Chapter 431
[ 495 words ]
Chapter 431:
He didn’t know that Caroline had slipped out of the tent the moment he left. She was hidden in the deep shadow of a supply pallet, watching him. She saw him finish his call, then walk over to a group of soldiers standing by three fully fueled and loaded Humvees. She watched him give them quiet, urgent instructions, pointing toward the dark horizon.
Those were not the actions of a unit on standby.
The suspicion in her mind hardened into cold, hard fact. Jarrod’s main force was already in there. K.C. and this small rear guard had been left behind for the sole purpose of managing her. Of containing her.
She understood his motive. He was protecting her. But the understanding did nothing to quell the hot surge of anger and betrayal that rose in her throat. He saw her as a liability. A fragile piece of cargo to be managed. The thought was more painful than any fear for her own safety. Being left behind was a thousand times worse than facing the danger by his side.
Up𝘥𝖺𝗍e𝗌 𝖾𝘷ery 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗼n 𝗴a𝗹no𝘷е𝗹s.сom
She slipped back into the tent. Brenna was laying out her sleeping bag.
“I’m not feeling well,” Caroline said, forcing her voice to sound weak. “I think I’m just going to lie down.”
Brenna’s face filled with sympathy. “Of course. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Caroline lay down on the cot, facing the canvas wall, her body rigid. She waited, listening to the soft sounds of Brenna getting settled, until her breathing deepened into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.
Then she moved.
Silently, she rose from the cot. She pulled her small, waterproof medical pack from her duffel bag, checking its contents: sutures, bandages, a scalpel, painkillers. She scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper and tucked it under Brenna’s pillow. I’m sorry. I have to find him.
She knew this was an act of insubordination. She knew it would bring a world of trouble down on K.C.’s head. She didn’t care.
Her body moved with an instinct from training she’d hoped to never use again. She unzipped the tent flap with agonizing slowness, slipping out into the cold night air. She moved from shadow to shadow, her senses on high alert, her movements fluid and silent. She avoided the sentries’ patrol routes as if she had a map of them in her head.
Her eyes scanned the vehicle depot. She spotted a two-and-a-half-ton supply truck, its engine rumbling to life. It was heading out, likely to resupply a forward checkpoint.
This was her chance.
As the truck began to pull away, she sprinted from the shadows, a silent blur of motion. With a surge of adrenaline, she leaped onto the rear of the truck, scrambling over the tailgate and pulling a heavy canvas tarp over herself just as the truck cleared the final gate of the base.
The truck rumbled on, carrying her away from the illusion of safety and into the dark, fractured heart of the disaster.
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