by T. M. Catron
With his foot, Nelson brushed the tall grasses growing by the road. “He would have been glad of that, at least. Would have wanted to know you’re safe.”
Mina watched him closely. “Are you saying you don’t think he’s coming?”
“I just don’t like thinking we’ve given you false hope.”
“It’s not false hope, Nelson. I already thought he was dead, then he wasn’t. Any hope now is valid.”
“Yeah. Don’t mind me. I’m just tired.”
“Okay.” Mina propped her foot on the rail and tightened her shoelace. She needed new ones—both had broken and were too short for tying securely. Maybe a walk would do Nelson good. He wouldn’t have time to brood. “I’m going to check some traps, and I could use an extra pair of hands. Want to help?”
Nelson took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose.
“No, I don’t think so. Better go see how Carter’s doing.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
Nelson left without another word, his shoulders still hunched. Moody guy. But she really could have used the company. Maybe she’d go find Alvarez.
Two more rogues, a female and a male, walked together out of the parking lot. They crossed the road, and the man nodded to Mina who realized she’d been staring. They both carried backpacks.
What were they doing? Mina decided she didn’t care. The farther away they were from the lodge, the better. The rogues’ appearance changed her plan to check her traps though. Hiking through the woods with four hybrids wasn’t smart. Last time, she’d been lucky enough to just lose her pack. Had they figured out it was hers and not Emily’s? The hair on her arms rose. She had no way of knowing how long the hybrids had watched them in the woods. Mina turned back toward the lodge.
***
Calla slipped down through the trees, crossing the parkway to the north of the lodge and sinking into the woods below. She listened. A human man, tanned with white whiskers and wearing a baseball cap, walked below her, passing within ten yards of her. Calla ignored him and crept over to where the females had entered the woods. She spotted their tracks, following them through the lush foliage.
They had halted halfway between the lodge and the creek. Calla crouched down in a patch of tall ferns, straining to hear what they were saying.
“How’s Iverson getting the kid away from Mills?” asked Smith.
“He told him about an abandoned truck off the side of the road. Mills has been collecting fuel for the generator.”
“And Mills believed him?”
“Iverson let someone else overhear him talking about it. They passed it along to Mills.”
“Why do we need the kid?”
“You weren’t here when we tried to get into the entrance. Area is crawling with hybrids watching the main entrance on top of the mountain. But the kid says there’s another access through an old mineshaft. We’ll have a better chance of getting there undetected if he shows us exactly where it is.”
“And then what?”
Hadley shrugged and leaned her shoulder against a tree. “What? The kid? I dunno.”
“We’ll have to kill him if he’s been in there.”
“Yeah, but then people will start asking questions. His grandfather’s already suspicious. Killing the kid isn’t a smart move if we want to return.”
Smith looked at her watch. “Five minutes.”
Calla looked around. The other rogues must be on their way. She took out her pistol and screwed a suppressor onto the end of it. She was farther away than she would have liked, but this was a perfect ambush opportunity. Take out Smith and Hadley, wait for the others. She took aim at Hadley’s head. Calla took a breath, then exhaled, squeezing the trigger.
A man spoke to her right. “What is that?”
Calla whirled, looking for the speaker. A human teenager walked down the slope with Iverson who was twirling a hybrid charge stick.
Iverson tossed it to the teen. “Bomb for unblocking the mine.”
The boy dropped the stick. Iverson laughed. “It’s not armed yet.” He picked it up and slid it in his pocket.
Drops of sweat beaded on the boy’s forehead. He wiped them with the back of his hand. “And after this, you’ll leave us alone, right?”
“I don’t like having to repeat myself. You show us the mine, everything’s going to be okay.”
Calla had lost her window. She could still fire on Hadley and Smith, but Iverson walked too far away. He would see what was happening before she could shoot him, and he would get away. Before Iverson reached the other rogues, Morrison and Gault hurried down directly above Calla, forcing her to flatten herself to the ground. They passed within five feet of her.
