All but two bandits disappeared into the back. The pair who remained kept their rifles leveled on us while the others changed. One of the bandits was busy admiring his new rifle: Clutch’s Blaser.
Less than a minute later, Hodge came out in Guardsman fatigues, walked over to the pair standing guard over us, and said something I couldn’t hear. When he turned to us, his eyes narrowed. “If any of you try to run, you will be shot. Got it?”
He didn’t wait for a response. He left with the others dressed in clothes our guys had been wearing minutes earlier, and I wanted to see his blood stain the clothes he stole.
I clung to Clutch, partly to warm him and mostly because I needed to feel him—his breathing, his heartbeat, his life. His breathing steadied my own, and I felt my pounding heart return to a level where it didn’t feel like I was having a panic attack. After a minute or two, his grogginess wore off and he no longer swayed or shook as badly. He gingerly touched the back of his head and winced. “Fuck.”
I looked up at him. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but when I opened my mouth, a sob threatened to get in the way.
He cupped my face with both hands. He didn’t kiss me, only pressed our foreheads together as though he needed the physical connection as much as I did. Tears streamed down my cheeks. He brushed away a tear with his thumb. “Sh. Don’t cry,” he whispered softly.
The soft words were such a contrast to his rough palms, yet both were full of emotion and I leaned into him. “I almost lost you,” I whispered back, my voice cracking.
He looked up and glared at the bandits, each on opposite sides of our indoor campground, before looking back at me. “You shouldn’t have cried out,” he whispered. “They’ll use me to hurt you now.”
If I hadn’t cried out, he’d be dead right now. Rather than saying that, I simply shrugged.
Around us, the remaining Fox survivors all sat in shellshock. Many were crying in despair and loss, some stared blankly into nothingness, and others looked downright pissed, like they were about to go kamikaze on the guards. I don’t know how I looked to them because I was feeling all of those emotions at the same time.
Tyler’s rumpled blue sleeping bag sat empty, along with a few others, and I turned away, not having the strength to think about the permanence of what had happened. I could only hope that Jase and Griz were safe.
The two bandits didn’t stop Benji as he walked around the clothing racks, picking out clothes and bringing piles to each of the men. Diesel barked from one of the back rooms. The dog had gotten lucky. When Diesel had growled when the bandits manhandled Frost, one of the men had raised his rifle to shoot the dog, but the bandit leader took a shine to the dog and claimed him as his. Though, I wasn’t yet convinced the leader wanted Diesel as his pet or for dinner.
“How did everything go so wrong?” I finally asked against Clutch’s tattooed chest. “What do we do now?”
He watched the guard, and didn’t speak for at least a minute. His body tensed and his gaze hardened. “I’m getting my rifle back.”
Chapter XXXI
“Let me know if the guard on the rock looks this way,” Clutch whispered.
I frowned, peering into his brown eyes. “Okay.”
I could feel his arm move behind me. Oh. Careful to reveal nothing, I forced myself to stare blankly in the bandit’s direction as Clutch signaled to the other scouts. The bandit was lounging on a manmade rock next to a stuffed bear.
The game continued for several minutes. Clutch signaled while I kept an eye on one guard and he watched the one nearest us. I squeezed Clutch’s thigh any time the man I watched looked in our general direction.