Shadowmark (The Shadowmark Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

“Then why aren’t they at the camp already? Wouldn’t they have shown up by now?”

“I really don’t know why they’d want it, and neither do you.” Nelson turned to Carter and Alvarez. “Think about what I said. We should leave while we still have a chance.”

“Hey, everybody!” Schmidt called to them as he jogged over.

“We haven’t seen you in a while,” said Alvarez.

“Colonel’s keeping me busy. He’s ordered everyone over. The whole camp. Right now.”

“What’s up?”

“He has an announcement.”

They followed Schmidt to a group standing in front of one of the only running Jeeps. Colonel Nash stood atop it. As uniforms and refugees gathered, Lincoln realized just how big the camp had become.

Alvarez stood beside Lincoln. “Must be at least three hundred extra people here.”

They crowded in. Lincoln, so absorbed in his own troubles, had not paid much attention to the shabby newcomers, who had arrived at the camp with only the clothes they wore. Although few refugees seemed injured, most had a pinched, pallid look about them—hunger treated everyone the same. Lincoln had tightened his own belt again that morning. He looked down at his own khakis and button-down. When had he last tried to wash them? He couldn’t remember.

“Alright, everybody! Get quiet!” Nash stomped on the hood of the Jeep. “As you know, we’ve had to cut rations, but it’s still not going to be enough. We don’t have the ammo to keep hunting, and the game are already becoming scarce, so I’m ordering all of the people who are not military personnel to leave.” Muttering broke out instantly among the refugees. A few hollered obscenities. Nash held up his hand for silence.

A man from the crowd shouted angrily, “Where should we go? There’s nowhere else!”

“That’s up to you,” said Nash curtly. “You have three days.” Several hundred voices hollered at once now, and Nash had to yell at the top of his lungs for silence. Soldiers lined up in front of the Jeep like riot police. Someone spit on Schmidt, who held his ground. When the noise abated, Nash continued, “In the meantime, I am imposing a curfew. When you put your campfires out at dark, you must stay at your tents or campsites.”

“You can’t enforce that!” yelled a man next to Lincoln. With a start, Lincoln realized it was Nelson.

Nash puffed up. He scanned the crowd, spotting Lincoln. “Anyone wandering out of area after dark will be shot. No questions asked. Gather your things. You’re leaving in three days.” Nash motioned to Lincoln.

Fresh murmuring broke out. A woman questioned loudly where he thought they would go.

“It’s your duty to protect these people!” yelled Nelson again.
 

Lincoln nervously glanced at the crowd and grabbed Nelson’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Do you want to start a riot?”

Nelson jerked away from Lincoln, who pushed his way through the crowd to the Jeep. Alvarez, Carter, and Nelson followed him. The soldiers recognized them and let them through. Nash remained on top of the Jeep, staring down at the crowd. Three or four refugees looked like they wanted to protest more strongly, but eyed the soldiers’ guns. The remaining refugees reluctantly left in clumps, talking and muttering among themselves.
 

Nash jumped down and motioned for Lincoln and his team to follow him back to his tent. Once inside, he took a swig of water and swirled it in his mouth before spitting it out in the dirt.

Nelson spoke first. “These people are counting on you for protection, Colonel.”

“I am protecting them, dang it! We’ll all starve if they stay.”

“But they don’t have weapons. They don’t have a doctor. What happens when they run into trouble? Starvation isn’t the only thing they’ll encounter out there.”

“They made it here, didn’t they? They can make it out.” Nash fixed Lincoln with a cold stare. “Schmidt tells me you’ve found something.”

Lincoln pulled out one of the well-worn drawings from his coat pocket. He handed it to the colonel, who stared at it for several minutes.

“What does it mean?” he asked finally.

Lincoln shook his head. “I think it’s some sort of language, but we can’t decipher it.”

Nash tossed the drawing back at Lincoln. “That’s it?”

Lincoln stood up a bit straighter. “No. We found a second entrance to the silo. Well, to the mountain. All the doors in are closed. But something made them open at one point—I just don’t know what.”

“Listen, Colonel,” Carter stepped forward. “We know this is alien now, and I believe at some point the Glyphs will come here. With all these reports of attacks in the mountains, maybe they’re looking for it.”

