Tasha walked up to the cabin with James, Sasha walking beside him, the two younger dogs play-fighting up ahead. "They are beautiful dogs," she said.
"They've been good companions, good protectors. I don't know what I'd do without them."
"It's been very lonely up here, hasn't it?"
James nodded. "I've gotten used to it, though. I've never been one for crowds, cities…."
"Things are about to change for you."
"I know. I'm not sure I'm ready, but I'm willing to try." He flashed a smile.
Tasha thought, He is a remarkable man. He doesn't even know it—and that makes him all the more so. I didn't even know who he was when I met him, but I sensed something about him… He just needs to learn to believe in himself. Then he'll be unstoppable.
They walked into the house. Elena met them with two mugs of tea. "Thanks," said Tasha. "Where's Jason?"
"He felt tired after all. He's sleeping in his room."
"Hm. Well, he's been through a lot. But I'm not ready to be tired yet." She sat down on the couch, and tasted the tea. It was a little too hot, and she set it down on the coffee table.
James sat down in his chair beside the window, opposite the couch. He took a sip of tea, and then said, "Would you like some milk or sugar?"
"No, thanks, I'm fine," said Tasha.
"Elena?"
"Jason and I already had some. It pretty much put him to sleep, though."
James came back and sat back down. "It's too bad Jason isn't awake. I would like to tell him what I've decided."
"He'd be happy to hear it," said Tasha.
"He was very persuasive. He sounded as passionate about saving my own country as I am, and he is not even one of us."
"Well, Jason is a very passionate person."
Elena giggled. "Yes, he is."
Tasha looked at her. She wanted to slap that little dimpled smile off of her face.
"So, Elena," said James. "How did you end up on this venture?"
"Well," said Elena, "I was an assistant to Josiah Munroe, who's the editor of the Vanguard, a newspaper that's a satellite of the Free People's Voice. We plant secret messages inside our newspaper for the resistance. I've never seen the messages or met our contacts, because they only just brought me into their circle. One of the first things I learned was that Jason and Tasha weren't the reporters they pretended to be; they were actually agents with the NSA. Then when we were listening to Von Warberg's speech in the city square, Jason saw a soldier beating a man, and he went to intervene. He fought with the soldier and won, but more soldiers came, and I helped him escape."
"That was….very admirable of you, Elena." James took a sip of tea.
"I knew what would happen to Jason if he got captured. Of course, I didn't even know his name was Jason at the time. But I've gotten to know him a lot better since then."
Ignoring the tone in Elena's voice that implied she'd gotten to know him as more than a friend, Tasha asked James, "Do you think Jason should have done what he did?"
"Well," said James, "He blew your cover…but at the same time I can understand how he felt. I don't know—I hope I'd be able to hold myself back, but, if I saw one of my own people being hurt…."
"He didn't really help that man—he was probably arrested anyway. Jason should have waited and let history take its course."
"Probably. On the other hand, who knows what one act of kindness can accomplish? We can't control all events; sometimes we just have to do our part, and hope for the best, whatever happens. You never would have found me if he hadn't done that."
"That's true," said Tasha. "Maybe…it will work out after all."
James drank the rest of his tea. Tasha thought, Maybe mine's cool enough by now. She brought it to her lips.
James stood. "I'm suddenly….not feeling very—" He staggered to his knees.
Tasha leaped to her feet. "What's wrong?" She dashed over to James, but he was already barely conscious. She lowered him to the floor.
She pressed her palm to his forehead; his skin was cold and clammy. "What could be wrong? Is—" A twinge of suspicion raced through her. What if Jason wasn't really sleeping either? What if—
"What's the matter, Tasha?" said Elena. "Don't you like your tea?"
A small gun leaped into Elena's hand. Tasha stood. Elena's blue eyes were cold.
Somewhere deep inside, Tasha had known. But she'd ignored her intuition, dismissing it as mere jealousy, something she shouldn't even be feeling anyway.
"I'm not really sure what to do with you," said Elena. "I don't think there will be room on the helicopter for you. If I leave you here alive, you might cause more trouble. One of my policies in this game—and I think it's a good one—never leave loose ends." She smiled.
I'm the only one she hasn't incapacitated, thought Tasha. I need to get the upper hand somehow….The camera gun. It's in the kitchen—I set it on the counter when I came in—stupid thing to do.
I've got to distract her.
"I was starting to see through your act, you know," said Tasha.
"That's easy to say in retrospect. I think you were just as surprised as anyone. Of course, no one will be as surprised as Jason." She laughed. "I do believe that boy was starting to fall for me—although I am good."
Tasha shook with anger, but restrained herself. "You're not as good as you think you are. Why do you think I didn't drink the tea?"
"Maybe I made it a little too hot for you on purpose. Maybe I wanted to confront you, rather than take you like a lamb to the slaughter. You always were the strong one. Perhaps I wanted to test myself against you, and see how strong you really are. But so far, you haven't lived up to my expectations."
"What do you expect me to do with a gun to my face?"
"Not give up so easily."
"Who said I'd given up?" Tasha lashed out, grabbing for Elena's gun. But Elena yanked the gun away and then rammed it toward Tasha's face. She ducked; the gun's cold muzzle grazed her cheek. Tasha lunged toward Elena and slammed into her, knocking her backwards. They tumbled over the coffee table, Tasha landing with her knee in Elena's stomach. Her fingers closed around the gun, but then Elena punched upwards, hitting Tasha in the ribs. A knot of pain spread across her stomach. She fell backwards, but recovered just as Elena leaped to her feet.
