Chapter 20
Wendy believed in justice. She had always felt that the world or the universe or God would at some point work out all of the horrible things that happened in this life.
After watching Pelton and one of his guys beat her friends for an hour, Wendy wanted to be bringer of that justice. But she couldn't. Instead, she had to stand by and watch as Pelton tried to extract information out of Cal, Kev and then Arie.
Pelton was good at friendly persuasion—Wendy had seen him manipulate people dozens of times—but she didn't know he had a special knack for hurting people.
Now she understood how he always knew where to hit her to make it hurt the most.
Control had always been one of Wendy's biggest points of pride in herself. When she heard the crack as Pelton broke Arie's arm, Wendy almost wished her control wasn’t so good. Her hands balled into fists, and she ground her teeth, but didn't move or say anything.
In the end, Kev had been the one to talk. He only did so when Pelton threatened to break Arie's other arm.
“We came alone,” Kev said through bloody lips. The eye that wasn't swollen shut turned on Wendy. “We thought she was having a flash or an episode of some sort when she left. We came to help her.”
The words lashed out through the night and surrounded Wendy with guilt, but she didn't let it show on her face.
Pelton laughed. “You thought Wendy needed help?” He moved to Wendy's side and patted her on the back. “Wendy is my best student. She doesn't need help from anyone.”
“So it seems,” Kev said.
Pelton removed his hand from Wendy's back. Her shirt tugged with it, and she imagined the handprint that now resided there—a physical representation of her betrayal, written in Kev's blood.
“String them up,” Pelton said. He twirled a finger, and his men jumped to follow the command.
His next words he addressed to Wendy. “Why don't we get a bite to eat?”
What Wendy really wanted to do was slit his throat, but instead she smiled and said, “Sure.” She turned away from her friends and moved with Pelton toward the fire. One last glance told her Pelton's men were tying Cal's feet together and hoisting him up to dangle upside down a few inches from the ground.
The mood around the fire was jovial. Conversation didn't stop, but the tone changed as Wendy approached. The only words she caught were, “The Primate will be pleased.”
She sat and watched as Clayton offered Pelton a small plate. Pelton, in turn, passed it to Wendy.
She swallowed. She needed to get the map back and escape. Only now she had to get her friends out too.
Wendy held up a hand. “You know, I'm not hungry.”
“Are you sure?” Pelton asked. His frown told her he was suspicious.
“Yeah. I'm still having those flashes from the tunnels.” Wendy dredged up the most helpless look she could muster. “Do you have my pack? I'd like to be alone for a little while. Maybe get some sleep.”
Pelton studied her for a moment, before he snapped his fingers.
Clayton brought the pack. As Wendy took it, she noticed it didn't weigh enough to have the boots in it anymore.
“Find a spot over there,” Pelton said, pointing in the opposite direction of Arie and the others. “Get some rest. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” He met her eyes and smiled.
“What?” Wendy asked. She always hated it when he gave her that look.
“I’m so glad we found you,” he said. “We can get revenge for everyone they killed.”
Wendy didn't answer.
“That's what you want, right?” Pelton asked.
She swallowed and made a show of nodding and looking overwhelmed and helpless. “Of course. I'm just...this is all...hard.”
“I understand,” Pelton said.
And he did. She knew he did. So why had he been the one to take the Den down?
“There are guards posted in six directions. If you have to get up in the middle of the night, come toward the fire first.”
“Got it,” she said. With sagging shoulders, Wendy stepped over the log and moved toward the area Pelton had indicated. There were already three sleeping bags out. Two of them were occupied. Both held women. At least she probably didn't have to worry about protecting her honor with this group. Not with Pelton in charge.
Unless he suspected her.
Wendy found a spot near a rock. Muscle memory took over, and Wendy pulled her own sleeping bag out of her pack. It didn't weigh much, but the material was high-tech and would keep her warm in a blizzard. There was a little bit of food in her pack. Food she didn't remember seeing before. Had Pelton's people put it there? Was it bad? She crawled into her bag, put her pack under her head as a pillow, and curled up with her back to the fire.
