Sabotage (Powerless Nation Book 3) (19 page)

“I hope not. I’ve been talking to some of the guards and they don’t like what’s going on here. There’s a chance they won’t come after us, especially if we can neutralize Downey. If they do, we’ll regroup and rearm once we get to Hester’s.”

“Can you find it?” asked Dee.

“Maybe. I’m hoping you and Mason can lead us back there. He volunteered to do something to keep the guards busy at the front gate. Once he’s done, you’ll both be back with us.”

“Both?”

“Oh, right. I didn’t explain your part yet. I want you to create the first diversion.”

“Me?”

“You always come up with good ideas.”

“But I don’t—” Dee stopped. She realized she’d been forming a plan all day. She already had everything she needed.

“Any idea what Mason is going to do?”

“No, but if I know Mason, it’s going to be good. Between the two of you it’s going to be so crazy around here no one will even notice we’re gone.”

“What if something goes wrong with the first step? The guard at the back door. Are you sure you can—”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” Hyrum cut in. “It reminds me of something in the scriptures. It says sometimes it’s better that one man should perish than an entire nation dwindle in disbelief.”

This was new from Hyrum. She expected movie lines from him. “What does it mean?” Dee asked.

“It means sometimes someone has to die for the greater good.”

“Do you really think you could kill someone?” Dee asked him.

“A week or two ago I would have said no. But now I see what this place is doing to my little brother. To all of us. Can you imagine Katy in here, or Sammy? I’ll do whatever it takes to get everyone out of here and shut down this operation for good.”

“Me too,” said Dee. She wondered if she could kill someone in cold blood. For some reason the thought reminded her of the mutilated paper target from her shooting practice with Grandpa. She hoped she could do it if she had to.

“If I don’t make it out,” Hyrum said, “can you do me a favor? Tell my mom that it was me that put the nails behind the tires of the mini-van. I was going to tell her right before I left for college, but I don’t think that is going to happen anymore.”

If Dee was telling Angela the story about the tires, it meant Hyrum was dead. Dee refused to even think about it.
 

“No way,” said Dee. “Absolutely not. Tell her yourself. I’d rather face Downey on my own than your mom with that news.”
 

“Can’t blame me for trying,” Hyrum said with an adorably crooked smile.

For the briefest moment Dee wondered if there might have been something between her and Hyrum if she hadn’t met Mason first. “If we get out of there and things go back to normal, I’m finding you a girlfriend,” Dee vowed.

“What?” Hyrum gave a surprised laugh. “That’s out of nowhere. But I’ll warn you. I’m a lost cause. No girl has ever put up with me for long. Even my mom only stands me because she has to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” said Dee.

“At least if I don’t make it out, I can die happy knowing I dodged a different kind of bullet.”

Dee groaned. “That’s the worst pun ever.”

“What did I tell you? I’m awful.”
 

Hyrum looked so smug Dee punched him in the shoulder. “I’m going to bed.”

“Hey, Dee?”
 

She turned back and found herself engulfed in a massive bear hug.

“We’re all going to make it,” he whispered into her hair. “We have to.”

Dee held on and hoped he was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY

D
EE
WATCHED
FROM
THE
shadows while Hyrum slipped out the back door. Mason was in the truck bay, waiting for her signal, and Sena had her team ready to run out and find the guns when it was clear.

Right now everything was up to Hyrum.

Dee heard muffled voices and a yelp. Then silence. She held her breath and exchanged a worried look with Sena. The moment stretched out until Dee could feel her heart beating in her ears.
 

Hyrum opened the back door. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

Dee tiptoed into the shadows outside, trying not to look at the fallen form of the guard next to the door. All her senses were on high alert and she was aware of every sound and smell. She slinked around the perimeter of the barracks, heading for the place she planned to create her diversion.

A glance of the area ahead revealed the munitions shed under heavy guard, and new recruits were never allowed inside. Supposedly it was full of live ammunition and other explosives. It would have been the perfect place to start a fire and create a diversion, but she knew she’d never get close to it without being caught.

