Mabe sipped the bitter liquid. “What you threw at the Chittrix was impressive. Did you rig them yourself?”
“You mean the Devil acid?” She shook her head. “No, that was Jacob. He’s our chemist. It works, but if you get any on you—” She made a slicing motion across her neck. Again, a smile touched the corners of her mouth, sweetening her expression, giving Mabe a glimpse of the woman she’d been before the world had ended.
He risked another sip of the alleged coffee. It was hot, it had that going for it. Sawyer pulled a face and stuck out his tongue, wiping tears from his eyes as he set the cup aside.
Sarah nibbled on a dry biscuit as she found a mat to sit on. Her shoulders dropped. The wildness in her gaze when they’d been above ground at rest. “Where are you based?”
Sawyer glanced over, and even Foster looked up from the pack of cards he’d produced from another of his many pockets.
“Brackla,” Mabe answered. Sarah had trusted them to bring them here. She had fed and fought for them. He wouldn’t lie. “We were near Salisbury. A Chittrix attack took out our base, Brackla was our escape bolt hole.”
She blew on her drink, clasping it in both hands.
“We have a good mix. Some ex-military.” He inclined his head at Sawyer and Foster. “Also scientists from Magdon Down, as I already told you.”
“And you?” She peeked at him, a sideways glance.
Mabe pressed his lips together, remembering who and what he had been. His throat thickened as the past crowded his mind. “Vet.” He forced a smile. “I spent a lot of my time with my hands up a cow’s bum.”
Laughter lines creased at her eyes and her mouth twitched. The thought that he’d made her smile eased the ache in his throat.
Sarah pointed at the Sweeper on the floor next to Sawyer. “The weapon you used on the Chittrix. I’ve seen nothing like it,” she said, her gaze questioning.
Sawyer patted the metal. “It’s a prototype. Disassembles Chittrix at an atomic level.” His eyes lit up. “Julia, one of our team, designed it. She was a weapons engineer at Magdon Down.”
“And you?” Curiosity burned in Mabe. “How did you come to be here?”
Sarah stared at her alleged coffee. Mabe was sure he could see bits in it, even from a distance. “I used to work here in Carven. Virology.” She stared at the floor, at the scuffed toes of her boots and the mismatched laces. There was elastic around her ankle to stop the tongue from flapping. She glanced at him, a dark vulnerability in her gaze. She blinked, and it was gone. “Originally there were almost a hundred of us holed up in here. We were working on plans.”
“Plans?”
She scratched her head. “When the Chittrix first landed, the government threw everything at them, labs like this were ransacked for solutions.”
Mabe was aware of Sawyer staring at her, waiting for her to divulge Carven’s secrets. There was something here. Mabe was sure of it.
He leaned back, feeling his spine relax as the wall took the strain as he slid to a sitting position. Fuck, he was tired. “We came here on the off chance there might be med supplies, but what do you have that’s a solution?”
Sarah avoided his gaze. “We still have some projects running.”
“And?”
She looked at him, anger lighting her eyes. “If I could wipe them off the face of the planet, I would have done it already.”
“So what you going to do. Stay holed up here?” Sawyer asked.
She hugged her knees. “That’s not an option. We need to find somewhere where we can actually live. Grow stuff. Diana is coming around to the idea, but these things take patience.”
“She thinks she’s right all the time.” Riley stared from across the room, her lips smeared with chocolate.
Sarah stood up abruptly, her cheeks flushing, the calm manner giving way to rigid shoulders once more. “Diana does her best.” Her voice was brusque. “I should let you sleep. You leave at first light.”
“Well, there goes the long lie-in for my beauty sleep.” Foster groaned as he stretched his legs out across the wrinkled blanket. He flexed his injured leg a few times, his lips flattening as he bent the knee.
Sarah beckoned Riley over and hugged her as she arrived at her side, carefully folding the foil over the remains of her chocolate. “That was kind of you to give Riley extra rations.”
