Blood Covenant (18 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 6:56 A.M.
KINGANI REFUGEE CAMP

Paige started for the clinic that had already begun to fill up with patients, hating that she wouldn’t have a chance to tell Nick good-bye. With the decision made to send out a team, the men now clamored for his attention as they worked out last-minute details. Which meant she wasn’t needed anymore.

She glanced back at him, unsure of when her feelings had gone from simply enjoying the familiarity of a shared background to something deeper. But even if she couldn’t define that moment, neither could she deny that it had happened. Or that something deep within her already missed him.

Postponing the inevitable onslaught of demands that would keep her running the next twelve-plus hours, she moved past the clinic to stand on the slight rise in the middle of the camp. To the east, the sun hovered above the horizon, its yellow glow already warming the air and glistening against the icy peaks of Mt. Maja in the distance. The now familiar white tents dotting the landscape contrasted with the brown-and-green earth, where hundreds of people milled about their campsites, getting ready for yet another day.

She slipped her hand into the pocket of her lab coat and fingered Marila’s photo, hating the fact that sometimes there were no other options. Even if it meant that someone — or all of them — didn’t make it back alive. She shuddered involuntarily. Had it really come to this?

Don’t look at the bigger picture. Look at the person you’re dealing with at the moment.

A young girl wearing a brown dress ran past the opening of one of the tents toward a pile of jerricans. She set one of the empty cans on her head, covering hair that had been braided in neat, short rows, and began gracefully moving toward the water.

All she had to do was look at one person at a time and leave the rest to God.

“Paige?”

“Brandon.” She turned around and forced a smile, disappointed it wasn’t Nick. Worry lines creased his forehead, and heavy bags framed his eyes. He’d aged in the past twenty-four hours. They probably all had. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I … I wanted to talk to you about Jodi before I leave. I saw her this morning, and I’m just … I can’t help but worry. She doesn’t seem to be getting any better. ”

Paige sighed. It was the conversation she’d been trying to avoid. Because while she hadn’t lied to him, neither had she volunteered the entire truth. Which was that her hands were tied, and without a proper lab and the needed medicines, there was little else she could do. The real fight belonged to Jodi — and God.

“You know I’m doing everything I can, but there are still a lot of hurdles that she’s going to have to get through before she’s out of the woods.”

“Like?”

“One of the biggest issues with measles is the complications that often come with it. We have the pneumonia pretty well under control, but because her immune system is compromised due to both the gunshot wound and the fact that she lost her spleen in a previous accident, she also runs the risk of catching other infections.” Paige drew in a slow breath, wishing she had the answers he wanted. “The truth is that she needs to be in a hospital where they can fight the disease more aggressively.”

“Which means my wife could die from a blasted case of measles. A disease that was supposedly eradicated in the States fifty years ago.”

“Jodi’s a fighter.”

“I can’t lose her.”

“You know I’m doing everything I can, but you do have to realize that the next forty-eight hours are going to be crucial — ”

“Hey, Brandon. Are you about ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He glanced at Nick, who was slinging his backpack onto his shoulder, then turned back to Paige. “Take care of her for me. Please.”

“You know I will.”

“And …” His chin dipped slightly. “It’s been a long time since I asked anyone this, but don’t stop praying for us.”

“I won’t.” Paige watched as Brandon turned to join the men; then she headed toward the clinic, trying to dismiss the turbulent emotions charging through her. What she thought she felt toward Nick would no doubt pass by the time all this was over.
Please God. Bring them back alive. All of them.

“Paige, wait.”

She turned at the sound of Nick’s voice. Her heart pounded in her throat.

He stopped in front of her, his expression somber. “I hate leaving you here by yourself.”

“I’m hardly by myself.” Paige laughed, despite the tense undercurrents. He knew, as well as she did, that at any moment the situation could swing from bad to worse.

“Five loaves and two fish. That’s all you need.”

“I know. We’ll be okay.” She nodded and forced a smile, blinking back the tears threatening to come. So much was at stake. But she hadn’t let herself cry the past three months, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“You okay?” His hand brushed against her arm.

“Yeah, just worried.”

“About me or the supplies?”

“How about both?”

She stared up into his toffee-brown eyes and felt her stomach quiver. How had this man managed to wind himself around her heart in such a short period of time? She took a step back, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and beg him to tell her everything was going to be okay. They both knew that everything might not be okay. Which was what scared her most. If she lost him now, she’d never know what might have been between them.

