by Tarah Benner
Sage shrugs. “Maybe I want them to.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I growl, dragging a hand through my hair and glaring at her. “Fine, Sage. Go. Go on in there.”
“Will you relax?” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m just messing with you. I didn’t think you’d care so much.”
I’m secretly relieved that she isn’t going in there to rub up against those douchebags, but I’m also pissed that she thinks that little of me.
“I do care!” I snap. “Why does everybody think I don’t?”
“Who’s everybody?” Sage asks, giving me a suspicious sideways glance. The woman misses nothing.
“Just —” I stammer. “Nobody.”
In my panic to escape her verbal trap, I barely notice her creeping up on me. Within just a few seconds, she’s managed to slink dangerously close. I can smell her heady cocoa-butter scent and practically taste her warm lips.
Then she wraps her arms around my waist and comes even closer. “I was looking for you, actually.”
“Really?”
She nods. “We left things in kind of a weird place.”
“Yeah . . .”
“Come on, Owen,” she coaxes, looking up at me with those big brown eyes. “Tell me what’s really going on with you.”
I sigh and try to extricate myself from her embrace. “I can’t.”
“If it’s another girl —” She starts to pull on her brave “I can handle it because we’re just casual” face, but I’m so tired of all this bullshit between us.
“It’s not,” I say. “I just can’t —”
Again, Sage takes advantage of my distraction. She closes the distance between us and finds my lips with hers.
It takes roughly two seconds for me to lose my shit and kiss her back as though I’ve been starving in the desert for days. I cup her soft cheeks between my hands and work my tongue in between her lips. Her body softens against mine, and I silently marvel at Sage’s ability to get just about anything she wants from me.
I pull away, but it’s too late; my resolve has already started to crumble.
“It’s . . . my brother,” I mumble.
“Your —”
“My brother,” I repeat, oddly relieved to say it out loud. “I told you he died that night my parents were shot. He didn’t. He’s still out there. Only —”
“Only what?”
“Only he’s . . .” I look behind me once again to make sure none of the guys have wandered out of the bar. “He’s one of them — one of the compound people.”
“Wait . . . at compound 112?”
“Yeah.”
“How is that . . . How is that even possible?”
“We were separated that night,” I explain. “I looked for him for years, but I never found him. After a while, it was easier to tell myself that he died right along with them. I didn’t know where he was until that day at the old base. He showed up and killed Malcolm’s men. That’s when I knew.”
“And you . . . you talked to him?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you tell him Malcolm planned on releasing the virus?”
“Yeah. I tried to get him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He said he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Said he’d take his chances.”
Sage’s face falls, and I hate having that sympathetic expression directed at me.
“I shouldn’t care,” I say. “I haven’t seen him in thirteen years. We’re practically strangers.”
“But he’s still your brother,” Sage says, finishing my thought for me.
I give a noncommittal nod. “If our guys attacked Eli’s people, he might already be dead in the ground. But I know my brother. He was eleven when we were separated, and he survived this long. If there’s a man left standing over there . . . it’s gonna be him.”
Sage doesn’t say anything. She’s waiting for me to finish.
“I just talked to Malcolm. He’s sending in more men to hit the compound while they’re at their weakest. If Eli isn’t dead already, his luck is about to run out.”
“And you want to warn him,” Sage murmurs.
“No. It’s stupid. Why should I warn him? He made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing more to do with me.”
“Owen . . . he’s still your brother. He’s still family.”
“I don’t have a family,” I croak.
Sage whips out her hand so fast I never see it coming. She slaps me so hard that she almost gives me whiplash, and my face stings where her palm struck me.
“Don’t you dare say that,” she whispers, looking at me with daggers in her eyes. “I would kill to be in your shoes, Owen. My entire family is dead — most people’s are. But you were lucky enough to find Eli after all these years, and now you want to turn your back on him because you had a fight?”
She shakes her head. “Finding your brother again . . . You’ve been given the chance of a lifetime, and chances like that are too few and far between these days. If you don’t go to him — if you let Eli die out of stubbornness — then Malcolm has ruined you.”
That statement hits me like a liver shot. Sage has never been that blunt with me. Then again, I’ve never been this honest with her before, either.
We’ve been in a nonstop dance of meeting and screwing and shooting the shit, but it’s been a heavily one-sided conversation. She doesn’t know me — not really. If she did, she’d run away as fast as she could.
“It’s suicide,” I murmur in a last-ditch attempt to talk myself out of what I already know I have to do.
“So is staying here,” Sage murmurs. “Your heart may be beating, but you’ve been dead inside for a long time.”
twenty-three
Owen
I can hardly fathom what it would be like to have a family again. I’ve played the lone wolf for so long that going to rescue my kid brother feels like a story out of someone else’s life.
I need a few hours of daylight to begin my approach to the compound, so I decide to leave my house before the sun starts to sink in the sky.
I have to be smart about this. If Eli agrees to come with me, we can’t just return to town. Malcolm already questions my loyalty, and a former compound dweller isn’t going to help my situation. Our best bet will be to hunt down Jackson and hole up with his crew.
