The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (top 5 books to read .TXT) 📗

with darkness; I turned on the camera on the drone’s belly and flipped the switch to night vision. Immediately, green and black filled the screen, and I found myself looking at tree trunks and grass. “Back away from the drone,” I ordered as I slid my fingers into the metal tubes.

We’re clear, announced Owen, and I immediately moved my middle finger up, causing the drone to rise up into the air. I kept the speed slow, remembering the drone’s engines would be stiff until they warmed up. A small red proximity alarm flashed on the screen, and I used my thumb to quickly switch the view to the nose camera, adjusting the drone until it was pointed upward. A large branch cut across my path, so I adjusted the course, weaving slowly in and out of the forest canopy until I cleared the tops of the trees.

Reading the compass on the display, I manipulated the tubes again, angling the drone toward the labor camp. A series of bright white lights began to appear, set on tall, thin poles barely visible in their own light—I blinked, momentarily turning away from the screen and switching to the drone’s low-level light setting as the camera flared with green, the night vision setting taking in far too much light. Recovered, I moved toward the bright balls, knowing those were the lights that illuminated the camp.

I kept the drone fifty feet off the ground, and as I approached the chain link fence, away from low-hanging trees, I switched over to the belly camera, knowing the proximity sensors would pick anything up before I hit it, provided I wasn’t moving too fast. At this height, the airspace above the camp would be clear enough, anyway. We had almost the whole night before daylight made the mission infeasible, so I was confident we could get through our recon.

Angling for the closest corner of the fence, I positioned the drone, hovered it, and looked over at Thomas. Sitting next to him in the farmhouse felt surreal; my eyes already strayed back to the screen, as though what was happening out there was more real than this room. “Ready for recon,” I informed the small man, and everybody in my company. He nodded, his fingers flying over the computer.

“Ready,” he replied.

The plan was simple. I would fly the drone in concentric circles, first around the fence and then moving inward, noting guard positions, movements, and weapons if possible. Thomas would input the data as I moved in, hopefully mapping out likely movement patterns so we could make it easier for Viggo and Owen to get in and out undetected. It was frustrating that we couldn’t send them the map directly, but the handhelds continued to have their limitations, one of which being that we couldn’t give them a live feed. We all knew it was a painstakingly slow process, but were also confident we could get the whole thing done in under an hour, two tops. If the drone was spotted, I would fly it out of there, and we would abort.

I began my circuit, announcing guards as I came across them. So far there were only four wardens walking the perimeter, but as I drew inward, I could see several more in what seemed to be stationary positions around the camp—all around the tents, all standing. The tents were tall enough to obscure some angles of approach from view of the stationary guards on the inside, but the initial approach would definitely be tight.

Rows and rows of tents filled the camera as I circled around them, so many it was difficult to count how many I had passed after a while. After some time flying in mind-numbing circles, with only my display readings to guide me, and Thomas to notify me of course corrections, I finally spotted the break that constituted the open space around the trailers in the center.

“Thomas, how many rows of tents are we up to?” I asked as I flew the drone around another line of them.

Thomas clicked something on, and I heard his chair squeak as he nodded. “Ten deep and ten wide. Each tent can hold two to four people, so… it’s possible there’s over three hundred men in the camp, and we could give or take a hundred or so.”

“There are no mass burial sites,” commented Ms. Dale, who was prowling the room behind us, closely watching the screens Thomas and I were working on. “Definitely no sign this is a death camp.”

What do you think it might be? Viggo articulated through the line. I had to admire his patience—he and Owen had been sitting on standby the entire time, still on the eroded car track in the forest, probably itching to move, but unable to start their stage of the mission until we had finished ours.

Ms. Dale pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted after a pause. “It’s a mystery—but I’m honestly considering letting go of it for the time being and sending you guys home. We presumed this was some sort of execution camp, and without any evidence of it, it’s making me reconsider what might be going on here. I’m questioning what kind of evidence we’ll find.”

I wanted to argue with her. There could be some sign of Tim in the camp! I bit the impulse back, recognizing my motivations were purely selfish. I had to trust Ms. Dale had our best interests in mind and not let my personal feelings get in the way of the mission. That would definitely give my team members justifiable cause to exclude me from future missions. I also knew acting recklessly now could put Owen and Viggo’s lives in danger, and I could not risk their lives, no matter how much I wanted to know about my brother.

Why don’t you let Violet use thermal scanning on the trailers first? Owen suggested. That way we’ll have a better idea how many guards there are, and whether it’s