The next morning at the work camp, the rain was coming down hard as it had all night long. The men inside the barracks could hear it battering against the metal walls. Terry came to Mike’s bunk where Mike sat listening to the sounds of their answered prayers against the roof and walls.
“Tell me again the drill when it rains,” Mike said.
“It varies,” Terry said. Mike could see he was nervous but there was something else there too. He was ready. “Sometimes they take us out and put us to work slogging in the rain, repairing the camp walls or re-digging the latrines. But since that involves them standing out in the rain to watch us, as often as not, they just ignore us for the day.”
“Let’s pray for that.”
“You really think this will work?”
“Something is going to happen today, Terry,” Mike said. “I pray the end of the day sees us all sleeping in the woods and ten miles closer to Ameriland. And all of us alive to see it.”
He shouldn’t have said it but it was on both their minds. They looked at their lads, already talking about the day. To the boys, it was a battle to be won. Just something to be done, victory and success assured. Even Tommy hadn’t had that hope kicked or starved out of him. He thought he was going home today.
Please God, let them all be going home today.
Mike was ready to fight for breakfast this morning. He figured this was one day—even more than putting in a full day at the quarry—when everyone would need the calories. But the food never came.
Terry shook his head and shrugged. Why feed them if they weren’t working them? The whole barracks knew what was up. There was no helping that. The news had spread quickly that an escape was in the works. Some thought they knew when but all knew it was happening.
Gavin joined his father on his bunk watching the front door.
“Think they’ll make us work in the camp today?” Gavin asked.
“I doubt it. It’s raining pretty hard out there.”
“A lot of the other men know something’s up. Do we let them come?”
“How would we stop them exactly?”
“Good point.”
“It might work in our favor,” Mike said. “The more the guards have to deal with, the easier it will be for the six of us to disappear.” He looked over at Davey who was sitting up on his bed for the first time in two days. Mike gave him a thumbs up and received a weak smile in return.
“Some of the lads think we need to quiet Carey,” Gavin said.
Mike glanced at the man. He was sitting on his bunk, elevating his sore foot. He’d been accepted well enough by the other men, but the compound men wouldn’t abide him once they’d heard of his betrayal.
Would he really be stupid enough to give them away? And lose his only chance to escape?
“Can they do it in a way that doesn’t kill him?”
“I think so.”
“Fine. Do it.” Someday Mike hoped to live in a world where he could allow second chances. He signaled to Tommy and the boy joined them on the bunk.
“What time is it?” Mike asked.
Tommy looked at his watch. “Ten o’clock,” he said.
Two hours. Two hours of waiting. The tension in the room was already so thick you could smell the fear and feel the expectancy like a living thing crawling on your skin.
Ryan stood up and went to the door. Mike stood up and followed him.
“Where do ye think you’re going?” Mike asked.
“I’m going to give absolution to a young soldier who had to do a terrible job yesterday.”
Mike glanced over to where Davey was sitting up and eating a piece of bread. It hadn’t occurred to Mike that there were men in the other barracks headed for the sick tent. He watched Ryan leave. When the door opened and Ryan stepped out, Mike saw that the low rain clouds already dimmed the sky.
It was going to be a long morning.
Mike returned to his bunk. The last thing he felt like doing was lying down but he knew he needed to conserve his strength. There was no telling what the day held. It was very possible he’d have a good dose of eternal rest before it was done. He watched Gavin and Tommy talking with their heads close. They were probably planning their futures. Gavin must have told Tommy about the lovely Sophia and all their plans for Ameriland.
Ameriland.
Mike thought of Sarah and his heart twisted painfully. Was the baby there yet? Were they safe? He ached to see Sarah’s face again, to hold her in his arms. How long had it been? He tried to count the days. Two on the road. Three days here in this hellhole.
“Tommy!” he called.
“Eleven twenty-five!” Tommy called back.
The whole barracks felt alive with anticipation. Mike realized at some point he’d stopped smelling the stench.
God, I’m getting out just in time.
Was it getting dark out there? He didn’t dare crack the door to check. None of them could do anything until they heard the explosion. He stood up and walked to the door and placed his hands flat against it.
On the other side of this door, I either live or die. On the other side of this door. And not just me, but my lad and all my hopes for the future, for Sarah and for the baby.
Should he say a few words? It seemed as if every face in the hut was staring at him expectantly.
So be it.
“You will have heard,” he said loudly, “that we have an event planned for today.”
A couple of the men laughed but most regarded him with deadly seriousness.
“And all of ye are welcome to take advantage of the situation as ye like. I’m reliably told that the sky will darken completely in just a few more minutes. And there will be a diversion to draw the guards from our door.”
The men spoke excitedly amongst themselves.
“I’ll ask ye to follow my orders until we’re out of the building,” Mike said. “And from there it’s every man for himself.”
“Is it very dangerous, then?” one man yelled out.
“Nah, Gerry,” another sneered. “What do ye think?”
Another small wave of nervous laughter rolled through the men.
“Aye, it’s dangerous,” Mike said. “Ye’ll be running for yer lives that’s for sure. Ye can stay behind and nobody would think less of ye.”
“I’d rather die with a bullet in me back then stay another day,” someone said.
The rest of the men chimed in their agreement.
