She leaned back and puffed her lips, while bobbing her head from left to right as she pranced on her toes in an odd collection of steps. She twirled around several times, showing him a cartoon-like snarl of shark teeth at the end of each rotation.
He couldn’t help but laugh as he watched this feral creature act out of character. He would never truly know what she was thinking, but it was clear she wanted to entertain him.
Humor is something all humans share. So is joy, even between differing species of humans. It meant there was a sliver of humanity hiding inside the skinny girl, buried deep under all that scavenging for blood.
Her odd nature and willingness to evolve always seemed to bring a strange sense of satisfaction to his day. In many ways, she was more human than all of his friends who had abandoned him after his skin and face were transformed in a flash of fire and fury.
The Nomad finished the food, then pulled open the homemade leather coat he wore as armor. Inside was a canteen attached to the belt of his thermal pants. He pulled it free, took a swig, then offered Seven the water.
She took a sip, then spit it out in a spray of angst.
“What’s wrong?”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the exit doors. He allowed her to lead him outside to the rear of the bus, where the snow drift had buried the vehicle up to the middle of its windows.
Seven let go, then bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. She looked him in the eyes, then put the frozen precipitation into her mouth and began to chew, nodding as if he was supposed to understand what she was thinking.
A beat later, he did. “Ah, that’s right. You like it frozen. I won’t forget again.”
She motioned for him to look down at her feet.
When he did, he saw them wrapped in burlap with brown shoelaces holding the cloth in place. He studied the tracks she’d made from the bus. They looked just like the size eleven footprints he’d seen on the way in, though deeper and flatter. Plus, her right foot made the same big toe impression.
Nomad smiled, appreciating her resourcefulness. “Clever girl. I thought maybe you had a big, fat brother with mutant feet that I didn’t know about.”
She took another mouthful of snow and worked it down her throat, looking content. Well, as content as a cannibal can be. At least he’d broken her of the taste for human flesh. Rats and rabbits were now her favorite.
“What do you have for me?”
She pointed at one of his swords and held her hand out.
He gave it to her.
She turned and used the tip to draw in the snow. It took several minutes for her to complete the sketch, then she gave him back the blade.
Nomad studied the drawing, recognizing two of the larger markers she’d drawn: the old church four miles east and the bridge over the canal just beyond it. “Show me exactly.”
She bent down and dabbed her finger next to a circle shape she’d drawn. It held a triangle in the middle of it. To one side were dozens of trees she’d sketched, plus a row of what he assumed were houses.
“That’s where they took you?”
She slipped the tip of her finger under the circle, then started drilling lower, emphasizing the depth.
“Underground?”
She grunted twice.
He searched his memories for something in the area that fit her description and was near a huge orchard. The answer roared to life in his mind. “One of the old Titan II Missile sites.”
She confirmed again, then drew a large house symbol next to it.
“Another house?”
One grunt.
He took a moment before speaking again. “A barn?”
Two grunts, then she covered her eyes with her hands.
“The entrance is hidden.”
Two grunts.
“In a barn. A big barn.”
She responded with two grunts, then washed out the drawing of the big barn with a light touch of her hand, patting the snow as she went. When she was done, she expanded her motion, sweeping a much wider area flat.
“A clearing?”
Two grunts.
“Okay, it’s in a clearing. I think I know where that’s at. Took a tour of that place once, thanks to an old friend of mine in the Air Force.”
She bounced on her heels and started panting, pulling at him to head in the opposite direction of the silo.
“No, you can’t go with me this time.”
She stopped her excitement, looking lost, then grabbed his right hand, wrapping her fingers in with his and squeezing.
He pried her loose before taking a step back and pointing at her feet. “I need you stay here, Seven, and carefully walk through all my tracks with those fake feet of yours to cover them up. Nobody can know I was here. When you’re done, make sure you end up next to the steps, then go inside and take the burlap off. That’s where you need to wait.”
She grunted once, but it was a short, loud burst. Not her usual tone or volume.
“Do as I say, Seven. It’s important. They have to find you and can’t know we talked.”
Seven grunted again, then took a break before doing it again and again, each time making a single, sharp noise with her eyes flared.
“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way. Everything will be okay. I promise. It’s the safest place for you. Trust me.”
CHAPTER 14
Summer cruised into the medical bay and went to the first table, where Sergeant Barkley lay on his side. The blonde mutt lifted his head to greet her and wagged his tail.
Summer couldn’t hold back a smile as she rubbed his neck with both hands, then leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Look at you. Someone’s getting better already.”
“I’m always amazed at how fast animals recover,” Liz said, leaving her worktable and walking to Summer.
“That’s because they don’t know how to wallow in self-pity and beg for sympathy, like us humans. They are only focused on one thing, getting back to normal. All that other stuff is a waste of energy.”
“That’s true. Never thought of it that way.”
Summer rubbed him a few more times, then turned her head away in a flash. “Phew, somebody really needs a bath!”
