“Your father. If we could have gotten you out years ago, we would have. But it wasn’t worth the risk as long as you were safe.”
Johnson smiled again, wryly. “You changed that when you decided to fight me three years ago.”
Loup tore open the second bar. “You were sure it was me?”
“As soon as I heard.” He played the flashlight’s beam down the long shaft. “That’s when they started working in earnest on the other side of the wall. They had to be careful as hell so the army wouldn’t notice. Could have really used another month or two. There’s a path, but it’s not easy and the whole structure’s unstable.”
She shrugged. “If you knew, how come you didn’t train harder?”
Johnson snorted. “Because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell you could beat me. You ready?”
Loup crammed the last bite into her mouth. “Yeah.”
He nodded and handed her a flashlight. “Follow me. Once we’re in the tunnel, put your feet where I do, and don’t touch a fucking thing.”
“Okay.”
FIFTY-FOUR
They descended into darkness.
The shaft was sunk deep, maybe eighty or a hundred feet below the surface. Down and down they climbed, rust flaking from the rungs. The air was hot and stifling, worse than Loup’s cell, and the farther down they went, the worse it got.
“Okay.” Johnson’s flashlight beam moved sideways. “I’m down. Watch your head.”
Her feet touched something solid. Cement. She tested, let go of the rungs, and moved away. Her head brushed the ceiling and dirt sifted down.
“You have to crouch.”
“Got it.” Loup turned, keeping her head ducked. She played her flashlight’s beam over the tunnel. It was low and narrow and stifling, but it looked intact. “This isn’t so bad.”
“Here, no. The bad stretch is outside of town. This way.”
He set out at a steady, crouched jog. Loup followed. She felt better for having eaten. The dirt walls passed in a blur. “Hey, Johnson? What’s gonna happen to you?”
“Nothing, hopefully.” His voice sounded muffled in the tunnel’s close confines. “I’ll be questioned. But there’ll be a handful of people willing to swear they saw me somewhere else tonight.”
“Friends and allies?”
“Some. Not all.” He chuckled. “Doesn’t hurt to have an identical twin. We’ve been planning this for a long time.”
“What about my friends?”
“As long as you stay away, they’ll be okay. No way any of them could have gotten you off the base.” Johnson gave her a quick glance over his shoulder. “And that Santa Olivia business, that’s a nice touch. Everyone’s already in an uproar. When they find that empty cell with the basket and the robe… You think soldiers aren’t superstitious? They’ll talk. It’ll muddy the waters, confuse things.”
“What about Coach Roberts?”
He was quiet a moment, jogging without comment. “I don’t know. He and General Argyle go way back. I think he’ll be okay.”
“What about Mig?” Loup asked. “Any chance he’ll get his ticket north?”
“Miguel Garza?”
“Yeah.”
“Some.” Johnson shot her another quick look. “You care? I had the impression he was kind of an asshole.”
“He is,” she agreed. “But he’s a good guy, too. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
He slowed, came to a halt. “Yeah, we do that.”
Loup fetched up behind him. “Do what?”
“Show people what they could be if they dared.” John Johnson’s beam picked out the dimensions of the collapsed tunnel ahead, the sunken walls and fallen ceiling propped with crude planks, bits and pieces of salvage. “It’s complicated. Here’s where it gets bad. Follow me.”
He led.
She followed.
It was bad. Three hundred yards’ worth of tunnel had been dynamited, had collapsed in on itself. It had been cleared enough for a single person at a time to pass, but the entire structure groaned and quivered, tenuous. Johnson picked his way through the tunnel, stepping over piles of dirt, sidling past supporting planks. The air grew closer and his breath came hard and shallow.
Loup stepped in his footprints, emulating him.
There were other footprints.
“Who—?”
“Shh.”She went quiet. It felt like a single misdrawn breath would bring everything crashing down on their heads. Timbers creaked. She avoided touching them. In one hard-packed section, there was a hole so narrow they had to squirm through it like worms, wriggling in the dirt.
“Fuck,” Loup muttered, crawling on her elbows. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No.” He flashed a white grin, helped pull her out. “Come on.”
Step and step, sidestep and sidle. Feet placed exactly there and there and there. Touch nothing, move onward in an eternal crouch. Wood shivered, dirt filtered, shifting. The beams of their flashlights crisscrossed, making patterns in the hot, dusty air. At one point, Johnson aimed his overhead.
