had shared with Lisa. Many nights they had sat on the second floor balcony, gazing into the night sky. His grandfather had instilled in him a keen interest in astronomy, and during those quiet moments in Havana, Lisa would lean against his chest as Paul pointed out various constellations his long-gone grandfather had taught him.
Missing her, the hollow pain in his heart created by her death made feeling anything else all but impossible. That same sorrow provided the injection of purpose he needed as the Horde’s leader, however. Lisa had accompanied the mission in part at his request. Her sacrifice would not be wasted. She had expected him to find survivors and deliver them to safety. Meeting that goal was all that kept him from collapsing into misery.
Rising to his feet, Paul paced the interior edge of the command tent. He had voluntarily spent much of the day secluded there, and the night’s storm forced him to languish for additional hours in the canvas headquarters. Now, he found the isolation grating.
He had long grown used to the company of others. Whether the inner circle of the mountain camp, Lisa and his friends in New Cuba, the men of his search and rescue teams, or more recently Hicks and Derrick, Paul enjoyed the distractions amiable conversations offered him. I really must be getting cabin fever if I’d look forward to a conversation with Hicks, he mused.
The former mercenary and the Horde leader had developed a collegial relationship over the past several weeks. Though the man still possessed his harsh and jaded views, Paul could not dismiss Hicks’ insights in managing the expanding community. Derrick too, supplied much needed suggestions and details regarding the Horde’s members. While Paul was at the helm, the other two men greatly aided his navigation of these uncharted waters.
Thinking of water turned his mind back to the maelstrom outside. He had agreed to a set time frame to wait for Hicks and Derrick’s return, but his desire for action prompted him to call out to one of the guards at his tent entrance.
“Sir?”
“Pick three or four of our best trackers,” Paul issued. Our best trackers are out in the storm, he sourly thought again. “I want them to leave at first light.”
“Yes, sir!” the guard replied with near martial formality before exiting the tent.
Knowing how well the two men enjoyed roaming in the wild, Paul spoke to himself. “Sorry, guys. Fun time is over.”
Chapter Six
The palpable tension made the drive all the more grueling. Settled uncomfortably into the backseat of the Humvee, Lisa stared out of the small window on her right. Much like the last three weeks, Mike made no attempt to include her in the conversation in which he was currently engaged with Erik. As their voices faded into a dull murmur at the rear of her consciousness, Lisa stared out at the empty landscape, contemplating the decisions that had placed her in this situation. Try as she might, she could not bring herself to fault Mike for his anger towards her. That someone would discover her involvement in the Ira Project, and her subsequent hiding of that truth, had plagued her relentlessly over the years.
Though he may have secluded himself on New Cuba, she knew Mike held loyalty and friendship as prized virtues. That one so close to him—part of his inner circle—had committed an act of destructive treason was certain to cut deeply. Would I have received such news any differently? She knew the answer easily. As much as she sought forgiveness and redemption in the eyes of those whom she loved, Lisa could admit she would have been just as unlikely to grant it if roles had been reversed.
Losing Andrew had only further hardened Mike’s feelings against her, but his reaction was not all that troubled her as the Humvee navigated the sloped bank of the parkway. No, it was the fear that the loathing in Mike’s eyes would be identical to Paul’s when he learned the truth.
The scenery beyond the
Missing her, the hollow pain in his heart created by her death made feeling anything else all but impossible. That same sorrow provided the injection of purpose he needed as the Horde’s leader, however. Lisa had accompanied the mission in part at his request. Her sacrifice would not be wasted. She had expected him to find survivors and deliver them to safety. Meeting that goal was all that kept him from collapsing into misery.
Rising to his feet, Paul paced the interior edge of the command tent. He had voluntarily spent much of the day secluded there, and the night’s storm forced him to languish for additional hours in the canvas headquarters. Now, he found the isolation grating.
He had long grown used to the company of others. Whether the inner circle of the mountain camp, Lisa and his friends in New Cuba, the men of his search and rescue teams, or more recently Hicks and Derrick, Paul enjoyed the distractions amiable conversations offered him. I really must be getting cabin fever if I’d look forward to a conversation with Hicks, he mused.
The former mercenary and the Horde leader had developed a collegial relationship over the past several weeks. Though the man still possessed his harsh and jaded views, Paul could not dismiss Hicks’ insights in managing the expanding community. Derrick too, supplied much needed suggestions and details regarding the Horde’s members. While Paul was at the helm, the other two men greatly aided his navigation of these uncharted waters.
Thinking of water turned his mind back to the maelstrom outside. He had agreed to a set time frame to wait for Hicks and Derrick’s return, but his desire for action prompted him to call out to one of the guards at his tent entrance.
“Sir?”
“Pick three or four of our best trackers,” Paul issued. Our best trackers are out in the storm, he sourly thought again. “I want them to leave at first light.”
“Yes, sir!” the guard replied with near martial formality before exiting the tent.
Knowing how well the two men enjoyed roaming in the wild, Paul spoke to himself. “Sorry, guys. Fun time is over.”
Chapter Six
The palpable tension made the drive all the more grueling. Settled uncomfortably into the backseat of the Humvee, Lisa stared out of the small window on her right. Much like the last three weeks, Mike made no attempt to include her in the conversation in which he was currently engaged with Erik. As their voices faded into a dull murmur at the rear of her consciousness, Lisa stared out at the empty landscape, contemplating the decisions that had placed her in this situation. Try as she might, she could not bring herself to fault Mike for his anger towards her. That someone would discover her involvement in the Ira Project, and her subsequent hiding of that truth, had plagued her relentlessly over the years.
Though he may have secluded himself on New Cuba, she knew Mike held loyalty and friendship as prized virtues. That one so close to him—part of his inner circle—had committed an act of destructive treason was certain to cut deeply. Would I have received such news any differently? She knew the answer easily. As much as she sought forgiveness and redemption in the eyes of those whom she loved, Lisa could admit she would have been just as unlikely to grant it if roles had been reversed.
Losing Andrew had only further hardened Mike’s feelings against her, but his reaction was not all that troubled her as the Humvee navigated the sloped bank of the parkway. No, it was the fear that the loathing in Mike’s eyes would be identical to Paul’s when he learned the truth.
The scenery beyond the
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