“Those who’ll leave with us,” Mike said, “when I give the word, go in single file. Head for the front gate. It’s built to keep vehicles out—not men.”
“And once we’re out?”
“That’s up to you. Ye’re welcome to travel with us or go your own way.”
Personally, Mike didn’t think twenty-five starving men would be an asset as they tried to find their way back to Ameriland. But he’d deal with that problem when he had to.
And as he had learned the hard way so many times before, it might not be an issue.
He went back to his bunk and forced himself to sit and wait. He knew they had to be getting close. As soon as they heard the explosion, he would count to twenty to give the guards time to clear out and then he’d open the door.
The door to freedom and seeing Sarah again…
As he stared at it, the door suddenly pulled open. Mike’s insides clenched as he saw Father Ryan stand in the doorway speaking to one of the guards.
Mike whirled around to look at Tommy who was staring at his watch. He looked up at Mike with dismay.
“I don’t understand it,” Tommy said. “It’s ten past twelve. It should be getting dark by now.”
Ten past twelve and no explosion and no eclipse.
“What is it, Squire?” one of the men yelled. “What’s happening?”
Ryan stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
This can’t be happening, Mike thought. We’re ready to go!
“What’s the matter?” a voice called out. “Why is it still daylight outside?”
Ryan walked to Mike and pulled him aside. His face was flushed and Mike saw the man’s hands trembled where he held Mike’s arm.
“There’s a problem,” he said. “They’ve brought a prisoner into McKenna’s.”
“What the feck do I care about that?” Mike said in frustration, his eyes going to the door as if the daylight he’d seen might somehow be explained away.
Ryan looked at him with misery in his face.
“I’m sorry, Mike. It’s Jaz.”
Mike picked Ryan up by the front of his shirt and threw him against one of the bunks.
Gavin was on his feet. He grabbed the priest and spun him around to face him. “Ye bastard, if you’re the reason she’s—”
“I had nothing to do with it! If you’d just listen to me!” Ryan said, cowering in front of Gavin.
“Speak,” Mike said. But his stomach turned painfully. What difference did it make now? The escape was off and, worse, Jaz was in the grips of that swine McKenna. How could things have gone so wrong?
“They were doing a perimeter sweep outside the walls—”
“Who told ‘em where to look?” Gavin snarled at the priest.
“I…they just do it periodically. I did not tell them she would be there! I swear on my Savior’s life.”
“Like that means anything coming from you,” Mike said.
“Why…if I was going to betray you,” Ryan said in frustration, “why would I tell you about Jaz before you’d attempted your escape?”
He had a point. But Mike was too heartsick to think about the details of how it all went so wrong. He glanced at the other men in the hut. They were staring at him, looking very much like he felt. Astounded, speechless, angry.
Mike ran a hand across his face. Was this their last chance? Had they just blown their window? And gotten Jaz killed in the process? Just thinking of her in the hands of McKenna made Mike want to bolt from the barracks. Dear God.
Ryan addressed Tommy. “The light was fading when I came across the camp. Is it possible you were off by an hour?”
Tommy just stared at him.
Mike looked between the two of them. “Answer him!” he barked.
Tommy looked at his watch and then at the door. “I might have made a mistake.”
“A mistake, how?” Mike asked. “Like being off on the time?”
“I only have a fecking watch!” Tommy said. “And my memory of the date. I’d planned to take Jaz to the far wall back in Ameriland. Just the two of us…” He looked away miserably, his eyes filling with tears.
“Lad,” Mike said wearily, “nobody is blaming ye for getting it wrong. But could it still be happening an hour later?”
“Aye. It could.”
“Can we still do it, Da?” Gavin asked. “Without the distraction? Can it still work?”
He wanted it so bad. Mike saw the naked need in his son’s face and knew that need was mirrored in his own. They had to get out. But if the desperation to act was going to get them killed…if there was perhaps a better time down the road if only they waited…
“I don’t know, Gav,” he said, his mind in a whirl, trying to push the image of Jaz from his mind, of Sarah. And, God love her, poor Fiona too wherever she was.
“We have to, Da. That bastard has Jaz. You know what he’s doing to her.”
“Please, Mr. Donovan,” Tommy said. “I’ll go out there alone but you know they’ll shoot me before I take two steps. Please let’s do it together.”
They’ll shoot all of us before we take two steps, Mike thought. It was madness. Without a diversion, the darkness wouldn’t be enough.
“Can you get in to see her?” he asked Ryan.
Ryan shook his head. “They only tolerate me. I have no special status with them.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Mike said. “It’ll be the death of all of us.”
“Then let me go,” Tommy said.
“Aye,” Terry said. “And me. This is a living death anyway. At least we’ll have tried.”
“Don’t say that,” Mike said. “There’ll be another chance.”
“But not for Jaz,” Tommy said. “He’ll have killed her by morning.”
“You know it’s true,” Ryan said.
Mike looked at him as if surprised he’d weigh in. “So you think we should go?” he said sarcastically.
“The timing will never be better,” Ryan said. “Diversion or no diversion.”
We’re all going to die today, Mike thought as he stared into Ryan’s calm, cold eyes. But maybe they’re right. Maybe there’ll never be a better time to die or a better reason.
“Fine,” he said in a tight voice. “We’ll go.” He felt the tension ratchet up even higher in the room.
