To begin, the group is separated into categories defined by skill and experience. As Hunters, Silver and Alex are pretty much in a category all of their own and the instructor is well aware of it. There’s nothing she can teach them that they don’t already know, and to be honest, they slightly intimidate her.
She teaches the rest of the campers nine basic strikes and parries, which they practice on their own for a good while. As they become proficient at the motions, perfecting the stances and growing comfortable with the feel of the staff in their hands, she partners them up and sets them to spar against one another.
The rule is: two minutes feeder, then two minutes defender.
For two minutes, one partner strikes blows at the other, who parries the blows without striking back. When they hear the whistle, they switch. And as expected, Silver and Alex soon find themselves sidelined.
Left much to their own devices, it’s not long before they start to venture beyond the scope of the nine basic strike and parry routines that the rest of the group are still struggling to perfect. For Alex, this kicks the enjoyment factor up ten knots. For Silver, the unpredictability of his strike pattern is starting to wear her down.
An hour into the drills, she can sense that he’s starting to really hold back. That should make it better, but it doesn’t. He thinks the wound on her arm is bugging her so he’s going easy on her deliberately, and she hates that. Instead of letting herself work at a more comfortable pace, she pushes herself harder to compensate for her less-than-peak physical condition.
It stresses her to such a point that Alex can almost see her breathe a sigh of relief every time the whistle calls for her to switch to feeder, and she feeds him a repetitive combination of lower strikes that deliberately avoid any upward thrust whatsoever. The next time they switch back, he decides to test her.
He delivers a diagonal slash from top right to bottom left, forcing her to use an upper parry on the side of her wounded arm. She blocks just in time, catching his staff just an inch or two away from striking her shoulder, but his downward thrust is too powerful and she can’t push him away—and he’s not holding back this time.
Instinctively, she angles her body backwards and redirects his thrust by raising her staff to a vertical position, drawing his staff over the top of her head and pulling him off balance. When the end of her staff hits the ground, she uses it to brace her weight. She lifts up her legs and side thrust kicks her opponent in the stomach.
Her opponent.
Alex.
Her husband, now lying on the ground, winded.
The rest of the group stops to stare, and Silver can feel their eyes burning into the back of her head. The crazy lady who spent half of yesterday in the woods, chasing invisible creatures, just beat up her husband in front of a group of strangers.
Awesome.
Concerned, and deeply apologetic, Silver leans over him. “Do you wanna take a walk?”
Alex tries to nod. “Good idea.”
Seeking shelter from the midday sun, Silver leads Alex down toward a small copse of trees near the shoreline and settles him in the shade of a broad oak tree.
She crouches down beside him. “How’s your stomach?”
“You obliterated it. On the plus side, we’ll save money on groceries ‘cause I’ll never need to eat again.”
“I’m sorry.” Silver scrunches up her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay. I was asking for it.”
“Why did you suddenly go all out on me like that? You’d been holding back all morning and you caught me off-guard.”
Alex winces, shifting into a more comfortable position. “I had a hunch it wasn’t just your arm that was bugging you.”
“And?”
“Don’t go back there tonight.”
“What?”
“The Cut Off.”
“What makes you think I—”
“Please, Silver. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years. You didn’t get that gash falling down an embankment.”
“You don’t kn—”
“I woke up in the middle of the night and you were gone. Besides that, you were really struggling with your upper parries back there.”
“I’m out of practice.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I saw something out there, Alex. In the Cut Off.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Not this again. I thought I told you to stay away from those berries?”
“Get over the stupid berries already. It wasn’t a hallucination, I’m not high, I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since …”—she tries to think—“ages, and—”
“Silver.” Alex puts a hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing out there. It’s a wasteland.”
“Then what were those footprints?”
Alex shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t see them. I—”
“You think I’m crazy.”
“No, I think you have cabin fever.”
Silver slumps down beside him, shaking her head. “I’m not sick.”
“It’s an expression.” Alex laughs. “It means you’re going stir crazy.”
“So you do think I’m crazy.”
“A different kind of crazy, though.”
Silence.
Alex nudges her. “Promise me you won’t go back out there.”
More silence.
“Silver?” he urges. “Promise me.”
“Fine,” she pouts. “No more crazy. I promise.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Cabin Fever
Alex wakes up to the feeling of something being flung at his face.
Dirty underwear.
Eww.
He flings the undies back across the tent at Silver, who’s so busy rifling through her hold-all that she doesn’t even notice.
“If you’re looking for your sanity”—he stifles a yawn—“don’t bother. It’s long gone.”
Uncharacteristically, Silver’s too preoccupied to respond directly to that.
“Have you seen my hairbrush?”
Alex rolls onto his back and stretches. “Since when do you use a hairbrush?”
Another pair of dirty undies hits him in the face, this time landing on his open mouth.
“Ugh!” He flicks them off the edge of the bed. “Watch it, would ya?”
“I am. That one was right on target.”
