by Angela White
Shane had the bay cleared and the doctor filled in by the time the Eagles arrived. They dumped the crying man on the waiting cot, but didn’t leave in case the assassin tried to get to Marc again.
“Did you have to shatter it?” the doctor griped, examining the bones with no regard for the man’s renewed screaming. He spotted Marc’s new bruises, lips disappearing into his puffy profile.
The Eagles holding him looked to Marc in surprise.
“He fell from a ladder,” Marc insisted, cursing his oversight and the ache in his jaw. He should have told Shane what to say. “Can you shut him up?”
The doctor quickly shot a sedative into the struggling man’s hip. He didn’t care about Marc covering with the camp. He didn’t want to hear any more screaming either.
“He’ll need surgery,” the doctor informed them abruptly. “I don’t know how to do it.”
“No need,” Marc denied as the assassin slumped over. “How long will he be out?”
“Two or three hours. Why?”
“Just scheduling a conversation about the dangers of ladders,” Marc responded cheerfully. “Take him to the brig.”
The Eagles took the unconscious man to the cells down the corridor from the medical bay, casting curious glances at Marc.
“Angie can’t come back yet,” the doctor ordered as soon as they were alone, glaring. “You tell her we all agree on that.”
Marc was tired of hearing it. He also felt she was safer where she was. When it came to keeping people alive, Adrian was a pro.
Marc started to go to the brig, but the radio on his belt crackled, making the doctor jump. Everyone was twitchy.
“Marc, you got a minute?” Jeremy’s voice was perfectly controlled. “No hurry.”
Marc caught the code and the secret that Jeremy didn’t want anyone to know. Great, he thought. Just what we need.
“Sure,” Marc replied, casually asking, “Are those new screens going fuzzy again?” He didn’t realize that he was keeping secrets from the herd.
“Yes. Do you have time to take a look?”
“Yep. Things are five-by here.” Marc swung toward the monitoring cavity, donning a calm facade to hide his frustration. The next wave of chaos was about to hit, early, and Angie wasn’t here to handle it. He was on his own.
2
Jeremy shoved the mouth spray into his pocket as the door opened, getting straight to business. “Kyle’s crew contacted me through the cameras. They don’t want to leave the site until they’re done. It might take all day.”
Marc waved his approval, settling into the other chair. He scanned the monitors while Jeremy filled him in.
“They sent two messages. The first is no body for Sonja. The second is elevated levels on the personal patches. They put those dosimeters on their jackets this morning, new. Four hours outside now results in measurable radiation exposure.”
Marc studied the view of the train station, unable to discern any space that the men had failed to search. There were small fires scattered all over the tracks and ground, with hundreds of bodies already burning. The Eagles appeared to be roughly half through cleaning up the mess.
“How elevated?”
“Still under the old limits,” Jeremy answered. “It’s the first jump. Angela told us to make certain you knew the moment it happened, that it would matter in your calculations.”
“It will,” Marc confirmed. “They’re positive on her body?”
“Yes, but Kyle saw drag marks all around the area. The crew agrees that Sonja was probably among those picked off by wildlife or scavengers who wanted her clothes or gear. We also can’t identify everyone from the two sites that were mined. She could have been there.”
“It’ll be good enough.” Marc wasn’t going to waste men on the hunt. Sonja had eaten lightly at the picnic tables, which implied she would gorge herself upon returning to the privacy of her train car. He had assumed she didn’t like the way they were preparing the meal. He still thought that and her being dragged off after death to be eaten by a wolf was fitting. He almost hoped it was Dog. “Tell them to hurry and get home.”
Jeremy activated the mike on the camera as Kyle walked by it on the screen. “Finish up. No hunting.”
Kyle snapped a salute to the camera and then continued pouring gasoline over the mounds of bodies. Marc had assigned about twenty gallons for this chore. It wouldn’t burn everything down to ashes, but it would get most of the poison and send a powerful message to anyone who found it. Especially when they read the message that Kyle had been instructed to paint on the walls of the station. Slavery is illegal. –Safe Haven.
Marc headed for the tunnel, picking up the impatience of his next appointment. “Jeremy?”
The Eagle tensed, instantly nervous at Marc’s tone. “Yes?”
“Don’t ever do it again. I like you and we all need you, but I’ll bust your ass down to a rookie and then run you out if you ever do a shift while drunk again.”
Jeremy didn’t have a chance to respond as Marc slammed the thin door on his way out. Alone with his shame, Jeremy lowered his cheek to his arm and tried not to puke. That last drink had been the one too many that he was supposed to avoid. Hiding his problem hadn’t been easy in this hellhole. He hoped Marc didn’t tell Samantha that he wasn’t adjusting as well as she’d thought.
“I hate it down here,” he whispered miserably. “Please, God. Get me topside before I ruin everything.”
3
“Where have you been?”
Marc tried not to laugh at the little girl with her hand on her hip. “Working. You ready?”
Missy moved over so he could sit next to her. “I already have been. Shawn helped.”
Marc didn’t look at the man lurking in the corner with his arms over his chest. “Good. Show me what you’ve got.”
