Endless Flames (Surviving Ashes, Book Four) (26 page)

“I discovered Truman’s suspicions about having a brother were true,” Tank replied, snatching up his coffee cup and walking over to the overused carafe. He poured himself some brew with a not so steady hand. Berke wasn’t sure that had to do with aging. “Van is his own flesh and blood.”

“How is that even possible? The police report stated that one child was on the scene. I remember the day he told us when Van finally looked into it,” Berke recalled, wanting to verify this profound discovery. The effects of this would forever ripple in Van’s life and who knew how long that might be at this point? “His mother didn’t die until she was—”

“Van was three years old.” Tank turned and held the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at its contents as if he were watching a movie unfold. “He doesn’t remember a thing from that time and who could blame him? It turns out that Truman had been in kindergarten at the time of Stacey Overton’s death. The boy was listed as living with a cousin Van’s mother had stayed in contact with so that he could go to school in a better district where the gangbangers weren’t in control of the curriculum. Those Polish Orthodox communities are tightlipped and the cousin didn’t want to give the boy up. She would have taken Van too, except he was already in the custody of Children’s Services and she didn’t have the best track record with the law herself. The rest of it played out as these things often do and the case was closed since there was no foul play suspected in the mother’s death. Nothing was ever documented.”

That way of life made it easy for people to disappear. They were low-born forgotten people.

“Van tried reaching out to his grandparents at one point,” Berke recollected, Van’s details of what exactly happened sort of vague. They had been gearing up for one of those damned endless summer training evolutions at
The Stumps
and Van hadn’t wanted to talk about it too much. “They wouldn’t take his call. They wanted nothing to do with him, so he wrote them off.”

“Van had already read the police report by then,” Tank said, most likely reminiscing about the same day. “What was the point in digging up old family history when they’d already made their feelings known he wasn’t a part of theirs? There was no reason for him to think he had a brother.”

“Truman must have grown up knowing all along, so why wait this long?” Berke asked, not willing to accept that this was so cut and dry.

“He didn’t know what happened to his brother until the middle of last year,” Tank informed him, slowly walking back to his chair. The monitor in front of him clearly showed the majority of the team preparing for their long journey, though Mav was absent from the screen. He was most likely retrieving Webb from the holding cell. “Which is when I stepped in.”

Berke realized that Tank hadn’t wanted Van’s life to be turned upside down if Truman’s story didn’t check out. It was Ernie’s way of protecting one of his own.

“I did what I thought was best and when Van couldn’t stay longer and the timing of everything went to shit, let’s just say I didn’t handle the situation the best way I should have,” Tank admitted, sitting down and reaching for his cap. He adjusted it over his untamed grey hair, the stress of everything notable in the lines of his face. “It just wasn’t something you or the group should have known before Van had a chance to deal with it himself. The best laid schemes of mice and men…”

“No one should be dealing with the fallout of this eruption, but we all are,” Berke reminded Tank gently. He didn’t want to add on to the old man’s guilt. “We’re all guilty of something, Tank. Someone reminded me lately that we’re only human. We’re not so different and we sure as hell aren’t perfect.”

“You picked a good one there,” Tank said softly, reminding Berke that he
was
lucky, just as he was fortunate to be a part of this family unit. “Go get our boy and bring him home. We have something to tell your brother.”

Van
was
their brother…heart and soul. It appeared they’d picked up a few more brothers and sisters, but there was room. There would always be room in an orphan’s heart for family.

Berke didn’t waste time turning on the heel of his boot and walking out the door with purpose. They wouldn’t allow some holier than thou, self-serving piece of shit to come in and try to tear away the foundation they had all found in this unit. As Tank had said…it was time to bring everyone home.

M
axie’s heart rate
had been accelerated ever since she lost sight of Berke. Technically, that had been nearly four hours ago. That was a long time to go without having eyes on the man she loved.

There. She’d said it to herself.

Well, she didn’t literally utter the words, but they were running through her mind.

Maxie wasn’t sure how long it took for love to form, but surely the length of time varied. After all, it had only taken her one split second to fall in love with Jacob. He’d become her entire world nearly overnight. Granted, it was a different type of love, but it was still the same all-consuming emotion.

A month seemed like an eternity. Maxie and Berke had known each other for years though, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that they’d recently grown closer. Was it?

Maxie wasn’t even sure why she was obsessing over titles or why she had chosen this topic to chew on as they ascended into the backbone of the mountain range that spawned Snowy Peak as one of her children. She could have worried herself over the fact that Jacob was currently in the bunker without either her or Berke to soothe him. She could have worried herself to death over Berke being far enough ahead of them that she couldn’t do a damn thing should something go off plan. There were numerous concerns to get herself worked up over and yet she’d chosen to try and name what she felt for Berke.

She was certifiably insane. Truly.

Maxie also ached from head to toe. This four-hour trek had worked muscles she hadn’t even known existed. The thing of it was…she was in pretty good shape. She used to maintain a daily workout regimen due to her profession, so physically this hike shouldn’t have been such a problem. The lactic acid was building up in every muscle, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d complain. Hell, she was more worried about her mental state at the moment.

Maybe the ever-present ash surrounding them had something to do with that. After all, the quiet and stillness to the air around them was quite unnerving compared to the sound of her own breathing. Yes, the ash was falling, but it was descending as if in slow motion. There was no sound as the grey residue hit the ground and swallowed up another small piece of the world. There were no crickets, no birds, no wildlife of any kind to make a noise. Where had they all gone to seek shelter?