He pulled his hand back slowly. “I want you to be careful.”

“You …” Her voice caught. “You’re the one having to tramp through the snake-infested forest.”

“I’ll be fine. Really.” His expression darkened. “There is … there is one other thing. There are rumors that some of the rebels have infiltrated the camp and are holding valid registration cards.”

A wave of panic swept through her.
How much more complicated is this going to get, God?
“Which means they’ve probably smuggled in weapons?”

“I don’t know for sure. Just be careful.”

Paige swallowed hard. “Then I guess I’ll see you when you return.”

He hesitated, then tipped her chin up so she had to look into his eyes. Her pulse quickened as she caught the intensity in his gaze. She had to tell him not to go. She wasn’t ready to do this on her own and needed him here with her.

“Nick, I — ”

His lips brushed against hers, catching her off guard. The fear that had tried to engulf her evaporated. All she could think of was that she needed him. All she could feel was the warmth of his nearness as their kiss intensified for one suspended moment.

He took a step back, then pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

Heart pounding, she watched him turn around without another word and walk away.

THIRTY-SIX

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 10:37 A.M.
BENSARI FOREST, KINGANI REGION

The scent of rotting leaves filled his senses as Nick skidded down the steep ravine behind Samson, wondering how the burly man moved as fast as he did. The thick canopy of evergreen trees blocked most of the sunlight above them, lending an eerie feel to the already claustrophobic damp forest, while a layer of ferns and roots twisted and turned along the damp forest floor, slowing their progress.

He swatted at a mosquito — one of the hundreds that had discovered the new human feeding grounds — and quickened his steps. Brandon walked beside him in silence as they trampled through a seemingly never-ending narrow pathway of dark, hanging vines.

A monkey howled in the distance. A bird cawed. Another mosquito buzzed in his ear. He swatted the back of his neck, where the welts of other bites swelled. For the past three-and-a-half hours they had tromped through the forest until mile after mile of tall trees and thick bush blurred together and looked strangely familiar.

Like they were going in circles.

Nick glanced behind him where Nigel and Philip struggled to keep up and blew out a sharp breath. They should have left those two back at the camp. At this pace, they’d be lucky if they made the village by nightfall. He shook off his suspicions. Everyone’s nerves were on edge, and his mind had started to play tricks on him. Just because the same, unending canopy of green hovered above them didn’t mean Samson was leading them into some sort of trap. Or that the schoolteacher and his friend were rebels plotting to murder them before they got to the village.

But innocent or not, deep inside the thick forest was the perfect place to make someone disappear. And somewhere, along the edges of this forest, the rebels had set up a camp. Which meant that at any moment they could stumble across the rebel base, leaving Paige and the refugees at the mercy of the Ghost Soldiers.

He forced his thoughts to something more pleasant.

Paige.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her, but there had been something irresistible about her as she’d looked up at him with those big, gray-blue eyes, full of both determination and vulnerability. She’d awakened something inside him he hadn’t felt for a long time. And from her response, she’d felt the same thing.

He climbed up another steep ravine, his lungs hungry for air. He’d performed dozens of military ops where lives had hung in the balance and where death lingered around the corner. With Paige, he’d wanted more than anything else to take on the role of protector and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That he’d fight off the bad guys for her so she could save the world, then go home. But that hadn’t been a promise he’d been able to make.

Brandon slowed down at the top of the rise, temporarily pulling Nick’s thoughts back to the present.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Brandon shrugged. “I think we’re going in circles.”

That nagging concern that something was wrong returned. “I agree. Everything looks the same, which means we have to trust Samson.”

“Do you?”

“Trust him?” Nick weighed the question. Samson was just far enough ahead to be out of earshot. He might have entertained a few doubts, but at the moment, not trusting him wasn’t really an option. “He’s given me every reason to trust him, no reason not to.”

“You’ve heard the rumors about rebel moles inside the refugee camp?”

“Yeah.” There was no way to know how many of the rebels had infiltrated the camp or how many weapons they’d brought with them. Gun smuggling wasn’t an uncommon practice in camps and had made the risk of them leaving even greater. Unfortunately it was a risk he’d felt he had to take.

They started walking again before they lost sight of their guide. If he was leading them in circles, there was no way they could know for sure.

“I can’t shake the feeling that the mole could be one of them.”

