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A ray of moonlight hits Winter’s face, and I can see the fear in her features while her brain cogs are furiously at work.
“You get the phone,” she says after a while. “I’ll find the medicine and water for Archie.”
“What? No!” I protest. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ve never been inside Tucker’s tent,” Winter protests. “I have no idea where he keeps the phone and stand no chance of finding it in the dark. And even if I did, I don’t know how it works. The antibiotics are in the supply tent, I know the layout, I can get to them more easily,” she says with finality. “We meet again where we left the backpacks.”
And before I can protest further, she dashes in the opposite direction. I suppress a curse that my plan not to stick to the plan has majorly backfired on me and put her in more danger.
I sigh. Nothing I can do about it now; I have to focus on the task ahead.
I approach Tucker’s tent from the back, slither Smith’s knife out of its sheath, and cut a vertical opening in the tent’s fabric. Before going in, I check the path is clear by spying between the gap. The front of Tucker’s tent is zipped down, and there’s no one inside. Perfect. No one will be able to spot me from the camp.
I slip in and squat on the floor, suddenly disoriented. Without the moonlight filtering in from outside, I’m in complete darkness. Blind, I carefully place the knife back in its sheath so I don’t accidentally stab myself. Then I search the surrounding space with my hands. My fingers finally clasp Tucker’s cot. I grab it and, even if it doesn’t make much of a difference, given the poor light, I close my eyes, trying to remember the layout of my friend’s tent. The window flap should be somewhere above the bed.
I climb on the cot, my heart jumping in my throat when the metal springs squeak. I pause, breathing heavily, while my pulse races into a frenzy and my ears strain for any sign the noise has been heard and that I’ve been discovered. But the night mercifully stays quiet. My thoughts go out to Winter. What is she doing? Has she reached the supply tent? If they catch her… I have to crush the panic rising in my chest. Seeing her trapped once has been enough for a lifetime. Not an experience I care to repeat.
Don’t be silly, Logan, that woman is ten times tougher than any men around here. No way a night incursion is what takes her out.
Right.
She’s probably already waiting at the rendezvous point, wondering what’s taking me so damn long.
Searching the tent’s wall with my fingertips, I finally come into contact with the flap. I roll it up and tie it with the small string attached in its center. The window isn’t big, but it lets enough moonlight into the tent for me to make out shapes. I give my eyes a few more seconds to adjust, and then begin my exploration.
I’m sure the soldiers searched all the tents, so if they didn’t find the phone, it means Tucker must’ve stashed it somewhere out of sight. But where?
I climb off the bed and search the ground underneath. Nothing here.
Next, I move in a clockwise circle around the tent, searching every box, bag, and crevice I can find.
Nothing.
The blasted phone is nowhere to be found.
I sink back on my haunches, racking my brain. Where could my friend have put it?
My eyes drift back to his backpack. I’ve already patted it, and it was only soft fabric inside. Clothes. Nothing more.
But maybe the army guys performed the same superficial search and came to the same conclusion.
I kneel in front of the rucksack and resolve to try every last pocket. When I’ve removed a dozen folded T-shirts, my hands finally bump against something solid. My fingers fasten around a plastic handle, and I pull out the phone case, touching it to my lips. I quickly throw all the discarded clothes back in the sack and restore it to the spot where I found it.
I consider climbing on the bed once again to close the window flap, but I doubt even Smith would notice such a tiny detail. And, anyway, if they come looking, the slash in the back wall will be enough to give away the nightly incursion.
Decision made, I slip out of the tent the way I came in and scamper far away. Giving the camp a wide berth, I retrace my steps to the spot where Winter and I left our meager supplies.
She isn’t there.
My heart falls.
My first instinct is to run back and go look for her, but the ghost of her voice prevents me. “You stick to the plan.”
Right. Even if, worst-case scenario, they caught Winter, the best I can do right now is call for reinforcements. That’s the first priority. At least that way, when I go look for her and probably get myself captured in the attempt, there will be help on the way.
I take the phone out of the case and squat low behind a bush to screen the inbuilt light from sight—in the surrounding darkness, it’d have the same effect as an emergency flare and give away my position, especially if Winter has been found out and Smith is looking for me. On the retro-illuminated green screen, I scroll for preloaded numbers and dial the emergency number of the American embassy in Bangkok.
They pick up on the first ring.
