The closed trailer was hot and dark. Louis and Gladice sat side by side on two overturned crates, their shoulders touching. His cane rested against his knee. Gladice held the backpack across her lap with both arms around it. The truck had stopped twice since they left the garage. Each time, it slowed and stopped. Men spoke somewhere outside. Once, someone struck the side panel with the flat of a hand. Louis could not make out the words. Both times, after several minutes, the truck moved again.
At the second stop, Louis reached across Gladice and slipped his fingers beneath the flap of the backpack. He found the zipper and began to pull it open.
Gladice caught his wrist.
“Patience,” she whispered.
He turned toward her. “It would take five seconds.”
“Five seconds is too long in the wrong place at the wrong time. Put it back.”
Louis did not move at once. He wanted to send one message: Alive. East of Atlanta. Don’t panic.
Gladice kept hold of his wrist until he released the zipper.
“They think we died last night,” he said.
“I know.” She did not let go. “And if you open that now, they may get to be right.”
Louis kept his fingers on the zipper for another moment, then let go. He rested his head against Gladice’s shoulder. She put an arm around him, drew him closer, and gently patted his upper arm.
After some time, the truck slowed again. The engine shut off. A moment later, Jacob opened the rear doors, and sunlight filled the doorway. He stood behind the trailer in the motel parking lot, holding one door open.
“Nine tonight. Alley behind the fried chicken place. Bring everybody. I’ll see y’all.”
“Thank you for the ride.” Louis pushed himself to his feet with the cane.
“For sure.”
Gladice took the cane from him, climbed down first, and set it on the pavement. She reached up, and Louis took her hand as he lowered himself to the edge of the trailer. When he dropped the last short distance, she caught him against her body and wrapped both arms around his waist. Louis held on to her shoulders until he found his balance.
Jacob closed and latched the trailer doors. A moment later, the engine started, and the truck pulled away. They crossed the parking lot together. Angelique opened the door on the first knock. Once they were inside, she shut and locked the door.
“You were gone longer than expected,” she said.
“Checkpoints.” Gladice slipped off the backpack and set it on the nearest bed.
“And shopping, apparently.” Angelique glanced at it. “Nice.”
Louis leaned his cane against the bedframe, unzipped the pack, and took out the laptop bag. “And I got us a laptop and phone.”
“Hell yes.” Willa left the motel Bible open on the nightstand and came over. “Let me see.”
Louis set the bag on the far bed and opened it. Willa sat down, took out the laptop and phone, and connected them with a short cable.
“Did anyone come looking?” Gladice asked.
“No. And we heard no cars circling the lot.” Angelique went to the window and parted the curtains. “We are safe for now.”
“No, we are not,” Gladice said. “Theodore Hargrove has the whole country looking for us.”
Donya looked up, her brows drawn together. Angelique turned from the window. Willa stopped with the laptop across her knees and the phone connected to it by a short cable.
“Define the whole country,” she said.
“Local law enforcement. Church volunteers. Militia. The secretary’s dogs like Marshal Graves. Anybody with eyes who thinks there’s money in turning us in.” Gladice sat down on the edge of the bed and rested her elbows on her knees.
“How do you know that?” Angelique asked.
“We made contact with the black market.” Louis pulled out a chair and sat, leaning the cane against the table beside him. “One of the bosses called Marcus Ellington.”
“Who?” Donya asked.
“Guy who runs Old Downtown.” Louis leaned back in the chair. “We met in his office. He had a prisoner. One of Hargrove’s men. He let Gladie work the interrogation.”
“Of course,” Angelique said dryly.
“It went well,” Gladice said. “We got the information and did business. That’s how we got the phone and the laptop.”
“What did he say?” Willa asked without looking away from the laptop.
“That Hargrove is hunting us. I mean Angelique, Gladice, me, and...” Louis stopped before the name. He could not say it.
“Jennifer.” Gladice said it for him.
“Jennifer?” Donya asked.
“She died last night.” Angelique sat beside Gladice and took her hand. “Shot by those bastards.”
