by Angela White
Marc immediately felt better knowing she had some protection. He didn’t tell Adrian that Dog was guarding her on his own.
“So, a day each?” Adrian asked, switching to a safer topic. He would keep trying to reach the stubborn man.
“A little less if I spend my free time on it, which I probably will,” Marc answered. “I’m going to hang and then fill the baskets and shelves with what your people use most.”
“Our people… Great idea.”
Against his will, Marc liked how that felt and continued, “As for the stored items, you could–”
“We could,” Adrian corrected him patiently. “They’re your people now, too.”
“We…could limit access and have people sign out what they take and when. After certain hours, lock it up and set alarms that only a few people know how to remove.”
Marc didn’t want to argue, but his demeanor said to ease up.
Adrian stopped pushing, observing the thick, black clouds starting to roll in. More rain. “What kind of alarms?”
“Basic stuff. Like the discs you already use, but these will give the person a shock they won’t be able to hide, because it will knock them out. I also thought maybe a hidden video recorder wouldn’t be hard to hook up with the equipment you have here.”
“Absolutely. Sit with us at lunch, and we’ll go over it.”
6
“John said you needed this ASAP.”
Two of the men glanced up from their potted-meat sandwiches, and Angela held out the envelope, eyes on her feet.
Aware of her before the other two were, Marc didn’t look up at all, but he did listen. Was she okay? Did she miss him anywhere near as much as he missed her?
“Thanks. Grab a tray and join us,” Adrian invited.
Sure that Marc wouldn’t still be at the table when she returned, Angela got into the short line. The eyes on her weren’t hostile anymore, but there was no friendship in those glances either, and she stiffened her shoulders.
I have my son, and my Brady, when I’m ready for him. To hell with the rest of you!
Adrian stiffened at the ugly tone, catching Angela’s thought. He would have to do something about her mood. What would settle her down? Where would she go to try?
“Are we good?” Marc dared Kenn to say it wouldn’t succeed.
Adrian regarded the sullen Marine, understanding Marc’s need for escape as the damp wind blew a sweet hint of vanilla around the table. “You got what you need?”
“Yeah.” Kenn hated the source but loved the plan. With Brady’s setup, thievery would be a thing of the past. “Are those the results from the dogs?” Kenn changed the subject.
“Yes. They tested positive for sedatives, but none of the water is missing or contaminated, and Danny’s excuse is tight. We all saw him out cold by the fire.”
Marc stood up and adjusted the edges of his coat around his Colts. He would stay at the table if Angie gave him a sign that he should.
There was only silence, and he sighed unhappily. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
He was gone quickly.
Adrian glanced at Kenn with hard eyes but said nothing as Angela took Marc’s seat, something that drew mutters from those in and around the crowded lunch mess. She’d sat with the boss every day that she had been here. Why?
“They’ll be here for travel time?”
Kenn nodded, ignoring Angela and the big wolf that settled onto its haunches at her side. “Barring trouble, the water crew will be in around eight in the morning, day after tomorrow.”
Adrian sipped on the fresh mug of coffee she’d brought for him and Kenn, noticing she hadn’t wasted her time bringing one for Marc. She’d known he would be gone. “We’ll leave as soon as they get in,” Adrian instructed. “You’ll do the driving schedules?”
“Yeah. Seth went with them, so I told Doug to take charge of the new Eagles.”
Adrian’s eyes traveled the murky sky beyond their perimeter, worrying. “They’ll want him back when Kyle starts on them. He’s every drill instructor I’ve ever known.”
They laughed and continued to discuss business, and Angela kept quiet as the drizzle began to fall, still lonely and feeling very much like an outsider despite sitting at the “in” table.
7
“You probably shouldn’t get so close. Odd things come out of high water now.”
Samantha jumped and turned fearfully, only relaxing her defensive stance when she realized who it was.
“Thanks.” She scooted back a little as the chilly wind blew her curls around. Bugs crawled happily near her feet as she stared at the leafy trees blowing wildly, and Samantha shut her tired eyes. It was pleasant here until you saw a rabbit with three ears and only one front paw hopping through the grass. Then, reality sank in. For those who’d been through what she had, not seeing the bodies wasn’t enough. Any little sign was a reminder, a flash of hell, a tortured slap, and she sucked in a breath, pushing her crimes away. What else could she have done?
“You okay?” Marc asked, carefully filling two milk jugs of sludgy water to scrub the trucks with. No way was he going to the mess to eat with everyone there. Not without Neil. Marc wondered if Samantha might be feeling the same…only she didn’t have a friend high in the food chain did she?
Samantha stood up, brushing the dirt from her tan slacks. “Mostly I’m bored and a little uncomfortable around so many people all at once.”
Marc met the eyes of a small group of men moving past, delivering a hard glare that kept them going.
He turned to Samantha. “Most of us spent some time alone, but I’m guessing you spent all of it that way. It’s hard to adjust.”
“Will you tell him I need a job or something? I’ve got way too much free time.”
Marc took a minute to write it in his new notebook, his first entry. “Just give it some time, Sam. The feelings will ease.”
