The Monarch (37 page)

They walked on in silence for a while. Jonathan hadn't meant to open a wound for her, he just wanted to know what he'd be facing. But with her past, maybe opening a few wounds wasn't such a bad idea.

“I can't believe she tried to kill me,” Sophia said out of the blue. Jonathan held her a little tighter under his arm.

“There is a silver lining, if it's any consolation,” Jonathan said.

“What's that?”

“They probably think Lara was successful,” he said. Sophia seemed to take little comfort in the fact.

“How you doing, baby?” Jonathan asked Natalie.

“Good,” Natalie said, but she sounded tired and looked even more so.

“I can walk on my own for a while if you want to walk with Natalie,” Sophia said.

“You sure?” Jonathan asked. She seemed steady enough. “Just shout out if you need help,” Jonathan said. Natalie reflexively took his arm.

“We'll be out of her soon,” Jonathan said.

“I know,” Natalie said with a smile.

“You do, do you?”

“Don't say anything,” Natalie said, leaning in conspiratorially to Jonathan. “But I had the dream again last night.”

“You did?”

“Yes, but this time I saw the woman's face!” Natalie said.

“Who was it?”

Natalie nodded toward Sophia.

Jonathan smiled and hugged Natalie with one arm. He figured Sophia's saving Natalie in the complex had probably placed her image into Natalie's dream.

What if there's more to it?

8:20
A.M.

L
ARA COULDN'T BELIEVE
that this was where she had lived.

The complex was gone, nothing but uneven rubble remaining. One side of the main level had collapsed into the second level, leaving a kind of ramp that led from where Lara stood to the elevator shaft. The elevator for both the first and second levels was visible now, the first level door looking bizarre as it hung up in the air with no floor leading to it.

Lara kicked through the debris, looking for her sister's body, her head snapping up at the slightest sound like a pigeon eating breadcrumbs in the park. The others were nowhere to be seen, but she took comfort in the sight of Thomas still lying on the ground on the other side of the courtyard, partially covered with debris. She'd had some crazy idea that when she got down here he'd be standing against a tree waiting for her, cleaning his nails with the knife, a look of disappointment on his face. She'd never actually believed that Thomas loved her, not until the final moments of his life when he'd looked her in the eyes as he died. Her father never would have let him live knowing that. And if he had to die, she was glad it was she who had done it. She thought it was romantic.

It was comforting to see everything where she'd left it—­except for the complex, of course. There didn't seem to be anything under the rubble, but more rubble. She rationalized that if Sophia had somehow survived, it might get Lara out of trouble with her father. But she knew that was foolish thinking. Her father was never going to be pleased with her, no matter what she did or didn't do. He had always been hard on her, but something had changed after he told her she wasn't really a Kring. Not by blood, anyway.

You're being paranoid
. Some bits of concrete tumbled down behind her and she spun around. Nothing there. But a few feet away she saw something sticking out of the debris on the ground. She made her way to it and knelt, pulling the black material out of its hiding place. It was Sophia's backpack.

Lara smiled slightly at her success. She examined the pack, seeing three holes through it.
I knew I hit her.
Though just three holes was disappointing. She touched one of the holes and her fingers came away wet and red. Her smile grew.

She stood, swinging the backpack over her shoulder, and carefully made her way out of the disaster area. A twisted ankle was the last thing she needed now. It would impede her ability to fly the helicopter. Yet another disappointment for her father. Not that he needed a reason.

She heard a scraping sound and stopped, looking around. She didn't see anything and was going to continue her climb out of the wreckage when she heard it again. At the bottom of the rubble ramp she saw something stick through the seam in the elevator doors. A bar of some sort. She watched as it wiggled around, like it was trying to escape whatever was on the other side of the doors.

“What the . . .” Then slowly the doors parted, the inside too dark to reveal anything from this angle with the morning sun behind the shaft. The doors opened all the way and a moment later a strange man leaped into view, his back half still hanging inside as he gripped the sliding gravel under his fingers, trying to pull himself out of the hungry elevator. Lara just stared, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Who the hell is that?