The silence wasn’t peaceful at all. That could very well be the reason Maxie’s heart rate hadn’t returned to normal since they’d set foot off their private sanctuary. Tank had been a visionary, looking to the future and seeing it necessary to protect his community should the need arise. He’d done that. Now there was a man who felt his need for shelter superseded everyone else’s, even those who provided for themselves through their own hard work. Their frightening surroundings were very similar to those horror shows on television, where the main character was dreaming of walking through uncharted territory and a hand reaches out for her when she least expects it.

“Fuck,” Maxie whispered harshly, the word rumbling through her gasmask. An adrenaline rush had crashed over her as Mason grabbed her arm. He was lucky she hadn’t shot him with her weapon. “What’s wrong?”

Maxie hadn’t spoken too loud, so she doubted Mason had heard her through the voice emitter. She turned to the side so she could see him clearly and found he was motioning for her to follow him. Why was he stopping?

Mason took a few more steps to Maxie’s right, leading her into what appeared to be some type of overhang. It wasn’t a cave so much as an indention in the side of the mountain. It didn’t go too far in, but the depth was enough so that the ash wasn’t falling around them anymore. The darkness of the extension cased them in more shadow and she could barely make out Mason’s expression, though she could see his movements as he brushed what ash he could off of his body and hair.

“Change your filter,” Mason instructed in his typical brisk manner after he’d removed his mask. Maxie followed suit, although was very careful not to breathe in too deep. They might be out of the ash by a couple of feet, but she wasn’t taking the chance of getting that shit in her mouth and down into her lungs. “Also, drink something while we have a chance. What you can’t finish from the canteen, empty out onto the ground. We don’t want the sound of sloshing water alerting the enemy.”

“We should be fairly close,” Maxie said, ensuring her tone remained low enough so no one could hear her. She unscrewed the canister filter, popped the rubber covers off of the replacement, and then set them on the old one so that it could be recycled in the bunker machine shop later. “How far is the meeting point?”

Mason knew the area well. It had been agreed upon that the two of them would stop at a juncture and then wait for Mav or Berke to come over the radio, signaling that the exchange was successful. The wait time was eight minutes. Should Mav or Berke not signal them within that timeframe, everyone would then advance.

“Right here for us.”

Maxie had been looking over her shoulder at the noticeable difference in light at the overhang. She wasn’t sure what she thought she’d see. Maybe a shadow or some indication of movement, but she hadn’t expected Mason to say the eight minutes had started thirty seconds ago. She rested a hand over her heart, wishing she could control the rapid beats. This type of situation was nothing like she’d experienced on the police force.

“Did you—”

“I noted the time when we arrived.” Mason had quickly and efficiently slung his full-sized AR variant and changed out the filter on his gasmask, hooking it to his belt as he then retrieved an additional weapon out of his backpack. It looked like a small, suppressed submachine gun. She could finally see from the outline that it was an MP5K-N like the ones they had taken off of the opposition’s raiding party. “We’re down to six minutes.”

They had given Mav and Berke a three-minute lead, which meant it would take one hundred and eighty seconds to reach them should something go wrong. Maxie strained to hear the echo of gunfire, but the stilled silence reigned. The radios weren’t making a sound and there wasn’t even the rhythmic hum of her heavy breathing.

Silence.

Could that mean the exchange had gone simple and effortless?

Maxie was up against the ridge when Mason’s warning rang in her ears. Nothing was ever easy. Her weapon was up level in her hands and aimed down the line of fire by the time the second round was shot in their direction. She aimed at the bright explosion, squeezing the trigger three times. Mason had dropped to his knees, flipping his selector switch to fully automatic and lighting up the other side.

Three seconds. That’s how long it lasted before Mason called out that they should cease fire.

Maxie didn’t waste time putting on her gasmask, not knowing what was in store for them. She quickly, albeit not gracefully, made her way a couple of steps to the left, wanting to make herself a more difficult target to locate should someone still be taking aim in their direction. She and Mason had the advantage of finding their targets by the enemy firing at shadows first, giving away their location.

“There was only two of them,” Maxie whispered, looking down to see Mason putting on his gasmask and rolling to the edge of the ash wall for a better vantage point. “I don’t hear any fire exchange coming from Sealey and Fairfax’s location.”

“Shhh,” Mason cautioned through his mask, tilting his head in an apparent attempt to listen for whatever had caught his attention. They waited an additional minute and when nothing happened, he sat back against the ridge she’d used as leverage. He looked at his watch. “Four minutes left.”

Maxie could tell something was wrong with the way Mason had lifted his left arm. She ever so slowly closed the distance between them, ignoring his warning that she should stay where she was.

“You’re hit,” Maxie exclaimed in anger, wishing she’d known sooner. “How bad?”

“A graze. Nothing important,” Mason replied, still motioning for her to back up. “Get back in position. Something isn’t right and you’re only making us a bigger target.”

“Be glad you’re still a target,” Maxie remarked, quickly retrieving a pressure bandage out of her backpack. She made sure her pack was secured before applying the sterile dressing to the wound and tying a cloth tightly around his arm. “It means you’re alive.”

“No wonder you two get along so well.”

At least, that’s what Maxie thought Mason had muttered underneath his gasmask. It broke through her fear and she flashed him a smile. His comment reassured her that he was going to be just fine, along with the fact that he was right. She and Berke had something special and no one had the right to take that away from them.

“Two and half minutes,” Maxie noted, leaning back on the heels of her boots. She looked down and couldn’t even see where her pants left off and her laces began. It reminded her of a saying her father used to repeat often when she delayed doing something.
You’ll only collect more dust the longer you sit there
. He was right. She didn’t want to wait around to be someone else’s target. “I think we should—”