“Will they?”
Marc sighed, picking up the jugs. “I hope so. Otherwise, it might be what pushes me out of here.”
Sam watched him leave, distracted for an instant from her own problems. Marc seemed as unhappy as she was to be back in the arms of society, but he didn’t have the weight of her burdens. She resumed her seat on the bank. No, he only worried over his love, his heart.
I care for all these people, Sam clarified. It doesn’t make me better than him, only more of a threat.
Samantha’s time alone had forced her to take hard looks at herself and her role in the war. She hadn’t pushed the button, but she hadn’t lifted a hand to stop those who had, either. Instead of using her gifts for a heartless government, she could have been saving the lives of her fellow countrymen.
That need to atone, the one she already suspected Adrian of carrying, was heavy. She’d ended things with Rick and made a couple friends among the women for her outspoken views. But that also made it clear she was different, and it had limited her companionship. Right now, she could be with the other females at the gun class or the mess, but even though Safe Haven held her kind…
Sam stopped herself. Two days wasn’t enough time, she knew that. It was just hard. Who among these recovering survivors would understand the choices she’d been forced to make?
Samantha swept the camp, spotting happy, relaxed faces and “normal” life continuing.
Not them.
She turned to scan the area behind her and found three guards standing together nearby. Each made eye contact, then moved into the trees, vanishing.
Before she could form a question, a fourth Eagle stepped forward. He’d been so still that she hadn’t noticed him.
Jeremy didn’t avoid the searching glance, her almost desperate need to connect. As an Eagle, he’d observed it enough times to know it for what it was, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it so clearly.
She’s haunted, the Level Five Eagle thought. I could help with that.
Samantha felt his gaze digging in, searching her as she had him, but it wasn’t invasive like s
he’d expected. It was sympathetic, caring even.
The emotions were so foreign that Sam snapped her eyes back to the water, heart thumping. That one understood too much.
It was a relief to glance over a few minutes later and not distinguish him, though she thought she could still feel his stare. Who was he?
Unaware of how she’d been manipulated, Samantha stayed there, exploring the feeling of his gaze on her. Thoughts of fleeing to her tent had been replaced with a human trait that the Eagles were being taught to use. Curiosity was a powerful distraction tool.
8
Angela hesitated outside the open tent flap, hating how it made her feel to know there were eyes on her constantly. She lifted her chin, thinking that while her words and clothes fit in, she didn’t, and they knew it. It was in her wary eyes and hesitant interactions. She wasn’t adjusting well and wasn’t sure how long she–
“Should I come out there?”
Angela flushed, frowning at herself. “No, sorry.”
She ducked into the scent of musky cologne and was struck again by how neat Adrian always kept things. She also wondered what it was about the precisely aligned dimes, nickels and quarters that had bothered Marc so much. She’d caught a flash from him as he left Adrian’s table and knew he didn’t trust the blond. The coins had something to do with that, but she wasn’t sure what.
Adrian knelt down by the cooler and examined her as she examined his home, thinking she could have been a model even with the heavy bags under her eyes. Instead, Kenn had hidden her away.
“Have a seat,” he invited, bringing two tin cups and a red thermos to the table.
“Thanks. What are we drinking?”
He handed her a sweaty green can and a paper towel before joining her. He had a small brown box in his other hand.
Angela took the pop eagerly, thinking she hadn’t had cold Mountain Dew in over four months.
“It doesn’t have a name. Rum, rehydrated berries and bananas, sugar, stuff like that. Oh, and ice, lots of ice.”
People moved by in the cloudy afternoon, gawking at them through the open flap, and she guessed he didn’t smoke with camp members…or maybe just not with women? Angela took a swig, enjoying the caffeine-riddled soda. It was her favorite.
“You’re off-duty now?”
“Yes. John’s good. Nice. Anne is too.”
Angela shifted restlessly as loud whispers about her and Marc floated through the flap. She adjusted her sweater to cover her unease. Let them talk. What did she care?
“They’ll appreciate the help.”
“He has me doing his notes right now, catching up.”
Adrian smoothly sealed the thick joint. “And making sure you know what you say you do, before he lets you near his patients?”
“Yes. He likes to throw trick questions.”
“He won’t test you long. A month from now, you’ll want the paperwork again.”
Angela shrugged, wondering if she would be here then. There was something pulling at her, but was it enough?
“I can tell you why you’re here.”
That got her full attention and a frown. “I’m here for my son.”
“I mean on the planet.” Adrian already knew he could trust her with these things despite her hesitance. “Why you’re so different. Why you survived.”
Uncomfortable, Angela bit her tongue on the sarcastic remark that flew to mind.
“You would be extremely welcome here anyway because of your medical skills, but there’s so much more you can do. You’re like me and the Eagles. You’re a Runner.”
“A runner?”
“Little kids are told not to judge people on wealth or looks, that the inside is what matters, but they don’t understand, and why should they? It’s confusing. They should all be told there are three types of people they can choose to model themselves after–those who Sit, those who Stand, and those who Run.”