Wendy lay a long time without moving, her breathing slow and steady. These people were monsters, but they wouldn't bother her until morning. And if one of them did, she was more than ready to defend herself.
Brief scenes from the tunnels flashed through her mind, but they didn't stay. She turned her thoughts to Arie and the others. And Mike. What was his role in all of this?
No answers came, only more questions. Hours after she heard everyone else go to bed, and about an hour after a guard change, Wendy opened her eyes and looked around.
The clouds had retreated somewhat, leaving her a tiny bit of light. Two of the women's bags were occupied. The last lay empty. Wendy shuffled around in her sleeping bag, as if she was trying to get into a more comfortable position, and waited.
No one moved. Neither of the women opened their eyes.
Wendy sat up to look around.
The soft glow of the fire sat mostly hidden behind a rock, just as she'd planned. No one sitting there would see her.
Wendy slipped her hand into her pack and came out with her knife.
Time to get her dad's map back.
Wendy didn't bother to pick up her bag as she moved out of the little clearing. Bushes and grass covered most of the ground. The lack of light made moving silently difficult at best.
The air had turned chilly and crisp, and it felt as if each and every brush of a leaf could be heard for a hundred feet. Wendy's fingers turned clammy around the hilt of her knife, and she wished she'd found one with a handle wrapped in leather.
She kept the fire to her right, circling slowly. The snap of a twig from about twenty feet away stopped Wendy in her tracks, but after a minute a rustle came from the same place, then a cough.
One of the guards.
Wendy let out the breath she'd been holding and started moving again.
It took an age to get around the fire. She finally spotted the clearing where the men were sleeping. As she got closer, one of the men snorted. The normal noises of the forest stopped, and Wendy almost jumped back. The man snorted again, rolled over and went back to his heavy breathing.
It took a while for Wendy's heartbeat to slow.
Pelton never slept with the rest of his team. He always kept his bag and his pack a little way apart. Wendy found a spot to search and studied the area until she found where she thought his pack would be.
She hoped Pelton was actually on watch.
The path took her through a set of tight rocks and under a tree. Wendy found Pelton's favorite green pack and his sleeping bag near the trunk. Based on its location and temperature, no one had slept in the bag since it had been rolled out.
Wendy crept closer and crouched down in the dark shadows beside a bush.
She waited again. She had to get the map back, or at the very least destroy it.
After a few quiet minutes, Wendy crawled to Pelton's things.
She started with his sleeping bag—patting the bottom, hoping to hear the crunch of papers being creased.
No such luck. She found nothing, not even a weapon. She always left a weapon in her sleeping bag.
Wendy silently moved across the pine needles to Pelton's pack. A quick squeeze of the pack told her the box wasn't inside. She unzipped it
as slowly as she could.
Pelton wanted the map to be safe. He wanted it to be intact. She slipped her hand down the very back of the pack, thinking it might be the best place to conceal it. Her fingers brushed the edge of paper. Her breath caught in her throat. But it was only a few sheets of paper. Not the whole map—it wasn't nearly thick enough.
Disappointment sent her hopes plummeting, but did not extinguish them completely. She withdrew her hand and tried a different section of the pack. Then another.
Each time she her fingers brushed against something hard her breath would catch in her throat, but none of her discoveries was the map.
As her frustration level began to rise, Wendy had a hard time going slow enough to remain silent.
The final pocket, the little one on the front, held nothing of interest. Wendy let out a sigh and sat back. Where would he have put it?
“Looking for this?”
Pelton's voice rang out just a foot from her head.
Wendy jumped to her feet and spun around to face him, knife in hand.
Pelton stood holding the bundle of papers that was the map.
Anger coupled with the suicidal thought of simply charging him.
Then the bright beam of a flashlight hit her in the face.
At the same time, something hit her on the back of the head.