Silver gets on her hands and knees beside the bed, rifling through her belongings on the floor. Attempting to snare her attention, Alex rolls over to her with a dirty smile on his face.
“Now that’s exactly the position I’ve been trying to get you in all week.” He reaches out and strokes his fingers over her arm. “Would it kill you to come back to bed for a few more minutes?” He sneaks closer and starts to press kisses against her skin, slowly inching toward her neck.
It’s tempting.
He lures her back toward the sheets, coaxing her into his arms with kisses. He’s stark naked, and Silver can feel his erection pressed against her beneath the blanket. His lips busy with hers, he teases off her underwear with his free hand, his other arm bearing his weight as he moves above her and pushes her legs apart.
She winces as he pins her arms above her head.
“Is somebody a little sore this morning?” he teases.
“I think I tore every single muscle in my upper body.”
“Will a massage help?”
“It might.”
He pushes inside her. “How about that?”
“It’s nice”—she gasps—“but how’s it supposed to help my shoulders?”
“It’s not. It’s supposed to take your mind off it.” A kiss and a smile. “Is it working?”
She wraps her legs around him. “Ask me again in a few minutes.”
It’s a cute thought, but a few minutes go by and they’ve both forgotten the question. Alex flips her over and barely misses a thrust. Silver quickly repositions, leaning on her elbows, her head
hanging down near the edge of the bed.
She flicks her eyes open for a split second.
A split second too long.
On the floor beside the bed, her eyes fall upon one of her white tank tops. It’s clean—never been worn—but there’s dirt on it.
A footprint.
It’s the same kind of footprint that she first saw when she was almost in this exact same position.
“Alex!” she whispers frantically.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Alex!” Louder.
“Fuck! Yes!” His eyes are still closed.
Silver rolls her eyes. “Seriously! I’m not—”
“I am!”
He slams so hard inside her that her elbows fall off the edge of the bed and her face smacks into the pillow. A couple of seconds of recovery later, and his grip on her hips relaxes and the sensation of fullness between her legs withdraws.
By the time he drops down onto the bed beside her, she’s got her underwear back on and she’s crawling out of the tent, following the direction of the prints. She gets to the edge of the tent, pokes her head through the door flap, and there—right in front of her—is the most perfect print of them all.
Pressed into half an inch of dirt, the print has undeniably Chimeran characteristics.
“Alex!” she squeals.
No response.
“Hey! Bonehead!”
Still nothing.
Silver turns back inside the tent, shakes him by the foot and tries to roust him. “You’ve gotta come look at this!”
She resumes her position, staring intently at the print, and then …
Stomp.
A man’s polished boot comes crashing down straight on top of it.
“No, no, no!” Silver smacks the toe of the boot with her fist. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!” She looks up.
Luka.
Dressed in full Police Division uniform, handcuffs and all, his hands are firm on his hips and he’s glaring down at her with a fire in his green eyes.
“Get up,” he orders her.
“You said the charges were dropped.”
She begins to get to her feet, but she doesn’t do it fast enough for his satisfaction. He hauls her the rest of the way by her injured arm, causing a sharp pain to rip through her muscles.
“Where is it?” he growls at her.
“Where’s what?” She jerks her arm back. “Your elegant charm? I have no fucking idea. I haven’t seen it since we were kids.”
“My gun. Where’s my gun?”
“Between your legs, the last time I saw it.”
“All right.” He unsnaps his handcuffs. “We’ll do this the hard way.”
He pulls her arms behind her back and starts to cuff her.
“Oh, come on!” She tries to pull her arms free. “I’m not even wearing any pants!”
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
Behind Luka, Silver spots Jimmy. “Do you have any fucking idea what’s going on here?”
“No, but I’m gonna find out when I search your tent for drugs.”
“What?!”
Luka flashes his PDA screen at her: a warrant to search the tent for illegal or restricted goods.
Silver lets out a frustrated grunt. “Christ, why does everyone think I’m on drugs?”
“Look at you! Have you even seen what you look like?!”
Silver catches her reflection in the glass pane of a nearby storage shed. She’s half naked, her arm’s bandaged, her shoulders are bruised from the fall through the roof in the Cut Off, she’s got dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and her hair looks like an electrocuted cat’s pelt.
“Okay, you know what? There’s a lot of moisture here and my hairbrush is missing.”
Alex finally steps out of the tent, rocking pajamas and sandals, ruffling a hand through his bed head. “What the hell’s all the yelling about?”
When his eyes adjust to the light, he sees Silver handcuffed, Luka holding her wrists, and Jimmy not doing anything to stop it.
His eyes fix on Luka. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He snarls out the ‘you’ with more than a hint of disgust.
“I’m doing my job.”
“Arresting my wife?”
“She stole my gun.”
Silver wriggles in his arms. “I did not steal your gun! You probably just hid it so that you’d have an excuse to stay here.”
Alex steps in front of her. “Wait. You knew he was here? Since when?”
