if they camped for the night.
Only stopping for water and to relieve himself, Cipher followed the blinking dots showing the location of the equipment. It was still moving, but he kept an eye on the horizon, certain that the movement would stop as sunset approached. One foot in front of the other, he trekked up the mountain with a single thought in his head: Brook.
The air grew cool and damp against his skin. He eyed the sky, wondering if there might be rain. He hadn’t spent enough time in the outdoors to understand how to read the weather like some of his fellow soldiers. The pilots were much better at taking one look at the sky and predicting what awaited them. What he wouldn’t give to have a pilot at his disposal right now.
He passed through a haze of cool mist. The rain he worried about never manifested, but the mist made it hard to see his surroundings. He slipped twice, his boots sliding in mud and dead leaves. He managed not to fall too far and clambered back to his feet. Running through the mist, he wiped at his face, clearing the sweat and water from his eyes. Ahead, the sun started to set and he lost the pale gray light. He grabbed a headlamp from his gear bag and fixed it into place.
Just as he was about to start jogging again, his watch vibrated. He glanced down and noticed the dots tracking the devices had stopped moving. With a groan of thanks, he marched forward into the hazy twilight. Soon, the twilight deepened to full night. He kept walking, letting the beam of his headlight illuminate a slim path in front of him. He checked his watch to make sure he was on track, not wanting to get off course in the confusing darkness.
The mist finally stopped more than an hour later. Overhead, the clouds cleared away, and the three moons orbiting the planet filled the woods with enough light that he could turn off his headlamp. He was getting close now, so close he could smell the campfire. A short while later, he spotted the orange glow of it.
With every cautious step, he drew nearer and nearer to the campsite Brook’s kidnappers had chosen. The rowdy voices of the men echoed off the trees. From the sound of it, they had been drinking. Heavily. Probably that moonshine Brook had told him was made up here. Four drunk men and one captive woman were bad odds for her. Very, very bad odds.
Hiding behind a massive tree, he glanced around the trunk and took in the scene. Four men, two of them grossly out of shape, one wiry and lean and one strong and muscled, stood around a campfire. The fattest one tended chunks of meat suspended over the lowest part of the fire. The others traded a jar of moonshine between themselves, sloshing the alcohol into their mouths and laughing like madmen.
When his gaze finally found Brook, he had to bite back the roar of indignation that threatened to erupt from his chest. She had been stripped naked and had both wrists tied above her dangling head. She slumped forward, the poorly tied and anchored ropes failing to support her body weight. The joints in her arms and shoulders were hyperextended, and it wouldn’t be long before she dislocated something.
Her breasts and belly were coated in a slick sheen of saliva and vomit. Her skin seemed unnaturally red, and he realized she was very sick. She likely had a fever and dehydration. How much longer would she last without medical care?
“I don’t much care how much she stinks right now,” the fat blond announced to his friends. “I’ve fucked worse!”
The fattest of them, the man who seemed to be their leader, pointed at the blond with the wickedly sharp knife he was using to poke at the cooking meat. “You leave her alone, Ted. We’ll get three times as much for her if that tight little pussy of hers ain’t been poked yet.”
“She’s got two other holes I can use just fine,” Ted leered and advanced on her.
“Are you deaf or just dumb?” the leader shouted. “I meant what I said. Leave her be.”
“She might be contagious,” the wiry one commented before taking a long swig of moonshine. “Whatever she’s got, I don’t want.”
“It’s a water fever,” the brute interjected matter-of-factly. “I seen it a dozen times when I was a kid. She drank some bad water, and