John’s hands shook and he cast the rifle aside with a frustrated release of guttural syllables.
“I’m so tired of not knowing what to do,” John said, storming across the roof to the opposite side, where he could see to the south wall of cars. The place he had attempted to teach Emma how to shoot.
The scab on his nose from where the BB had sliced him still throbbed. The night breeze, the kind that holds whispers in its gusts, brushed passed him as he stared at the ground from the sixth floor.
“WWJD,” Grace said, placing a hand between his shoulders. Her touch grounded his feet and banished the whispers in the wind.
“What would Jesus do?” John asked.
Grace laughed. “What would John do? You’ve got great first instincts, but you think your way out of them.”
She had a point. But he didn’t know if she was right. He rarely ever followed through with his first thought.
“I think I need a vacation,” John said, without thinking.
“That’s a great idea. I haven’t been to the beach in forever. Give it a couple months until the ocean warms up and we can make a beach trip,” Grace said.
John smiled at her. “I haven’t been to the beach in ten years. All I remember is digging up sand crabs.”
She patted his cheek, and John remembered the time she had planted a kiss there. “You poor thing. My brothers”—she took a long pause—“we used to go every summer until the last few, when business picked up.”
“It’s a date then,” John said, feeling his cheeks flush.
“It’s a date,” Grace added.
John looked into her eyes. John would kiss her. He leaned in, closing the distance. She closed her eyes as he neared. They were so close he could feel her breath. He would finally get the kiss he had spent months anticipating.
The roof door slammed open, and Ashton emerged with a map in her hands. John lurched away from Grace, feeling like his mom had walked in while he was on the wrong website.
“Stray, you can catch some sleep. I found what I was looking for,” Ashton said.
The first time ever Ashton did something kind toward him had to be at this exact moment. John’s eyes still hadn’t left Grace’s lips, which still seemed to be waiting for him to close the distance. But he couldn’t have his first kiss with Ashton watching, and he couldn’t exactly tell Ashton to go away.
“Good night, Grace,” John said, heading for the door.
“Remember what I said,” she called after him.
Before John could make his way into the stairwell, Ashton put an arm out to stop him.
“Stray—I mean, John. I was wondering if . . .” She stopped and swallowed hard. “. . . you would be willing to help . . .” She looked away. “. . . me. I’ve got a grocery run to do, and I’d rather not go alone. Plus, you owe me one more favor.”
John knew he wasn’t her first choice, but he was her only choice at the moment. Damian and Victoria weren’t going to leave the lab. She wasn’t the type to trust newcomers, and though it had never been laid down as a rule, Grace was kept out of most dangerous situations.
“Sure,” John said, descending into the stairwell, each step taking him farther away from where he wanted to be.
* * *
It might as well have been the front door he was going to knock on. Kade took a deep breath. Though it was spring, the night air still held a bit of a chill. Judging by how light the eastern sky was, it wouldn’t be long until morning, and he wanted to be gone before the Mall woke up. Standing in Lady Bird Johnson Park, he peered out across the bombed-out Arlington Memorial Bridge to the remains of the National Mall. From this distance it looked like a protective bubble had been dropped around the Mall, with everything outside of its perimeter turned to rubble.
He felt naked without his usual assortment of weaponry, or even his normal clothes. The plan guaranteed he would get searched, so he’d left his mask and katana with X and Number Five. Instead of his usual weaponry, he had the shotgun and pistol from the Democratic Empire of West Virginians.
Standing in the mild spring night, Kade had the enemy pistol around his waist and the shotgun in his hand. It was a nice break-action shotgun, which meant it opened in half to put in a single shotgun shell. Kade had no intention of shooting it, but it would have been suspect if he showed up unarmed.
He had kept most of his clothes, but he was wearing one of the leather jackets from the foamer he’d decapitated. Hanging out of the corner of his mouth was one of X’s cigars. He did his best to keep puffing on it, but he kept getting lost in thought as he retraced the image of the map Drew had made. The one grounding feature of his look was the knuckles hanging under his shirt from the breakaway chain around his neck.
The final piece of his new wardrobe was the foamer that X had killed. The wound to its neck was duct-taped shut, and he had zippered its jacket all the way up to conceal the silver lining. He had also dressed its hands in a pair of gloves to conceal the talons that would have been a dead giveaway.
Standing at the jagged edge of the bridge, he looked down at the moving water and thought he saw something dragging along the surface.
“Stay where you are!”
Kade held up his cigar hand to show he was no threat. Across the empty space that used to be a bridge, two soldiers pointed weapons at him. Only two. He had a chance. To be put in charge of guarding a bridge that no one could walk across gave Kade the confidence that neither of these were the best of soldiers. If the president was the man pulling the strings, the best soldiers would be guarding the high-probability entry points—and the president himself.
“On the ground!”
Kade dropped to one knee and then the other, setting the body down beside him before lying facedown on the macadam. He put his hands close together. His cigar cherry glowed red as it picked up the wind.
