Page 46 of V-Day
11.
CHLOE SHIVERED AGAIN AND WISHEDshe’d brought her down-filled parka with her from New York, only who’d’ve thought she would need one in sub-tropical Vistaria? Only, it was freaking cold up this high in the mountains and Parris flatly refused to allow anyone to light so much as a cigarette.
It wasn’t late, although it was already dark. Night fell earlier, this far south. They had run or jogged or hurried all day, since they burst out of the house and scrambled up the sandy ridge.
Chloe didn’t remember a lot of the climb. She remembered hearing bullets whizzing yet none of them came close—Parris’ men, above them, had seen to that. They were scary-efficient in their shooting. While the Insurrectos sprayed bullets around like confetti, figuring they were safe in their hidden positions, Parris’ men watched for muzzle flash, then popped a single bullet in that direction, picking off the Insurrectos one after another, while conserving their ammunition.
It was the first time Chloe had ever been under live fire. The clinical part of her brain told her she couldn’t remember much of it because she was hopped up on adrenaline, which narrowed her focus down to the simple acts required to survive. In this case, to slither up the rope like a monkey, with a speed the drill sergeants at the military school would have been proud of.
The adrenaline let her run, keeping up with the group, as they turned and sprinted deeper into the trees. Three of the unit lingered to protect their backs.
There was no chatter. Parris ruthlessly squashed any talk at all, although the only people to try were Isabela and her daughters and once, Cristián. Parris’ men communicated with grunts and gestures and a sign language stripped down to military commands.
Chloe learned to watch Parris for directions, after Parris raised a fist and Ramirez nearly took Chloe off her feet to make her halt.
It seemed to her they’d left the Insurrectos far behind, for she heard nothing and saw nothing to indicate they were still following. Parris and her team stayed alert, though, pushing deeper and higher into the mountains with silent drive. They took a bewildering path which moved downhill as often as it went up. The sun was never in the same position. They were boxing the compass.
The sun was sinking behind them when Parris came to a halt and turned to look at Locke, her second-in-command. Locke shook his head. So did the others, one by one.
Parris nodded. She wasn’t breathing hard, despite hours of hard, steady movement. Neither was Isabela, Pia, Trini or Cristián. This was the equivalent of a quick walk through Central Park for them.
Chloe breathed heavily but only because of the altitude and thin air. She would have been fine on flat ground. Not that there was any flat ground around here.
Parris waved everyone closer to her. “We squat here for the night while the others head out and nose around. Take a seat.” She settled in an actual squat, leaning forward to compensate for the pack on her back, which she did not take off. She planted her rifle butt down in the soil and propped herself up with it.
Chloe let herself drop in a heap, exhaustion registering.
One of Parris’ men shoved a bag of jerky toward her. Chloe took three pieces. “Thanks.”
He nodded and moved on, dolling out the jerky. Another moved around silently, offering a canteen which Chloe figured was filled with water. When it came time for her to sip, she tasted a salty, diluted liquid with a minty aftertaste. Electrolytes, she realized.
After that, there was nothing to do but sit and watch the night form around them. She felt the cold. It grew colder, the longer she sat. She curled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, shivering.
Cristián’s hand on her shoulder came from behind and was unexpected, making her gasp in shock. He put his hand over her mouth to hold the sound in and waited until her heartbeat slowed.
Then he pulled her in against his chest, settling her between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her, which made her realize how cold it was, because he was warm against her back. Her shivers tapered off.
“Can we talk?” Cristián said softly.
“If you keep it below a murmur,” Parris said, her own voice low. “And if I say shut up, you shut up instantly.”
Isabela sighed. It was the first time she had made a sound since Parris rounded on her and told her to keep it zipped or else. That had been not long after they escaped the house.
“How long to we need to stay here?” one of the girls asked. Chloe thought it was Trini, although as she was just a silhouette in the dark, Chloe couldn’t be certain.
“We’re completing a five-kilometer sweep centered on this position,” Parris said. “Checking to make sure they’re not doing a long tail. We can’t afford to have them behind us when we head for the base.” Parris paused. “On flat ground, it would take a couple of hours to be sure. Here, though…”
The silence rebuilt as everyone reflected.
Cristián swept Chloe’s hair off her back and put it over her shoulder, out of his way. It was starting to frizz again. She hadn’t been able to straighten it since leaving Acapulco and the dampness and humidity were making themselves felt. She had lost the elastic she was using to keep it out of the way sometime during the day.
His lips touched the nape of her neck above the tank top and she shivered, and not because she was cold.
“I was thinking about EllaJean,” he murmured, keeping his voice down as instructed. “I think she would be proud of you, if she could see you.”
Chloe drew in a deep breath and let it out. No one had ever spoken her grandmother’s name aloud, not since she died.
“I’ve been putting it together, since you told me about the Place,” he added. “The year she died…it’s the year you ran away, isn’t it?”
