders, neck, and back, but she pushed through it. She heard Malin scampering along behind her, but she was concentrating too much to check on him. They were absolutely enclosed in the forest, so she didn’t have a sense of how far or how fast they were moving.
Suddenly, as she was dragging herself over a large birch root, she heard the distinct crack of a gunshot echoing somewhere on the island. She froze, pressing herself to the ground, holding her breath. Birds scattered in the trees. A second gunshot followed shortly thereafter, and when the sound faded, the terrible quiet returned to the island. Elna turned her head to the right and saw that Malin had crawled up beside her.
“Not aimed at us,” he whispered. “That came from somewhere far away.”
“Spence and Mac,” she replied.
Malin nodded. “Hopefully. Drawing the enemy away. Good.”
Elna resumed moving, but the next section of the slope was so steep she had to practically crawl on her belly, pulling herself up one handhold at a time. There was a reason no paths had been carved into this side of the island. Unfortunately, they were making far more noise than she wanted to. The ground was littered with loose rocks, dry twigs, and leaves, and there was thick brush all over the place.
They’d gone maybe another twenty yards when she heard gunfire again. This time it came as a burst. Multiple guns all at once. Four shots, five, six. As the echo faded, she thought she heard voices as well, but they were very far away. Her instinct was to freeze in place again, but she made herself continue to move. Eventually, the slope leveled out a bit, the trees grew a bit farther apart, and she picked herself up. Brushing the dirt off her stomach and legs, she moved at a crouch, trying to keep to the shadows as much as possible. It was afternoon, and the shadows were long now.
“Are you hurting?” Malin asked.
She nodded and put a finger to her lips. Indeed, she was learning that she had a tremendous ability to just keep moving in the face of full-body agony. All she had to do was ignore it and keep making her body advance up the hill. A few minutes later, she heard another burst of gunfire. This time, it seemed to be guns answering each other shot for shot, and it went on for almost a full minute. She couldn’t gauge the direction. It seemed to be coming from all sides. When it finally died out, she heard a single voice, and she was sure it was screaming in pain.
“I hope that’s not one of our guys,” Malin said.
The screaming went on and on. Even though it seemed to be far away, Elna was tempted to cover her ears to block it out. Through an opening between the trees ahead she saw the front corner of the guesthouse, the dull gray of the aqueduct on its mismatched framework. She moved a bit to the right, daring a little more speed despite the extra noise. When she reached the break in the trees, she saw that they were just beyond the front parking lot of the guesthouse. A few dead cars still rotted there like withering husks.
Beyond the parking lot, the winery building stood against the hilltop. She saw the fence which barred the way to the island’s rocky peak. So close, yet they would have to step out into the open to get to it.
“This is where we run as fast as we can,” she said to Malin. “Are you ready?”
He nodded. “Do you want me to carry you, Elna? I can tell you’re hurting bad.”
His suggestion touched her, and she briefly squeezed his arm. “No, I’ll manage. I’m hurting, but it turns out the pain doesn’t really control me. Come on.”
She leaned out into the gap and looked left and right. The vineyard was on the left, the tank standing there like a bulwark in the midst of the chaos. She saw a hint of smoke rising above the guesthouse around the corner. Was it still burning to the ground, or had the mercenaries put out the flames?