“There hasn’t been any enemy activity around here,” said Nash.

“Exactly,” said Lincoln. “I don’t think they know about it. If the aliens knew about it, they would be here already. They’re not related to our current invasion.”

Nash choked on his water. “How could it not be related? All of you think it’s coincidence?” He looked from Lincoln to the others.

Alvarez glanced at Lincoln, hesitating, then shook her head. “It’s too big a coincidence. I think we’re in danger here.”

But Nash was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Or we have a perfect place to ambush the enemy.”

“With what, Colonel?” asked Carter.

“Ourselves. If we can get the Glyphs on the ground, we can take them out.”

“Meaning?” Alvarez frowned.

“Meaning,” said Nelson. They all turned to him. “That’s why you’re sending away the refugees. They’ll get in the way if the Glyphs show up.”

“You moron. If the invaders show up here, I just saved a lot of lives! And listen, you four—so far we’ve kept the mine, or silo or whatever, quiet. It needs to stay that way.”

“Don’t worry,” said Lincoln as they left. “The last thing we need is people getting lost in those tunnels.”

“I’m leaving,” Nelson announced as they walked to the silo a little while later.

“Nelson!” said Alvarez. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know. But I do know this isn’t what I want. Nash is crazy.”

“What about all your talk about Nash protecting the refugees?” asked Lincoln.

“I was speaking for them, not for myself.”

“I wonder what Nash wants to do?” Lincoln led the group toward the mine entrance, even though all of them knew the way by now. Nelson had not been back since they discovered the symbols.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m leaving. I think all of you should go, too. This is bigger than any of us.”

Lincoln scoffed. “What are we going to do? Just wander around the woods? No thanks.”

“What about the old idea of finding your sister?”

Lincoln halted. “Mina is dead,” he said with conviction.

Nelson turned to face him. “And solving this won’t bring her back! No, listen. We’ve lost people, too! Friends. Family. I don’t think any of us would have chosen to come here if we’d known what would happen next!”

“So you want to go back to Boston and find your dad? Because he’s dead, too.”

Nelson clenched his fists. “I don’t care what you do. Stay here. Figure it all out. But I’m leaving with the rest.”
 

“What you said the other day about asking all the wrong questions—what did you mean?”

Nelson scoffed and tossed his hands in the air. “We stopped asking all the questions we had in the beginning. Where’s Cummings? Why isn’t Nash helping us more? Why’d they send us out here in the first place? Why didn’t ARCHIE decipher that writing before now? Who’s responsible for that mountain being shaped like a cone?” Nelson took a deep breath. “And
what the frack are we still doing
here
?”

“I thought we said the Glyph attacks interrupted all of Cummings’s plans,” said Alvarez.
 

“But we’re just assuming.”

Lincoln stepped toward Nelson, towering over the small man. “You and your theories—.”

“—Are just theories, I know. But what are
you
doing here, Lincoln? It’s arrogant to think you can solve this mess by yourself.”

“I don’t think I can solve it by myself!” Blood was pounding into Lincoln’s head. He leaned over, pointing his finger into Nelson’s face. “But I haven’t had much of a choice, have I? When someone who was supposed to be helping me is too scared brainless to see it through!”

Nelson swatted Lincoln’s hand away. Lincoln shoved him with both hands, and Nelson reeled back, trying to remain upright. He regained his footing and charged Lincoln, driving his shoulder into Lincoln’s belly and knocking out some of his wind. Lincoln stumbled back, and Nelson took advantage of the backward momentum to try to trip Lincoln with his leg. But Lincoln recovered and grabbed Nelson’s shirt with his left hand, his right fist already on its way to Nelson’s face.

Carter grabbed Lincoln’s arm. “That’s enough!” he shouted.

Lincoln tried to shake off Carter. “Get out of my way!”

“Stop!” yelled Alvarez from behind.

The three grappled for a moment—Lincoln and Nelson going for each other while Carter forced himself between them. As he did, his hand slipped off Lincoln’s arm, and Lincoln’s elbow accidentally connected with Carter’s nose. Blood spurted out of it, and Carter let them both go. Lincoln backed off.
 

Alvarez rushed to Carter.
 