Tasha sprang toward her. Elena swung a punch into Tasha's jaw; sparks danced across her vision, but she forced herself to stay on her feet. She struck at Elena's face; Elena blocked her with her forearm. They fought across the room, Elena always blocking, an exultant smile on her face.
They reached the kitchen; Tasha dove toward the camera gun on the counter. A gunshot reverberated through the cabin. Another. A bullet seared across Tasha's cheek. But she snatched the gun, whirled around, and shot at Elena. Elena dodged behind the wall; Tasha ran outside. More places to hide here, she told herself, the cool air of the mountain filling her lungs. The bullet wound across her cheek burned, but she didn't have time to acknowledge it.
She jumped off of the porch. The dog, Sasha, jumped off with her and stood by her side, ears alert, looking toward the door.
Elena slipped outside; Tasha sent another shot toward her and darted around the side of the house.
How far is the nearest town? Tasha wondered. I should've asked James….I don't think I have many bullets left. Maybe two or three, and there are no replacements. She ran around the house; Elena hadn't followed her. She was probably waiting for her on the porch. Tasha doubled back and ran for the shed.
Shots zinged after her; Tasha dashed into the shed just in time. It smelled the sweet, musty smell of damp wood. She backed up to a pile of chopped wood, but then could go no further.
She slid forward along the wall and peeked out. She couldn't see Elena. Then, Sasha, who'd slid inside as silently as a shadow, jumped out of the shed. A shriek ripped through the air. One, two gunshots. Then, nothing.
Tasha crept outside, keeping her gun raised.
Elena stood there, one arm dripping blood. The dog lay on the ground, blood seeping through the fur on her neck.
"Don't move," said Tasha. "Drop the gun."
Elena raised an eyebrow. She didn't move, but neither did she drop the little silver pistol in her left hand.
"Drop the gun, put your hands in the air, or I will shoot."
Elena hesitated, then she smiled wryly. "Maybe I'll let you have this round." She lowered her gun to the grass. At the last moment, she lunged toward Tasha, hurtling into her. They crashed to the ground. Tasha grabbed for Elena's gun; a shot went off, harmlessly into the air. Elena pulled, trying to wrest it from her grasp. It aimed at Tasha's heart; Elena squeezed the trigger, just as Tasha slammed her hand sideways, knocking her aim to the left.
Pain ripped through Tasha's arm. Elena stood, silhouetted against the darkening sky. She aimed her gun down at Tasha—her finger pulled back on the trigger—and—
Click!
Tasha gasped, expecting a bullet to burrow through her chest. Then relief surged through her when she realized Elena had no bullets left.
Before Tasha could get up, though, Elena stepped on Tasha's wounded arm. Tasha bit back a cry. Elena's face loomed in her fuzzy vision like a distorted moon. "Maybe I will take you in," she said. "Then you'll wish I had killed you." She ground her heel into Tasha's wound; this time Tasha couldn't help but cry out.
Just then, a chop-chop-chop sound echoed through the woods. Elena straightened, looked toward the sky. A few moments later, a helicopter appeared, lowering into the clearing in front of the cabin.
Elena leaned down, grabbed Tasha's wrist. But Tasha twisted away, rolling into the shed, and slid the door shut, slamming down the latch. Elena yanked on it; Tasha pressed the camera trigger and a bullet splintered through the wood. A cry from Elena, with surprise or pain or both Tasha couldn't tell. She wasn't about to open the door.
The chopping sound slowed. Tasha heard muffled shouts. Footsteps resounded on floorboards. A shout from Elena; it sounded close to the cabin.
Tasha risked sliding the door open a crack; three black-clad soldiers disappeared into the house, along with Elena.
I've got to rescue Jason and James, thought Tasha. But I won't be able to do it if I'm dead.
She crept out of the shed, then saw that the dog was gone. She must have just been grazed; Tasha hoped so. She couldn't wait around to find out; she tore into the woods. Branches slapped against her wounded shoulder.
Finally she sat down on a rock in the darkness, the only sound the whispering of the trees. Her head spun; she must have lost a lot of blood. She pressed her hand to the wound to staunch the bleeding. And waited, wondering if she'd made a huge mistake. How was she going to find Jason now? How would she rescue them?
They were probably taking him back to Rakima. To interrogation, torture, and death.
It took a while for her to catch her breath, then she raced back to the cabin.
It was deserted.
She crept inside; the cabin was empty, only a few drops of Tasha's blood and the crooked coffee table showing any signs of a struggle. Of course, drugged, Jason and James hadn't put up much of a fight.
The dog, Sasha, lay on the porch, her two sons whimpering around her. Tasha tended to her wound, cleaning it, slathering some salve on it, and wrapping it in a bandage. The dog was remarkably patient with her. Then she bandaged her own arm, gathered some supplies, and stepped back onto the porch.
"Stay here," Tasha told the dogs. They looked up at her, Coal and Char tipping their heads, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. "I'll find James if it's the last thing I do."
And Jason, she silently added, then dashed off into the woods, a pack on her back, a desperate hope burning in her heart.