But that wasn’t what was alarming.

What was alarming was the number of Drones patrolling the perimeter. After my raid to free Alex, they must’ve been called in from all over the area.

Or from somewhere else.

With the hunting rifle from the cabin snug in my hands, I crouch-walked backward, vanishing through a screen of foliage. On either side of me, Patrick and Alex eased back as well, melting into the underbrush.

We reconvened in a low clearing by an abandoned backhoe undercutter.

Thump. Squelch.

I’d hoped to take a shooting position at the tree line below, a football field’s distance from the Queen. But there was no way we could penetrate the new perimeter to get me that close. Not without a much bigger plan. We were outnumbered, overpowered, and outgunned. Alex ducked her head into her hands, made fists in her hair, and gave a low growl of frustration.

“With the new fences and the patrols, I’m not even gonna get close,” I said. “We’re looking at a four-hundred-yard shot now.”

“You got a bolt-action Ruger M77 Hawkeye in your hands,” Patrick said. “I’ve seen you hit smaller from farther.”

“Not with Drones patrolling around trying to kill me,” I said.

“We’ll create the diversion once you get off the shot,” he said. “Draw them after us like we talked about. You just get in as near as you can, take her out, and hunker down somewhere to hide out until it’s safe to move.”

We’d gone over the plan a dozen or so times in the past forty-eight hours. From a position much farther away, Patrick and Alex would make a lot of noise in the wake of the gunshot, broadcasting their position immediately while I tried to hide. The Drones would have much more ground to make up to get to them. At a certain point, Patrick and Alex would split, confusing the Drones even more.

Leaning the rifle against my leg, I slipped the nylon loops off my wrists and handed Alex my baling hooks. It felt like letting go of a part of myself.

Just me and the rifle now.

Patrick turned around so Alex could unzip the pack he was wearing and slide my hooks in. My own backpack held only food, water, my journal, and ammo. With all the crawling I had in front of me, it had to cling tight to my back, so I couldn’t take anything bulky.

Patrick pivoted to face us again. “We’ll reconvene at the cabin tomorrow.” He cleared his throat, and I could see in his face that he didn’t think there would be a tomorrow, any more than I did.