Resting from his struggle, the man panted for air, his gasps sending dust pluming up from under his mouth. Then he looked up and saw her. For what seemed like minutes, they just looked at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. The man made it finally, which sparked Lara to action.

“Hey . . .” he said, reaching a hand out as if to ask for help. Lara pulled her gun and fired wildly as she ran out of the rubble field. “No!” the man shouted before he fell back into the elevator shaft.

Lara kept running, still pulling the gun's trigger as she ran, hollow clicks the only reaction from the weapon. She finally tossed it aside and ran into the jungle, the bloody backpack bouncing over her shoulder.

L
EW'S FINGERS FELT
like they were going to snap off, the pain of the broken ones slowly challenging the stabbing in his leg. He'd fallen several feet before he'd managed to grab hold of the ladder, avoiding plunging to his death in the rubble. He kicked his uninjured leg, looking for something to step on, finding nothing but smooth concrete on the wall of the shaft. Almost fully exhausted, he dug deep and growled as he pulled with his less injured hand, his chest slamming down onto sharp hunks of broken stone. He wiggled from side to side until he managed to pull himself completely out of the gaping pit and roll onto his back. His head swam from the pain and he had to will himself to stay conscious.

“Crazy . . . fucking. . . . bitch,” he muttered, catching his breath. He wanted to stay there, let the blackness take him and sleep forever, but Lara might be his only chance of getting off this damn island.

Lew got to his feet and limp-­hopped his way out of the destruction. He saw Thomas lying on the other side of the courtyard and shook his head. “Love stinks, brother,” he said, looking up the road, squinting from the glare of the morning sun. Lara was nowhere to be seen, but about halfway up the rising hill in the jungle he saw vegetation moving.
Of course. Couldn't take the fucking road, oh no.

Lew headed off into the jungle, stopping on the edge of the vegetation when he heard a buzzing overhead. He looked up and saw the drone that had caused the destruction. He knew that somewhere—­probably hundreds of miles away or on a ship off shore—­there were soldiers watching him through the cameras that hung beneath the drone's nose. What the hell it was doing here, he had no idea. Nor did he care. Knowing wouldn't help him. The only thing that would help was to not be here if the remote piloting soldier decided to finish what he started. He flipped the craft the bird and limped into the jungle.

If they were going to unload one of the five-­hundred-­pound bombs he could see hanging from its belly, he was going to make sure he was standing right beside psycho bitch when they did.

8:30
A.M.

J
ONATHAN CRAWLED UP
to the crest of the jungle hill, slipping between the trunks of two trees until he could see the helipad below. He understood now why it was so far from the complex. The helipad was a natural, flat stone outcropping at the very edge of the island, as if Mother Nature had put it there for helicopters to land on. The far edge of the platform dropped off, the sea a hundred feet below. The road they had been on—­fifty feet below him—­was blasted out of the jungle so it ran neatly onto the helipad. A single small hut sat at the edge of the helipad, and through the big windows Jonathan could see two guards and Nathan in his wheelchair. In the center of the helipad sat a Bell 407 single-­rotor helicopter perched beneath camouflage netting attached to four posts on wheels. Another guard was busy rolling the netting back.

It was a risk with the drone still flying around up there somewhere, but it was necessary. Jonathan knew the helicopter needed time to rev up before it could make a run for it, and the netting had to be out of the way for that to happen. But to rev it up they needed a pilot, and Lara was nowhere to be seen.

L
EW'S HAND SLIPPED
off the tree he'd been aiming at and he fell to his knees, pain shooting white spots into his vision. He turned to the side and dry heaved, spitting stringy bile onto the jungle floor. Using the tree as a crutch, he managed to get himself back up to his feet. He held his hands out in front of him and watched them shake.

Looking up the hill, he tried to find the vegetation movement he'd been following, but the jungle was deathly still. He had no idea how much farther this mountain rose, but he could hear the ocean now, crashing somewhere in the distance. Either that, or it was what little blood he had left pounding in his ears. He suppressed another bout of retching and pushed on.

