Cage stood in the hallway, pointing to each bag as the young men came out of the room. One by one they picked them up. At the back of the line was a man who appeared to be notably older than the rest of them, one whom Cage called Dodger to himself now. His age alone made Cage wonder about his fate.
He was meek and compliant, and Cage hadn’t heard his name at all. In fact, he was relatively certain he'd never even heard the man speak. He gave him one of the mid weight bags. Then Cage handed Terrence one of the heavier ones, listening to the kid grunt as he threw it over his good shoulder using only the one. Cage meant it as a level of respect, though he had no idea how it would be taken.
Then they were outside, standing around and waiting until the women came out, their own bags slung over their shoulders. Though they didn't say anything, and managed to hide it fairly well, Cage saw both Aurora and Sarah's eyes go a little wide as they saw him standing at the front of the pack. He had the binoculars in hand and was clearly leading the group. It wasn't lost on him that he was now running drugs.
In reality, he’d really only stepped up a level inside the cartel. He wondered if he were caught and arrested by one of the agencies, if he would be able to explain it away. Then he reminded himself that Joule would get him the best lawyer.
Then Connor appeared, wearing the same thing he always did. Did he just not own anything different or were these the exact same clothes Cage had always seen on him? Was he in the same position as Cage and the others? Stuck between the house and the caves, being fed oatmeal and tossed the occasional old apple?
It made Cage assess his own situation. He was going to need to wash his clothes and himself soon, and he wasn't certain how that was going to work. But it was beginning to appear that Connor was no more free than any of the rest of them. He was just the asshole at the front of the line. And Cage was now second asshole.
They were all walking out into the desert in seemingly no real direction. This time he was paying as much attention as possible, adding what he learned to what he’d already gathered. They headed an entirely different direction than any other time. Not helpful, he thought.
Joule and the others would be trying to find him. This—along with the sheer distance from where they’d started—would definitely make it harder for them to pinpoint where he was.
Despite his newfound nervousness of being the one with the binoculars for his “team,” he followed along. The men and the women stayed mostly separate. It took a little while, but he and Aurora managed to bump up against each other again. This time he passed his paper to her, a little surprised when another note came back to him. He held it palmed where no one could see it, not even willing to risk sliding his hand into his pocket yet.
They would start checking pockets soon. They had to. And a note from Aurora could be problematic. He hadn't even thought of that the first time. He hadn't had his pockets checked since the first night. Maybe they just assumed there was nothing the lowest members of the group could pick up and save. But as he looked around, Cage thought even a rock would be useful.
His brain churned. If he got close enough to Connor, could he get the gun? But Connor didn't get close enough to them. Though Cage hadn’t noticed the first night, as he remembered it now, even then Connor had walked a good distance in front of the group. Cage had thought of it as a leadership position at first, but now he was more than certain it was to keep Connor from getting scooped up if anything happened to the rest of them. If there was a raid, if whoever was picking up the drugs and guns, decided to open fire, whatever happened . . . Connor wouldn’t be in the crossfire.
At last, Cage tucked the paper into his pocket. They were closer now to the drop point—at least according to Connor’s motions for the two groups to separate. Then Cage walked and walked until he could barely even see the women. At least he could still see Connor clearly and Connor was mostly headed in that same direction. Chances were that Connor stayed in between the two groups, keeping an eye on all that happened.
Though it had been dusk when they started out, it was beyond full dark now. Cage was beginning to consider himself a bat. His eyes had fully dark adapted to the night. He didn't even think about it on these walks. But he was staying in the cave or that room that had blackout curtains. These people did not want the group found. He saw the sun only for a little bit at sunset. Jesus, he needed some vitamin D.
He thought again about running, but there was nowhere to run. Even right now, if he ran, Connor would shoot. And Connor didn't have to be very good with the gun, he just needed enough bullets. Though Cage didn't know what caliber the Colt was shooting, they weren’t .22s. The bullets would be large enough to stop him. They didn't even have to kill him, they just had to make it so he couldn't keep running. Which honestly, as far out from civilization as he was now, any bullet would do the job, given enough time and enough blood loss.
If he got far enough away to hide, that wouldn't work either. Connor and Connor’s gun were enough to make the others do his bidding. They would search for him for hours. While Cage may have taken over the room from Terrence, they would all still take orders from Connor. If Connor told them to split up and find Cage and turn him in, no one would walk past him. They were all too afraid of the rangy, lean man whose eyes held nothing behind them but emptiness.
They would turn Cage in to be killed to save themselves in a heartbeat. He knew that.
None of that accounted for what would happen to the others if he did get away. They might be punished or executed. Especially Aurora, since she came in with him. At the very least they’d be moved far enough to never be seen again.
So, he stayed with the group, held onto the heavy binoculars, and made his way out to the drop point. Though Connor stayed at a distance, he motioned them to leave their bags buried in the sand and under a few key rocks.
As Cage dug, he tried to figure out how to do some careful recon. He put the bag into the hole and began covering it. Could he open a zipper? Pull out a piece?
What if they searched his pockets? What about the next day when the others—the ones who picked it up saw that their stash had been tampered with? If he stole something, he’d have to get away within twenty-four hours. It might be even less time. That was the only way. The alternative might not be survivable.
Cage had kept alert, though he didn’t talk much at all. Just motioned the spare binoculars to one kid he almost trusted who did the work. He did see that the women's group, though they were still far away, didn’t seem to get the same kind of instruction from Connor.
Interesting. Cage’s own lack of knowledge gave Connor more work, and Connor didn't seem pleased by it. Also, Cage noticed they hadn't gone to the same place twice yet. It had only been a few nights, so who was to say what the pattern was? But it made him wonder how long Terrence had been, in effect, the king of the room. How long until Cage had Terrence’s knowledge?
There were too many questions.
The bags were set. With Connor off in the distance, he hunkered down with the binoculars to watch their stash. Motioning for the kid to hand the spare pair back, he next handed them off to Dodger, wondering if it would get him in with the man and what that would mean.
Someone here had to know a lot more than he did. For whatever reason, there was something about the quiet older man that made Cage want to bet on him.
They waited an interminable amount of time until another group showed up. These six were dressed in nicer, cleaner clothes than the first batch. Again, they were strung with weapons, making it clear that if they didn't like what they saw, they could easily mow down Cage’s entire group.
It hit him then: it was now his group. The responsibility of that weighed heavy, shocking him at the pressure of it.
On the way back, he made a point to hang back, trailing along behind the rest. Pulling up the slip of paper Aurora had handed him, he wondered if it was bright enough to read and if he could do it without anybody seeing.
He paused, waiting for the right moment, for the clouds to pass by and the moon to shine brighter. And when he read it, he took a deep breath.
He had his work cut out for him.