He turned to the men. “But know upfront all of ye that it was a slim chance before and it’s slimmer now. Are ye all sure?”
“We’re sure,” one man said. “Lead us out of this hell.”
Before Mike realized what was happening, one of the men stood up and locked his arms around Carey while another slashed Carey’s throat with a shiv. A loud gurgle came from Carey’s mouth as he collapsed on the floor.
“Jaysus, Joseph and Mary!” Mike said, stunned by the sudden brutality of it.
“Sorry,” the man with the shiv said. “I misplaced me knock-out drops.”
Mike whirled around in time to see Father Ryan standing in the opening of the door, the light outside fading fast. The priest looked from Carey’s body to where Mike stood. Their eyes met. He smiled sadly and shook his head slightly, then turned to go. That was not in the plan.
Suddenly, Ryan’s eagerness to help, his unsubstantiated visits with Jaz—even the claim that she’d been captured—all of it became clear to Mike that they had been set up.
Bastard! When will I ever learn?
“Grab him!” Mike shouted as he lunged for Ryan. But it was too late. The priest slipped outside and was gone.
What now? Would Ryan go straight to McKenna or would he talk to the guards first?
The room was silent. Before Ryan had slipped out the door, Mike could see how much darker it had become outside.
“Da? What do we do? Should we go?”
“We wait. Tommy, what time is it, lad?”
Tommy held his wrist near the lantern. “Ten more minutes it should be fully dark,” he said.
“We don’t have ten more minutes, Mike!” Terry said, his face etched with fear. “That bastard priest could alert the whole Irish Garda in ten minutes.”
Mike stared at Terry. “What did you say?”
“I said Ryan could alert the whole—”
“Exactly,” Mike said. “What sense does it make that he’d tell them now? He’s had twenty-four hours to tell them what we’re up to.”
He walked to the door and stood facing the group. “We wait,” he said grimly. “When I give the word, everyone knows what to do. Right?”
Ten minutes seemed interminable. Mike said a prayer for Sarah and the baby. In case it was too much to ask that he would see her again, he prayed instead that these men would hold up and that they wouldn’t all be killed. He prayed that God would spare Gav. Finally, he let out a long sigh and lifted his bowed head.
“Time, Tommy?”
“One seventeen precisely.”
“It’s time. Single file,” Mike said. “Stay low and head for the front gate. It’s only set up to bar vehicles, so you can slip right through the guard posts. Without an explosion to distract them, they’ll be on us straight away so stay in the shadows as much as you can. All you’ll have is the unexpected darkness for cover, and it won’t last long so make the most of it. Good luck to you.”
Beside him, Mike could see Gavin standing tall and straight with a look of grim resolved on his face. God, protect him, I beg you.
Mike grabbed the handle, took a long breath and eased the door open a crack. It was already very dark outside. He opened the door wider, expecting any minute for the guards to appear. The punishment for opening the door was death. Instantly.
He held his breath and pulled the door open wider. He could hear shouting and laughter in the distance. He stood in the opening of the door. There was no guard. In fact, all the camp guards had abandoned their stations at the barrack doors.
“It will be safer if we don’t all stay together,” Mike said. “Remember once you’re out the front gate, head for the woods and not the main road. Now go! Everyone, now!”
Mike stepped outside and watched as the men emptied the barracks and disappeared into the darkness.
As he and Gavin headed for the foreman’s office, he tried to make sense of what had happened. What had made the guards leave? What the hell’s happened?
The answer came as they approached the foreman’s office and huddled against the wall of the nearest barracks. Behind the office were the guards’ dormitories and a half a dozen buildings dedicated to munitions and vehicle repair. From the alley beside the foreman’s office, Mike and Gavin could see all the guards gathered around what looked at first like a campfire. As they looked on, they could see it wasn’t a campfire at all. It was a man on fire.
As they watched, the man jumped and waved his arms as a pillar of flames licked his clothes and wreathed his head. His howls of anguish could be heard above the shouting of the guards.
It was Ryan.
“Da…”
“No time,” Mike said harshly to him. He stood and ran the twenty yards to the foreman’s porch where he stopped. McKenna stood on his porch, his hands on his hips, a cigar clamped in his mouth as he watched the fiery spectacle. Mike estimated it would be three steps to the stairs and another five up onto the porch. And every second of that time, McKenna would see him. It would give him more than enough time to pull a gun or a knife. But the rage of seeing this monster watch Ryan burn to death like he was some after-dinner entertainment surged into Mike’s brain and he charged the porch and up the steps, roaring, his arms outstretched to strangle the bastard before he took another fecking puff on his cigar.
McKenna—arrogant enough to think he could enjoy the night air without a gun or a guard—tried to turn away. Mike lunged at him, his heavy hands around the foreman’s neck and driving him backward against the door with the full force of his weight. McKenna grabbed at Mike’s hands, his cigar still in his mouth, his eyes narrowed in shock and fear. Mike released one hand long enough to cram the lit cigar down McKenna’s throat and wait while he swallowed it, fighting for breath, for air, his hands clawing at Mike’s arms.