The words carried a simple ring of powerful magic, and Adrian let it linger. He hit the joint and passed it to her, noticing how careful she was not to touch him at all during the exchange.
“Those who Sit are society’s burdens. They’re mostly uneducated and shiftless, with no ambition. They don’t give a damn about the greater good. They serve only themselves, or worse, no one at all. They won’t even try to make it on their own, and the old world took care of them at everyone else’s expense.”
He poured them both a cup of the reddish liquid from the thermos, impressed with the hit she drew into her lungs before passing the joint.
“Those who Stand are the workers. They fight hard for what they have, but few reach independence. They trudge back and forth their entire lives and keep the world turning by just showing up. These are the drivers, the servers, the doers.”
Angela could tell how much he believed in what he was telling her and felt her stomach tighten as he opened his mouth to continue, but she wasn’t sure why.
“Then, there are the Runners. The literal one in a million that survive whatever fate throws at them. Tolerating the world and usually unaware of how important their roles are, these are the tortured, the mocked, the exiled. They are feared, abused, and yet they push on. Runners are fate’s wild cards. They uncover, discover, question, lead, create, challenge, and no matter the pressure or threat, there is a part of them that won’t fit in. It won’t allow them to conform or bend just because someone says to. This camp is full of Standers, thankfully, but there are also at least a dozen Runners here now, all gathered in the same place. The odds alone on that many one-in-a-million people all finding each other are astronomical. We were born into this time to help save our people, our country, and our very way of life. We have to get them to a place where they can Sit and Stand in safety. That’s why you’re different. That’s why you’re here.”
Angela was speechless, mind slamming it into place with a fit that was perfect. When it turned and fastened down into an airtight seal, a wave of completeness rolled over her. All those years she’d hidden, questioned, been through hell, and Adrian had perceived it in only three days.
Adrian actually felt it, the instant her loyalty shifted to include him and his dreams, and a heavy weight slid from his overloaded shoulders. The one he needed most was here. She would take his place if anything happened…at least until Arkansas. After that, it might be someone else’s duty.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Adrian soaked up the sense of partnership that filled the tent. “Help me. There’s so much we need that I don’t know where to begin.”
“Whatever you need.”
Adrian held out the smoking roach. “Always read the fine print. It’s a hard job, and our survival will eventually come down to blood. You learned that on your way here, I suspect.”
Angela blanched, shaking her head at both his words and the pungent weed. “I won’t do it again. Ever.”
Adrian wondered why she’d had to, what had happened, what Marc had done wrong. “That’s my job.”
“And mine?” Angela asked through the thick smoke as he exhaled.
“Look, listen. If it’s broken, show me how to fix it. If it’s coming, warn me in time to deal with it. Advise me. Be my Merlin, and together we’ll save our people.”
She stared at him for a long moment, breathing shallow, and Adrian felt the air thicken around them.
And if we can give you none of what you ask for?
Adrian spoke directly to the witch. “That’s an unfair question. I already know that you can.”
This is not a deal to be made lightly.
She paused, and Adrian blinked at the bright glow. Incredible!
There is always a price.
The tremor of greed in the words was easy to hear, and he agreed without hesitation. “I’ll give them everything I have. As long as they survive, there’s no price I won’t pay.”
Your name! the demon demanded angrily. Tell me your real name!
Adrian froze as his father’s face slammed into hi
s mind.
Angela’s gasp floated through the tent. His father was Robert Milton…the man who had destroyed their world!
Adrian waited for her to call the others or at least start accusing, but there was only a heavy silence that he unwillingly broke.
“When will you tell them?”
Angela stared with a devotion that stunned him.
“Never. You’ve given me terrible, powerful knowledge, and I’ll guard it with my life so that it does not cost you yours.”
Adrian allowed himself to smile, not doubting her words. “Kenn be damned. Your place with me is set.”
9
“She’s a whore, like Tonya! Anyone can have her!”
The boy’s voice was cruel, and Angela quickened her pace.
Thud! The sound of skin-to-skin contact echoed.
“Don’t ever talk about my mom like that!”
Angela rounded the corner to discover her gentle son standing over a much larger teenager. The would-be bully was bleeding from his nose, and the fury coming from her son made her stop, duck out of sight.
She had left Adrian’s tent filled with a surprising peace, but that was gone now. She’d missed so much of him becoming a man. Who was he now?
“You hear me?” Charlie leaned down and grabbed the older boy by the front of his shirt, then gave him a harsh shake that rattled the handsome boy and sent red drops flying. “You want me to hit you again?”
The bleeding teenager shook his head quickly, and Charlie shoved him as he let go. “Keep your fucking gob shut then!”
“What the hell’s going on here?”
Zack’s eyes were full of anger at finding his son on the ground, bleeding.
Angela stepped around the corner, but didn’t say anything yet. She wouldn’t interfere unless she had to.
“He hit me, dad!” Eric whined, holding up a hand with blood on it.
When Zack went for Charlie without asking why, Angela drew her gun.
“I wouldn’t.”
Zack spun, startled.
Angela raised a brow as his hand slowly inched toward his own weapon.