“I’m alright,” he said irritably, waving her away and mopping up the blood with his sleeve. Alvarez glared at Lincoln and Nelson.

Lincoln cleared his throat and straightened his clothing, his ears still ringing in anger.

Nelson scowled at Lincoln before turning to the others. “I hope you two come with me, at least.” He turned on his heel and walked back toward camp.

Carter and Alvarez said nothing.
 

Lincoln ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. It was wet with sweat. “Sorry,” he said to Carter. “Is it broken?”

Carter pulled his shirt sleeve away. The bleeding had almost stopped. “Don’t think so,” he said.

Despite Doyle’s frustrating lack of communication, Mina felt safe in their isolation. The invasion seemed like a distant memory now. Days had turned into weeks, and Doyle had taught her how to identify the edible plants and fungi growing in the mountains—wild grapes, scallions and ramps, and chicken of the woods, which Mina was disappointed to learn were not chickens but mushrooms. Mina adapted to gathering rather quickly but recoiled from the live rabbit Doyle brought to their campfire one night.

“I can’t,” she complained.
 

“If you don’t kill it, you don’t eat it,” he said simply. Mina watched in horror as Doyle swiftly broke the rabbit’s neck with his hands, then gutted and skinned it with his knife before spitting it on a branch over the fire.

“That’s disgusting,” she said. “I won’t do that.”
 

Doyle raised his eyebrows and dug into his meal with relish. After weeks of foraging, Mina was famished. But she could not get over her squeamishness, so she watched Doyle in silence, her mouth watering.

From then on, Doyle caught a small animal every night. Every night he gave her the chance to clean it, and every night she refused. More than once, her stomach betrayed her by growling loudly as soon as the delicious smell of roasted bird or rabbit wafted in her direction.

Finally, one evening when Doyle returned from hunting, she stood up to meet him. “Show me what to do,” she said glumly. Doyle handed her the soft, plump rabbit without a word. It squirmed to get away. She closed her eyes, whispered, “sorry,” and swiftly wrung its neck. The rest of the process was easier.
 

That night, Mina slept with a full stomach for the first time in a long time.

The next day, Doyle insisted she trap her own food. This skill did not come as easily to her her as she had hoped. Judging by his curt, rude comments, she was not learning as quickly as Doyle had hoped, either.
 

“You’re in too much of a hurry,” he said as they hunched over a snare. “It’s too low and small to catch anything but a mouse. Get it right.”

“I’m trying. Just . . . go away and let me figure it out.”

“It’s a simple snare. Open the loop more and then prop it up.”

“You’ve already shown me what it looks like. I can’t set it with you over my shoulder.”
 

But her feeble traps caught nothing, and Mina went hungry again for many nights afterward. The first time she caught a rabbit on her own, they took the afternoon off from hiking to celebrate.

“Where did you learn all this stuff about plants and trapping animals?” asked Mina through a mouthful of meat.

“Camping,” said Doyle.
 

“Without food or water?”

“Sometimes. It was like a game before. To see how long I could camp unaided. It was for fun then. Pretty useful now.”

“You just woke up one morning and thought, ‘hey, I think I’ll hike up into the woods without food and water and see if I don’t die?’”

“Maybe.”
 

“That’s it? You aren’t going to elaborate?” All the space Doyle had given her at the beginning of their journey was wearing on her now. Yes, her life had significantly improved since she met him, but she might as well be by herself considering the quality of his company.

“Sometimes other people went camping with me.”
 

“So you had friends, then.”

“Something like that.” Doyle smiled uncharacteristically. “I had friends, yes. Surprised?”

Mina tried to imagine a social situation in which Doyle would be comfortable chatting around the fire, surrounded by friends, but the image would not form. “No, I’m not surprised.”
 

“Yes, you are. You’re a terrible liar.”

“Well, I suppose people put up with all sorts of abuse for friendship.”

“Ah. There it is. Do you think I’m rude, Mina?” He asked the question without looking at her, putting another log on the fire as if her answer meant nothing to him.

“Yes.” She said it definitively, so he could not misinterpret her. Yes, he was downright rude when he wasn’t ignoring her completely.

“What were you expecting when you came with me? A best friend? Or maybe you were looking for a knight in shining armor. Someone to carry you across puddles so you don’t get your feet wet?”