As soon as they all gathered, the band set off Northeast, toward the bunker. The boy gravitated toward the females, walking closely beside them. Smith shoved him out of her way.
Calla followed at a safe distance. Finding the rogues together opened up new possibilities. She could ambush at night while they slept. If they slept. She wouldn’t if the situation were reversed. Her only chance was picking them off one by one in the dark. It was a slim chance.
What were they doing? They seemed to be in competition with Halston’s crew, or they already would have known what was in the silo. Who had told them it wasn't an ordinary bunker in the first place? Williams, maybe, or Thompson, but both were dead. Maybe Doyle’s plan was working.
Calla thought of the three charge sticks in her own pack. She had grabbed them at the last minute before disembarking the Nomad. Rock and beams completely blocked the mine entrance. Although capable of small, yet forceful, explosions, a charge stick would not clear it. And the explosions would draw attention. Even if they did get inside the bunker, once they realized they were incapable of dealing with the adarria, they would return to the security of the lodge to plan their next move.
Charge sticks lacked the power to unblock the mine, but they would work inside the hotel. Calla just needed to plant them inside the rogues’ rooms or adjacent rooms. She turned around and headed back. She had two, maybe three, days.
Calla picked her way over the slippery stones in the creek for the third time in twenty-four hours, bandaged boot smudged with mud and dirt. On the far side, she grabbed a fistful of mud from the creek bed, smearing it on her khakis. Then she sat and used her knife to wear the cuff, scraping the blade along the edge, fraying the fabric. For a final touch, she ripped out the knees and picked a small hole at the bottom of her tee shirt. Anyone who knew what to look for would see the clean rips, but Calla would pass among the refugees.
Except for her weapons—she lacked a way to hide them. She could store her handgun and knife in her pack, but the long rifle would draw unnecessary attention. A jacket or long coat would help, but in the middle of summer, Calla had left all such garments behind. She found a hollow beneath a boulder and hid the rifle inside, covering it with moss.
She was washing her hands in the creek when a woman’s soft voice drifted through the trees to the North. Calla froze, glancing around, but no one appeared, so she followed the sound around a bend.
A woman squatted on the bank, her hands brushing the flowing water, creating little eddies with her fingers. She wore a loose navy dress with small pink flowers, and her right arm hung strangely at her side. Calla hid behind a tree growing close to the water. The pale woman did not notice her.
She spoke in a clear, melodic voice. “Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over, sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past. Cold and white out of sight of friend and of lover. Sleeping at last.”
Calla looked around again, thinking of others, but no one joined the woman who repeated the same lines two more times. The waif paused and looked around, glassy eyes darting from tree to tree. She reeked—Calla could smell her from behind the tree.
“Mina?” The woman stood and looked around. “Miiinaa!”
Calla moved into the woman’s view and walked toward her, stopping within arm’s reach.
She
faced Calla. “You’re not Mina.”
The dress hung off the woman like a sack. With its hole in the hem, and its filth, it would be a much better disguise than Calla’s current apparel. And with its lingering stench, she might even be able to slip around the rogues without giving herself away.
“Have you seen Mina?” the woman asked. “Eve’s with her. They left with a tall man. I don’t like him. He might hurt Eve. I wanted to warn her to stay away, but I was scared. Have you seen them?” The woman’s gray eyes looked up into Calla’s brown.
Calla drew her gun from the holster at her hip and reattached the suppressor. Barefoot and thin as a stick, unhealthy skin, starving body—she would die soon, anyway. Amazing she had survived this long.
The human shrank back. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“Yes.”
“Mina will protect me.”
“No one can protect you.”
***
Alvarez sat on a log, writing on a scrap of paper. Words and numbers filled it, and she concentrated to fill the last blank corner in tiny handwriting. Mina sat nearby, using her sleeve to wipe a bead of sweat dripping down her face.