Gavin ran onto the porch and swung the door open to McKenna’s office while Mike backed him into it. The bastard’s face turned slowly purple as he gasped and fought for breath, smoke seeping from between his lips. Gavin slammed the door and went to the desk, snatched up a handgun and strode back to Mike. He stuck the gun in McKenna’s ear and pulled the trigger. Mike staggered backwards as McKenna went limp in his hands.
“We need to find Jaz!” Gavin said, jamming the gun in his belt buckle. “Da! Let’s go!”
Mike’s arms were still stretched out as he watched McKenna, his head splattered in chunks around the room and down the front of Mike’s shirt, crumple to the floor.
“In here!” Jaz screamed. “Oy! Gavin, is that you? I’m in here!”
Mike shook himself and saw Gavin gathering up rifles and handguns. He tossed a rifle to his father and then grabbed up a set of keys from the desk.
Gavin jammed the key in the door of the first cell down the short hall and jerked it open. “Tell me he didn’t rape ye, Jaz,” Gavin said as she rushed into his arms, “because we can only kill the bastard once and I already punched that card.”
“He didn’t,” she said. “Probably doesn’t even like girls.” Her face was battered black and blue, one eye already swollen shut.
They heard the sound of gunshots coming from outside and Mike snapped his head in the direction of the porch. If the guards had finally chosen to put Ryan out of his misery—
Suddenly the ground rumbled and the feeling of force jolted them off the floor, knocking tables, desks, pictures and chairs around the room. Mike fell to his knees, the sound of the explosion reverberating in his head. Another explosion erupted immediately after the first. And then another. He staggered to his feet, grabbing the wall for support. Gavin was helping Jaz up and together they rushed to the front door to peer out.
The guards weren’t laughing now. They were running. Ryan had begun his immolation near the ammo dump. And now he’d finally found his way home.
“Jaysus,” Mike said in a whisper.
Gavin shoved two handguns into Jaz’s arms. “It’s Father Ryan,” he said to her.
“Good man,” Jaz said grimly. “In the end.”
“What now, Da?” Gavin said. The three stood on the porch and Mike could see that daylight was beginning to return.
“Now we go,” Mike said, shouldering his rifle. The explosions continued one after another, lighting up the dark sky and deafening the world.
“Anyone tries to stop you…” Mike said, gasping for breath as he jogged toward the front gate.
“We know! We know!” Jaz said, racing ahead of him.
More than a hundred escaping men were directly in front of them, pouring out of the broken gate, knocking guards down, using truncheons and heavy sticks, even rocks. Gunfire erupted and Mike grabbed Gavin’s arm. Jaz had already disappeared into the crowd ahead of them. Mike motioned to him that they should skirt around the crowd. He knew that once they were out, most of the escaped men would run toward Dublin using the main drag that they’d been brought here on. Mike’s plan—and the one he’d drilled into each of the compound men—was that they head for the woods. He was counting on the soldiers’ unfamiliarity with woodland tracking and the fact that the woods weren’t the most obvious route away from the camp.
He saw Gavin hesitate. Some of the guards were shooting into the crowd.
“We can’t save everyone,” Mike shouted to him over the continued explosions from the ammo damp, his fingers bit into Gavin’s arm. His son nodded and turned away from the sight. They ran through the crowd and out the camp entrance, and vanished into the nearby woods.
It never occurred to Mac not to return and tell Sinead everything. Or at least almost everything. On the long drive back to the camp, he was still stunned by the unexpected turn of events. Chezzie sat silent beside him as they sped through the countryside.
Had they really lost three men? Four, if you counted that idiot Bailey.
Mac rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t want to remember killing Dickie. Or the look in the girl’s eye as she stared him down with her shotgun and a dead body between them. He didn’t want to think of the body of the young boy lying next to the old man.
Jaysus. I can’t do this any more. I’m bolloxed, so I am.
They’d just left the bastards lying in their own blood. One in the hallway with half his chest blown away. One on the porch and two at the foot of the porch stairs where they’d fallen.
It looked like a fecking battlefield when we left.
When they finally reached the baby camp, he left Chezzie asleep in the van while he went to his apartment and collapsed.
It never occurred to him not to come back.
The next morning, he showered and dressed. He knew Sinead must have seen the van parked out front and probably wondered why he hadn’t come in to report to her last night. He left his apartment and paused for a moment, staring out over the stretch of dirt and grass in front of the pregnant women’s tent that Sinead called the courtyard. Sometimes the children were outside playing. Often the pregnant women sat out and took the sun if there was any. It was empty this morning.
He could hear the food wagon coming and quickened his steps. It must be later than he realized if breakfast was being handed out. That meant Sinead had already had her coffee and was at her desk working.
And waiting for him.
He walked the three minutes to the outside building door that led to her rooms. She worked in the same room that she slept and ate in. That was so like Sinead. Nothing compartmentalized. Everything all at once, order and rules be damned.
He raised his hand to knock but the door swung open before he could touch it.
“Wondered when you’d slither in,” Sinead said, deliberately taking in the look of him from his shoes to his hair. Her lips twisted into a grimace of disgust. She was dressed in jodhpurs and riding boots again. She used to talk about wanting to find a horse to ride around the countryside on. It was a part of her that always intrigued Mac. That she could want to embrace nature or the countryside or animals—any of it—seemed so out of character. It had been awhile since she talked about finding horses to ride.