Missy slid the wide paper over. “It’s good, right?”
Marc frowned at the bright colors. “Crayon?”
Missy shrugged. “I’m not allowed to have a pen.”
Marc glanced at Shawn. “Why?”
“She makes a mess,” Shawn replied promptly. “I got tired of cleaning it up.”
“That’s not her fault,” Marc pointed out, handing her his Bic. “You have to teach her.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Shawn tried to explain. “She knows how to use it. She can’t control it.”
“Sure.” Marc rolled his eyes. “Missy, honey, circle the ones that are the most dangerous.”
“I already did,” she said, uncapping the pen.
Marc peered at the orange and yellow lines. It was a dozen stick figures in seven different areas. He had hoped there wasn’t that many.
“Oh, there’s more,” Missy corrected, shaking the pen to get the ink flowing. “That’s the ones I membered. I haven’t been to all the rooms yet. Shawn won’t take me into some of them and I’m not allowed to go on my own.”
“That’s about to change,” Marc murmured, trying to figure out how he would determine who each of the stick figures were. “What’s this?”
“A red scarf,” Missy answered, frowning when the ink wouldn’t come down the tube. “She had red hair.”
Marc knew who it was from that. He made a note on the paper, adding the name. “Where is this?”
“The kitchen. That boy helps bring stock to Li Sing.”
“Uh, Marc?” Shawn reluctantly interrupted.
“Hang on,” Marc ordered. He pointed to the drawing. “Is that a training room?”
“Yeah. The one by the reading chamber. I can hear the bad thoughts, but I never get to see the people, so I don’t know which one it is.”
Marc leaned in. “Is that…”
“Marc, listen, I think you–”
“She’s not upset at all!” Marc snapped. “Let us work.”
Shawn pulled a face. “You got it, boss.”
Missy, aggravated with the pen, jerked it up and down furiously. “Come on!”
Realizing his mistake t
oo late, Marc grimaced as the ink splattered across his chest, face, shirt, arms, and jacket.
“Let me guess. I should move away from the pen?”
“Yeah,” Shawn teased, laughing hard as he took the leaking pen from Missy’s hands and began to wipe her off. “Ink, paint, Kool aid. If it stains, she can’t be near it or the closest person wears it.”
Marc tried not to rub his skin, knowing the ink would spread and stain worse. “I’ve never seen a Bic do that.”
“I’m special,” Missy declared promptly.
“Yes, you are,” the two men answered in unison, causing more chuckles.
Marc stood up. “Keep going over it with her like I was. I need a shower.”
Shawn, still laughing, gestured his acceptance of the order.
Missy was happy to have made her future mate happy instead of annoyed or depressed. She beamed at him.
Shawn’s smile slowly faded as the glow of bonding settled onto his shoulders. It had only been a week of caring for the little girl, but it already felt longer. He’d been trudging through so far, determined to reclaim his honor, but this moment was different. He liked her.
Missy’s joy was obvious. Her friend Angie was right. If she didn’t ever push him, Shawn would end up being hers. She just had to teach him to love her along the way.
I’m cute, she thought. Who wouldn’t love me?
Marc snickered. He’d paused to wipe his hands so that he didn’t streak ink all through his clean gear while he dug out clothes. He was still smiling when Morgan came from the lower level ladder to join him.
“He’s secured. What are you going to do with him after your discussion on the dangers of ladders?” Morgan asked. He didn’t comment on the ink stains. He’d observed Missy and Shawn entering the room a while ago to wait. He could guess what had happened.
“First, you and Kenn will check out his friends.”
“Why Kenn?” Morgan asked. He still didn’t like the loud mouth Marine.
“Because he’ll know what to say to set them up,” Marc answered quietly. “These guys are rookies. So is Kenn. He bunks with them.”
“They’ll know he’s too loyal to the chain of command to tell him anything.”
“Agreed,” Marc allowed. “But he’ll know who they do trust. Get a man inside to find the proof.”
“Why not have a des…” Morgan stopped at the instant anger that came over Marc’s ink-dotted facade.
“We can’t solve all the problems here using magic! We don’t have enough descendants or the time to sort through every person. We’re going to have to rely on good old fashioned detective methods.”
“A narc?”
“Yes. You and Kenn have to pick a narc to roam among the rookies. Good luck.”
Morgan drifted toward the radio cavity, not pleased with the job he’d been given. Marc was going to hide magic from the herd, which was against what Adrian and Angela had been doing. It would cause problems. Morgan just hoped that Marc would be the one to learn the lesson from it this time, not Angela or the Eagles. They’d all suffered enough.
4
“Time for a lesson.”
Angela regarded the target on the pegboard with pain lancing through her heart. She’d only been awake for an hour, despite it being late afternoon. She’d needed the sleep.
“Was it restful?” he inquired distractedly, making their dinner.
Angela didn’t answer, refusing to admit even mentally that she’d been delighted to wake up next to him.
Adrian knew. He gestured at the dartboard. “Go on. The doctor said to get you using those arms as much as you can stand. Do underhand until you can do over.”
