Chapter 17: Cache

His annoyance is gone. All that matters now is the fence and the promise of freedom it offers. Reid welcomes the familiar

feeling of it, the hum vibrating through his sneakers and making his skin break out in goose bumps. He rubs the hairs at

the back of his neck and grins with goofy enthusiasm at Drew who smiles right back, previous conversation instantly

forgiven.

"Wow," Drew says, glasses winking, "you weren't kidding. This sucker would kill a deer. No pulse, either, steady current.

That's unusual." He takes another step closer to it before falling back with a shudder. "What is it, fifteen feet high?"

Drew spins in a circle. "And no trees close to it."

Reid realizes the boy is right. "So no chance of jumping over it."

Drew nods. "Exactly. And we don't have the tools to cut one down, so..." he trails off. "Too bad. If we could find a way to

sever the connection, the whole thing would lose power."

"What do you mean?" Milo is running his hands over his bare arms and staring at the giant barricade.

"That's how electricity works." Drew suddenly reminds Reid of a teacher he had last year. But there is nothing arrogant

about the way he talks to Milo, unlike Mr. Rupert. "You have to have a complete circuit or the power won't flow."

"You think that's what those poachers did?" Milo steps back to stand beside Trey.

"Not likely," Drew says, grunting softly as he bends to pick up a pinecone. He throws it at the chain link. It erupts

into a cascade of sparks and bounces off, smoking where it lies on the ground. "If that was the case, the fence wouldn't

be live anymore."

"So how?" Reid turns to Drew. "How would they get over?"

Drew's glasses receive an adjustment while he thinks about it. "I don't know," he says at last. "There shouldn't be a

way. I mean, maybe they have some kind of tech that allowed them to only disrupt part of the current so they could cut a

hole in it, but if so that's more science fiction than science fact." He looks so serious, so grown up. Definitely a

teacher. Destined to be one. If they ever make it out of here.

"I'm less worried about how they got in," Reid says, "than how they planned to get out."

Drew turns to Reid. "What do you mean? Isn't it the same thing?"

"Maybe not." Reid looks up and down the line of the fence, seeing it curve away in the distance. "And maybe so. I've been

thinking there has to be a gate."

No one says anything, but Drew is nodding. Reid starts to follow the line, knowing they will be right behind him.

"Whoever put us in here had to get in somehow, right? That means a gate. Maybe more than one."

"Makes complete sense," Drew says. "They have to have somewhere to run the gennies that keep the fence going, where the

capacitors are. And you're right, it's not like we were air lifted in. I remember a van, being carried."

Something about what Drew says triggers a thought in Reid's head, but he loses it before he can figure out what it means.

Instead he runs on, hearing his weary band panting along behind him.

He almost misses the camp, it's that well camouflaged. But his eyes are now trained to see everything, miss nothing,

knowing his life depends on it. Reid slides to a halt in front of a large draped sheet and thinks of Mustache and Scar.

"A ghillie net!" Drew's excitement is catching. They all move forward, sliding under the edge of the artificial canopy,

heavy with fake leaves and branches, a perfect match to the trees around it. Inside the gloom it takes them a moment to

adjust to the light, but Reid has no doubt he has found the poacher's camp.

A quick search of camo colored backpacks turns up fresh clothing and everyone takes advantage. They are too large, but

with some liberated rope for belts and ties they manage to get everyone outfitted in something clean. Only Leila turns

down a pair of pants, keeping her old jeans but accepting a clean T-shirt from Reid's hands with a small smile.

"There has to be food," Drew mutters to himself. "Has to be."

It's Trey who spots the box high above in the tree. Reid gives him a boost to the lowest branch and within moments the

dark painted crate lowers toward them. Trey's yelp of surprise is all the warning they get. Reid grabs Drew who stands

directly below, narrowly saving his life when the heavy wooden box comes crashing down.

"Sorry," Trey whispers, holding up his hands. They look very red. "It was heavier than I thought." The last bit of rope

snakes to the ground, painted with Trey's blood.

Reid helps him down while Drew, Milo and Leila go through the smashed box. When Reid turns, Trey safe on the ground, he

hears an odd snuffling sound and it isn't until he gets closer that he realizes what he's hearing. The three kids are

stuffing themselves.

He resists the urge to laugh, pulling them back one by one, liberating a large chunk of power bar from Drew's desperate

hands.

"Take it easy," he says. "Trust me." Leila looks up at him, cheeks distended like a squirrel's. She nods, chews a few

times, swallows hard.

Trey dives in and Reid is forced to pull him back, too. His own belly demands food, but he remembers the agony of cramps

and wants to save them that.

It's not long before the four are groaning and clutching their stomachs. Reid passes around the water bottle while he

carefully eats some food of his own. He has at least had some nourishment in the last two days, so his system doesn't

rebel quite as much as it did.

Drew turns away just in time, puking up everything he ate. Reid is angry and disappointed and amused all at the same time

at the amount of food the boy throws up. Drew sits back, wiping his mouth with his hands.

"Sorry," he says. "I've never been so starving."

Reid hands him a fresh bar. "Slowly." He looks around at the others who are recovering from their own cramps. "One bite

at a time."

Reid tosses Trey a first aid kit and watches for a moment as Leila helps him clean and bandage his hands. He returns his

attention to the stash, packing up what he can of the food in a backpack he finds near a rolled up sleeping bag. He would

love to take it with him but knows they have to stay light and keep moving. Reid also uncovers a knife, a curved hunting

blade, tucked neatly in a leather sheath. He offers silent thanks to Mustache and Scar for leaving it behind.