“We were not successful,” Mac said stiffly as he entered, “as I suppose you’ve gathered.”
She walked to her desk and stood behind it, her hands on her hips. It was an unusual stance for her, almost like she wanted to physically separate from him.
“Care to elaborate? You were gone all day and most of the night.”
“We stopped at a village about fifty kilometers from here and that wanker Dickie strangled a girl in the village.”
“I see.”
“Did you hear me, Sinead? That’s the kind of maniac we brought back with us from Dublin. He fecking killed her with his bare hands.”
“Are you telling me you found the convent empty, Mac?”
Mac hesitated. “We never made it to the convent.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
Something was wrong. She was way too cool, too prepared for him. It was like she knew the answers to all the questions she was asking. A light film of sweat appeared under his collar. Is that possible? Had she already talked to Chezzie?
“We met a bloke—in the same village where Dickie killed the lass—who led us to a place that had a pregnant woman in it.”
“Your orders were to go to the convent.”
“Aye, but Sinead—it seemed too good to pass up. She was already pregnant. You’d have me pass it up?”
“Only the one?”
Somehow she knew. He could see it in her eyes. She knew everything.
“Sinead, it all went to shite, that’s all I can tell you. It just blew up in our faces. It was a fecking nightmare.”
“All of your faces?” Sinead said. “Did it blow up in all of your faces, Mac, or just the men you personally shot in the face?”
Damn that bastard Chezzie!
“I need to keep respect and order among the men who—”
“Do not talk to me about respect!” Sinead shrieked. “If you have to kill people to get them to mind ye, it bloody defeats the purpose!”
“I told you he was rotten,” Mac said, feeling his temper rise. “I told you he was trouble.”
She raked the tabletop contents of her desk onto the floor then grabbed up a heavy paperweight and threw it at him. He was so surprised that it hit him solidly on the shoulder. He staggered backward.
“You didn’t go to the convent like I told you! You walked away from three women, ye lying bastard! One of ‘em pregnant! Ye got two of our men killed and then killed the third yourself! I knew you were soft, ye lying sack of shite. I knew you were weak. I didn’t think you were fecking insane.”
Mac rubbed his shoulder and held himself in check. That she felt she could attack him physically and expect no consequences was testimony to how far he’d let her control him. She was no better than Dickie. She saw him as a coward and someone to use or abuse.
“You weren’t there,” he said.
“Shut your gob!” She moved away from the desk and stood in front of him, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed red. “So now I have a dead baby, a dead childbearing woman, and a fecking idiot in charge of procurement! We are out of business, Mac! Is that what you wanted? Was that your purpose all along? Are ye trying to feck me, Mac? Because I swear to Christ I’ll murder ye where ye stand!”
“I’m sorry, Sinead.”
“Get out! Get out before I take a gun and shoot ye between your fecking eyes! Get out!” she screamed.
Mac turned and left. He stood outside for a moment to get control of himself. His breathing was ragged and fast. She’d never spoken to him like that before.
Was she right? Was he deliberately trying to feck things up? His eyes scanned the courtyard and caught a movement at the door of the pregnancy tent. A shadow in the door looked like someone was standing there, watching him. In a flash, he saw the image of the old man on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. The old man who was trying to protect his family—protect the woman inside giving birth.
Mac looked down at his hands and realized with horror that they were trembling.
**********
Fiona stood in the shadow of the tent door watching Mac outside Sinead’s office door. At first she thought he was being sick. He stood, hunched over as if not sure where he was. Eventually he seemed to pull himself together. She watched him disappear around the corner of the building.
She knew he’d been gone for at least a day. He normally visited the pregnancy tent once a day even if he wasn’t there to examine anyone. The addition of the new men and Mac’s absence gave Fiona a feeling of foreboding.
That and the fact that nobody had heard anything about Julie. The cook, Eloise, was particularly closed-mouthed about her, which just led the ladies in the pregnancy tent to speculate the worst had happened. Fiona had been chosen to question the woman a little more directly today when lunch was delivered.
Although, what was the point? If she tells us Julie was murdered, are there any of us who’d be surprised?
Fiona placed a hand on her belly. She’d felt the baby move recently and with it gained new hope for the future. Mike and Sarah—if they were alive—had to return someday. Surely Declan was looking for them…She sighed heavily. Her frequent attempts at hope and optimism were proving less and less easy.
Today was one of those days. Even with the baby moving again.
She caught a glimpse of Eloise and her lunch wagon coming through the gated opening in the new fence that divided the camp. She stepped back into the tent.
“She’s coming,” she called out. The women gathered around the opening.
“Don’t scare her,” Fiona said. “Pretend everything’s normal.”
The women moved back to their stations to affect indifference at the arrival of the lunch wagon, which Fiona realized would probably alert Eloise instantly that something was up. The coming of the food wagon was a big moment in their day.
She opened the tent door and stepped out into the sunshine.
“Good morning, Eloise,” she said, smiling. “We’re very hungry to see you.”
“Sure you’re a wit, Fiona,” Eloise said good-naturedly. The cook picked up a large cauldron of chicken with stewed vegetables and carried it into the tent. Fiona came in behind her and pulled the canvas flap down across the door.