When she didn’t, Adrian came over to take the darts from the board and hold them out to her. He noted the hollow cheeks and sunken eyes lined with purple skin. How could Marc have ever believed you would make the trade willingly?
“Don’t.”
Adrian sucked it up as she took the darts and grudgingly went to the line of yellow tape that he’d obviously placed for her to stand on. She began throwing gently with her left hand, reading his goals and his hopes. There was a chance that her aim could improve. Her heart, he couldn’t fix.
“I love you.”
Angela winced. “I don’t deserve that from either of you. Stick with Kendle.”
“Marc will share your time now. It’ll be better.”
“It will never be better,” she remarked tonelessly.
Adrian worried even more. Where was the fire? He contemplated repeating all of the things he was positive that Marc and the others had tried, and chose to skip them. If Marc hadn’t broken her this way, then only one thing might succeed.
“It won’t. I wish you wouldn’t even try.”
“Because it hurts?”
“It’ll hurt me more. I can’t accept it now.”
“Without empathy and love, you can’t lead.”
“I expected them to call the vote right after I killed all the train descendants,” she replied, confirming his suspicion.
She’s abdicating my throne. “To Marc?”
Angela nodded, but didn’t say more. She sank down in the waiting chair and drew the blanket tight around her shoulders. The remaining darts fell to the ground. The doctors wanted her to use the arms, but they didn’t have to experience the pain and be constantly reminded of why it was there.
Adrian studied it again. In the past, he had thought about gifting the ugly job of permanent leadership to Marc once the man toughened up enough to do whatever it took to keep their citizens alive, but it hadn’t ever felt right. It still didn’t. Angela was meant to lead them south. If anyone else tried, it would get them killed.
“It’s already getting us killed,” she muttered. “You’ve seen what we’re about to face?”
“Yes.”
Angela dropped her head. “I can’t take anymore death–theirs or mine, it doesn’t matter. It kills me with every one of them.”
Adrian now understood exactly what she was suffering. It wasn’t just the baby. How many times had he sat in his tent with a blanket and a drink, mourning alone for one of his herd? She had instinctively copied his coping mechanisms.
“They don’t work.”
Adrian chuckled in bitter agreement. “No.”
“Making sure it wasn’t in vain isn’t enough now,” she confided in horror that was still too dazed and faraway for his liking.
“That’s when I knew I’d had enough,” Adrian answered, taking the chair across from her. He had the screen in his view from here. Nothing was moving out there except the wind.
“Were you already training me then?”
“You hadn’t arrived yet,” he murmured, thinking of Joe.
“And you went on for months this way?”
Adrian locked their gazes as he answered, “When you came, it got easier.”
Angela wanted to feel something for him at that moment just to replace the cold chill that she couldn’t shake, but there was nothing. She stared back impassively. Then she began to cry.
Adrian watched the tears glisten in the dim glow of the lowly lit lantern in the corner, frustration growing. If he was her match, he would know how to help her, but he was as clueless as Marc was… Adrian stopped as a new idea occurred. It was ugly, awful to do to her, and yet, it felt like it might break through a layer or two of the ice around her heart. The problem was, he didn’t want it all to melt. The flood of tears she was already shedding didn’t need to be increased with full awareness of her pain. She needed to be in the middle for a while and deal with as much as she could at one time. When she conquered each brick, she could continue to the next one without being drowned. He suspected that she was trying to do that herself, but her walls were too thick to allow a connection. He had no link into her mind at all, something that had never happened with them unless the bubble was interfering.
“Are you mad that I chose you?”
“I’m still honored,” she replied tiredly, not bother
ing to wipe away the tears that would only be replaced at some point. Each time she sank into her mental hell, Adrian pulled her into the real one. “And ashamed that I haven’t done better.”
“You’ve done great through the chaos that you’ve had to supervise since taking my place.”
“No one can take your place,” she stated automatically.
If only more people felt that way! Adrian gushed silently, unable to help it. He missed being in control, being the one everyone went to for help and answers.
“Well, whose fault is that?!” Angela snapped. “Quit whining. We’ve all suffered losses.”
Pleased at her anger, Adrian was disappointed when fresh tears began flooding down her cheeks. The anger wasn’t real. It was the pain taking an available vent.
Back to the drawing board, he grumbled as she sank down into her quilt of silence. For the first time in my life, I may not be able to reach a hurting female with my light. The fact that I love this one just makes it cruel.
“At least you’re getting some of what you deserve,” she sneered. Angela pulled the blanket up to her chin, shivering lightly. “I want you out of the bed before I wake up from now on. It puts me in a bad mood.”
Adrian bowed lowly in sarcasm, but the demand hurt him. He’d never been happier than watching her eyes light up when she saw he’d taken her into his arms for more warmth during the night. She’d hidden it as soon as she realized what was happening, but Adrian would never forget it. She liked being with him. She still felt something for him. It was great for his ego, but it was even better for her recovery. Other than sadness or anger, it was the first emotion that she’d shown since Marc had brought her here. If not for that one brief second, he wouldn’t have any hope at all.
