Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Anyway, the point is I was on the run, the train ride sucked, and by the time I got off, it was night time. Almost eight-thirty at night, to be exact. And everything around the train station was closed.
Which meant I couldn’t rent a car—which I wasn’t gonna do anyway because of all the documentation you need. I might as well have just worn a neon sign that said, Come and Get Me.
The only saving grace was that I saw a sign across the street from the train station for Appalachian Tours and Transit. Which is a little place that offers bus tours of the scenic shit in this area and one place they go is Trinity County.
I slept outside the little storefront, waiting until they opened up at six. “Usually,” the woman at the counter told me, “we take passengers up on this first trip in the mornin’. We bring ‘em back down here after their stay is over. So there won’t be no one on the bus with you.”
I didn’t mind, and I told her that. My head was all jumbled and confused at this point. And I must’ve looked a wreck after my unnecessarily long journey from DC, so this lady sold me a ticket and I got on the bus.
It was about an hour ride up to Disciple, but since I was the only passenger, and this bus was driving straight past Disciple to pick people up in Bishop, I asked the driver if he’d mind dropping me off at Edge Security since it’s right on the Loop Highway, and he agreed.
When we arrive, there’s a school bus pulling in ahead of us. They get stuck at the gatehouse for a minute, so my driver just pulls along the highway and looks over his shoulder at me. “I don’t have time to chat with the guards, so you’re good with me droppin’ you here?”
I nod and get up, slinging my go-bag over my shoulder. “Yes. This is perfect. Thanks a lot for your help.”
He tips his head at me and smiles. “Have a nice day, young lady.”
And I get off, waving at him one final time as he pulls away.
The bus is still idling at the gate, so I can’t really see anything until it starts pulling forward down the long driveway.
I’ve seen aerial photos and drone footage of the Edge compound. And, of course, I know this place from when I was a kid. Not that I’ve ever been here, but we must’ve driven past it hundreds of times in the eight years I spent in Disciple. So everything in this moment is familiar, but in two very different ways.
On the one hand, Edge is an asset of Collin Creed, who is my target.
On the other, this is the Old Church Camp from my childhood, and my brother owns it.
It’s a weird dichotomy.
“Can we help you, ma’am?” There are two guards at the gate. The first one is tall and dark-skinned and the other is Hispanic, maybe. Both of them are looking at me like they are not in the mood for whatever is about to come out of my mouth.
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a long breath. “I’m… well… I’m Collin’s sister? Olive?” Both of these things come out as questions, which is not good. Because if I’m not sure who I am, they have no reason to believe me. “Can you let him know I’m here?”
“Is he expecting you?” the first one asks.
I shake my head, but force myself to project confidence. “No. But he will definitely want to know I’m here so you should probably give him a call.” I think.
“One moment,” the second one says. He goes into the guard house, while Number One glares at me like I’m wearing a nametag that says Enemy on it.
The second one comes back out. “He’s on his way.” Then they both stare at me with half-hooded eyes. It’s all very serious. Which might be weird. I mean, I’m a twenty-two-year-old girl. Blonde, and fit, and attractive, and small. They’re hardened, big, and wearing black tactical uniforms. Not only that, they’re loaded down with some serious weapons, like this is a military base in some violent desert country instead of a security operation in the middle of West Virginia.
I look over to my right and there he is. Collin Creed. My brother. My target.
He’s coming down the porch steps of the house closest to the highway with a strange look on his face. As he gets closer he squints. “Olive?”
I smile, shyly. Because he’s a lot like his compound. I know him—I grew up with him until I was eight—but I haven’t seen him in over twelve years. Haven’t even talked to him since I was a teenager, and that was just a random call out of nowhere that lasted about five minutes.