Page 62 of Tag
54
Tag
We moved fast.
No goodbyes, no debrief. Just loaded up, fueled, and pointed the convoy toward Nevada.
The desert highway was empty under the moonlight, miles of cracked asphalt stretching out like a black ribbon. Gideon drove point with Callahan riding shotgun, her laptop balanced on her knees, scanning for any sign Graves was moving on the same target.
Aponi sat in the back with me, the map spread across her lap. Her finger traced the winding dirt road that led to the mine. “This is the only access point. Once we’re in, there’s no easy way out.”
I glanced at her. “Then we make sure we’re the only ones going in.”
She didn’t answer, but her jaw was set, the kind of determination that made me both proud and uneasy.
Gideon’s voice came over communications. “We’re twenty miles out. No heat signatures yet.”
That didn’t mean much. Graves knew how to stay invisible until it was too late.
Aponi folded the map and leaned back. “When we get there… if something happens—”
“Don’t.” I cut her off. “Nothing’s happening to you.”
Her eyes softened just enough to make it harder to look away. “Tag—”
I shook my head. “Not negotiable.”
She didn’t push it, but I saw the words she swallowed. Words I didn’t want to hear in case they sounded like goodbyes.
The radio crackled again, this time with Callahan’s voice. “Heads up. We’ve got movement—east of Redwater. Could be nothing, but…”
I already knew it wasn’t nothing. “Graves?”
“Or his people,” she said. “If they’re cutting across the flats, they’ll reach the mine about the same time we do.”
I keyed my communications. “Then we beat them there.”
Graves
The cell phone on his desk buzzed once. Graves answered without looking at the caller ID.
“They’re on the move,” a voice said. “Headed for Redwater.”
Graves leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth curling. “Good. Let’s meet them there.”
He ended the call, opened the desk drawer, and pulled out a matte-black pistol.
Tonight wasn’t about running.
Tonight was about ending it—on his terms.
55
Aponi
The mine loomed ahead, a black mouth carved into the side of the mountain, its rusted support beams jutting like broken teeth. The air smelled of dust and something older—like the earth had been holding its breath for a hundred years.
Gideon killed the headlights as we rolled off the highway and onto the dirt track. Gravel crunched under the tires, too loud in the silence.