Nuala took the cauldron of hot stew from Eloise. “Lovely tucker,” Nuala said in a loud cheerful voice. “Thank ye, Eloise.”
Eloise frowned as soon as she realized that the women had formed a tight circle around her. “What the hell—?” she said.
“Not to worry, Eloise,” Fiona said, putting a hard hand on the cook’s upper arm. “Just a question or two about that lovely breakfast ye just served us.”
“Breakfast?” Eloise said.
“That’s right. We wondered if our Julie enjoyed the coddled eggs you served because we know she loves them so.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nuala held up a tortoise shell comb in front of Eloise’s face. It had been broken down the back to create a handle for a series of jagged tines.
“We’re a little bored today,” Nuala said with a smile. “So we’ve a mind to ram this up your arse as entertainment.”
Fiona clutched the woman’s arm as Eloise tried to jerk away.
“I don’t know anything about your Julie!” Eloise said.
Fiona felt the first surge of power since entering this nether world of anguish. Eloise had to know that hurting any of the pregnant women was a crime that wouldn’t be forgivable by Sinead. Loss of her job would be the least of the cook’s worries.
“I’d tell ye if I knew!”
“So you’re telling us she’s not with the other women?” Nuala said.
Eloise licked her lips. “Mrs. Branigan will have me guts for garters if I was to tell ye—”
“Sure you’ll be needing to hold her down while we do this, Fi,” Nuala said cheerfully. “Mind nothing happens to that little one under your apron.” She turned to Eloise. “Our Fiona spotted earlier and Mrs. Branigan will be looking to blame someone were she to lose the bairn.”
“Your friend is not with the others!” Eloise blurted out.
Two of the other pregnant women came over. “What happened to her?”
“That I do not know.” She looked fearfully at Nuala. “I don’t! I swear!”
“Why should we believe you?” Fiona said. “Give us one reason why we should trust a thing you say…a lying whore who holds her tongue to the rest of the world about what’s happening in here, who protects those monsters as they rape us and steal our children?”
“I…I can tell ye something of value,” Eloise said.
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Nuala said. “Tell us.”
“There was another death.”
A gasp erupted from the group of women surrounding the cook.
“A death?” Fiona asked, shaking the woman’s arm. “Who?”
“A suicide.” Eloise looked at Fiona. “One of your lot.”
One of the compound women. Fiona released the woman. Only Jill and Bridget were still on the other side of the fence. Fiona lifted her hand to stop the cook from speaking. She needed a moment, just a moment, before she heard who.
Jill was married and all the women in the pregnancy tent were taking care of her little lad Darby for her. The thought of it being Jill…but Bridget was little Maeve’s mother. Either way, a child had lost its mother. Fiona’s stomach contracted painfully.
Nuala grabbed Eloise by both shoulders. “Who was it?” she demanded.
“Bridget,” Eloise said.
Fiona put a hand out to grab one of the tent posts for support. No, no, no.
“It can’t be,” she said, shaking her head. “Bridget wouldn’t kill herself. She has Maeve. She’d never intentionally leave her baby. You’re lying.” But Fiona no longer cared about Eloise, none of the women did. Fiona looked up to see that Nuala had already gone to Bridget’s toddler to pick her up and hold her.
It’s a lie, Fiona thought, her vision blurred with tears. She wouldn’t do that.
She eased herself onto a bench near the front door of the tent, her stomach clenching and contracting in agonizing waves. Eloise left the tent and brought in another tray of food, which she hurriedly deposited. The women ignored her, sitting or standing in stunned silence. When Eloise delivered the last set of trays, she spoke to Fiona.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “Truly, I am.”
Fiona didn’t look at her. She was trying to grasp how bad it had to be over there for Bridget, who was unmarried, to even think about leaving her baby an orphan in the world.
“And you’re right,” Eloise said in a low voice.
Fiona glanced up and saw that Eloise had looked over at Nuala before turning away.
“Ye can tell her little one someday that her mother didn’t willingly leave her.”
Fiona grabbed the tent post and hauled herself to a standing position. She looked deep into Eloise’s eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
“I mean, you’ll hear the truth from the others when you’re in that tent yourself.”
“What happened?” Nuala had handed Maeve off to another woman and stood with Fiona.
Eloise swallowed. “Bridget fought back. He…the man was drunk. He beat her.”
“To death,” Fiona said.
“Aye.”
“Abby,” Nuala said to Eloise. “My sister Abby didn’t kill herself either.”
“I’ve said too much,” Eloise said and bolted out the door.
Fiona stood by Nuala and watched her friend make all the calculations in her head, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of her precious sister and how she must have died after all.
“Abby was slow-witted,” Nuala said. “The hag wouldn’t want whatever baby she produced. Abby was murdered, so she was.”
All the women in the tent nodded solemnly. Julie gone, likely murdered as well as Bridget and poor Abby.
“Shite! Fiona!”
Fiona turned her head sluggishly as if the world had slowed to half-speed. She saw the others staring at her, their mouths open in horror. And then she felt the wetness across her lap. Looking down she could see only the round mound of her pregnancy. She reached down between her legs and brought back fingers coated in blood.
By the time Mike and Gavin caught up with their group in the woods outside the work camp, Jaz was still wrapped around Tommy’s neck, smothering him with kisses.
