Three (Article 5 #3)(62)

“Three will save the prisoners,” I said, hoping it was true.

A commotion from the main floor distracted us from the conversation. The refugees were charging away from the back exit.

“Hurry!” shouted Marco.

Polo ushered them through the supply room door where one by one they disappeared.

Chase and Jesse ran onto the floor, weapons drawn. I caught sight of the girl—Kaylee—the last in line to reach the room. She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes wide, as the garage door at the back of the loading dock began to rise.

“Hide,” whispered Marco.

I dove beneath the nearest printing press, feeling the heat radiating off it in waves. Across the floor, Chase crammed behind a tall stack of boxes near the emergency exit. Jesse followed Kaylee into the supply room and rammed the door closed just as the garage lifted fully.

The noise of the machines clanged into sudden silence, replaced by the growl of the delivery truck as it backed into place beside the parked car we had brought. From my viewpoint, I could see the glossy black boots of a soldier emerge from the passenger side of the cab and step to the ground.

The boxes of hijacked Statutes waited at the edge of the loading dock, boxed and ready, though there were still stacks that were unpackaged sitting on the black belt above me.

I held my breath until my lungs burned, knowing I could not make a sound.

“Kind of late for a delivery,” I heard Polo say.

Another man—the driver—came around the hood of the car to join the first. I could only see four pairs of boots and their pants from the knees down.

“We’re on doubles, they didn’t tell you?” The new soldier yawned loudly for effect.

“Always the last to know,” said Marco.

“Chief’s throwing a party on account of all those rat nests we took out last week,” said the driver. “Everyone in the region’s been invited. Didn’t you get leave approved from command?”

“Oh, that party,” said Polo. “We get invited to so many…”

“We’ll be there,” said Marco. “Um … where exactly was it again?”

“Charlotte,” said the driver. The second laughed, obviously realizing Marco and Polo had not received an invitation. “That’s our last stop on this run.”

“Charlotte?” asked Polo. “Why are you taking Statutes to the base?”

My stomach twisted.

“We’re not,” said the passenger. “We’re half full with booze for the party. We’ll drop these off at the distribution center in Asheville then head over to the base. Trying to get our run in before the bender.” He snickered.

“In that case let’s get you loaded so you can get out of here,” said Marco.

The back of the truck was opened.

“You got company?” asked the passenger.

“No,” said Polo quickly. “Why?”

“The other truck.”

“Down for repairs,” Marco explained. “Transmission went out on the road and they towed it here. Said they’d pick it up last week, but…”

“Huh,” said the driver. “Thought maybe it was your rebels again.” The other soldier laughed as they began throwing boxes haphazardly into the back.

“What rebels?” Polo’s voice had dropped. I glanced to the side, catching Chase’s dark gaze just for a moment before looking back to the truck.

“Your cruiser,” said the driver. “Everyone heard how someone stole it from the lot.”

We’d taken it—Chase, Sean, and I—to get back to Louisville the last time we were here. Marco and Polo had reported the car stolen when we didn’t return.

“Can’t even keep your hands on a two-ton piece of metal,” jibed the passenger.

“Everyone knows?” said Polo. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Probably why you missed your invite to the party,” said the driver.

Marco and Polo laughed weakly.

They exchanged a few more words as they loaded the back of the truck with the hijacked Statutes. I felt sick. If they looked at what they were doing—if they stopped for one second to actually read what they were packing up—we were all dead.

But they didn’t. It was business as usual, and soon they were slamming the door closed and saying their good-byes.

I could hardly believe it; we were going to get out of this. But just as my muscles began to release, one last pair of boots went sprinting silently for the back of the truck. The door was rolled up, just a few inches, enough for a flash of navy blue to roll over the tailgate into the main compartment.

“No!” I whispered. My fingers dug into the cool cement floor.

By the time the soldier had returned with the key to lock the back, the gate was in place, as if it had not been moved. The two soldiers continued their routine, said their good-byes, and started the truck. A minute later they pulled out of the loading dock into the night, taking Billy with them.

*

“WE can’t leave him!” I argued to a stone-faced Jesse.

“We didn’t leave him anywhere,” he said. “He made his decision, now he’s got to play it out.”

Chase swore quietly.

“You heard what the soldier said,” Jesse added. “They’re on doubles. How long before another truck comes through here?”