Nick glanced behind him. He caught a glimpse of Nigel’s red shirt. Nigel and Philip had dropped further behind them. “The same thought has crossed my mind, though this isn’t exactly the time to worry about who’s on our team. Besides, I have a hard time believing those guys behind us are rebels. They can hardly keep up with us. The rebels we’ve seen have been trained by the military. They’re certainly not schoolteachers from Kinja.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone pretended to be someone they weren’t.” Brandon started walking again. “Then what about Samson? He volunteered to lead up the camp security, putting him in the perfect position if he was a rebel.”

“He also shot one of the rebels and stopped them from kidnapping Paige.” A rodent dashed into the deep undergrowth in front of them. As long as he didn’t see a snake … He pushed the thought aside. “That kind of behavior doesn’t exactly help the opposing side.”

“It would if he was intent on keeping his cover, because think about it: what better place to be than to lead up the camp security?”

Samson held up his hand. They scurried to catch up with him. A vine snapped beneath Nick’s foot. “What’s wrong?”

“Nigel and Philip aren’t behind us.”

Nick turned around. “I just saw them — ”

A gun fired.

Nick took off back up the ridge, careful to stay behind the cover of the dense brush. Either the rebels had found them, or Brandon’s fears of a mole among them had been on target.

Stopping at a small clearing, he scanned the underbrush, looking for something out of place. Nigel sat on a dead log, holding his hand. There was no sign of anyone else, including Philip. Where was he?

“Nigel, what’s going on?”

Nigel held out his arm, his hand shaking. “He tried to kill me. Philip shot me.”

Blood ran down his hand, staining his light-beige pants.

“I want you to slow down and take a deep breath.” Nick stayed partially hidden behind one of the trees. “Where’s Philip?”

“I don’t know. It …” He shook his head. “It all happened so fast. I stopped to tie my shoe and the next thing I knew there … there was a gun in my face. I … pushed him. I think he slipped down the ravine.”

“What about his weapon?”

“I don’t know.”

Nick made his way cautiously toward the incline, knowing an ambush wasn’t out of the question. The five nomads and their desert garb flashed in front of him, machine guns in hand. Nick flinched, then shoved away the image. This was not the time for haunting images from his past. He had to stay focused. If Philip was one of the rebels, he would easily be able to pick them off one at a time.

He looked over the edge of the ravine. Philip lay prone at the bottom, no visible signs of blood, his neck oddly twisted.

Where was the gun?

Samson and Brandon appeared at the summit. “What happened?”

“Take care of Nigel — he’s been shot.” Nick pointed to his backpack. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in there. I think Philip’s dead.”

“Be careful.”

Nick handed Brandon his bag, then slid down the ravine. There was no sign of blood or other signs of injury. He checked Philip’s pulse. Nothing. “He’s dead.”

Brandon called from the top. “What about a weapon?”

Nick searched the forest floor for the gun, stepping over and around patches of mud. It lay partially hidden in the brush.

“I’ve got it.”

Nick shoved the gun into his back pocket, then grabbed a gnarled vine and started climbing back up the steep slope. Brandon offered his hand at the top. “Did you see any signs of anyone else?”

“No one.”

“Nigel. Did you see anyone else here?”

He shook his head. “He was one of them. One of the rebels.”

Brandon had already ripped off a piece of Nigel’s sleeve and started doctoring the wound. “Looks like it’s just a flesh wound, with no bones broken. Do you need to stop for a few minutes — ”

“No.” Nigel glanced down the ravine to where Philip’s body lay. “I’ll be fine. I will not let that bastard win.”

“Then we must hurry.” Samson started back toward where they’d come from. “The sun is already high in the sky.”

“What about his body?” Brandon asked.

“I say we leave it there for the vultures.”

Nick wanted to dismiss Nigel’s suggestion, but knew they had no choice.

Nigel took the lead with Samson. Maybe this time he’d do a better job of keeping up. He and Brandon followed. “Do you trust him?”

Brandon shook his head. “It was all too … too convenient. From the way he described what happened, Nigel is the one who should be dead, not Philip.”

“Maybe.” Nick stepped over a thick vine lacing the forest floor and landed in a pile of mud. He pulled his boot out of the muck. “But if Nigel is one of them, why not just shoot us all and have it over?”

“I don’t know. Because he’s playing it safe? Or maybe it’s because we’re worth more to them alive.”

Nick felt for the gun he’d slid into the back of his waistband. “Or maybe the mole is back there, lying dead at the bottom of the ravine.”

Brandon shook his head. “Let’s hope you’re the one who’s right.”