Megan looked down to the canteen of spirits in her father’s hand. “So you didn’t find anything? No signs of them…other than those motorcycles?”
“Nope. Not a damn thing.” Fred sighed. “And I have you to thank for finding those. You’re developing a keen eye.”
“I’m only doing what you taught me.”
“I know.” Fred squeezed her shoulder and handed off the canteen. “The two of us have made a good team.”
“Made?” Megan questioned the tense, her brow furrowing.
“We’ve been at this a while. We’ve been all over this valley, scoured it from the state line to the Massanutten through farmlands, neighborhoods, forests, portions of the national goddamn forest…everywhere. The only place we haven’t looked is…well, you know where, and we can’t exactly look there.” Fred paused. “I…owe you an apology, Megan. And I owe your mother an apology. I’m sorry I’ve been so damned hardheaded about this, but it looks like you two might’ve been right all along. I hate to admit it or even chance thinking about it, but it’s becoming clear to me that your brothers must’ve gotten themselves caught up in something. And God willing, if they’re still amongst the living, there’s a strong chance that they’re now residents inside that godforsaken camp.”
Megan’s lips trembled. She screwed the canteen’s top back on, set it aside, and reached for her father’s arm. “You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything, Dad. I’m just as worried about them as you are, but I’ve been worried about you, too. That’s why I couldn’t stay home with Mom, even though I probably should’ve. I’m sorry for fighting you over it.”
Fred grinned. “Don’t apologize for that. Don’t you ever apologize for standing up for what you believe in. You’re a tough kid. A fighter, just like your old man, and it’s been good having you along. You’ve kept me company, and I’ve enjoyed the time with you. I’ve…missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you.” Megan beamed at him and touched the face that had become scruffy in their time together. “So what’s the plan now? What do we do? Make a plan to get them out?”
“A plan is in the works,” Fred said, tapping his head with an index finger. “But I’m far from working out all the kinks, and there are a ton of kinks. As we are now, retrieving them is out of the question. It’d be foolish to even try such a thing. We can’t risk it.”
Meg nodded. “I get that and agree, but we can’t just leave them there.”
“No, we can’t do that either. Nor will we.”
“So, what then? Where do we go now?”
“There’s only one place to go for you and me,” Fred said, rolling his lips. “Time to recuperate, regroup, and warm up. Let’s get our gear packed up. We’re going home.”
Chapter 6
FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo
Friday, January 7th
Sasha Ledo couldn’t see past the itchy blindfold covering her eyes. The fabric was rank, stank of sweat and mildew, and the knot in the back, tied with no regard for her comfort, tugged heartlessly at her hair. Her wrists were bound, and her escort’s grip tore into her elbow joint. He pushed and pulled on her, changing directions every so often with little to no warning.
Sasha didn’t know where she was being taken, though she did have theories. She had been confined inside a solitary confinement cell within the women’s detention center at FEMA Camp Bravo for a number of weeks, caged against her will. There, she’d been treated like an animal, ruthlessly interrogated for a fictitious set of wrongdoings, fed scraps of what could barely be considered food, and given just enough cloudy, tepid water to prevent dehydration.
She’d been assigned her cell upon arrival, not long after she and two co-conspirators had been taken into custody by a group of DHS agents. Sasha had watched them hog-tie and drag a recently shot and bleeding Chad Mason to the infirmary and haul his younger brother, Mark, to the men’s detention center. She hadn’t any idea what had become of them since, assumed the worst imaginable fate awaited all three of them, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.
The alone time in her cell had given her plenty of room to contemplate matters. Sasha was no longer predestined to abide the pointless life and senseless death of a subservient entity retained by the Marauders motorcycle club. The ride down that long, isolated, tragic road had ended, and she’d somehow, miraculously, been blessed with a second chance at life, one she resolved not to take for granted. If given the chance, she was going to drive this new ride of hers fearlessly, like a bat out of hell, doing so as if she had stolen it.
Rocks scuffing away at her prized leather riding boots, Sasha felt the ground beneath her switch to rough, uneven gravel. A sudden jerk on her arm nearly caused her to trip as her entourage adjusted direction. This had been the third or fourth time an identical incident had occurred in the last few minutes, and her patience was waning, as was her ability to keep quiet. “Okay,