“As soon as he’s able to walk on his own, but you’ll need to keep that dressing clean.”
“I can do that,” Summer said, leaving the dog’s side to walk to the empty table next to him. She put her hand on the cool metal surface, leaving it there for a three-count.
Liz followed her and put a soft hand on Summer’s back. “Stuart’s down on seven, being prepped.”
“Do we really have to cremate him?”
“It’s what he wanted.”
“Still, maybe we should bury him next to June by that old tree in town. I’m sure that would be okay.”
“No, Summer. It’s important that we abide by his wishes. Stuart would’ve never wanted us to expose our numbers or our location, simply to put him to rest. It’s too big a risk.”
“I get that, but it just feels wrong, that’s all. He should be with June.”
“Any idea when you want to have the service?”
Summer paused, waiting until the twinge in her heart faded. “I suppose the sooner the better. Everyone needs closure.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Liz said, wrapping Summer in a hug and squeezing.
Summer returned the favor, using her arms to send back her half of the embrace, only much harder. “I know you miss him, too. I’m so sorry.”
Liz pulled back and let go, her face wet with tears. “We all miss him, sweetheart, but these things happen. What’s important now is that we never forget him or what he stood for. He’d want us to carry on in his name.”
“And June’s.”
Liz moved her hands to Summer’s elbows, holding gently like a mother would do in support. “Of course. She was his rock.”
“And he was mine.”
“I hope you know Stuart saved a special place in his heart, one that
was only meant for you. I know that for a fact. He loved you, Summer. Never forget that.”
“I won’t,” Summer said, feeling a stream of tears leak from her eyes. “It’s just hard. I miss him so much. I keep expecting to see his great big smile around the next corner, but then I remember what happened. It breaks my heart every time.”
“Just be strong and finish what he started. That’s all anyone can ask. You’ll find your way through it. We all will.”
“I’ll try.”
“Unfortunately, there will be some who don’t think you’re ready.”
“Yeah, I’m one of them. But Krista said she’d help.”
“She did?”
Summer shrugged. “I’m as surprised as you. I thought she hated my guts.”
“She did have her moments, that’s for sure.”
“Not that I could blame her. I did go out of my way to piss her off sometimes.”
“People can change, Summer. On all sides. And it’s never too late to do so.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to learn that,” Summer said, not wanting to ask the next question. But it was time. “Krista said you wanted to talk to me about something?”
Liz pointed to the rolling stool in the corner. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
“Please, Summer. It’s important.”
“Okay,” Summer replied, walking with heavy feet to the chair and pulling it away from the wall. She sucked in a deep breath and sat down, feeling the twinge in her chest return, only this time it was deeper and more profound than before.
Something bad was coming and it was making her dizzy in the process. Just then, the air in the room seemed to disappear, making it hard to breathe.
She bent over, resting her elbows on her knees, giving herself time to work more oxygen into her body. It took a dozen or so breaths, but the lightheadedness finally went away.
Summer looked up to find Liz leaning against the worktable, with her butt pressing against the edge. Her fingers were laced together and resting against her thighs, just below the bottom of her medical smock.
The look on Liz’s face was one Summer hadn’t seen before. Withdrawn. Red. Numb-looking. Her eyes more round than normal.
Summer gulped and sat upright, then wriggled her butt to the left, finding the exact center of the stool for balance. Not that it mattered in the least, but it felt like the right thing to do.
Liz raised one eyebrow before she spoke. “Have you heard anything about Alexander?”
“No, should I have?”
“Wasn’t sure if someone might have told you.”
“I haven’t heard anything. Is something wrong?”
Liz took a few seconds to respond. “He’s sick, Summer.”
“What do you mean sick?”
“He’s very sick, Summer. The kind of sick that I can’t treat.”
When those words landed on her ears, Summer closed her eyes as she felt the energy drain from her body, almost as if someone had just pulled the drain plug.
Summer grabbed the edges of the stool to keep herself upright as a vision of Morse’s gentle face flashed in her mind, his smile aimed at her from his walker, while standing in front of one of the chalkboards in his office—the same board with the strange calculations on it, written in red.
She’d been too busy to notice that he hadn’t been around since they’d gotten back. She should have known something was wrong. He always seemed to go out of his way to greet her after one of her missions. Somehow. Somewhere. But he hadn’t. They were more than close. Best friends, actually, and best friends know when something is wrong. It’s part of the connection you share. You just know. And yet, she didn’t. She’d been too per-occupied with her own shit—selfish shit.
Summer took another moment to collect herself, allowing some of her strength to return. She opened her eyes and aimed them at Liz. “He’s dying, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Summer couldn’t hold back the tears. They came all at once, flooding from her eyes as if a dam had broken.
Liz came to her side, knelt down, and wrapped her in a hug. “Just let it out, dear. It’s okay.”
Summer melted into her arms, her body falling limp as she lost all control.
