Page 84 of Casualties of War
Chapter Eighteen
Parris’ unit spent the night easing through a countryside crawling with homeless Vistarians and Insurrecto patrols, thieves and other opportunists and more. Vistaria was a chaotic mess, Adán realized, as dawn crept into the sky.
He knew this area well and Donaldson, who was on point that night, kept him close.
Stealth was more important than speed. Adán remembered Parris’C.O. telling her the priority was to remain hidden. It meant the journey to the coast that should have taken only a long day at most would take up the better part of two nights.
They would stop, pause and melt into the shadows whenever someone drew near. Using night glasses, they would wait and monitor whoever it was until they were well out of hearing range, while Parris took notes on the positionand the passer-by.
Adán found it hard to stay still against a tree, his face turned away and wait for an entire squad of Insurrectos to march by with their heavy boots and heavier breathing.
“Why aren’t they using trucks to transport troops around?” he demanded once they passed by, keeping his voice down.
Donaldson pushed the big knife he had withdrawn back into the sheath on his thigh. “Wefigure they must be short on gas by now. No new tankers have tied up since the war broke out. Serrano will save what they have for the big push at the end.”
Of course. Such a simple thing.
“So why are they up at this end of the island?” Adán replied. “Why hasn’t Serrano moved everyone down to the other end, where the Loyalists are?”
Donaldson shrugged. “Because he’s stupid?”
Parris’ gaze caughtAdán’s. She didn’t shake her head or move at all, yet Adán sensed she was warning him to keep his mouth shut. As they turned back onto the track and walked forward, he thought it through.
If Serrano had taken the cobalt and was busy making a bomb from it or hiding the bomb he had already made—Adán had no idea how long it would take to build something like that—and if the bomb was hidden somewhereat the top end of the island, which the drone trace hinted, then of course he would have troops guarding it.
The more troops Parris and her men saw here, the more convinced she would be the bomb was here, too.
When dawn showed, Adán was relieved. All they had done was walk slowly and sometime halt to let others pass by in the night, yet he was more drained by the night than he would have beenfrom a marathon stunt session.
When Donaldson turned to him and said, with a hint of hope, “I don’t suppose there are any handy, unused caves near here?” Adán had already cast his mind back to his teenage years and could point toward the nearest remote and unpopular cave.
“No one will think to use it, even locals,” Adán said. “There was a cave-in when I was a kid and some tourists died, so theyboarded up the entrance.”
“You still snuck in, right?” Parris said, right by his elbow.
“It was a dare,” Adán admitted. “I was terrified the whole two hours I had to stay in there.”
Donaldson snorted.
“You won the bet, yes?” Parris said.
“Yeah, I did. Jonathon Luis’ complete Dirty Harry collection on VHS.”
“That’s more like it,” Donaldson said.
“Move on,” Parris said.
“Yes, sir,” Donaldsonreplied, glancing at Adán for a direction.
They reached the cave just as the sun rose above the horizon. New planking and boards were rivetted over the older chipboard sheets Adán remembered. A sign in Spanish and English warned people away.
“It’s safe, right?” Parris asked Adán.
“The bit that collapsed is two hundred yards inside. The front, right here by the boards, is flat and sandy andprobably warm, too, because the southern sun shines on the boards all day.”
“Sounds like paradise, sir,” Donaldson said.
Parris nodded. “Find a way in that doesn’t tell the world we busted in here.”
