Instead, he felt a beat. Michael’s chest rose and fell. He was alive, but this couldn’t last forever. That’s when Jamie realized what he had to do. Just before Sammie returned, yelling that no one was home, Jamie gathered up Michael and moved him toward the dock.
“What are you doing?” Sammie said as she helped. “There’s nowhere else to …”
“Austin Springs. There’s a hospital. Right?”
“Yes. I think there’s a small one. But that’s too far. It’s on the south end of the lake.”
“Right. About what … five miles?”
Jamie pointed to the outboard. Sammie shook her head.
“No, Jamie. This won’t work. It’s too far. We don’t even know if there’s enough gas. I’ll run to the next house. We’ll have better luck.”
“Forget it, Sammie. We’re doing this. You coming or what?”
She didn’t have a chance to answer. In the blink of an eye, the sun rose. A second later, the ground shook.
23
A GATHA WITNESSED HER plan unfold perfectly. Jonathan and Christian fed the lakeside house full of bullets, a swarm of death descending from the sky, while Agatha and Arthur waited behind parked cars, their rifles aimed at the front door. The rousing stir of weapons fire percolated Agatha’s blood and energized her in a way she had not felt since combat decades ago in the Unification Guard. The inhabitants fled the only way they could. When Walt and Ben raced outside into the shadows, Agatha fired. Arthur Tynes and Dexter Cobb followed suit.
Their targets stumbled. Ben appeared to fall down the steps, and Agatha was certain of a hit. Walt sprayed automatic fire in return then leaped and disappeared behind the steps. Agatha ducked as the glass from the car’s windows flew in shards all around her. When she rose and aimed, she couldn’t find her targets. She called Jonathan.
“Cease fire,” Agatha yelled. When the guns went silent, Agatha continued, but at a whisper. “Bring the helicopter over the house. Focus on the front entry. Our targets are pinned down. Finish them.”
The chopper’s roar, somewhat muffled from the lakeside, now exploded with intensity. Agatha shielded her eyes as the searchlight showered them. Above, pilot Jonathan redirected its beam to a tiny area, bathing the deck and steps in light that rivaled the sun at high noon. Machine-gun fire resumed, splintering wood planks and shattering glass from the front windows.
Agatha watched with an uncomfortable blend of relish that no human could survive such an onslaught yet with considerable remorse that a diplomatic resolution was never found. She walked around the car and exposed her position, her weapon chest-high.
She yelled into the phone. “Cease fire. We’re done.”
The hail of bullets ended. A few shards of glass tinkled to the ground. Only the rhythmic roar of the chopper broke the night air. The threesome paused as they approached the deck. Arthur dropped, his weapon extended, preparing to fire beneath the deck. Dexter raced past and aimed his rifle into the back corner where his targets were pinned. Agatha thought about who would be lying dead inside. Her heart skipped as adrenaline surged.
“The future will not be served this way, Walter,” she said.
However, anxiety set in as they prepared to enter the lake house. The men who were pinned down vanished.
They examined the foundation beneath the front deck and found an opening just wide enough for a man to squirm through. Boards lay next to a camouflaged secret entry to a bunker. They entered the house with weapons chest-high and found Arlene in the back bedroom. The discovery shook Agatha to her core.
“This was not deserved,” Agatha said in a somber tone. “I should have sent you straight to the fold, sweet one. I apologize.”
She refused to surrender to emotion. They raced through the bedrooms, back to the kitchen, flinging open every door, their fingers pressed against the triggers. Agatha saw a final opportunity in the kitchen, not more than eight feet from Grace Huggins’ body. A white wooden door, shot up badly and still clinging to its hinges, hung ajar. They looked at each other.
Agatha mouthed the word, “Bunker.”
Dexter entered first, shining his light at the same level as his M16. He sprayed the beam across the cellar. He didn’t need ten seconds to complete his survey.
“Nothing, Agatha. A few shelves with jars. Looks like food storage. No place to hide.”
Agatha cast her own light on the subject and turned to Dexter. “Are you blind?”
She focused her light on a door at the back wall. A chain was cut and a padlock lay on the floor. Agatha should have known he would have an escape route. He was always too detail-oriented and far too paranoid of an attack by The United Green.
She ordered Arthur back to the car, to examine the maps they confiscated from the park ranger’s office and consider the best strategy for pursuit. Then she stepped out onto the deck overlooking the lake, putting her own thoughts in order and phoning Jonathan.
“Begin an aerial search. They’re underground, but they have to emerge.” Then it hit her – the obvious twist she should have seen from miles away. Her words fell from suddenly trembling lips. “Walter would not create an escape tunnel unless he …”
She heard Dexter yell from the cellar.
“Going after them. We have to move.”
Her trigger hand shook, the rifle slipping from her grip. Time stopped, and blood drained from her face. The phone dropped to the deck as she turned and yelled, but she knew her effort would be futile. She spent years assuming Walter would betray her one day. Now she felt powerless.
“Dexter, no …”
The light could have blinded her, but the concussion of the blast ensured Agatha wasn’t on her feet long enough to see anything. The house disintegrated in fire.