Where the hell is she?

“A
RE YOU SURE?”
Sophia asked, reaching into her bag.

“Honestly?” Jonathan said, back down with the girls after reconnoitering the helipad. “Not in the least. But it's the only chance we've got.”

She handed him the glass vial filled with the blue serum.

“What else do you have in there?” Jonathan asked. She opened the bag up so he could see. It was a myriad of junk, most of it useless. But he reached in and pulled one item out.

“What do you need a—­”

“Dad?” Natalie said.

“Honey, I told you, it's going to be okay,” Jonathan said.

“You stay with Emily. No matter what, okay?”

“M'kay,” she said, moving over to Emily who put her arm around her.

“Be careful,” Emily said.

Sophia leaned over and kissed Jonathan on the cheek.

“For luck,” she said. Jonathan looked at Natalie, who was grinning from ear to ear. He winked at her, despite what had happened to Lew when Emily had given
him
a kiss for luck. He handed Sophia his gun and then headed down the road toward the helipad.

“S
IR!”
O
NE OF
the guards shouted when he saw Jonathan walking onto the helipad with his hands over his head, the vial sticking out of one and a small black rectangle sticking out of the other. Nathan turned and saw what he was holding as the guards brought their guns to bear on Jonathan.

“Don't shoot. Don't shoot,” Nathan ordered.

“I want to make a deal,” Jonathan said as the guards walked toward him and Nathan rolled behind them. “That's far enough!” Jonathan raised the vial up as if he were going to smash it on the stone at his feet.

“No!” Nathan shouted, actually using his voice, which was a slurred sound like someone coughing. Even the guards turned to look at him.

All but one fell back into line behind Nathan.

“Sir, don't listen to him. I can just—­”

A gunshot rang out and the guard fell to the stone with a hole in his head, the gun in Nathan's hand still smoking.

“What kind of deal?” he asked with his calm electronic voice.

“The serum for passage on the helicopter,” Jonathan said.

Nathan raised an eyebrow and seemed to mull over the offer, his eyes never leaving the vial in Jonathan's hand.

“Choose,” Nathan said.

“What?”

“Choose. The serum for one seat on the chopper,” Nathan said. Jonathan had expected nothing less from this monster.

“How many seats for the serum and Sophia's research,” Jonathan said. He held the black rectangle up for Nathan to see, praying he was far enough away for the disposable lighter to look like a USB drive. There was no way in hell he was letting Nathan anywhere near the real thing.

Nathan's eyes widened.

“Deal,” Nathan said. “Bring them to me and they can get on the chopper.”

Jonathan took a few steps and then threw himself to the ground, throwing the serum up in the air. The guards and Nathan followed the vial up with their eyes and Jonathan made his move.

L
EW FELL AGAINST
another tree, catching his breath. There was only about twenty feet of jungle left before he reached the edge of the cliff, and still no sign of the crazy woman who had shot at him. Had he missed her? Was she already down the other side?

Rested as much as he dared, he stepped away from the tree and heard a rustle overhead. He looked up just in time to see Lara pounce on him from her hiding place up in the branches overhead. He managed to dodge most of the attack, but even a glancing blow in his condition sent him reeling. He turned over just as she recovered from her attack and leaped on him again, striking him again and again. Her fists slammed into both sides of his head over and over. Then she pulled a knife and plunged it at his chest.

Lew caught the thrust in time, but his strength was gone. It was all he could do to hold the blade in place over his heart. She reached back and slammed her thumb deep into his thigh wound.

His howl masked the sound of gunfire in the distance.

O
NE OF THE
guards caught the falling serum just as gunfire rained down from the trees overhead. Jonathan realized that Sophia hadn't lied; she couldn't shoot worth a damn. Emily had wanted to do it, but she was a little bloodthirsty at the moment. Still, accuracy wasn't the point and in Sophia's defense, she'd hit one of the guards, though just in the arm. Jonathan continued counting and when Sophia had expended all the bullets in his two guns, he vaulted up off the ground.