Before I ignite the hay, I make damn sure I have my next move in my head. I know where the RV is parked; I saw it on the way here. Simple enough. I hope.
I spark the hay. The gas ignites with a dry, vigorous whoosh. I avoid the ignition wave with a healthy retreat, and as I head out the barn door into the darkness toward the RV, I see the blurry orange glow already starting to rise behind me. The chickens in the coop outside start to squawk. There aren’t any animals in the barn, thank God. Just storage. I don’t want to think about what I would’ve done otherwise, because right now I have a ruthless streak a mile wide.
Survival’s a hardwired instinct.
I’m halfway to the RV, comfortably in the cover of the darkness, when I hear shouting. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but my plan was to draw a good number of them to fight the fire.
That isn’t what happens.
Floodlights blaze on all over the compound. A siren wails—the kind that rises and falls in pitch, like it’s announcing the arrival of a tornado.
Then the noise cuts off, and something else comes over the loudspeaker. Father Tom’s voice.
“Brothers, the day of reckoning is here! Today is the day that the hand of Satan is raised against us, but fear not—our army of saints is called from heaven to fight. God be praised!”
I can hear the distant shouts. Call and response. God be praised.
Christ. The FBI are coming, and they know. What the shit were you thinking, Mike? I want to scream it at him, but I’m exhausted and dirty and bleeding into the dirt, and that RV is way too far away, and I’m way too fucking slow right now to make it. The keys are in my hand. Doesn’t matter.
The compound—at least here, toward the gate and near the main buildings—is lit up like Broadway. I can see Father Tom’s lackeys running to assigned tactical positions. How can Mike not know that anything but a stealth approach is a terrible idea? Maybe it isn’t Mike. Maybe it’s some gloryhound local agent who doesn’t realize he’s about to kick off a brand-new Waco.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’ve missed something vital. The lights. The positions of the lights are mostly concentrated near the part where the cultists live and work. But the fence goes pretty far out there. Mike’s not stupid. He’ll know they have to try negotiating; hell, he’s probably been ordered to do it. But he’ll also know there aren’t enough cultists to guard every foot of fence line. The feds are going to make it in, whatever happens up at the gate. All I have to do is stay down and wait. It’s almost comfortable. Or it would be, except that with the barn on fire, I’ve put myself right in the path of anybody dispatched to put it out. I need to move.
Best I can manage is a sniper-crawl, forearms and toes. It takes me closer to the fence, which isn’t ideal, but I’m harder to spot lying down.
Or so I think, right up until I hear a shotgun being racked behind me, and what feels like double barrels press into the small of my back. “Get up,” a male voice says. “Now.”
It’s the guy I took the keys from.
So screwed.
26
GWEN
I hate waiting. Mike Lustig made me swear that Kez, J. B., Javier, Lanny, and I would stay where we were positioned on the south side of the compound, far away from the gate. He assigned two TBI agents to stay with us to make sure we’d keep the promise.
Obviously, I don’t keep the promise. We wait until we hear things kicking off in the compound, and lights blaze on inside; J. B. checks her phone and sends a text. Nobody says a word. The TBI agents look like they would rather be in the thick of things than stuck out here with us.
So they’re not looking when Cicely West and Joe Froud show up, materializing out of the dark like ghosts. The TBI agents instantly get out of the front of the SUV and pull their weapons. Cicely and Joe raise their hands. “We’re unarmed!” Joe shouts. The TBI agents rush forward.
They don’t see me, Javier, and J. B. coming up armed from behind. They’ll be regretting that for a while.
Kez hangs back with Lanny. We zip-tie the agents up in the back seat of their own SUV, ankles and wrists, and for good measure we loop zip-ties onto their belts and the door handles to hold them in place. “You’re all going to jail,” one of them snaps. The younger one. The older one seems resigned. “Hope you know that.”
“We know,” Kezia says. She grins like she’s looking forward to it.
J. B. pulls the SUV up close to the metal fence, and Javier and Kez grab a heavy rubber mat from the back of the vehicle and toss it over the razor wire strung along the top. Javier is the first over, jumping and landing with an athletic ease that I know I won’t duplicate; Kez is almost as good.
“Mom?” I’ve got one foot on the bumper, ready to climb up. But my daughter is asking for me, and I step down and turn to her. She looks pale and strained, and there are tears standing in her eyes. I hug her, and I cherish that moment. “Bring Connor back.” It’s an unsteady whisper.
I kiss my daughter’s cheek and say, “Of course I will, baby.”
Then I turn away, step up on the bumper, the roof, and climb on over the fence.
I feel the landing impact all the way up through my bones, but I don’t break anything; I know how to fall and roll to shed the force. Joe and Cicely are the last over. J. B. doesn’t even try it. Her job is to stay on the other side of the fence with the TBI’s rifle, ready to discourage anybody who comes for us.
And to guard my daughter while I can’t.
Before she jumps down, Cicely hands over our gear. Javier and I are both wearing wetsuits under our light clothes; I opted for thin leggings and a T-shirt on top, nothing that will hold me down underwater, despite the chill, and quick-dry water shoes that go land-to-dive easily.
Javier’s brought dive tanks, masks, and regulators. His plan is to get across fast, dark, and silent. He’d have done it alone except I’ve had a little scuba experience; I was certified, once upon a time, but it was years ago, before I was married. I’m just praying I remember the basics of breathing. He’s right: the most direct way to the camp is straight across the lake; following the fence line would bring us into an exposed section with lighting, and almost certainly armed resistance.
The dry bags on our backs hold our weapons and ammo.
“Y’all sure about this?” Cicely asks us. “You want us to leave you here?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “Watch yourself. These people are dangerous.”
She nods, and she and Joe slip away through the heavy brush, making their way next to the fence around the lake. It’ll take them longer, but eventually they’ll make their way around to where we’re going. And we’ll need backup by then.
Kezia says, “I wish I was going with you.”
“We need cover,” Javier tells her, and kisses her lightly. He brushes his thumb across her lips to seal it. “And you’re a hell of a shot, Kez.”
“Oh, I know,” she says coolly, and raises one eyebrow. “You hear me shooting, you stay down.”
He nods. So do I. She’s almost invisible in her hunter camo gear. Like J. B., she’s going to cover us if things go wrong.
So much can go wrong.
The Assembly has built their wall all the way around to enclose the lake and the falls and the creek that feeds it, but they don’t seem to have much interest in this side. It’s thickly overgrown, and I’m glad we don’t have to hack our way too far.