“Yesterday,” she confesses. “He was supposed to be gone already.” She tugs on the handcuffs to get Luka’s attention. “Why aren’t you gone?”
In response, he tightens the cuffs, pulls her back into him and whispers in her ear. “I can’t leave without my gun.”
That’s much too close for comfort as far as Alex is concerned.
He puts a firm hand on Luka’s shoulder and drags him back a few inches. “Uncuff her.”
“I can’t do that.” Luka shakes his head.
“You can do it, and you’re gonna do it. Vacation or not, I outrank you. And no-one’s searching anything.”
“I have a warrant.”
“I don’t care if you have a written fucking invitation from the Governor, you’re not searching our tent.”
“Let him search it,” Silver snarls. “Maybe he can find my fucking hairbrush.”
Luka jerks on the handcuffs. “Is this a game to you?”
“Let. Her. Go.” Alex captures Luka in those dark brown eyes of his. “Now.”
Begrudgingly, Luka does as he’s told. By now, other campers have heard the fuss and are beginning to gather around.
Alex sends Silver back into the tent to quickly wrangle her hair and dive into some pants. Meanwhile, he instructs Jimmy to set up a table and chairs in his private office in the Rec Zone HQ, where the group reconvenes just minutes later.
Cooler, calmer, but just as stubborn, Silver claims a seat at the head of the table and rests her feet on the tabletop in front of her. In Hunter Division boots and pants, her boobs restrained with a sports bra underneath a spaghetti-strap top, her dog tags nestled in her cleavage, and her hair twisted into a tight ponytail, some of her commanding presence seems restored.
She’s the Hunter General.
No question about it.
Standing at the opposite end of the table, still wearing pajama pants and a Police Division gym shirt, Alex has his arms folded like an angry schoolmaster. He hasn’t shaved in days—nor brushed his hair—and he looks disarmingly rugged. Silver feels a small flutter in her stomach, and it’s magnified to a full-on flip when she spots the outline of their old dog tags beneath his t-shirt. She likes that streak of sentimentality in him.
Unfortunately, she has no time to enjoy the feeling.
Jimmy’s glowering at her from the corner of the room and Luka’s pacing back and forth, his anger mounting.
“If Silver didn’t take my gun, then who?” Luka looks as though he wants to punch something.
Alex shrugs. “Maybe the squirrel took it.”
Silence.
Luka stops pacing and stares at him. “A squirrel? Are you taking the piss?”
“He’s a big fucker,” Silver concurs with Alex. “And he’s got an eclectic taste in human bits and bobs.”
“He’s probably fluffing his tail with your hairbrush right now.” Alex smirks at her.
Luka holds his hands up. “You two honestly expect me to believe that a squirrel came into my room at the crack of dawn, unclipped my gun from its holster, and carried it off without me hearing or seeing a thing? You’re both nuts.”
Silence.
No-one in the room feels like making the obligatory squirrel-nuts joke.
Eventually, “Why squirrels?” Silver furrows her brow. “Of all the creatures that the Omega BioScience Division could’ve cloned, why’d they pick squirrels? Why not something useful? Like cows? Or sheep? Or pigs?”
“That was the plan
.” Alex’s body language begins to relax. “The Ark originally had two of everything: male and female DNA for almost every creature on Earth,” he explains. “But now, all Omega has left are the preserved DNA samples for a handful of Old World animals.”
“What went wrong?”
“Someone unplugged the fridge.”
Luka’s gaze flits from Alex to Silver and back again. “Are we losing track of the main issue here?”
“Yeah.” Alex folds his arms again, the defensive posture resumed. “You lost your primary weapon and you’re looking for someone to blame.”
“I didn’t lose it, it was stolen.”
“Says you. Who else have you spoken to since you got here? How many times was your weapon out of your sight?”
A thought crosses Luka’s mind. He tries to hide it, but Alex already caught it.
“Where were you last night?”
Luka hesitates to answer. “Harkin put me up in staff quarters.”
“That’s true.” Jimmy steps forward. “I extended the offer, but you obviously made other arrangements. I had to go in your room to check the fuse box this morning, and that bed hadn’t been slept in. All your shit was there, though.”
Silver puts two-and-two together and pulls a face at Luka. “You’re disgusting. You were only here, what, three hours?”
“She was an old friend.” Luka avoids making eye contact. “She didn’t take my gun.”
“No, she just unloaded it for you.”
Luka is about to bark something back at her, but Alex cuts in before he can get a word out.
“You left your firearm unattended all night. Anyone could’ve taken it. Good luck explaining your carelessness to the Division.”
Leaning back in her chair, patiently waiting for all of this to end, Silver catches sight of something familiar across the room.
Her hunting knife.
Not locked away in a case or a safe, it’s just sitting there on a shelf inside a plastic lost and found tub. Treated like any other discarded piece of junk, it’s resting on top of a kid’s plastic sword, a bottle of prescription erectile dysfunction pills, and a really ugly hair pin.
Such treatment is almost sacrilegious.
Quietus Page 5