Liz held her upright as Summer cried into her shoulder, each burst followed by spasms from her stomach and chest, pushing out air and tears together in uncontrollable heaves.
Summer felt Liz’s hand on the side of her hair, stroking it gently as she began to rock the two of them from side to side, keeping Summer close to her chest.
“Shhhh. It’ll be okay, honey,” Liz said.
The tears and pain continued for another minute, but somehow Summer fought through them and found a way to regain her voice. The words were choppy, but her tongue was able to set them free. “Is it something with his legs?”
“No, honey. It’s cancer. He’s had it for a while now.”
“Cancer?” Summer replied, letting the word soak in and find meaning. “Why didn’t somebody tell me?”
“He didn’t want anyone to know. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.”
Summer couldn’t believe what was happening. First Edison and now Morse. “What kind of cancer?”
“Pancreatic. But it spread to his spine a few months ago.”
“That’s why he had the walker?”
“Yes, he fought hard, but he knew this was coming.”
“I thought he was just getting old. But cancer? Seriously? How did he hide something like that?”
“He’s a prideful man, I’m afraid. The last thing he wanted was anyone’s sympathy. He wanted to go out on his terms. You need to understand that, Summer. This was how he wanted it. We have to respect that.”
“There has to be something you can do.”
“I wish there was, but we don’t have the drugs or the facilities. Plus, I’m not trained for this. Oncology is a very specialized discipline. It takes years of study.”
Summer broke free of Liz’s hold. “Then we send out Seekers to find what you need. It’s out there somewhere. I’ll go if I have to, but we have to try.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late. The cancer is now in his bowels. It won’t be long.”
“Don’t say that!” Summer said, not wanting to hear any more bad news.
“I wish it weren’t true, Summer. But it is. We have to accept it.”
Summer slid off the stool and worked herself to her feet as anger swelled inside her body at a rate she hadn’t experienced before.
It felt as though someone had just stuck in a hose from an air compressor and turned it on full blast. She wasn’t sure where the rage was coming from, but it energized her body from the inside out. “Where is he?”
“In his quarters, resting,” Liz answered, standing as well.
“You just left him all alone?”
“A family’s there with him. They volunteered to help keep him comfortable.”
“I need to see him.”
“Of course. I’ll go with you.”
CHAPTER 15
“Hold it right there,” Krista told Horton, tugging on the paracord binding his wrists together behind his back.
The prisoner let out a grimace as the rope cut into his skin. She’d laced the restraint extra tight, wanting to send a message. And, to be honest, to cause him some pain. It was her form of payback for what the man had attempted to do during the ambush, now that Summer wasn’t around to run interference.
Krista pulled the blindfold from his eyes, letting the sunlight bombard his vision.
He squinted and turned his head, blinking rapidly in a wash of tears.
Krista ran a visual check of the terrain, scanning the depression ahead. There were footprints everywhere, crossing over each other and heading in different directions.
All of the prints were barefoot and petite, made by someone with feet much smaller than hers.
Their diminutive
size ruled out a herd of male Scabs, unless they were a herd of adolescents, something Krista doubted, despite what Doc Lipton had mentioned about Helena and the possibility of her breeding.
The knot of trails covering the area meant only one thing—Helena had spent time here. A lot of it, doubling back over her tracks at least a dozen times and in as many directions, making a mess of the evidence.
Krista yanked on Horton’s hands again. “Okay Mr. Tracker, you said you could help, so help. Which way?”
“Untie my hands so I can inspect everything up close,” Horton said, beaming his focus at Krista. He twisted his back toward her. “Can’t do that like this.”
Krista motioned for her biggest and most trusted guard, Nathan Wicks, to come forward.
He responded with a quick step, taking position behind Horton. The other men she’d brought along remained behind at their post by the truck, covering the area as they were trained to do.
“If he even flinches,” Krista said.
“With pleasure, boss,” Wicks replied with a tense jawline, bringing his rifle up and aiming the muzzle at the back of Horton’s head. He pulled the charging bolt back and let it snap into place.
It was refreshing to have her most loyal guard on this search and recovery mission. Wicks always seemed to know what she wanted, sometimes before she did, eliminating the need to explain every command in detail.
Krista leaned in to Horton’s ear. “I swear to God, just give me a reason.”
“I’m here to help. Nothing more. You have my word.”
“Then get to it,” she said, pulling a knife and cutting the cord from the man’s wrists.
Horton brought his hands around to the front, rubbed his wrists for a few seconds, then stepped forward and bent down on one knee.
Krista followed behind, still carrying the knife in her hands, wanting to keep the man within striking distance.
Wicks was positioned on her right, looking ready to fire if Horton made a false move.
The index finger on Horton’s right hand found its way to a pair of trails crossing in opposite directions, only inches from the front of his shoes.
He tested the walls of the first print with the tip of his finger, then did the same with the one perpendicular to it. He continued to examine a few more, leaning forward and reaching what he could.
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