We’re going to need food, water, clothes, and ammunition. Those things won’t fit in my saddlebags, so I find an old turquoise Chevrolet, roll my bike into the bed, and fill up the cab with all the crap we’re going to need for our journey.
“Do you think he’ll go with you?” Sage asks as I check the bags one last time.
She might have backed this decision, but she’s been nervously twisting and untwisting her hair for the last hour. We both know it’s risky — suicidal, even.
“I don’t know. But I have to try.”
She nods quickly and swallows down her doubts.
Before I go, I make one final trip into the bedroom and pull out the dusty cedar box with the flowers. I’ve taken this everywhere with me since I was thirteen, but I can’t stand the thought of it rotting out in the desert if I’m blown up or shot.
“Keep this safe for me, will you?” I ask, placing it between Sage’s soft cinnamon hands.
She nods without speaking, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t given her something so meaningful to latch on to. Sage and I have a way of running into each other, but I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t want her to think I expect her to sit around and pine for me until I return.
Reeling with guilt, I reach out and twine my fingers through her silky black hair. Then I pull her against my chest and drink in her heady scent.
She wraps one arm around me and keeps the other latched around the box. I can’t look her in the eyes, so I plant a strong kiss on the side of her head and gently push her away.
“Wish me luck,” I murmur, climbing into the truck and starting the engine.
She nods.
Before I have a chance to change my mind, I p
ull away from the house and lift a hand to wave to Sage. I speed away in a cloud of dust and head for the break in the barbed-wire fence that separates the road from the desert.
Instead of heading directly to the compound, I chart a course toward a jagged rock formation in the distance. By now, the sun has dipped behind the dark clouds rolling in and set the sky on fire.
Before I reach the rock formation, I hit a graveyard of junker cars situated about half a mile outside the border. I park the truck between a faded red Celica and a rusty gray Geo. Then I take a long drag of water, don my green army jacket, and load up with weapons and ammo.
The temperature has already started to plummet. And with that storm rolling in, I don’t want to be caught out there in just a T-shirt.
In the dying light, I can just make out the enormous glass box in the distance. I’m losing the light faster than I planned, so I grab my small flashlight and shine it on the ground to find the line of red spray paint that denotes the outer edge of the mine fields.
At first, I worry the rain might have washed it away, but then I see the faint pink trace of it on a large flat rock. Charting a straight line from here, there’s about a quarter mile of old reburied land mines and new mines that Eli’s people just installed.
I was on the crew that reburied all those old mines to screw up the Recon agents. They aren’t metal, so the only way to avoid them is to know exactly where they’re buried or proceed very, very slowly.
Since I don’t have the mine map, I only have one choice. Getting down on my hands and knees, I withdraw my knife from my ankle holster and probe the dirt in front of me at an angle. I wait with bated breath for the tip to hit something solid, but all I feel is the loose, sandy topsoil.
I move my knife in a semicircle to clear the first foot of dirt in front of me and then drag my lower body along the path I just traced.
The clouds are swirling overhead, and it occurs to me that the rain could destroy my tracks. If it does, Eli and I won’t be able to follow it back, which means we run the risk of getting shot on our escape.
If he agrees to come, I remind myself. There’s still a good chance he’ll be too disgusted with me or too stubborn to leave.
But I can’t think about that right now. I can only focus on the mission in front of me.
Squinting at the compound, I see a break in the horizon. It forms a line that trails around the compound just inside the land mines.
It’s a fence.
Those bastards have put up a damn fence to keep their people contained. Maybe Eli’s feelings will have changed since the last time we spoke.
Just then, I feel the blade of my knife connect with something solid buried in the ground.
I freeze.
As my thoughts wandered, I started to get a little sloppy with my probing, and I grazed it too close to the top of the mine.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I just listen for the telltale click or pop they always told me I’d hear right before I got my legs blown off.
Nothing.
Every nerve in my body is on high alert, but I move my knife over about six inches and look for a safer path.
Slowly, carefully, I keep moving in a zigzag until I put a few yards between me and the graveyard.
By now, the sun has almost disappeared beyond the horizon. On the one hand, the darkness covers my approach; on the other, it makes it damn near impossible to see what I’m doing. I pull out my flashlight and hold it between my teeth, and soon that little pool of light and the glint of my knife are all I can see.
I start to lose feeling in my knees, but I have no idea if I’ve gone an eighth of a mile or if I’m about to run headlong into that fence.
Then I hear something. It’s too quiet to be a human, but the footsteps definitely belong to a sizable animal off to my left.
Keeping my flashlight trained on the ground, I hold it out to try to see beyond the yard of dirt in front of me. Then there’s a flash of movement, and I catch sight of a furry brown coat.
The animal scampers and then turns, its eyes glowing like a demon’s as they catch the reflection of my light.
Another tiny patter on my other side about gives me a heart attack. I pan my light around and draw in a sharp breath of air.
