Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(25)

I'm practically doubled over breathless by the time I see them. I'm breathing so hard, I'm surprised they can't hear me.

They approach what at first looks like a dilapidated group of buildings. But a closer look shows that the buildings are actually fine. They only look dilapidated because there are branches leaning against the buildings and woven in a net above the compound. The branches are carefully placed so that they look like they fell naturally. I’ll bet from above it looks just like the rest of the forest. I’ll bet from above you can't see the buildings at all.

Hidden beneath redwood lean-tos around the buildings are machine guns. They are all pointed up at the sky.

This does not have the feel of an angel-friendly camp.

Raffe and the five hunters are met by more men in camouflage. There are women here too, but they're not all in uniform. Some don't look like they belong here. Some lurk around in the shadows, looking greasy and scared.

I get lucky because one of the guys ushers the dogs into a kennel. Several of the dogs are barking so if some of them bark at me, it shouldn't be noticeable.

I look around to make sure I haven't been spotted. I take my pack off and hide it in a tree hollow. I consider keeping the sword with me but decide against it. Only angels carry swords. The last thing we need is for me to nudge their thinking in that direction. I put the blanket-wrapped wings beside the pack and mentally mark the location of the tree.

I find a good spot where I can see most of the camp and flatten myself on a piece of ground covered in enough leaves to buffer me from the mud. The cold and wetness seep through my sweatshirt anyway. I throw some leaves and needles over myself for good measure. I wish I had one of their camouflage outfits. Luckily, my dark brown hair blends in with my surroundings.

They shove Raffe onto his knees in the middle of their camp.

I'm too far away to hear what they're saying, but I can tell the men are debating what to do with him. One of them bends over and talks to Raffe.

Please, please don't make him take his shirt off.

I frantically try to think of a way to rescue him and still keep myself alive, but there’s nothing I can do in broad daylight with a dozen trigger-happy guys in uniform swarming the area. Unless there’s an angel attack that distracts them, the best I can hope for is that he’ll still be alive and somehow accessible once it gets dark.

Whatever it is Raffe tells them must at least satisfy them for the moment because they pull him up to his feet and take him inside the smallest building in the center. These buildings don’t look like houses, they look like a compound. The two buildings on either side of the one in which they take Raffe look big enough to house at least thirty people each. The one in the center looks like it could house maybe half that. My guess is that one of them is for sleeping, another for communal use, and maybe the small one for storage.

I lie there, trying to ignore the wet cold seeping in from the ground, wishing the sun would go down faster. Maybe these people are as afraid of the dark as the street gangs in my neighborhood. Maybe they’ll go to bed as soon as the sun sets.

After what seems like a long time, but is probably only about twenty minutes, a young guy in uniform walks by only a few feet away from me. He holds a rifle at a forty-five degree angle across his chest as he scans the forest. He looks like he’s ready for action. I stay perfectly still as I watch the soldier walk by. I’m surprised and immensely relieved that he doesn’t have a dog with him. I wonder why they don’t use them to guard the compound?

After that, a soldier walks by every few minutes, too close for comfort. Their patrols are regular enough that after a while, I get the rhythm of it and know when they’re coming.

About an hour after they take Raffe into the center building, I smell meat and onions, garlic and greens. The delicious smell has my stomach clenching so hard that it feels like I have cramps.

I pray that it is not Raffe I’m smelling.

People file into the building on the right. I don’t hear an announcement so they must have a set dinner time. There are far more people here than I realized. Soldiers, mostly men in uniform, trudge out of the forest in groups of two, three, or five. They come from every direction.

By the time night rolls around, and the people disappear into the building on the left, I am almost numb with the cold seeping in from the ground. Combined with the fact that I’ve had nothing but a handful of dried cat food all day, I don’t feel as ready as I’d like to be for a rescue.

There are no lights in any of the buildings. This group is careful, obviously hiding themselves well at night. The compound is silent except for the sound of crickets, which is a pretty amazing feat considering how many people live there. At least there are no screams coming from Raffe’s building.

I make myself wait for what I think is about an hour in the dark before making my move.

I wait until the patrol walks by. At that point, I know that the other soldier is on the other side of the compound.

I count to one hundred before I get up and run as quietly as I can toward the center building.

My legs are as cold and stiff as gunmetal, but they limber up real fast at the thought of being caught. I have to take the long way around, skittering from moon shadow to shadow, working my way in a zigzag pattern toward the center building. The crisscross of the canopy works to my advantage, speckling the whole area with shifting shadows.

I flatten myself against the shadow side of the mess hall. One guard takes measured steps to my right, and in the distance, the other walks slowly on the other side of the compound. Their footsteps sound dull and slow, as if they’re bored. A good sign. If they heard anything unusual, their steps would be quicker, more urgent. At least I hope so.