“We’re under the wall.”
“Shit!” Loup breathed.
“Yeah.”
Timbers creaked and groaned.
And then the tunnel opened, became solid once more. Cement floor, dirt walls. All solid, holding. John Johnson shifted back into a steady jog, his back hunched, his rucksack over one shoulder. “Almost there.”
They reached another shaft. Johnson aimed his beam up it and whistled softly, once, then twice. The second time, there was an answering whistle.
“Okay.” He stowed his flashlight and began to climb. Loup followed, her heart beating fast. Up and up they went. The air grew cooler and easier to breathe.
Johnson reached the top and spoke to someone. A low voice answered. He clambered out of the shaft.
Loup took a deep breath and followed fast, scrambling to her feet.
She was in a warehouse filled with piles of dirt and rubble, unused boards. A trio of battery-powered lanterns lit the space.
A lean young man she didn’t know gave her a broad smile. There was a car, another figure standing beside it. Smaller, shivering, arms wrapped around herself. Her face was uncertain, filled with hope and fear.
Pilar.
“Loup?” she said in a small voice.
Loup stared, disbelieving.
“Told you we had people watching you,” John Johnson said behind her. “I wouldn’t quite say our kind mates for life. But when we fall, it tends to stick, even at your age. I guess it helps keep us alive.” He nudged her. “Go on.”
She took three steps forward, still not daring to believe; but then Pilar was there, flinging her arms around her neck, burying her face against her shoulder. She was shaking like a leaf, her voice broken and her words half-incoherent. “Oh, God, I was so scared, I didn’t know, I didn’t know if I should trust him, I didn’t know if I was gonna end up raped and murdered and left in the desert to die, and then that tunnel, that fucking tunnel, I thought I was gonna die in that tunnel, but I just, I just, if there was a chance… I just don’t want to spend my life without you…”
On and on, the words poured out of her.
Loup wrapped her arms around Pilar, held her tight, tighter, absorbing her terrified shudders. Her heart soared, impossibly full and glad. “It’s okay,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against Pilar’s bowed head. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Finally, the shaking stopped.
“You okay?” Loup asked.
“Uh-huh.” Pilar lifted her head and nodded vigorously, then demonstrated by kissing her with head-spinning fervor and a lot of tongue.
Someone made a throat-clearing noise.
Loup extricated herself, holding Pilar’s hand. “How?” she asked simply. “You said they were all being watched.”
“Yeah.” Johnson grinned. “They are. And she was. But some little pissant of a Salamanca pitched a fit about the army spying on his girlfriend. Convinced them she hadn’t seen you in almost a year, didn’t want to have anything to do with you. He got them to call off the dogs. Seems your heroics, um, threatened his manhood.”
The young man laughed.
“Rory kind of freaked out after the fight,” Pilar agreed. “I did tell him the truth. He didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?” Loup asked softly, gazing at John Johnson. “I understand about the guilt. Tommy. But you didn’t have to do this. Take this risk.”
He returned her gaze, level and unblinking. “I cost you someone you loved. I wish I could bring your brother back. I can’t. But this I could do.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “By the way, this is Christophe. Henri’s son; your cousin. He’s working in league with the Mexican government. He’ll take you to meet people, talk to important people on the other side of the wall. Maybe make a difference. No one born in an Outpost has ever gotten out before.”
“Hi.” Loup greeted Christophe. “Thanks.”
He inclined his head. His expression was somber, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, which were as wide and dark as her own. “My pleasure, prima,” he said in softly accented English.
Johnson cleared his throat again. “Loup… I’ve got to run. And I need the uniform back. Laundry keeps tabs. Do you mind?”
“Umm…”
Pilar tugged her hand. “C’mon, baby.” She smiled, all dimples. “I’ve got stuff you can wear.”
“Okay.” She let Pilar lead her to the far side of the waiting car, where she rummaged through a satchel crammed full of clothing. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Me neither.” She handed Loup a pair of faded jeans. “These oughta fit. They’re, um, kind of tight on me. When that guy came, Johnson, and told me he could take me to you, I thought it had to be a trick, that it was gonna be something awful, but I just had to try, you know?”