Page 52 of Convergence

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Home sweet home,” Easton said as he climbed out of the truck. The three of us followed, stretching out our arms and legs. We looked around, taking in our surroundings. “You three are welcome to stay in the RV. Don’t ask how I got it up here. I’ll put on some supper for you to have before you go to bed. And Eva, I’ll get those cuffs off of you. Come on in.”

Easton’s cabin was mostly one room with a small bathroom off to the side. He had a few mismatched chairs he told the guys to get around the table while he lit a gas lamp, then stoked a wood stove to a roaring fire. Easton had a small twin bed against the far wall of the cabin, but in direct view of the wood stove, a small dining table with four mismatched chairs, a kitchenette that comprised a steel basin working as a sink, and a few cabinets. Easton pulled out a small toolbox and rummaged through it on the table for a moment before he pulled out a handcuff key. He held out his hand for my wrist and I placed my hand over his.

Up close, I saw how similar he and Everett were in appearance. Everett’s callused hands had softened some during the months we worked in the lab, but Easton’s were still rough against my skin. He was gentle as he unlocked the cuff and an instant relief swept through me.

“You’ll want to bandage that after dinner. It looks raw,” Easton advised. He was right, the handcuff on this wrist had been so tight that my skin had rubbed raw underneath. Bright red skin circled my wrist and the air of the cabin bit at it.

“Thank you,” I whispered before joining my guys.

Easton opened a jar of beef stew and added it and some carrots he had in a basket on the table to a cast-iron pot he placed on a grate in the wood stove. I watched Everett eying Easton’s cooking and smiled, remembering his books on primitive cooking. I had borrowed one and read some of it, so I knew this was right up Everett’s alley.

Once Easton finished preparing the stew, he ladled it out for us and grabbed a loaf of crusty bread out of the cabinet. I heard both my guys’ stomachs rumbling as Easton tore chunks off for each of us. He popped the cork off a home brew bottle and poured each of us a glass of a dark beer. We tucked in eagerly and barely spoke as we ate. We had eaten little more than granola and coffee in twenty-four stressful and exhausting hours. Easton watched us devour the salty and savory meal before speaking.

“I know you’re tired, but I need to know some more information about who you think set up the assignment before you go to sleep,” Easton said as we finished eating.

I sipped at the smooth, bitter beer and waited for one of the guys to talk.

“Well, we have a few ideas. It's either the college, the government, or a pharmaceutical company,” Nate recalled.

“I’m almost a hundred percent sure it is not the government. They are not this sloppy with their work. And I have heard nothing about it,” Easton said.

“I thought you weren’t in the Army anymore,” Everett said.

Easton only smiled at his brother. “Let’s just say that I still have contacts. And none of my contacts have made anything known. And they would have if this was the government and involving my baby brother.”

“So, who do you think it is?” Nate asked.

“We’re looking at a private group with their own interests. I have more people I need to talk to, but I’ll keep digging. I’ve already got a few people following some trails,” Easton said, and sipped his beer.

“How do you know you can trust them?” Everett asked his brother, his concern etched into his brow.

“We all have worked together for a very long time, little brother. We look out for each other. Many of them live here in these mountains with me. I trade with them almost every week,” Easton explained.

“Are they Army, too?” Everett asked.

Easton only smiled that same secretive smile. “We’re connected.”

Everett sat back in his seat with a sigh and looked at his brother for a long time. “You know you had Mom and Dad thinking you’d run off and were living in the woods like a squirrel or something.”

Easton shook his head. “No, I’m livingwiththe squirrels, notlikea squirrel.”

“Why?” Everett asked. His one word question held years of family heartache and my chest constricted.

“To protect you.”

“From what?”

“What I know. What I’ve seen.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m sorry,” Easton said, and leaned toward Everett in his sincerity.

“You broke Mom’s heart,” Everett added. I leaned over and placed my hand on Everett’s forearm to break his stare down with his brother.

“I know,” Easton said quietly.

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