Foster shrugged and winked. “Kid needs feeding up. Anyone would have done the same.”
She looked as if she was about to say something in reply, but she pressed her lips together as if she thought better of it. “Good night.”
Sawyer exhaled when she left with Riley and rolled back on a mat, a forearm across his eyes. “Wake me when it’s morning.”
Foster turned when he caught Mabe watching him. “What?”
“Your leg is bothering you.”
Foster shook his head, pain flitting across his face. Shadows rose unfettered in the depth of his gaze, then the shutter slid back down. “The body has a memory of sorts. It remembers what it’s been through.” He patted his legs. “And these have been through hell.” He pushed his backpack under the back of his head and tugged the blanket over his legs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Mabe sighed and laid his head back on his mat. He closed his eyes, expecting to see only darkness. Instead he saw gilded hazel eyes studying him, trying to work him out.
Sleep would be a long time coming.
12
Mabe woke with a start.
He reached for his weapon, his palm closing over the butt of his gun in a split second. Hot blood pounded in his ears as he fought to work out what had woken him.
Beside him Foster snored softly, his arms folded across his pulse rifle. Sawyer was similar, out for the count, his handgun loose in his grip.
Envy stabbed at Mabe. It took him hours to settle, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he would wake three, four, five times during the night, his rest ripped apart from ceaseless nightmares. Lately the frequency had been increasing, a reflection perhaps of the state of his mental health, but he wouldn’t dwell on that.
He sat up. His shoulders ached, even though they’d had the gym mats to crash on. He worked his hand into the muscles around his neck, wincing as he hit tender spots. The room was dark, but pale light filtered in from under and around the gym door. It was ajar, revealing a chink of the worn hallway beyond.
The door had been closed earlier.
Fuck.
Hairs pricked uncomfortably on the back of his neck as he got to his feet, gun at the ready, and stepped over Foster.
He paused at the door, readying himself before easing it open with the nose of his gun, his ears straining for a clue as to what the fuck was up.
Sarah.
She hovered in the hallway, clutching her chest, her complexion washed out under the artificial light. Her hair was damp and tied at her neck, as if she was just out of the shower. She made a beckoning gesture, glancing sideways as if expecting someone to march down the corridor and drag her off. And then she disappeared.
What the—
Alarm bells rang in his mind, but still. He couldn’t explain it; he trusted her.
After a swift backward glance to make sure Diana and her cronies weren’t approaching from the opposite direction, he hurried after her. When he turned the corner, she was waiting for him.
“What the hell—”
She pressed two warm fingers to his lips, silencing him. “I want to help.”
She released him, leaving his skin tingling. “We have plenty of medical supplies.” Her voice was a soft murmur. “It’s one of the few things we do have.”
She slipped her small hand into his, his little finger resting against the racing pulse in her wrist. “This way.”
He followed her up the corridor, her steps quick and light, barely making any sound at all, to where she guided him into a dark room.
For a second they were alone in the dark, her arm pressed against his side, her hand still lac
ed in his for a few more tantalizing seconds. Something clean like apple teased his nostrils, her scent, loosening the bindings he’d lashed around his heart. Against his better judgment something about her called to him, spoke to the part of him he’d buried and given up as dead.
Overhead lights blinked into existence and she released him, moving across the room where she pulled open drawers. Mabe flexed his hand and drew in a slow breath. Light brought reality. There was nothing happening here with this woman. He’d made that promise to himself long ago when Rachel and Lissy died.
He exhaled and scanned the room. A small lab. It was lined with wooden benches, gas taps and electric sockets sitting proud of the polished wood.
Whoa.
Scribbles of scientific formulae covered every spare inch of wall, as if a genius had been let loose to divulge the contents of their brain with a dry erase marker. Was this her work? And if so, what the hell was she working on down here?
With an effort, he dragged his gaze away from the equations back to Sarah. She had a cabinet wide open and was rummaging through an Aladdin’s Cave of medical supplies.