“Oh.” Donya covered her mouth. “I am so sorry.”
Gladice looked down for a moment. “Anyway, Hargrove wants us captured. We need to stay alert.”
“We need to contact my father.” Louis nodded toward Willa. “Are they safe to use?”
“Working on it.”
Willa typed quickly, stopping every few seconds to read the screen. The laptop fan switched on. She muttered under her breath and kept typing.
Donya stood beside the table, watching Willa work. She kept looking from the screens to Louis. He wished she would sit down.
“Do you think your father can send someone for us?” she asked.
“I want to say yes.” Louis leaned the cane against the table and folded his hands. “But after everything, this shithole country isn’t exactly easy to get into, I’d say.”
Willa said without looking away from the screen, “If Hargrove thinks you guys are alive, he’ll have eyes on the border.”
“Great.” Angelique sighed. “Another reason to love this place.”
Gladice said, “We still have Ellington. He’s inviting us back for a drink tonight.”
“To discuss extraction?” Angelique asked.
“Maybe. Or to decide whether we’re worth the risk.” Gladice looked at Louis. “We should go.” She turned to Angelique. “All of us.”
“Do we trust him?”
“It’s the best option we got right now.” Louis shrugged.
Willa finally stopped typing. She looked at the phone screen once more, then turned the laptop toward Louis.
“It’s clean enough,” she said. “As clean as I can make it in this room with this hardware. I’ve killed location, scrubbed identifiers, and built a sandbox tunnel through the satellite link.”
Louis took the chair Willa had vacated and sat in front of the laptop.
The Dominion interface had finished loading. He had not seen it in too long. Back home, he had never needed to wonder whether a system would work. He wanted to go home, where he could trust the systems around him.
Willa stepped back. “I disabled what I could. Let’s hope the Dixies are as good at cybersecurity as they are at running a country.”
Gladice stood behind Louis with one hand resting on the back of his chair. Angelique pulled another chair over and sat beside him. Willa and Donya stood behind them, watching the screen.
Louis entered his credentials, then typed the recovery key from memory. The system verified it and opened his Personal Space. The background was the Pacific coastline near Santa Monica. His inbox showed several thousand notifications as the account synchronized. His private channels were still there. So were his files, contacts, and the familiar gold lock beside every verified identity.
Louis opened a private channel and entered his father’s handle. The gold lock appeared beside the name.
He typed one line.
I am alive.
Then he pressed send.
A few seconds later, a video call request appeared. Louis accepted it. His father’s office in Sacramento appeared on the screen. Constantine sat behind his desk in shirtsleeves. His hair was uncombed, one side of his collar had folded under, and his eyes were swollen and red. He stared at Louis. For several seconds, he said nothing. His mouth opened once, then closed. He raised one hand toward the screen and stopped before touching it.
“Louis?”
“It’s me.”
Constantine covered his mouth. He lowered his head, and when he looked up again, tears were running down his face.
“My son.” His voice shook. “I thought you were dead.”
Louis had never seen Constantine cry before. He gripped the edge of the table. For a moment, he could not speak.
“I am alive,” he said.
Constantine gave a short, breathless laugh and wiped his face with one hand. “I can see that.”
He turned toward the door. “Judith! Serana! Get in here!”
Footsteps and voices came through the speakers. Judith appeared beside Constantine, her face pale and her eyes wide. She put one hand on his shoulder and leaned toward the camera. Serana leaned into view beside her, already crying.
“Louis.” Judith covered her mouth, then lowered her hand.
“I know.” Louis kept his eyes on his mother. He could not look at his father yet. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”
Serana laughed once through her tears and wiped her face with her sleeve. Judith leaned closer to the camera. Constantine put one hand on his wife’s back and did not look away from Louis.
“Where are you?”
“Atlanta.” Louis raised one hand. “I am safe for now.”
“We lost your signal in Florida,” Judith said. “They told us there was shelling on the road to the airfield. Then there was the strike. Then the line from the CP went dead. No one could tell us where you were, or if you had boarded, or if—” She stopped before finishing the sentence.