“Have you noticed that Nelson's acting strangely?” Alvarez asked without looking up.
“Yes. We just had a very strange conversation. Do you know what’s bothering him?”
Alvarez shook her head and looked at Mina. “No clue, except I know it wasn’t about this, since I haven’t told him yet.” She pulled out a red nylon bag labeled “First Aid” from behind her.
“You found it! Where was it?”
“In your pack.”
“My pack?” Doyle must have had one in the bottom of his. She hadn’t looked. Mina shrugged, hoping to be nonchalant. “The thief must have returned it and stuffed it back in my bag instead of yours. And what were you doing in my pack? I thought you were just going to keep an eye on it for me.”
A tinge of color rose in Alvarez’s cheeks. “I needed your spare knife. I couldn’t find you anywhere. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
Mina walked over to where she’d left the brown backpack, yanked it toward her, and opened the large compartment. “Well, I mind.”
“Mina, I’m sorry, but that doesn’t explain the first aid kit.”
“So I took it back for safekeeping, alright?” Mina rummaged through her bag, chiding herself for leaving it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Why would you lie about it just now?”
Mina continued looking through the pack. What else had Alvarez found?
“There’s another problem, and I think you know what I’m talking about,” Alvarez continued.
Mina stopped rifling through the pack. “No. Why don’t you tell me?”
“This isn’t the same kit. It has all new bandages, alcohol wipes, pills, everything. We’d used most of it for Carter. Where’d you get an all new kit? It’s identical.”
Mina paused, trying to think, but her brain had shut off.
Alvarez didn’t wait for her to invent an answer. “And this?” She held up the small black pouch containing the syringe and drug Mina had given Carter.
Mina snatched it out of Alvarez’s hands. “So you just dug through my pack to see what else you could find?”
“What is it? The bottle’s not labeled. Where’d you get it? Are you using?”
At the last question, Mina snorted. Then her snort turned into a full-on laugh. Of all the weird things to happen . . . “I’m not a druggie, Alvarez.”
Alvarez stood, her face red. “Where’d you get it? What is it?”
“Never mind. Just don’t worry about it.”
“That’s a new pack, isn’t it? I thought it looked different. Where are you getting supplies, and why are you lying about it?”
Mina zipped the bag and sat down. She had nothing—no brilliant lie to cover herself, not even a plausible explanation. She rolled her shirtsleeves above her elbows, holding out her arms to Alvarez. “I’m not using, see?”
“Okay.” Alvarez waited.
“I know this is strange, but I’m not going to tell you everything. I’m not hoarding supplies, but I have a friend who does. He’s a sort of a prepper.”
Alvarez’s eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline, and she sat next to Mina. “A survivalist hiding away in the mountains, and you conveniently forgot to mention him? So that explains how you’ve survived out here.” Alvarez leaned closer. “Where is he now?”
“We got separated.”
“But you must have just seen him because he gave you a new pack. Assuming I believe your story, what’d you have to do to get the supplies?”
Mina’s face grew hot. “It’s not like that.”
Alvarez sat up straighter and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Too bad. I thought we were seeing a new side of Mina Surrey.”
Mina cleared her throat. “So you don’t believe me.”
“It raises more questions than it answers. Is your friend shy or will we get to meet him?”
Mina handed the first aid kit back to Alvarez. “Keep it.”
“Why? Because you can get another? No thanks.”
“Fine,” Mina said as she shoved it in her pack along with the zippered pouch.
“Mina.”
“What?”
“Does this have anything to do with Carter’s recovery?”
Mina sighed. “No, I don’t know anything about that.”
Alvarez pressed her lips together but didn’t argue. She went back to her writing.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out why the aliens invaded.”
“Really?” Mina leaned over to look at the paper.