He is on his feet and ready to move while the others are just settling in.

"We have to go." Reid doesn't wait for them but heads out.

He hears them scramble behind him, the tug of someone's hand on his sleeve. Reid turns to look down at Trey.

"Can't we stay?" The boy has been so quiet Reid is surprised he is the one to speak up, a slip of a kid all huge begging

eyes and coffee colored skin etched with dirt. His light voice carries, the plea in it enough to soften even Reid's

hardened heart. "Just for a little while?"

Reid wishes they could. Would love to curl up in one of those sleeping bags himself and just pretend he was camping with

his dad. But their reality is harsh and their pursuers could be right behind them.

"I'm leaving now," he says. "Stay or come with me, it's up to you." Reid pulls free of Trey's bandaged hands as gently as

he can and walks away, the heavy pack full of food on his left shoulder, the comforting weight of the knife down the back

of his pants.

He makes it to the other side of the camp before he sees something that makes his heart fall into the bottoms of his

shoes. That something flaps and flutters in the bushes. Dark green fabric. He approaches, fingers the silken feel of it.

Drew is beside him, mimicking him.

"Parachutes." Drew steps back. Looks up. "Makes sense."

It does. And it breaks Reid's heart. Drives his fury to the forefront of his mind. The cheaters. Cheaters! They flew in.

So there is no way out after all.

Drew must know where Reid's thoughts are going because he lays one hand on his arm and squeezes. "They had to have a

plan. Parachutes are one way."

It makes him feel a little better. Of course, Drew is right. But how? How were they getting out?

"Maybe they had a ride lined up?" Drew looks around. Points. "Is that a clearing?"

Reid follows Drew for once, all the way to the edge of the trees. Drew called it right. Ahead is a large meadow, empty

and serene.

"Just asking for a helicopter to land." Drew grins at Reid. "You know what this means?"

It takes Reid a moment to register. When it does, he almost drops the backpack. A helicopter? Can it be true?

"They left all their things behind," Drew says, logical, precise, and Reid wonders how he has survived without fear being

so much a part of him as it is the rest of them. "Which means they were coming back. And this clearing is the closest to

their camp."

Reid could hug the chubby boy. Shout to the treetops. Of course. Of course. All they have to do is wait.

"Unless they've been and gone." Milo is staring at the sky, arms crossed over his chest. Reid hates that the boy's

pessimism is instantly catching.

Drew shrugs, looks around. "Don't see any sign of that. Grass is undisturbed. No flattening, no debris. Helicopters kick

up a lot of wind."

Someone's hand slides around Reid's bicep. He looks down and into Leila's face. For the first time since he met her, he

sees hope and how beautiful she would be if she wasn't so scared.

"Reid," she whispers. "He's right."

He is right. To prove it, Drew cocks his head to one side and holds up his hand for quiet. At first Reid doesn't hear

anything and almost asks Drew what he is listening to. When he catches the breath of sound, when they all do, Reid's

blood surges with joy.

Whump-whump-whump. He's heard it enough times on TV and in the movies to recognize it. Whump-whump-whump. The

unmistakable rhythm of helicopter rotors.

Reid scans the sky, not alone in the search, desperate for a glimpse of their salvation. Milo is the first to spot it,

shouts, "There!" Points. They all look, see the glitter of sun on glass, watch the bug-like flying machine clear the

trees and head their way. All the while the sound gets louder. Reid is suddenly jumping up and down, screaming and

waving, happiness and relief washing away his fear. The others are too, tears pouring down their faces. Rescue, so close,

so real, is theirs.

Another sound joins their celebration and the steady beat of the helicopter's engine. A high-pitched whine pierces Reid's

ears, trailed by a hiss. As they watch, something streaks across the sky toward the hovering aircraft, hitting it dead

center.

The helicopter hovers one more moment after impact, a frozen snapshot of freedom. Then, it explodes outward in a ball of

flame and smoke. It pitches sideways, a drunken tilt taking it over, before it plummets toward the ground.

Directly at them.

Reid is still screaming, but in terror this time. He pulls Leila along, dragging her as she stumbles and falls, shrieking

and sobbing her denial. Drew staggers to Reid's side, takes Leila's other hand and helps him pull her clear and into the

woods just as what remains of their salvation slams into the ground with enormous impact, shaking the earth so hard it

knocks them to their knees.

Reid holds Leila close as she empties her grief onto his chest, staring at the wreckage, flinching when a second

explosion rips it apart. A rotor breaks free, zings toward them. It embeds in the tree above their heads, shaking it so

hard they have to dodge the top when it snaps off. They scramble to escape it in the midst of a hail of needles and

broken branches.

Reid shakes himself, gets to his feet, pulls Leila and Drew up. Trey and Milo pop into view a few feet away, eyes huge,

faces sheathed in tears. Reid builds fresh walls around his heart as he stands there, staring at the wreckage, cursing

inside, furious he allowed his hopes to get the better of him.

Of course there is no rescue. Of course whoever kidnapped them is ready for any such attempt. They are trapped and only

have each other in the end.

Reid turns to his companions, ignoring the stench of burning fuel and the sizzling pop and crackle of the fire behind

him.

"The hunters will come to check this out," he says. "We need to go."

He waits for them, but only for a moment. It's just long enough. They get themselves together and follow. But when he

glances over his shoulder one last time, he sees Drew staring at the remains, shoulders shaking. When the boy turns back,

Reid recognizes the hate in his face and nods to him.

That's all they have left.

Reid secures the pack on both shoulders and sets the pace. They run on.

***