Deep Sleep (Devin Gray #1)(89)

“It’s clear,” he said.

Rich turned to Devin and Marnie. “The moment of truth. If this is a two-family cabin, we’re defaulting to WWKD.”

A two-family cabin meant they were potentially looking at twelve hundred sleepers instead of six hundred. If that turned out to be the case, Devin might have to reconsider his position regarding the building break-in scenario, consequences be damned, whether they pulled the rabbit or the tiger. He got the feeling Marnie would agree.

They followed Rich inside, Devin instantly relieved to see a full bed frame on one side and a bunk bed on the other. A single-family arrangement. Aside from the beds, the dank-smelling cabin contained a nightstand between the beds, wooden chests at the foot of the beds, and a small table and chair set for four near the window. He didn’t see any electrical outlets or overhead lights.

“Pretty sparse,” whispered Rich.

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Devin. “Camp Stalin looks more like a gulag than a future training ground for sleepers.”

“My guess is that the main buildings are a little more luxurious,” said Rich. “The gulags didn’t have swimming pools.”

“They probably use the pool exclusively for swim training,” said Marnie. “This place has a very deprived, utilitarian feel.”

“On purpose,” said Devin.

“Like a cult,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire camp looked like this.”

“We’ll find out later tonight,” said Rich. “I’m thinking we work our way up the rows, until we’re five or so cabins away from the center, then hunker down until the camp goes night night. Move up to the cabins closest to the center and give it another hour before we send a few people out to scout the buildings.”

“Works for me,” said Marnie.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Devin.

“We won’t have drone coverage, but I don’t think we’ll need it at that point. If the sentries at the dock haven’t turned in for the night by the time the drone goes off station, I’ll position one of the snipers to cover that approach. We’ll probably find a trail leading to the dock from the center of the camp. It doesn’t make sense for the campers to trudge through the woods after they’re dropped off. Hopefully, they’ll go straight to their cabins.”

“Getting a good look inside those buildings takes priority,” said Marnie. “They probably have fairly extensive files on every kid here. Right? They’d have to in order to monitor the kids’ progress, chronicle their loyalty—whatever they do here. That could be the big ticket that wins an FBI raid or at the very least shines a bright light on every family named in the files.”

“I like the way you think,” said Rich, turning to Devin before leaving the cabin. “She’s a keeper.”

“Thanks,” he said, not sure that was an appropriate response.

Marnie left without saying a word, so he decided not to pursue it. Devin followed and crouched next to her in the gap between cabins, rifles pointed toward the center of camp, as Rich rejoined his team on the dirt path. Mike softly shut the cabin door and paused at the top of the wooden stoop. Marnie scooted behind Devin in a hurry, stopping at the foot of the stairs.

“Did you hear it, too?” she asked.

Mike remained almost perfectly still, his head slowly canting to the side as though he was listening intently for something.

“What did you—”

Then Devin heard it. Just for a few seconds. A distant, deep rhythmic thumping sound that faded in and out. Mike turned to them.

“Take cover behind the cabin,” he said before hopping down from the stoop. “There’s an airport nearby. Probably the last flight out of—”

Muzzle flashes erupted from the center of camp, bullets snapping overhead and thunking into the cabins—along with the sharp crackle of automatic gunfire. Marnie yanked Devin behind the cabin, moments before gunfire sliced through the space he’d just occupied. Mike slammed to the ground next to him, a few feet beyond the corner of the cabin. Devin leaned out and grabbed one of his shoulder straps with both hands, hauling him out of the line of fire.

Mike was in bad shape, clutching his throat and cycling his legs wildly. Devin raised his night vision goggles and went in for a closer look, warm blood spraying his face. Mike’s hands were soaked, blood pumping through his fingers. Devin triggered his radio.

“Mike’s down. Hit in the neck,” he said. “It looks really bad.”

“Copy that. Emily will be there in a second,” said Rich.

“You got this?” asked Marnie, moving to the corner of the cabin.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to move Mike’s hands to get a better look.

He couldn’t budge them. Marnie crouched low and fired a few sustained bursts toward the center of camp. She ducked back as bullets splintered the corner above her head and slapped into the cabin behind them. A dark figure appeared behind the middle cabin, racing in their direction.

“Emily’s inbound! Give her some cover fire!” said Devin.

Marnie emptied the rifle magazine as Emily sprinted across the gap. The operative stumbled halfway, losing control of her forward momentum and crashing next to Mike.

“Shit!” Emily said, pounding the ground several times with a fist and groaning.