“Impressive.”
She peeked over her shoulder. “Like I said, the army left supplies. And I mean a lot.” She lifted a backpack onto the counter and tugged the toggle free.
Mabe frowned. “That’s my backpack.”
She looked up at him. “Yes.” She raised an eyebrow as if that was obvious. “You need something to carry supplies in.”
Of course.
A last glance at the shelves and then she swept an armful of antibiotic bottles into one of the capacious side pockets.
Mabe closed the space between them, too aware of his pulse, the weight of his body armor against his chest as he breathed. Her hair was drying at the temples, and a few tendrils had escaped from her ponytail. He had the urge to touch them, stroke them away from the curve of her face. Instead, he rammed his fisted hands in his pockets. How much had it taken out of her to go against her team like this? “Why are you doing this?”
She handed him the open backpack and wiped her brow against the crook of her elbow. “These things have to be shared.” She pulled open another drawer. Sterile wipes and dressings popped free of compression and she dumped them into the top of his pack. “Also—” She glanced up at him. Dark shadows were imprinted below her hazel eyes, marking her skin. “I overheard Sawyer and Foster. There’s a pregnant woman in your base.”
Anna. Garrick’s hand protective on her belly. “Yes.”
Darkness flickered in Sarah’s gaze. She stopped packing. A sheen of perspiration shone on her top lip and he had the insane wish to kiss it free, to taste the salt of her skin.
She shrugged. “I couldn’t live with myself if I knew a child had suffered because of Diana’s decisions. I’ve stood by her until now, but she’s wrong this time.”
Vials of morphine followed the sterile dressings into his backpack.
Her expression tightened. “Isolation has changed Diana’s view on certain things.” Her gaze flicked to his. “Not always for the best.” She pulled down more boxes, reading the labels. “Epinephrine.”
“You sure you’re not a nurse?”
She gave a hollow laugh. “God, no.” She added paper wrapped needles to his loot. The pack was almost full now.
“Might have been better if I was.” She sighed and tugged the pack closed. “Most of the world’s population died because of the Chittrix, but even with all my education I couldn’t prevent it.”
His gaze flicked to the writing on the wall. “This is yours?”
She pressed her lips together, analyzing his expression. A hint of a smile crept up her face. “Looks crazy, doesn’t it?”
He tried not to look at her parted lips and failed miserably. “No, desperate times and all that.”
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. When she looked up at him, her eyes were bloodshot as if she hadn’t slept in days. Something protective flared deep within him.
Her lip trembled as if reading his emotional barometer, and she tore her gaze away.
He wouldn’t be diverted that easily. He caught her elbow. “Hey. What is it?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Helping you won’t change what’s happened already.” She made a tired gesture to above her head. “The bone yard.”
The jagged maze above their heads. “What about it?”
She patted her pockets, pulled a paper hanky out of her pocket and wiped at her nose. “That’s my team. Was my team.” She sniffed. “They gave us weapons and told us to fight… everyone was so frightened, but as a team leader I persuaded people who were scared to death that it was our duty to go.” She lifted her head. Stared at the ceiling. “It was a total slaughter. I was injured, it was only because the Chittrix left me for dead that I survived.” She lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing a twisted lattice of scar tissue on her side. A wide band of puckered skin ran under the waistband of her pants.
He recognized the marks. Burns from Chittrix acid. She’d fought and survived. This woman was a warrior.
A vein pulsed at his temple and time slowed to a long second before she dropped the fabric. Mabe flexed his hands at his sides. For the physical pain she’d endured and for the trauma she’d shouldered on behalf of the dead.
“I was lucky to escape alive, one of a handful, the scrappy remains of which you see now. I should have died with the people I told to go out and fight, but I didn’t.” Her chin jutted as she buckled the backpack.
“We’ve all made mistakes.” He stared at the floor.