Louis nodded once. “It was a mess. I am sorry.”
Constantine wiped his face and looked past Louis. “Angelique. Gladice.”
Angelique leaned toward the camera. “Constantine.”
“Still here,” Gladice said.
Constantine nodded once. “I’m glad you’re both alive.” He looked back at Louis. “Where is Jennifer?”
Louis tightened his hand on the edge of the table.
“Jennifer is dead.”
Angelique put her hand over his. Behind him, Gladice’s fingers tightened on the back of his chair.
Louis forced himself to continue. “At the airfield. During the attack. She pulled me through the truck door before the shot. If she hadn’t, I’d be dead.”
Judith’s mouth tightened. She raised one hand to her throat. Serana stared at Louis, then lowered her eyes to the desk. Constantine lowered his head. When he looked up, his jaw was set.
“Tell me what happened.”
Louis told him how they had escaped the airfield, returned to Alabama by accident, boarded the refugee bus, reached the megachurch, and survived the bombing. He explained how they had rescued two girls, stolen a van carrying euros, and done business with Marcus Ellington. He reported it in order, with detail and little emotion, the way Constantine had taught him. The others listened without interrupting.
When Louis finished, Constantine remained silent. One hand closed around the edge of the desk.
“You did well, Louis,” he said, his voice steady and low. “You made the right choices under pressure. And you brought everyone else through.”
“I didn’t bring Jennifer,” Louis said. He had not meant to say it.
Constantine said, “You couldn’t.”
Louis took a slow breath and nodded.
“I will find a way to extract you,” Constantine said. “But I will need time. The Collective has already launched strikes along the border. The situation is fluid. Do not go south again. Stay hidden in Atlanta. If Ellington can move you, use him. But do not trust him with more than you have to.”
“I understand.”
“Contact me every day if you can. Let me know where you are. Let me know if you are compromised.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I love you.” Constantine said it without hesitation. “I will get you home.”
“I love you too. Mom. Sis.”
Constantine leaned forward. “Stay alive, Louis.”
“I will.”
The call ended. The video window closed. Louis stayed seated with one hand resting on the table beside the laptop. He kept looking at the screen. Hearing their voices had made him miss them more.
Willa went back to the laptop and checked the screen. “It’s still good for now,” she said. “If anyone else needs to use it.”
Angelique looked toward the laptop. Donya looked at Angelique, and Angelique nodded. Louis stood and went to the bed nearest the wall. He sat on the mattress and started to lie back before remembering his boots. He leaned the cane against the headboard and pulled them off.
Behind him, Willa said quietly, “If you want to call out, now is the time.”
Donya asked, “Can it really reach Chicago from here?”
“Yes.”
Louis lay back against the pillows and placed the cane along the side of the bed. He listened to the calls without trying to follow every word. Donya spoke first. She repeated that she was alive and safe. A moment later, she began crying, then laughed through it when someone on the other end answered her.
Gladice waited before taking her turn. Louis recognized David’s voice as soon as he answered. Her first words were firm and direct. She kept her voice under control until he began to cry. Then she lowered her head and spoke more softly.
Angelique went last. Louis recognized Maria’s voice on the other end. Angelique spoke in French, pausing often to listen. He understood enough to hear her repeat that she was alive. After that, he stopped following the words and let their voices continue around him.
Angelique ended her call and moved away from the laptop. Willa checked the screen, then set the computer back on the table. She had offered everyone else a turn, but she did not make a call of her own. Louis noticed and said nothing.
He closed his eyes. Jennifer did not come immediately. The airfield waited at the edge of his memory, close but still unclear. Between Louis and it were the voices behind him, carried in from Chicago, New Orleans, and Portland. For a little while, the motel room belonged to those voices. Everyone inside it could remember that fear was not the only place waiting for them. Louis let himself sink deeper into the mattress. Behind him, the voices softened and began to run together until he could no longer tell who was speaking. He slept before anyone noticed.
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