The fire was hardly large enough to serve any real purpose. It had been such a long time since he’d made one that tonight he had decided to take the chance. But he was careful to stay back, well away from its light.
Cody Pierce was camped on the outskirts of the bombed-out city of Phoenix, looking for information or anything that might help him get the rest of the kids out of the prison.
It was past midnight. Cody scooped dirt onto the fire and was about to settle down to sleep when he heard a noise. Lying as still as possible, he strained to listen. Slow, heavy footsteps on gravel were coming up behind him.
Cody had chosen this place carefully. He silently crawled down into the rain-washed gully in front of him.
A flashlight scanned the area. “Harry, you idiot. He’s gone.”
Cody’s ears perked up. These were fellow Americans. Maybe they could help him. He was about to call out to them when the second man spoke.
“It’s not my fault. He must have heard us coming and run off.”
“You better hope we find him, or at least another corpse to take this one’s place. The CCR doesn’t pay unless we deliver the bodies.”
Cody swallowed. These men were mercenaries working for the enemy. Wasting no time, he inched down the narrow ditch and climbed out the other side. There was no cover here except the darkness. If he was lucky, he could slip away into the night unnoticed.
“That’s far enough.”
Cody froze. There was something familiar about that voice. A bright floodlight snapped on and shone in his eyes, making it impossible to see. He put his hands up.
“Well, what do you know? It’s just a kid, boss. What should we do with him?”
The familiar voice spoke softly. “Put him in the truck. I’ve got special plans for this one.”