“Sorry—”
“Don’t be.” He shook his head, suddenly so weary. “I—” He pushed back the bow of his shoulders. “My sister Lissy was divorced. I took care of her and her daughter, Rachel when her no-good husband took off with a girl young enough to be his daughter.” Why did this still feel so heavy? Would it ever ease?
“I left Lissy and Rachel alone. They had no-one else but I left them alone in the house while I went out and fought, sure I was doing the right thing. My duty.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, a futile attempt to erase the memory. “There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t regret my choices. I should have protected them, and instead I went out thinking I was helping the greater good but failing those who needed me the most. They were dead when I got back the next day. Chittrix had torn them apart.”
Her hand covered his, the heat of her sinking into his bones, branding him. Silence swathed them in a blanket, and for a few seconds there was only the two of them in the world.
He swallowed, his emotions and thoughts a confusing storm of the past and present.
Sarah handed him his backpack. She looked him in the eye. “This is for you. For the people in your base who need it.” She was back in control, the wounded woman hidden once more under the weight of survival.
“And Diana? How are we going to do this?” Anything to distract himself, to shift his mind from the soft sound of her breathing and the way the light caught her hair.
“We don’t tell her. Easy as that.” She kneed a drawer shut, waved a hand at the room. “I’ll make sure nothing is missed.”
His hand tightened on the straps. “Thank you.” He blew out a breath. “You could come with us, you know.”
Her gaze snapped to his, her posture stiffening. Damn, he’d overstepped the mark.
“I—”
A scratch from the hallway made him pivot and unholster his SIG.
Sarah was at his side in a split second, her hip bumping his thigh. “Did you hear that too?” A chill must’ve touched her spine as the smallest shiver raced across her shoulders.
Mabe crossed the room and pressed his ear to the door. Silence reigned on the other side, but goose bumps crowded his back. He eased the door open, surveying the space on the other side. Blood thumped hot in his ears. “No one there.”
He turned back to her, but the moment was gone, the openness he’d seen when she gave him the supplies shuttered away.
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“We should go.” She was all business now as she clicked off the lights and hurried to join him. “You go first. I’ll follow.”
Her breath brushed his bare arm, caressing his skin. Softness in a world where only hard edges existed. He’d convinced himself these things had perished.
How had he been so wrong?
13
Sarah woke early. There was no daylight, but the scuffed face of her watch glowed when she pressed the dial, telling her it was almost five. It would be daylight in just over an hour. She willed the savage nightmares back into the corners of her mind. It would be light outside, and the men would leave soon.
Mabe would leave soon.
The tick of her watch was loud in the darkness, a harsh reminder time was finite and running out. Leaving with Mabe and the others was tempting. His question had taken her by surprise, but she’d thought of little else as she tossed and turned through the night. But if she left, she would walk away from everything she had worked on over the last eighteen months.
Staying, finishing what she had started. Deep down, she knew that was her responsibility. Whatever she felt for Mabe, that delicious flutter when he was close—it was a distraction she couldn’t afford, a luxury she didn’t deserve. She rolled out of her camp bed, her sock-clad feet hitting the concrete. Her stomach rumbled. She needed something to eat, a diversion from this rabbit hole rumination.
Diana was in the main lab when Sarah arrived with a mug of gritty root coffee and a packet of long-life cookies. She spun in her chair when Sarah entered, a myriad of emotions crossing her face. A pang of sympathy stabbed deep within Sarah. Diana wasn’t an easy person to get along with. She was hard work and defensive at times, but she only wanted the best for her small team.
“Hey.” Sarah took a seat next to her. “Want a cookie?”
Diana took one and bit into it. She pulled a face. “Custard creams. No one likes custard creams.”
Sarah grinned and dipped hers. “It’s better dunked in the coffee slash plant food that Jacob keeps making for us.” She gestured at schematics scrolling across Diana’s computer screen. “Find anything?”
Mabe (Earth Resistance Book 5) Page 7