I’m surrounded by at least five coyotes. I’d been moving so quietly that I didn’t scare off the pack as it wandered into my orbit. But now they’re looking at me as if I pose a threat. Their eyes are alight with fear. They’re considering bolting — taking off right across the mine field.
For a second, the big one and I just stare at each other. Then he seems to reach a decision.
He takes off at a sprint right across my path. I want to yell at it to stop. I want to lasso the thing and bring it down before it triggers one of the mines in front of me. But all I can do is flatten myself along the ground and brace for the explosion.
My heart hammers against the dirt as the others trot along behind him. Every pad of paws along the ground ratchets up the tension, and I start doing the math on my odds of survival.
All it takes is one wrong move, and I’m a flying sack of human shrapnel. But then they’re gone, and I’m still in one piece.
I let out a long sigh and collapse onto my palms. I wait for my breathing to return to normal and then resume my painstaking journey through the danger zone.
Within a few minutes, I hear a low humming sound. It’s coming from the fence, which means it must be live.
I didn’t plan for that.
Then I hear the soft murmur of voices.
I drop into a crouch and pause, waiting for the speakers to show themselves. Judging by the volume of their voices, they’re only a few yards away. If they get any closer, they’re going to spot me.
I shake my head slowly, holding in an angry stream of curses.
I’d anticipated that the compound would post guards after Malcolm’s crew shot up their people, but I hadn’t planned on guards and an electric fence. I can’t exactly scale the thing, and I can’t short it out without attracting attention.
Now I have to hope that Eli or Harper cycles through on guard duty, and I hate relying on chance. If they don’t show, I’ll have to retreat to the rocks before sunrise and wait another day, which increases the chance that Malcolm will attack before I can get Eli out of here.
As I listen, the guards’ voices begin to fade away, and I let out a breath of relief. But then I hear another set of footsteps.
This guard is alone, which means he’s probably on high alert. I know it’s a him because his footfalls indicate he’s close to two hundred pounds. I definitely can’t count on overpowering this guy with brute force.
His feet shuffle closer, and I pull out my handgun and attach the silencer. I don’t want to use it. A body will definitely attract attention, but I may not have a choice.
I focus on bringing down my heart rate to keep my breathing low and steady. Then the guard’s footsteps stop, and I get a bad feeling that he sees me.
Sure enough, I hear the quiet click of a safety as he trains his gun on me. In that moment, our roles are reversed, and I can see myself in his sights — clear as day.
“Wait,” I breathe. I don’t know what I’m going to say to plead my case, but right now my only hope is to somehow con my way in.
“Don’t move,” he growls.
“Stop,” I hiss, keeping my voice low to avoid attracting the attention of the other two guards. “Just listen. I’m not here to hurt anybody. I’m here to warn you.”
“Save it, fuckface.”
I hear the slight click of plastic as he readjusts his gun, and I know my only option is to show my hand. “Please,” I whisper. “Go get Eli Parker. He knows who I am.”
There’s a long pause, but then I hear the quiet scuff of his boot as he shifts forward. “How do you know Eli?”
I can’t see the guard’s face, but it sounds as though he’s standing right next to me on the other side of the fence.
“I can’t tell
you.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate, asshole,” says the man. “So I’m gonna ask you one more time before I blow your fucking head off: How — do you — know Eli?”
Telling this guy the truth isn’t smart. The truth could get Eli killed, but the alternative is certain death by ambush.
“Please,” I say, drawing in a deep breath. “He’s my brother.”
twenty-four
Eli
The destruction the drifters left in their wake was unimaginable: five of our people dead, ten dead ExCon and Waste Management workers, and twenty more wounded.
It takes most of the afternoon to dig fifteen holes and lay them all to rest. There’s no time for a proper funeral — not with the sun blazing overhead and the temperature climbing. Each person got a brief eulogy from the person in his section who knew him best and a shallow grave in the desert.
Harper’s little speech was the only good thing that came out of today. I wasn’t sure whether Seamus would take her threat to heart, but an hour later, he and Kruger reappeared with a handful of Health and Rehab people in hazmat suits. They loaded up the injured workers on stretchers and wheeled them into the compound for treatment.
Seeing that small victory seems to have sparked a new energy in camp. People are still angry and grieving, but they no longer seem beaten.
ExCon and Waste Management are hungry for retribution. As far as they’re concerned, the board is the real enemy. Recon knows better.
As soon as Health and Rehab wheeled away the injured, Miles, Harper, and Lenny gathered around with the others to receive their assignments from the lieutenant on duty. I should be on the patrol rotation, but instead I’m stuck on the sidelines, repairing solar panels that were damaged in the shooting.
Harper has a shift in the middle of the night, so we headed to our tent as soon as it got dark so she could catch a few hours of sleep.
She looks exhausted, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight. We moved our tent as far away from the fence as we could, but we’re still uncomfortably close to the perimeter. I don’t know how the drifters managed to get past the new mines, but the firelight shining through the bullet holes in our tent serve as a harsh reminder that we aren’t safe out here.