Alvarez snatched it away and stood. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
***
Mina sat alone in the late afternoon warmth, stoking the embers of the fire and thinking of Evan. She hadn’t seen the teen all day. The rogues hadn’t returned, either. Mina frowned. It wasn’t a coincidence Evan and the rogues were absent at the same time. They probably went to the silo. She would have to tell Solomon then. He wouldn’t be happy she’d kept it from him this long.
Distracted, Mina added a large log to her fire. The flame crept up the bark before petering out; the fire wasn't hot enough. She sighed and left it. She wasn't hungry, anyway. Clouds drifted across the sun, causing sudden changes in the remaining daylight. Mina trudged to the guardrail again to look up and down the road, hoping this time her tall gangly brother would be walking along it with his hands in his pockets. The road was empty. Doyle should have found Lincoln by now. He’d had two days.
Emily hadn’t shown up, either. Doyle wasn’t looking for her, but if he saw her, would he be able to help her? Emily didn’t trust men, and Mina doubted she’d let him get anywhere near enough for a conversation, let alone bring her back to the lodge. No, Mina would need to find Emily herself. It doesn’t matter what I’ve promised, she thought. She can’t be on her own, not now.
She’d leave first thing in the morning. Might as well—no one here at the lodge wanted Mina around anymore. She’d messed up with everybody. Mina turned to go find Solomon. She couldn’t leave without warning him about Evan and Iverson. He had a right to know.
As Mina turned, a woman in a short dress stepped onto the parking lot from the direction of the southbound parkway. A few people stopped what they were doing to gape. Another stranger. Good luck, lady, Mina thought. She walked toward the parking lot and the direction of the shed.
The newcomer was taller than most women. Well-muscled thighs stuck out under her dress, her legs uncovered except for the combat boots she wore. One of them was wrapped in something white. She carried a pack, and her straight brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. Mina took in all the woman’s dusty appearance before the stranger turned to reveal high cheekbones and a strong face.
She was the most beautiful creature Mina had ever seen.
The stranger spoke to a man coming out of the lodge. He star
ted, surprised, and looked her up and down before replying. She nodded and turned toward the camp, eyes scanning the tents. A few people stared openly at her, but most ignored her.
Mina didn’t feel like welcoming anyone new, but the striking woman drew her in with a strong presence that contradicted her tattered clothing. Like she was trying to hide something. Mina had just reached speaking distance when the stranger turned. A breeze caught the hem of her dress, which fluttered around her legs.
The dress.
Mina halted, mouth open. Navy. Tiny pink flowers. Rounded neckline, button-up front. The stranger caught Mina’s eye and approached. Mina couldn’t help but stare. Brown hair, high cheekbones, rosy complexion, dark eyes . . . navy dress.
Calla.
Mina reached around and drew her gun from under her t-shirt. She flipped off the safety and racked the slide, pointing it at the hybrid who halted with a raised eyebrow. A nearby lodger cried out at the disturbance.
“What have you done with Emily?” Mina choked out. Lodgers began running around making noise. Her ears ringing, Mina tuned them out, vision tunneled on the woman in front of her.
Calla raised her hands. She wasn’t armed. “I don’t know an Emily.”
“That’s her dress! What have you done with her?”
“I haven’t done anything with anybody. Put that down!” Calla lowered a hand toward her backpack. Mina took two steps forward, leveling her gun at the woman’s head. She raised her hands again.
“Who are you?” Mina asked. The ringing in her ears turned to a roar. She already knew the answer to her question.
“Nobody,” Calla replied. “I just found this place and wondered if I could work for food.”
“Liar.” Mina vaguely registered people gathering around yet keeping their distance. Someone called her name. They sounded far off. Her heart pounded, a pain beginning in her chest.
Calla shrugged, lowering her hands slightly. “I’ll go if you want.” Her words were soft, but her eyes narrowed in on Mina, measuring her.
“Hands up!” Mina screamed. “Everybody stay back! She did something to Emily!” A murmur shot through the crowd. Voices began to push through the ringing in Mina’s ears: