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Carson raised the camera to his eye.  Then he pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath.  The wind stirred his hair- he was sitting in the car, car door open, one foot on the ground.  The other cars were parked nearby.

“Drones?” Mia asked him.  She didn’t look up from the computer.  She was poring through images.  She’d tagged the images already, and was browsing through specific tags.

“Yeah.”

“How many?”

Carson was pretty sure the camera worked by identifying lenses and reflective surfaces, everything cast in a grainy black and white, with the features in question a glaring white or light gray with lens flares around them.

He opened his mouth, watching, then closed it.  Things were in a delicate place.  Mia was.  Their support was.

There were more drones than he could count, flying in patterns.

“Fuck me,” Moses said, before Carson could figure out how to word it.  Moses had a second camera, with a slightly cracked screen, and an internal battery that was only connecting if it was held at a certain angle.  Moses had his head cocked a bit to the side as a consequence.  “That’s a lot.”

Mia’s knuckles cracked as she clenched her fist.  She’d looked up, staring out the windshield.  The sky was black, mostly, but the illumination of the fires throughout the city made up for the fact the power had died again, plunging them into another blackout, making the stars impossible to see.  They didn’t quite reach the point of making the drones visible against the night sky.

Mia stopped cracking her knuckles and rubbed at her right shoulder, working the fingers of the right hand, open and closed.

“That bad?” Carson asked, quietly.

“You tell me.  What are you seeing?”

“Drone-wise?  He escalated.  Full coverage.”

“You guys hurt him on that front, he bounced back twice as hard,” Valentina said.  Valentina, for her part, was sketching on paper, using the lid of a closed laptop as a surface, in the back seat.

“We hurt him,” Mia said, using a finger to loop Valentina into that ‘we’.  “You’re a part of the family, you’ve been contributing, you get some of the credit.  If he’s expanded, he might have had to get more people to manage, build, and repair the drones.  I wasn’t able to find much when I researched.”

“For the record, I was asking about your shoulder.”

“I know.  But there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Ice, bandage?” Carson offered.

“Another hour won’t make a huge difference.  I want to get this done.  Ripley can’t afford for us to wait.”

Her eyes turned to the house.

Their logic for approaching Davie Cavalcanti’s home shared a lot of logic with how they had set up the cameras around the cabin, because the man had borrowed from their logic and approach, intentionally or accidentally.  There was one major road that led up the side of the hill overlooking the city, forking here and there into long driveways that led up to the individual properties, each far enough apart from the others to have total privacy.  Davie’s home was one of five with prime position, jutting out from the hillside.

That major road was under constant surveillance from the drones.

From there, other roads and chokepoints were under constant monitoring.  It was like the trail cameras, but fluid and much more oppressive.

Then there was the activity on the road.  People kept coming and going.  There were others stationed near the key intersections.  To top it off, the police were active again.  A helicopter had passed overhead while they were driving in.

They had stopped far enough away that they were out of the thick of it and away from scrutiny, but close enough they had a view of the approach.

While working for the Cavalcantis, Tony Arcuri, the family lawyer, had checked all purchases over a certain amount, for taxes and because the government flagged large transactions.  He’d explained on the way over.  Here, they had a house on the hill, surrounded by trees, just outside the city.  Except forest fires had been an annual problem for years now.  So had intermittent and severe blackouts, the occasional one knocking out all communication.

Other early warning systems for disaster were managed by the city, and this wasn’t he first week the city’s leadership had been in a bad place.

There were many things wrong with Davie, but he wasn’t an idiot.  So he’d had small cabins built, with connections to the various firewatch towers and the house.  Underground telegraph wires, apparently.   Davie had coordinated with the city.  They had set up some of the infrastructure, he’d supplied material, men, and ran it.  In a way, it gave him more control.  He could have members of his gang there, ready to deploy onto that main road that led up to the house, cutting off retreat.  The other outpost was a little less useful for that, but Mia had looked at satellite photos and they weren’t ruling out the possibility that a helicopter could land nearby.  A place to escape to, with supplies and people stationed there as backup.

The house faced southwest.  There was one station at the north side of the hill, with the possible landing pad.  One at the east, near the base of the road.  Firewatch towers further away were connected to his setup.

“This will have to do,” Valentina said.  “Not to scale.”

She passed the paper forward.

Mia took a picture of it with her phone.  “Where’s the cable, phone to USB?”

Carson checked the bag of wires, then shook his head.

“We’re disorganized,” Mia said.  “Moving too fast because we have to move fast, not putting everything away.  Not getting everything in place.”

“Yeah,” Carson replied, rummaging.  He saw what might be the wire beneath the center console, between the seats.  He reached for it, then hissed.  That bullet wound at his side.  “And-”

He had to huff for a breath.

“You alright?” Moses asked.

“-worse for wear,” Carson said, finishing his sentence, and answering the question at the same time.

“Did you tear your stitches?” Mia asked.

“Didn’t feel like I did.”

Valentina squirmed around until she could reach beneath.  She fished out the wire so Carson didn’t have to..

“Thank you,” Mia said.  “You’ve been stellar.  I don’t know how we could make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to,” Valentina said, seeming a little startled.

“I think this is as close as we can get,” Carson said, while Mia snapped a picture.

“Okay,” Mia said.  She opened her car door, wincing at the use of her arm.  “Valentina, could you grab a spare laptop battery? I’ll switch.  Everyone gather.  Fast.”

The group came over.  Ben had his camera out.  Rider stood behind him.

“This,” Mia said, clicking to one tab.  “Is the hill.  Houses marked out on it.  Approximate locations of the warning stations here and here.”

She switched tabs.  It was a picture of the house, sketched out, with pictures superimposed over sections of it.

“This is the house, drawn by Valentina, who lived there.”

“Not to scale,” Valentina said.

“With these pictures…” Mia clicked on one.  It opened as a separate window.  An outdoor picture of a woman in fancy dress and a man in a suit, both a bit red faced, smiling.  There was activity in the house, visible from the window, and there were lots of people around.

Mia zoomed in.

“Ripley is in the vents.  Presumably Natalie Teale is too.  Here we see where the vent exits to the outside, for airflow, near the base of the house.  It’s caged.  Presumably she escaped and got to the vents, but can’t exit them.  She left a message for us, using a phone of one of Davie’s doctors, and as soon as the power came back on and communication was restored, it was sent.  Letting us know.”

The power was back out again.  Still no cell service.

“From the lighting, the generator was killed.  From the photos, presumably taken by Natalie, given the height they were taken from, the collection of armless, legless trophies was effectively taken off life support.  So Davie’s distracted.  I want to distract him more.”

“Okay,” Ben said, frowning.

She went on, explaining, “From the way the drones are set up, and the people are patrolling, I’d guess Davie has some sense she didn’t actually escape.  He might even know they’re in the vents.  Other exits here…”

Another picture, from the back of the house.

“Here…”

Side of the house, near the garage, which ran beneath the house itself, where it jutted out from the hill.

“And here.”

“That’s a lot,” Carson noted.

“Big house,” Valentina said.

“I’m open to suggestions, but I think our best option is to get to the early warning station.  If we can, we can warn about fire from the city.  Gale-force winds fanning the flames and putting that region at risk of forest fire, with no flight or road travel.”

“Force an evacuation,” Carson said.

“The setup of the roads there are an issue.  Cutting through the woods is slow.  Going down the road is dangerous- if a fire reaches the foot of that road, cars can’t easily get out,” Tony explained.  “There’s a dirt road the city uses to get access to the woodland, but that’s slow going for multiple cars.  Which is why he wanted the early warning.”

“Ideal world, he decides to leave Ripley behind,” Mia said.

“And if we can’t?” Ben asked.  “If it’s too well guarded?”

“We use the signal jamming device we got from the anarchists, stop the drones.  The team that couldn’t get to the warning station baits them in their direction.  The device itself will draw some attention if Davie’s people can work out where it is,” Mia replied.

“If they have the right equipment, they can judge the strength of the jamming signal and its direction.  If there is more than one drone controller, and they’re at or can go to different locations, they could work it out in a few minutes,” Carson elaborated.

“Our people would leave a signal jammer hidden, so they can move further, faster, going in or retreating.  It should work for a range of one mile.  That covers the hill, the house, drones won’t receive any new inputs.  With two teams, the other one should be more clear to get in.  Closer to the house.  Bait them out of position with one, get the other in where we need them.”

“Hmm,” Rider mused.  “I’d worry on a few fronts, there, based on what little I know.”

“Okay,” Mia said.  “Elaborate?”

“We’d need teams for the bait plan.  Some of us would be going out there,”  Rider stated.

“We would.”

“Whoever went and started things off, they’d recognize the signal is being blocked.  Depending on how they’re set up, they might realize what direction that’s coming from.  There would be cars cutting off escape routes.  More.  Even if we could get close enough.”

“True, but his attention is divided,” Ben said.  “Ripley in the vents.  His trophies are dying.  Valentina said he cares about those.”

“Yeah,” Valentina said.  “More than he cares about his own children.”

“Drones shut down, possible attempt at rescuing Ripley?  What else?” Rider asked.

Mia frowned.  “I’m hoping it’s enough he’s distracted.  His forces will be split up.  Are already split up, if we count the ones defending against the targeted attacks from the Civil Warriors.  Your ploy.”

“They are,” Tony said.  “Split up, frustrated.  He maintains an aura of confidence.  It reassures people at the top, but those at the bottom don’t have an idea of what’s going on.  Only a few people in the leadership are good at communicating with them.  Andre was one.”

Andre was in the back of one car with Addi.  Much worse for wear after Mia and Carson had questioned him, at Tony’s office.

“Can we use Andre?” Ben asked.

“He won’t cooperate.”

“Okay,” Ben said.  “I’m wondering how we can fork their attention even more.  If we’re trying to get them to think there’s a danger of fire, what other warnings work?  Warning sirens?”

“Individually activated from places around the city,” Mia said.  “They operate using batteries.”

“You looked it up already?” Ben asked.

Mia nodded.

“Okay, um,” he said, apparently caught off guard by that.

She didn’t say it, but they had looked it up when Ben, Rider, and Natalie had been at the school with Ripley, and they’d been contemplating ways to get them out.  They’d decided the siren would generate enough chaos they weren’t sure they could intercept Ben’s group.  A bomb worked better, to get people running in predictable directions.

“If we send people for that, we have less for going for the warning station, or the house,” Carson noted.

“Less chance of being spotted,” Ben said.

“Less chance of success.  Less skills.”

“No, Ben’s putting his finger on things that are worrying me,” Mia said.  “Kids?  Split up, break in and activate the tornado sirens.  You’ll have to break in.  I can get what you need onto your phones.  Are you charged?”

“Charged enough,” Jermaine said.

“Don’t hurt anyone,” Ben said.

Jermaine smiled.

Mia told them, “That’ll be your last job for us.  I have your contact information.  Leave the state, wait for an email, rendezvous.  The latter half of your pay will reach you automatically.”

“Unless you pull something,” Carson said.

“Why would we?” Kenny asked, shrugging.  “It’s a chance to fuck the Cavalcanti family, right?  Get them running scared, confused?  Love that.”

Rosales smiled a bit.

“Great,” Carson said, letting posture and tone carry what the word itself couldn’t.  That lingering warning to not get clever or pull some trick.

He looked at the hill, and heard a helicopter.

All of them shifted position, while the chopper passed.  It wasn’t close and there was no indication it was focused on them, but one mistake could cost them everything.  Carson had ducked into the car, and felt his side ache.

There were police cars on the road too.

After it had passed, Carson climbed back out.

“We have two jammers.  Each reach a mile.  We have to get one to the base of the hill to shut down the drones that are operating from the house, minimum, right?” Carson asked.

“A little closer than the base of the hill,” Mia replied.

“What if we deliver them a package with one jammer inside?”

“That won’t last long before being destroyed, and it shows our hand.  They’ll intercept it,” Rider said.

“It won’t, it does, they will,” Carson said.  “So we have someone unwitting deliver it.”

“Elaborate?” Ben asked.

“No.  The more compartmentalized we keep information, the better,” Carson said.  “It’ll double as a feint.  Draw more attention away.  Fork their attention, as you put it, splitting it like branches of lightning.”

Ben was frowning.  “There’s another issue.”

“Just say it, don’t drag this out,” Mia told him.

“The vents.  Assuming Ripley and Natalie aren’t conveniently at the spot we arrive at, someone has to go inside.”

Mia glanced at Carson.

Mia was five foot ten, but broad shouldered, muscular.  The same thing that let her push herself with little mind to the damage she was doing to herself let her work out to an insane degree, which she did, to cope with anxiety, doubling as a way of preparing herself if a bad day eventually came.  Which it had.  She had to be careful, and she hadn’t, earlier tonight, because that same fact meant she could miss her body’s warnings and injure herself.

Carson was over six feet tall, and while he wasn’t broadly built, he wasn’t slender either.

“Can you set up the feint, if it comes to that?” Ben asked.  “You draw attention, and Rider and I go to the house?  I’m short, I’m small enough.  Rider and I are… not strangers to hostile territory.  We did exercises.”

Mia was already shaking her head, pausing to form an argument.  “Rider has, but you haven’t for a long time.”

“Okay.  We’ll intercept you on your way out,” Carson said.

Mia turned, frowning.

“The longer we argue, the more time we waste.  Okay.  You think you can get close?”

“I think we can.  Send me everything you have?” Ben asked.  “Maps?  Pictures?”

“Can’t send, but I can transfer.  I have a cable,” Mia said.

Ben bent through the open door to grab that cable.  His side hurt.

He passed it to Mia.

“No viruses on my phone.  No tricks.”

Mia gave the man one of the most dispassionate sidelong looks Carson had seen out of her.

“I can’t shake this notion you’re going to get us to be one branch of the feint, then let them hurt us,” Rider said.  “Then you sweep in and rescue Ripley, leaving Natalie behind to die.  Ride off into the darkness.”

Carson folded his arms.  “Do you want to split up?  Mia with Rider, me with you?”

“Honestly?” Ben asked.  “I think I’d find out Rider didn’t make it, and I know I don’t have that killer instinct to kill Carson to even the score.  It’s not even.”

“I can hold my own,” Rider said, glancing at Mia.

“While she’s calling the shots?  In control of the situation?  And while you’re distracted?” Ben asked.

“I can,” Rider said, but his tone of voice had changed.  He gave Mia a more serious look.

“I can go,” Valentina said.

“No,” Ben said, at nearly the same time Carson said the same.  For very, very different reasons.

She frowned.

Mia had a dark look again.  Carson had seen it at the dinner table.  He’d seen it when she was smashing one man’s skull through another man’s skull.  He’d seen it the night he met her.

“Remove the password on your computer,” Carson said.

Mia glanced at him.

“All of our gathered information, on the Cavalcantis, everything else.  All of our funds.  We can’t leave without that.  They can take any and all bags from our car.  So long as they do it fast.  That’s our collateral.”

“You’d take Ripley and leave all the rest of it behind.”

“We could but we couldn’t do it and survive.  We do our best.  You get Natalie and Ripley, we’ll meet you on the way out.  Then we talk.”

Ben clenched his jaw, taking in a deep breath.

“They’re not worth it,” Mia said.

“I actually believe them, that they could get past anyone that lingers after the evacuation.  And the can fit into vents like these in the picture.”

A look of disgust and anger crossed Mia’s face.  She hit the key combination to bring up settings, then changed the settings.  She threw the computer at Ben.  He caught it awkwardly, his camera already in one hand.

“I’ve worked with enough people to know they’d have backups,” Rider said.

“These are the backups.  Davie took everything we had.”

“And backups of backups?”

Mia whirled on Ben, that darkness and muted rage clear in her eyes.  Carson raised a hand, and he realized he’d be more likely to lose the use of his hand than stop her.

She was going to kill one of them, now.  Carson leaned back against the car.

“Ben,” Valentina said.

The man looked at her.  Mia had stopped.

“I’ll make sure.  Take the collateral.  I think Ripley should have a real choice.”

Carson studied Valentina’s posture and expression.

Ben and Rider didn’t know her enough to trust her.  She was a wild card, who’d hurt Addi.  But for Carson… he knew that if she left with them, she wouldn’t come back.  They’d given her validation, recognized her accomplishment.  He wasn’t sure if that had unlocked something in her, a milestone she’d needed to cross, that, once crossed, gave her permission to go, or if she had realized she didn’t want them in the time they’d been separate, focused on other things.

“Okay,” Ben said.

Mia put out a hand, “Phone.”

Rider gave his over.

Carson opened the trunk of the car, and got one of the bags with the military-strength signal jammer in it.  Rider already had a drone camera from earlier.  What else?

Didn’t matter.  He walked over and put the bag at Rider’s feet.

Mia quickly loaded up the necessary maps and information.  An overhead view of what was going on here.  “If you cross us, play games, or use that laptop against us, against the spirit of this deal, I will make you wish Davie Cavalcanti had you in his basement.  She’s my daughter.”

“And we may disagree on that point of fact until we’re blue in the face,” Ben said.  He took his phone.  “Don’t screw us.”

“If we do, we run the risk of Davie getting the information you have.” Carson replied.  “So don’t get caught.  He gets that, he wins.”

“Order of operations: get to the warning station.  Give a warning about imminent fire.  The stations are staffed by Cavalcanti gang members, not trained professionals, so it should be relatively easy.  If we can’t get them to evacuate that way, or if the tornado sirens don’t push them to go, Carson and I will go, draw them out with one signal jammer.”

“We’ll bait them out,” Carson said.  “I might have a better way.”

Ben frowned.  “What are you up to?”

“I have a plan.  And if it comes to that, you won’t like it.  But it’s not because it risks you, or Ripley, or gives us an advantage over you.  I swear on the life of my children.  I’m not playing games.”

Ben frowned.

“If I told you, you’d kick up a fuss, and you’d be distracted,” Carson said.  “If I don’t tell you, you’ll make peace with it later.”

Wariness all around.

Carson flashed a smile at them.

“Warning station, try to get them to evacuate, then house.  Wait for our distraction,” Mia reiterated.

“Don’t get too close.  Better to take a minute than to get caught because you got spotted by their surveillance, even with the danger,” Carson said.  “Use the signal jammer as a last resort only.  Mind the drones, use the camera if you can.”

Rider already had the camera out.  He nodded.

Ben and Rider got into their car and drove.  One or both of them were watching Carson, Mia, and the others throughout, until they’d turned to leave the parking lot.

Mia’s forehead wrinkled as she looked at Carson.  “If you were thinking we had extra backups… we do, but we can’t get to them easily.  We’d have to dig out the bunker, on their turf, and it’s a place they already know.  And we need to leave after we get Ripley.”

Carson was reminded of the bullet wound in his side.  “I know.  It was a genuine offer.  Which is the only reason I think they accepted.  We need to move.”

“We do, are we cutting through the woods?”

“I have another way to get their attention.  But first… we need an eighteen wheeler,” Carson said, glancing at the tools and things at the back of the trunk, where the back of the back seat formed a wall.  Tape, a welder the size of a toaster.

⯁

His side was bleeding freely again.  He had torn his stitches, enough that his hip was soaked through.  It was a surprise to pull his phone out to check the map for the roads and find the screen smeared in his own blood.

They didn’t find an eighteen wheeler of the dimensions Carson wanted, but there was a moving van with a shutter at the back, battered from people’s attempts to break in and loot it.  Something or someone had scared them off.

Possibly the police he was seeing in the area.  Carson picked the lock and opened it, checked, then closed it.

It was a metal box with a truck to drive it.  He spot-welded it shut.  Enough it wouldn’t open with any real effort.

He’d had the idea.  Mia had contributed the-

What was he even meant to call it?

The D.I.Y. aspect.  She’d turned it from a concept to a project.

He walked around to the driver’s seat.

Mia was taping Andre Cavalcanti’s head to the headrest.  His hands were taped to the steering wheel.  The man snarled, struggling.  He’d already been beaten so bad that only one eye would open.

“The nice thing about dying by fire is the smoke,” Carson explained.  “It takes you out before you can burn to death.  However, in your current situation, the fire will burn around and beneath you.  Smoke won’t necessarily make it into the cabin before the heat does.”

Andre struggled.

Carson used the camera, checking drones.  It also helped to highlight cars on the unlit road.  It was hard to tell if they were patrolling or just being very careful when there were no streetlights, and some cars abandoned at the roadside, without lights or headlights.

“Your best bet, Andre, is to get close.  If you play games, you might end up stuck inside a truck that’s on fire, cooking alive before you pass out.  This far out?  If you struggle, break our setup so the truck comes to a natural stop?  I wouldn’t trust anyone out here to save your hide.  It’s every man for themselves.  Closer to the house, people recognize you.  They might even have a fire extinguisher.”

Andre pulled at the steering wheel, throwing his entire body weight into the struggle.

“Tell them we have the Arcuri family, and we want a trade.”

Andre’s mouth was covered in duct tape, so he couldn’t really talk.

“Tell him our daughter’s out and safe, he loses.  This?  You burning?  It’s a final fuck you from us to him.  We’ll hold one of the Arcuris for a year, release one, then release the other later.  So long as he behaves and doesn’t follow us.”

Andre hadn’t been around for Tony’s defection.  He hadn’t been in a position to see or hear those conversations.

And, Carson was hoping, there was a long shot Davie would believe they’d gotten Ripley out.

Fury was etched around Andre’s eyes.  Fear too.

Carson smiled.

“A word,” Mia said.

Carson nodded.

They walked far enough away from Andre that he couldn’t hear.

“It’s a good opening,” she said.  “But what happens after?”

“We’ll see how he moves.”

She nodded.  She pulled out a ream of tape, and got fresh bandage.  Padding at his side.  When she peeled old bandage away, it looked inflamed.

“Fuck,” he swore.

It was another four minutes until the sirens came on.  It wasn’t like the tornado siren he’d heard during the brief test a year ago.  Carson frowned.

“Different sirens for different disasters.  I told them how to set it,” Mia explained.

The sirens were loud, and echoed as the sound bounced against the hill.  A terrible yawning sound that put nerves on edge.

He watched the drones, to see if flight patterns changed.

And the drones stopped.

They didn’t.

There were no headlights of people getting into cars around the Cavalcanti house.

There wasn’t a bustle of activity… and there were enough people there for there to be activity.

“They’re not moving.”

The sirens weren’t enough.

Carson watched, hoping for some clue.

Of course the journalist and his marshal had fucked this up.

It was only a moment.  Maybe it was intended as something that could be a solar flare, or a blip in the system.

Out there, Ben and Rider had turned on their signal block, intended as a last resort, for only a second.

“They just turned on their device for a moment.  It’s a signal.  I think they can’t get through.  They might be intending for us to go.”

Mia stared at Carson.

He angled his head toward Andre.

“Okay,” she said.

And Carson strode over to the vehicle.

Andre grunted as Carson popped up beside him, reaching past him.

He moved the extendable microphone stand to wedge it between gas pedal and the base of the seat.  Andre’s full-body thrashing almost made him drop it.

“Three, two, one,” Mia said.

“Good luck,” Carson said, before shifting gears.

The vehicle lurched forward.  Carson rode with it a second, gave Andre a kiss on the side of the head, then hopped down, stumbling with the landing.

Andre raced forward, gas canisters strapped and dangling around the outer edge of the truck, and near the truck cabin.  Mia’s countdown was to coordinate Andre’s launch and the starting of the timer for her explosive.

“I wonder if something went wrong,” Mia said.  “They’re forfeiting a lot.  Letting us go for Ripley.”

“Or it’s a trick from two men who think they’re cleverer than they are,” Carson said.

They got into the car, Carson wincing at his side.

Andre was all gas, no brake.  The truck wasn’t that fast, but it picked up some speed.

Cop cars that had been stationed closer to the hill lit up.  They pulled out, moving.

And Carson started up their car and drove.  No lights.  He did turn the radio on, tuned to static.

They just had to get close enough to the woods.

The truck drew the attention of various Cavalcanti vehicles on standby.  As it got closer to the hill, Carson reached into the back seat, and switched on the jamming device.

The radio signal static audibly distorted.  The drones stopped in the air.

Let them think the jamming device is in that truck.

Two cars intercepted the truck.  One ran alongside it, left side of the cop car running alongside the right side of the truck, trying to steer it off the road.  When the second car got involved, front of the vehicle pushing at the back left tire, there was little Andre could do.

It steered hard left, and with the speed it was going, no brake, and the slight elevation shift of the road, leading toward the base of the hill, it toppled.

Mia held a remote up at eye level, firmly pressing a button.

It felt like the ongoing whine of the sirens stopped, for a moment.  But it didn’t, of course.  Too far away.  More that the air shifted as the moving truck with Andre inside became a sudden ball of liquid flame.  It crashed, landing on its side, driver’s side against the ground.  At a glance, from a distance- Carson sat up in his seat, twisting around.  It didn’t appear the crash had popped the back of the truck open.

Let them think the jammer was in there, to start with.  Let them go to the effort of putting out the fire, get the tools they need to break in, and find only the message.  Same as they’d given to Andre.  A final ‘fuck you’ as if they had Ripley and were on their way out.  A warning to stay away, or they’d kill the Arcuris.

The fire drew the attention of others.  Part of the burning gasoline had spread to the hood of one cop car, so it was harder for people to think they had it under control.

Carson drove the car into a strip of trees along the road.  They’d have to cross the road.

“Are you okay with the bag, to start with?” he asked.

“Yeah.  Left arm still works fine.”

“Go ahead.  I’ll catch up.”

She got out of the car, walked to the edge of the treeline, and then stopped, checking.

The road was two lanes, extending in a direction that would take cars out out of the city, trees on both sides of the road.  In the other direction, it led vehicles to that copse of amenities that served both the rich houses directly above that copse, and the people coming in from this road.  A mix of restaurants and higher end groceries, clothing stores, and such.

All lit by distant flames elsewhere in the city, cast in dull red.  Set to a soundtrack of the incessant whine of the sirens.

Both of them startled at the distant eruption of fire around Andre’s moving van.

Mia quickly turned the device off.

“Why?” Carson asked, as he checked his gun.

There was a smaller commotion as the police car backed up and Andre’s moving van settled, no longer able to lean on the car’s hood.  Mia switched the device back on.  “Giving them reasons to think it’s in there.  Best done while we aren’t moving.”

Carson nodded.

She had such a dark look in her eyes.  It was briefly illuminated by a car racing toward the scene, headlights bright.

“What are you thinking?” Carson asked.

“The children.  Not just ours.  Valentina-”

Valentina was hanging back.

“-Ripley, Tyr must be so scared and disoriented.”

“He’s resilient.”

“The girl that man brought to the riot.  Others.  How many children hear the sirens now?”

“I know.”

A second car passed.

Mia gave Carson a quick nod, paused as he reached, out and leaned in to kiss him.  Then she hurried across the road, carrying the heavy bag.

Carson watched, camera to one eye.  He could see the drones suspended in the sky.

And, further down the road, there was a flash of white on the camera as someone opened a car door and the light bounced off the glass.

Carson watched, then crossed the road, quickly and silently.

He ducked through the trees, and found himself wishing for the second time tonight that his frame was a little smaller, because there were plenty of branches in his way.

A young man was doing the same, while Mia had far less reason to be careful and quiet, and pushed past, stepping on branches, breaking them by walking straight through.  A woman with a mission.

The young man reached the trail that Mia was making as she walked through.  Every branch she broke was one he didn’t have to duck under.  He did have to watch his footing.

Carson pursued, in turn.

The young man had a gun belt, which included zip ties.   Not on duty but… that was a duty rig.  Cop.

Cementing what they’d suspected, seeing the police presence.  There’d been an outstanding possibility that the police presence was only there to protect the wealthier homes around the hill, but…

Davie had the police under his thumb, now.

Okay.

Carson worried.  Mia was too focused on what was in front of her.  She wasn’t even thinking about him enough to look back to see if he was indeed catching up.  The young officer was drawing closer…

As the young officer got close enough, Carson deemed it too dangerous.  Mia had slowed down to get past a thick grouping of branches, the young man pursued, ducking low, to catch her right past it-

Carson broke into a run.

The man couldn’t get up, past the branches, and draw his weapon in time.

Carson stabbed him several times.  In the heat and frenzy of the moment, he wasn’t sure of the count, or if the resistance of a branch against his wrist was leading him to think the blade had sunk in to its limit when it hadn’t.

One stab at the lower back, multiple around the point where buttocks met thigh.

The man fell forward.  Mia turned, startled, and then tossed the bag.  It landed on the hand with the gun.

Buying Carson time to ram his head and face past the branches that were in the way, getting fully on top of the guy.  Knee on the back wound, he wrestled the man’s arms behind his back.

“Fuck!” the man shouted.

“Don’t shout, now.  Don’t get clever.  Don’t make a commotion that makes problems for us,” Carson said.  “Because our solution to that is we end you.”

The man stopped.

“Got his arm?” Mia asked.

Carson nodded.

She moved the bag and took the gun.

“Now.  This can end with us slitting your throat and leaving you, or you can give us reason to stay long enough to staunch the bleeding, give you a chance,” Carson said.  “Answer fast.  What don’t we know?  What’s happening?”

The man shut his eyes, wincing from the pain.  His hands gripped his thighs, but bending to do that made his back bleed.

“Five, four…”

“It’s a favor to a friend of the chief.  Guard the property in bad times.  He pays.  We all go happy.  We deliver his enemies to him, alive or dead.  Didn’t think anything would happen- ugh.”

“Keep going.”

Carson took the duct tape from Mia, then wrapped it around the man’s middle.

“-then you showed.  We’re watching every way out of the city.  Said- ugh.”

“Said what?”

“That there’s evidence people- you, I guess, instigated the riots, bombed a school, set everything off.  If it’s true, you’re top of everyone’s list.  Feds, everyone.”

There were sounds of distant gunshots.

From the direction… Valentina.

“We should go,” Mia said.

Carson did a quick loop around the man’s thigh.  One leg was far worse than the other, which only had a seemingly shallow scratch that became a light stab wound where thigh met buttock.

“We might be nearby, or coming back.  No noise.  No shouting, no signals.  If we hear you, that’s it,” Carson said.

He didn’t figure the man would be making it far, with his injuries, anyway.

There were more gunshots.  This time, that would be Ben and Rider.

He could guess at direction.  The map was on the phone screen.

They walked up the hill.  Carson’s hand got tacky with resin as he grabbed trees to help haul himself up.

All the aches and pains of their efforts so far added up.  His knuckles, from throwing a punch.  His side.  His shoulders, his back.

But light shone through the trees.

It was bright, here, compared to further down the hill.  The red light of the fires didn’t reach, but the sound of the sirens did.

There was a crowd outside the house.  People stood around cars, presumably because the headlights were more illumination than there was inside, where the power was dead.

There, at one of the vents for air intake, a possible but unlikely exit point for Ripley, someone was standing on the roof of a car, shining a flashlight in.

At another, at the side of the building, the same was happening, except the man had a gun.

“…send some of the younger ones out.  Keep Ileana happy?  Kids out of the way of danger?”

“We leave as a group, or we don’t leave at all.  That’s the order.  I’m not going to be the one to defy it.”

“This is bullshit.”

There was a sound.  A sharp slap, maybe.  Or a punch.  A reaction.  If it wasn’t for the ongoing sound of the sirens, Carson would’ve been able to tell.

“Call this bullshit again, when the wrong person can hear you?  You’ll get worse.”

A man approached the treeline.  Carson nudged Mia, and the two of them moved away.  The man unzipped and, after finding his equipment, which seemed to be more of a struggle than it should be, began pissing into the trees.

At one side of the house, people were unloading computer equipment into the back of a Midas.  Some drone stuff.

Some men sat in a cluster around and on the stone furniture of a back porch area.  Three had water.  One older man had a beer and a cigarette.  One of the young men was jittery, knee bouncing up and down.

Not much conversation.

Moving around the perimeter of the house again.  There were other access points.

They had to wait for someone to stop smoking.

“…on fire,” a young woman said.  In a group of mostly men, she was a rarity.

“We know who it was?”

“Apparently Andre.  They’re talking about it now.”

An older man said, “Anita, get Liberato.  All of us stay together.  If it looks like we’ll be split up or given different jobs, let me know.”

“Something up?” ‘Anita’ asked.

“This is going to shit.  Watch each other’s backs.”

In the gloom, Carson could see Anita nodding.

The man swung his hand out like he was going to club her across the head, but he put his hand firmly at her neck and shoulder instead.  He pulled her a bit closer.  “We’re family.”

“The Cavalcantis are-”

“No.  I don’t know.  It depends on what they decide to do,” the man said.  He glanced around, checking the coast was clear.  “Everyone knows Davie’s protecting his bullshit.  If he makes that more important than Andre?  The rest of us?  I want to know you’re all safe, before we keep going down that road.”

“Davie’s got the police and more.  He hired people,” a young man said.  “He’s not putting us in danger.  He can do that with them, instead.  I don’t care about this ‘bullshit’.”

“We’re the ones stuck on the side of the mountain, while they’re burning down everything we’ve built down there,” the older man said.

More that than the fires?

“If the Civil Warriors attack us here, we need to be ready.  It makes sense, and the way you’re talking-”

“Daniel,” the older man interrupted.  “I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense.  I’m talking about something more foundational.  Family.  I know your mom.  I know your dad.  I’m not saying we’re disloyal, or that we should be.  I’m saying I want to know where you are, that you’re safe.  That I can look them in the eye.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay?  Yes?  Yes.”

Rallying the younger family members.  Reassuring.  Or needing reassurance.

The back door of the house opened.

Davie stepped outside, flanked by others.  Cavalcanti higher-ups.  The ones that remained.  Two men in army fatigues, one with a jacket, one with a dark green tank top and pants.  Both heavily armed.

Davie motioned.

Getting the group that had just been talking to walk over, in the direction of the driveway and garage area, which Mia and Carson had just come from.

Davie took the high ground, where the ground sloped up to meet the side of the house, looking down on the cars beneath.  And the crowd.

Mia was breathing harder.  Carson put a hand on her arm.

“The car we saw down there was Andre,” Davie said.  “Nicholas is still recovering.  What they did and what they’re doing is a distraction.”

“The sirens?  There was a warning, right?”

“I have a system.  One they shouldn’t know about.  It says there will be winds.  But we can wait until the wind starts to pick up before we worry.  Until then, it’s noise.”

People seemed restless, by Carson’s estimation.  Feeling the mounting pressure, and the danger of being caught out.

“Noise,” Davie reiterated.  “Carlos?  Get our people sweeping the woods.  Be on alert.  Move in pairs.  Anything comes up, send someone up here to report it.  They’re jamming communications, trying to throw us off.  Be alert, stay focused.  These two men will be out there.  If they give an order, pretend it comes from me.”

Carson nudged Mia’s arm.  She met his eyes, in the dark.

They moved around, away from Davie and the assembled crowd that was getting its marching orders.

Checking one vent.  One man stood nearby, armed.  It would be too dangerous to pick a fight.  Doubly dangerous to try to get the vent cover off and Ripley out before Davie wrapped up.

By mutual agreement, with all eyes on Davie, they crossed the patio, bent over, using furniture and the natural rises and falls of the space.

Into the dark of the house.  Where the sirens were just a little quieter.  They could only hope it was safer than the woods were, now.

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