“Right,” Mike said. “Mind, we’re not done yet.” He could see two men were on the ground and not moving. Other men seemed to morph out of the shadows of the camp and through the latticework of branches and thick bushes, the fire at the ammo dump in the camp raged vividly against the sky. Most of the men from their barracks had run for the main road to Dublin.
“It won’t last long,” Tommy said, one arm around Jaz, the other using a tree to keep himself upright. “We only have minutes before it’s full on daylight again.”
“They can’t track us, can they, Da?” Gavin asked.
“Not in the woods,” Mike said. “Not unless they have dogs.”
Terry approached from where two men lay on the ground, their faces white. “Davey can’t walk anymore,” he said. “He’s done.”
“I’ll carry him,” Mike said. He could see the sky was lightning up, bit by bit. “We have to go now.”
“Why can’t we put him in the Jeep?” Jaz said.
All heads turned to look at her.
“What are you talking about?” Mike asked, praying he wasn’t hallucinating all of this.
“Well, we’ve got the Jeep, don’t we?” she said with a shrug. “I hid it when you were taken.”
“It’s out of petrol.”
“So it’s a good thing I stole some, isn’t it?” She grinned as Tommy gave her a smacking kiss.
An hour later, they had the sickest of the men piled in the Jeep. Jaz had also managed to collect a few guns and some food.
Mike had known for days that none of the men were in any condition to help them find Fiona. Besides that, he needed to see Sarah and see for himself that she and the baby were fine. He needed to see her like he needed his next breath.
The Jeep could only hold seven including Jaz. He and Gavin took one gun and made Jaz take the other one.
Right,” Mike said as they prepared to go. “They won’t expect you in a vehicle so mind you don’t do anything to call attention to yourselves. “Anybody tries to stop you…”
“We know, we know,” Jaz said. “We’re good now. We got ‘em back. Just like I knew we would.”
“You’re one of a kind, Jaz,” Mike said. “And young Tommy’s damn lucky to have you.”
“Sure, doesn’t he know it,” Jaz said, laughing as she nestled next to him in the front seat.
“We’ll catch up with you as we can,” he said. “Tell Sarah I’m coming.”
**********
Sarah watched John return from the back of the compound where the bodies were. He rounded the corner where a solitary horse chestnut tree stood, its branches filling out with green almost by the minute. John wore his handgun in his holster and carried a shovel over his shoulder. He and Regan had dragged the bodies—all but Archie’s—into the pigsty. They wouldn’t have to worry about feeding them for days or deal with some of the other issues that came from leaving corpses unburied.
They would bury Archie before lunchtime and then get ready to leave. The fog was long gone. They needed to be on their way. Hours ago.
A wave of exhaustion crept over Sarah and sat heavily on her shoulders. She heard Siobhan crying inside the cottage. It would be soon time to feed her again. She watched John come to her, his face lined with grief.
If anything good had come out of the hellacious ordeal of the last twenty-four hours, at least she and John were once again on the same page. He felt convinced he couldn’t leave her now and with Archie gone, well, now she agreed with him. Life sucked. But she needed him. She and Siobhan needed him.
Twelve days since Mike and Gavin left. No way they wouldn’t have come back by now. If they could. And all Sarah’s bravado before the baby was born that she’d go after him…well, that was nonsense. She couldn’t leave the baby.
John dropped the shovel on the porch, his eyes going to the gaping jagged hole where the van had smashed in the front gate.
“How’s the baby?” he asked.
Leave it to her sweet, kind boy to ask after the baby when his own heart was broken in a million pieces. She knew him. After what happened to his father three years earlier, John’s optimism was muted on the subject of people returning when they said they would.
“She’s good. You need to rest, John.”
John sat on the steps. “We need to leave as soon as we bury Archie,” he said. “I’m not even sure we should wait that long. Those guys will come back.”
Sarah saw that John had tried to cover up the bloodstains in the dirt where Archie had lain and died. Her heart grabbed to see it.
“Did I tell you I talked to Nana and Granddad over Christmas?” John asked.
“You did. I’m sure hearing from you was just about the best Christmas present you could’ve given them.”
“Did I also tell you what Granddad told me about why the US hadn’t reached out to help Ireland more?”
Sarah frowned. They’d all wondered why there was no US presence in Dublin and while it was generally accepted that the UK couldn’t be bothered to give Ireland a helping hand after everything it had been through, Sarah did wonder why the US hadn’t done more.
“No,” she said. “Is something going on?”
“He said he didn’t want us to worry so I didn’t mention it earlier but he seemed to think that bad things were happening in the States and that pretty soon they might cut off contact to…everywhere.”
“What does that mean?”
“Granddad said he feared there might be an overthrow of the government coming.”
“That’s ridiculous. I mean, there’s always been discontent and wild talk…”
“But Granddad said, combined with the recession—”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Sarah felt her anxiety creep down her neck. Were the folks okay? Was something really happening back home? She followed John’s gaze back to the open gate again and heard Siobhan crying.
**********
A few hours later, Sarah lay with the baby on the porch lounge. She couldn’t rest. Not when she knew any minute anybody out in the street could just walk into the compound. They didn’t even have to knock at the gate or make up a ruse. They were totally exposed and vulnerable now.