Making sure to keep to the shadows, Dee angled carefully away from the shed. Within a few minutes, she could smell the rank odor of the Porta-Johns. The area was deserted and Dee squatted between two of the outdoor bathrooms and got to work.

Earlier that afternoon after they’d finished scraping paint off the truck, Olmos had taken them to scrub the toilets. It had been one of the most disgusting experiences of her life. One of the kids had said the only way they’d get them clean would be to burn them down and re-build them. The comment had formed the kernel of an idea in Dee’s mind.

She was counting on the fact that methane gas emitted from the human waste in the tank below would have built up to a high concentration. If she could light it, she was pretty sure it would explode.

She took the supplies she’d been gathering out of her pockets. The batteries from Sena’s flashlight and a clump of steel wool. She also had the shrub she’d been carrying around all day. It was dry and brittle. Perfect tinder.

Several days before the library fire, Harvey had given the class a fire-making demonstration with batteries and steel wool. Dee hoped she could remember what he’d said.

Steel wool was made of ultra-thin threads of iron. When the threads touched the positive and negative terminals of the battery at the same time they created an electrical circuit. The current running through the thin iron wires made them very hot. So hot, that the iron reacted with the oxygen in the air and the fire spread to more of the steel wool.

She laid the batteries in her hand with the positive terminal of one battery pressed firmly against the negative terminal of the other. Then she put the steel wool against the open negative terminal and held it in place with her palm. She stretched the steel wool until it was long enough to reach the positive terminal on the other end.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered. She lightly stroked the steel wool against the positive terminal. It immediately glowed red and began to smolder.
 

Careful not to burn herself, Dee held the steel wool next to the dry, feathery leaves of her shrub. If the tinder didn’t catch on the first try, she would have to come up with a new plan. The steel wool didn’t burn long and would only light one time. This was her only chance.

Smoke rose from the leaves, and the red heat of the steel wool approached her fingers. She couldn’t hold it much longer. Dee blew gently on the leaves, ignoring the pain building in her fingers. She was rewarded with a bright flame.

Shielding the fire with her body and the side of the Porta-John, she let the flame spread through the branches.

Now for the scary part. Dee open the door of the toilet and shoved the flaming bush inside, then took off in a sprint for the nearest cover—a low concrete wall in what had once been an employee parking lot.
 

She leaped over the wall as a blast of heat rushed past her. A deep boom rumbled the ground. She peeked over the concrete barrier and saw that the roofs had been blown off several Porta-Johns and they were all burning. Her plan had worked even better than she thought! All of the toilets were connected by an underground tank and she’d blown the whole thing.

Shouts and alarms sounded, and Dee rubbed her ears in a vain attempt to stop the ringing caused by the explosion. Instead of running back to the barracks, Dee headed to the garage. She couldn’t leave without Mason.
 

Several soldiers ran her way, so she ducked behind a large pile of sawdust until they passed. From her hiding place, she could see the main building and the front gate. The guards at the gate were away from their posts, running toward the fire with buckets in hand.
 

The heavy garage door slowly rolled open. One of the big trucks drove out and turned toward the front gate. She saw the lightning symbol of the Resistance repainted on the driver’s side door. Then she recognized Mason’s profile behind the steering wheel. The truck lumbered toward the gate, engine roaring as it gained speed.

A lone guard held his ground for a few moments while the truck bore down on him, but when it was obvious it wasn’t going to stop he dove out of the way.

At the last possible minute, the driver’s door opened and Mason leaped out.

With a terrible sound of screeching metal, the truck blasted through the guard post, crumpled the front gate and its supports like they were toothpicks, and kept going.

Mason got to his feet and headed for the barracks. Dee’s heart twisted when he favored his hurt ankle. She darted out of hiding and ran to his side.

“Lean on me,” she told him.

“Dee? What are you—?” he began, but squealing brakes outside the fence sent them hurrying for cover. A jeep peeled into the compound and skidded to a stop in front of the main building. A tall blond man threw open the door and got out. It was Downey.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he shouted, his normal control completely shattered. One of his men stammered an explanation Downey didn’t bother to listen to. Downey yanked open the rear door of the jeep and dragged someone out.

“Grandpa,” Dee whispered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this mess is your granddaughter’s fault,” Downey said.

“If you touch her—” said Grandpa.

Downey shoved him against the jeep. “Shut up.”

Gunshots sounded in the distance. Dee hoped Sena’s group had found Mason’s gun stash.

Downey shouted to the timid soldier. “Simmons! Get him inside while I handle things out here.” He jogged toward the fire and yelled at no one in particular, “Has anyone checked the barracks?”

Simmons had a gun pointed at Grandpa. “Go around to the other side and keep your hands where I can see them,” he ordered. The jeep blocked Dee’s view of the main building, but the door slammed a moment later.

Dee whispered to Mason. “I’m getting Grandpa out. You go find Hyrum.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“Someone has to show the kids how to get to Hester’s. We can’t abandon them.”

“Going in there alone is a terrible idea. Let me do it.”

Dee shook her head. “He’s my grandpa. I’m going.”

Mason took Dee by the shoulders. “We’re going in together or not at all. Got it?”

Dee could see he meant every word. “We’d better hurry.”

“Do you have a plan?” asked Mason.

“Go in. Get Grandpa. Get out.”

“Catchy. I like it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring that was packed with keys. “These are for almost every vehicle on base. One of them is the backup for that jeep. After we get your grandpa we can drive right out the front gate.”

“You thought of everything,” said Dee.

“I try. Are you sure you want to do this?”

At his hesitation, Dee leaned up and kissed him, feeling the rough stubble of his cheek under her hand. “I’m sure.”

Mason held her for a moment and then released her. “Let’s go get your grandpa.”

They crossed to the main building without being seen and entered the lobby, the bright overhead lights stinging their eyes. Though the room was deserted, from somewhere nearby they could hear the low hum of a generator.
 

“So far so good,” whispered Mason. “I just wish we had a gun.”

“Maybe there’s something else in here we can use as a weapon.” Dee scanned the room, her eyes landing on a stapler. “What about that?”

Mason was studying a paper cutter. He raised the arm and tested the sharpness of the cutting edge. Then he removed the blade with a wrench he had in his back pocket.

“You had a wrench this whole time?” said Dee.

Mason raised his eyebrows. “I work in a garage. Of course I have a wrench. Do you have urgent repair business I should know about?”

Dee waved the stapler at him. “It’s a better club than this!”

“Oh, right,” he said, handing her the wrench.

They moved to the door leading deeper into the building. “Let’s see if we can draw them out one at a time.”

He opened the door a crack and peered down the hallway, then yelled in a deeper voice than normal, “Simmons, get out here!”

Dee and Mason took up positions on either side of the door, weapons raised. Quick footsteps were coming toward them and then Simmons burst through the door.

Mason grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth with one hand and placing the blade of the paper cutter against his throat. “Not a word,” whispered Mason. “Dee, get his gun.”
 

Dee removed a Beretta from its holster and pointed it at Simmons. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and he breathed hard against Mason’s hand.

“How many more guards are back there?” Dee asked him.

Simmons raised two fingers and Mason clobbered him on the back of the head with the handle of the paper cutter. The soldier slumped to the floor.

They opened the door again and headed into a hallway. There were three doors in the hall, all closed. Dee put her hand on the knob of the first one and Mason nodded. She opened it and stepped inside, gun ready. It was a small office with filing cabinets and a cluttered desk. Empty.

They moved to the next door. Mason yanked it open and rushed inside with Dee right behind.

It had once been a break room. An ancient vending machine sat dark and empty in one corner, across from a full-size fridge and microwave.

Muffled shouts behind Dee startled her, and she whirled around, accidentally firing the gun in her hand.