Carly knelt beside her and reached for Sasha’s hand. “I think…you might’ve killed him.”
“Shit. I wasn’t trying to.”
Morgan, who had somehow regained her composure, took a knee beside the other guard and placed two fingers to his neck. “Um, guys? I think this one’s dead too.”
Sasha’s brows drew together. “You’re shitting me.”
Morgan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think so. He’s not breathing, and he doesn’t have a pulse, so either you killed him with that kick, or gave him a heart attack.”
Sasha let out a long, lurid ‘ugh’. “This isn’t my day. I didn’t even kick him that hard.”
Carly’s preoccupation leveled up. “This isn’t good.”
“I know, Carly. I know.”
“Well, what are we going to do about it? We can’t just leave two dead guards lying in our room.”
“I know that too.” Sasha hung her head. “Okay, okay, let’s focus. Do we know how many entered the dormitory? Was it just these two, or were there more?”
Carly shrugged. “I don’t know; I only heard voices. I can go check, though.”
“That’s a brilliant idea, Carly. You go check,” Sasha said. “Hurry back soon and tell us how fucked we are.”
“Um, okay.” Carly rose and made her way to the hall, disappearing seconds after.
Morgan moved closer to Sasha. “What should I do?”
“Nothing, doll, nothing. Unless you have a cigarette lying around. I could use one right about now.”
“Sorry, I don’t have any of those.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sasha patted the floor. “In that case, cop a squat. Shit’s about to get interesting.”
“Yeah.” She slid to the floor and took a seat beside Sasha, leaning her head on the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you…for what you did. I was so scared. I know I didn’t do anything…I didn’t want to be taken away.”
“I know, honey. I know all about it, but it’s over now. McCracken will never slap those grimy paws of his on you ever again.”
Morgan nodded and embraced her defender. “What’s going to happen to us now?”
“To us? Nothing, and I’ll make sure of that. You and Carly are completely innocent. Bystanders the whole time. This started with me, and it’s going to end with me.”
“But that isn’t true. That’s not what happened.”
“Truth doesn’t matter to them,” Sasha proclaimed. “Everything is perverse and twisted to them, even honesty. So when they come asking questions, you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. You let me handle this. I’ll take the fall.” A pause. “You, Carly and the others…you’re too young for this kind of shit. It isn’t fair for it to keep happening to you. There’s only one thing you guys deserve, and that’s to be back home and have everything that was taken from you returned.” She gave Morgan a squeeze. “You probably don’t know this, but I was taken from my parents, too, much in the same way as you and the other girls. I became a slave to the MC at the ripe age of thirteen, wound up marrying one of the fuckers, and barely made it out alive. You guys made it out, too. And with any luck, one day, you’ll all be free of this place, but that might not happen if you open your mouth. You understand that, don’t you, Morgan? Am I being clear enough? You want to leave one day, right? Get your freedom back someday, or at least have that chance?”
A moment passed before Morgan nodded her head beneath Sasha’s arm.
“That’s my girl. You’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you let on. You remind me a lot of myself before I broke bad. You haven’t yet, and that’s good. You still have a chance. All you have to do is play this right. Just put all the weight and blame on Sasha’s shoulders. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Chapter 21
DHS remote bivouac, designation Sierra
George Washington National Forest
Tuesday, March 8th
August leaned forward in his camp chair as the threads in each seam stretched to their limits, the fabric struggling to support his heft. Before him, a stainless kettle of water perched directly atop red-hot coals gurgled its way to a boil, and in his lap lay a crinkled printout smeared now in speckles of ash. He’d received an urgent communiqué from HQ just over an hour ago that printed automatically on the portable monochrome printer installed in his SUV. He couldn’t remember the last time it had printed anything, or if it ever had. It confounded him, but not nearly so much as the subject matter contained within.
Their mission’s initial objective had been achieved, that success had been dutifully relayed to HQ, and the response had been to stay put and await further instructions. Since then, while August’s task force remained bivouacked for over two days behind enemy lines in backwoods jerkwater USA, it had been nothing but the silent treatment.
Supplies were becoming scarce, and his men were running dangerously low on patience. Morale was dwindling, even his own. August had hoped this message from HQ would shed some light on the darkness: order his teams to rendezvous with a support brigade for resupply, or back to the plantation for some sorely needed R & R. Instead, it had only added to the uncertainty and made August even more hot under the collar. They were now urgently being ordered to stay put, remain encamped until