Siobhan had been restless all day and cried most of the time. Sarah had forgotten how tiny—and mercurial—newborns were. She wondered if she was somehow transferring her nervousness to the baby.
Sophia came out onto the porch for the fifth time in thirty minutes to check on Sarah. Obviously they were all anxious and feeling insecure.
“You all right, Sarah?” Sophia asked. She held a backpack in one hand that she was in the process of stuffing with jars of baby food. Amazingly, when Sarah had gone back to the States last year, she’d brought back a wide selection of baby items for the other women in the compound. For however long they last and could carry, they had disposable diapers and although Sarah was nursing, they also had formula and bottles, baby carriers and high chairs. Most of that would have to be left of course.
Will we ever come back? Is that even possible? If Mike finds all our people and comes back riding that big white horse like the hero I know he is, will I ever want to put my life back together here? Where Archie died? Where Regan blasted a killer in my hallway? Will I be able to get past all the impromptu graveyards here? All the loss?
“Sarah?” Sophia knelt by Sarah on the porch and touched little Siobhan’s cheek. “Shall I take her? She is fussy.”
“She’s fine. Are you almost done packing?”
“I am having to do all of it myself. Regan is off somewhere I do not know where.”
“She’s helping John with Archie,” Sarah said.
“Oh.”
Siobhan gave a sudden shudder and stopped crying as if the effort were just too much. Regan and John appeared from the back of the compound. They were walking quickly and the sight ramped up Sarah’s anxiety again. Sophia stood and faced them with her hands on her hips.
“There you are!” Sophia said. “I thought we were in a hurry.”
John came onto the porch and leaned down to give the baby a kiss on the forehead. His hands were filthy.
“Mom, Regan and I buried Archie. Please don’t be mad. We’ll come back and say words over his grave another day, I promise. But he wouldn’t want us to wait any longer.”
Sarah gasped. “You can’t be serious! It’s after four in the afternoon! Archie said the convent was a day’s walk at least.”
Regan tugged the backpack out of Sophia’s hands. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears. She’d been close to Archie. He was the only adult who hadn’t judged her.
“John’s right,” she said. “We need to bugger off. Now.”
“Do you know something?” Sarah said, her voice rising in fear. “Did…did you see something?”
“No, Mom. Unless you count two murderous invasions in three days as seeing something.”
“I hate to point out the obvious, John, but I just gave birth. I can’t handle a hike in the woods just yet. Especially with a screaming newborn.”
“Sophia,” John said, “your hands are clean. Take the baby. Regan made a sling for you to carry her. Go ahead and clean up, Regan, so we can spell each other with the baby on the road. Mom, just sit tight until we’re all packed up—about twenty minutes tops—and then we’ll leave.”
Sophia picked up Siobhan who immediately woke up and began to cry.
“John,” Sarah said firmly, “you’re overreacting and while I don’t blame you, you’ve lost a lot of people in a short amount of time—”
“I hope you’re not counting Mike and Gavin,” John said tersely, “because I still believe we’ll see them again.”
“I do, too!” Sophia said, juggling the baby in an attempt to distract her. The cries became louder.
Sarah swung her feet out of the lounge and attempted to stand but was seized by a nauseating dizziness.
“Mom? You okay?”
Her stomach was knotted and lurching. When she opened her eyes, all three of them were staring at her with concern.
“You need to take it slow, Mom.”
Taking it slow wasn’t going to cut it. What John and the girls didn’t know was that Sarah was also bleeding.
“Go get ready,” she said. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
John and Regan went inside to wash up and finish packing while Sophia walked up and down the porch with the baby, crooning and talking to her. Sophia seemed afraid to leave the porch.
Sarah knew she couldn’t make them stay and she didn’t want to since that would put all of them in danger. But she couldn’t go. She just wasn’t up to it.
“One more day,” she said quietly to herself. “I need one more day before I can walk that far.”
Sophia came over to her. Her voice was tinged with fear.
“Didn’t you promise we’d never separate from family again? Didn’t you?”
“I can’t hold you all back.”
“And every single time we separated, it ended in disaster. Every single time!”
It started to rain and Sarah closed her eyes and leaned back onto the lounge chair. She saw Sophia glance down at her. A quick gasp from her meant she’d noticed the blood.
“John! Regan!” Sophia shouted, as she ran into the house. Siobhan screamed louder.
John came out, drying his hands on a towel.
“No wonder you nearly fainted,” he said. “Regan, grab some bandages. They’re in your old room in the chest.”
“Regan, no,” Sarah said gasping. “I’m still in charge, so I need you to listen to me. We have to do it my way. I’m sorry, John, but we do. Regan, go get the formula and two of the plastic baby bottles from the kitchen.”
Regan went inside the cottage.
“Mom, no.”
“John, I need you to take the baby and get as far away from this place as you can. It’s up to you, John. If Mike were here, he’d tell you the same thing.”
“The hell he would!”
“Do not argue with me, young man! I need to know you’re all safe! Do you want to explain to Mike why it was you waited and maybe the baby got hurt? You have to go now. I’ll follow when I can!”
She saw the hesitation and struggle in John’s eyes.
Regan returned with the can of formula. “Why do we need this?”
“It’s for Siobhan,” Sarah said.
“But why not just nurse her?”
“Because I’m not going with you.”