One of the soldiers went to a metal winch that was mounted on their side of the bridge and rotated the arm of the machine. The click, click, click of a crank sounded over the river below. Kade watched two cables rise up out of the water. The cables were bound by planks, creating a footbridge that was connected to the two halves of the bombed-out bridge. The planks didn’t look safe, covered as they were by enough algae to choke a catfish. However, there were places on the planks where it was clear that feet had traveled.
The way Kade had lain down, he had unintentionally left himself staring into the face of the dead foamer. Its eyes looked like they were ready to pop, and its mouth seemed forced open at an awkward angle.
The soldier crossing the plank bridge took forever. Kade understood the caution but was in a rush himself and growing impatient. Finally, the soldier’s boots neared his prone form. The first thing he did was kick the shotgun out of Kade’s grasp.
“What are you doing here?” the soldier asked with a loud yawn.
“See the dead guy?”
“Yes?”
“His name is Henry. We met up a few weeks back. He said he was Secret Service working for the president. I figured he had just lost his mind. Not like the president is still giving orders. Something about being sent to scout Camp David for the president’s relocation. Like I said, horseshit,” Kade said, keeping his head down.
“If you don’t believe him, why are you here?” the soldier asked.
Kade took a gulp of air. He had been rehearsing this story for the last half hour. His only hope was to sell it.
“I’m a man of my word. Yesterday we got hit by a pack of . . .” Kade paused remembering what Drew had called foamers. “. . . rabids. He saved my life at the cost of his own. The last request he made was to bring his body back to his wife, and to tell the president what he learned. Like I said, I don’t believe the delusional stuff about the president, but I’d like to get Henry back to his wife.”
The soldier stooped over and rummaged through the foamer’s pockets. Kade had already done the same thing earlier. The license belonged to Henry Rabbenstein, who lived in the District of Columbia.
All good lies needed a kernel of truth.
Replacing the wallet, the soldier nudged Kade with his foot. “Leave the shotgun on the ground and get on your feet.”
Kade did as he was told, and for the first time he got a look at the man. He was over forty but less than sixty. Kade couldn’t peg him any closer than that because he still had a full head of hair, but it was mostly silver-gray. The man appeared to be in shape with the exception of a bit of a belly.
The soldier came around and patted Kade down. Kade was quick to cooperate and show him the pistol. The soldier was just as quick to relieve him of the sidearm.
“Take Henry and cross.”
Kade put the body over his shoulders in the fireman carry, the cigar still in his mouth, and then took his first careful step onto the planks. They were slick but sturdy. Without his hands free, he felt like a top that even a small gust could send crashing into the river below.
One foot after the other, he crossed at his leisure, gaining as much information as he could. The second soldier, a much more portly man, held his rifle to the side while he leaned against the crack mechanism that adjusted the bridge. The man was huffing and puffing and didn’t seem to be focused on anything other than not passing out. Kade wanted to shoot a quick look behind him to see if the silver fox was as encumbered as he had hoped the multiple weapons would make him, but he couldn’t see around Henry.
When his feet hit the concrete of the original bridge, Kade took a deep breath to steady his nerves, but a breath was all the time he could afford. Ducking his head, he heaved Henry off his shoulders at the portly soldier. The solider attempted to brace himself against the flying foamer but only managed to end up on the ground under the corpse.
In half a second, Kade reached the winch and hit the release on the bridge. The cables zoomed out of the spool. There was a brief, almost cartoonish, moment when Kade met the eyes of the silver fox, who seemed suspended in midair as the supports fell out from under his feet. There was a first splash as the bridge sank into the water, followed by the plop of the man dropping into the river.
Kade scooped up the fallen rifle and aimed it at the soldier who was trying to squirm out from under the foamer. The soldier stopped squirming, but a smile stretched across his face.
“You pull that trigger, and you’ll be dead before you can blink,” the soldier said.
Kade smiled in return. “I’ve been dead a long time. You have two choices. First, you can take off your clothes, jump off the bridge, and take your chances with the water. Second, I can shoot you in the head, remove the clothes from your dead body, and take my chances.”
“Hel—”
Kade leapt the distance to the soldier, landing the heel of his foot into the man’s face. Dropping the rifle, Kade fell beside the man and covered his mouth while drawing his rubber knuckles from under his shirt.
The soldier bit down on Kade’s hand. Kade gritted his teeth and smashed his fist into the man’s head. During his repetitive assault, he felt guilt welling up inside him. While his knuckles shattered the man’s face, it dawned on him that this was the first time he had ever killed someone as the aggressor. He continued landing punch after punch into the man’s face until he went limp.
After rolling Henry off the man, Kade stripped the soldier of his uniform, then pushed him over the edge of the bridge. Before Kade did anything else, he listened to hear if anyone was coming.
Feeling safe, he opened up Henry’s jacket. Underneath, the foamer’s pale flesh was covered by three strips of silver duct tape. Kade removed the tape and reached inside the body, pulling a blood-covered dry bag from the gutted belly. Opening the bag, he pulled out all the supplies he had hidden inside. He was reunited with his Judges, his roll of duct tape, map, handcuff key, and lighter.
Dressed as a soldier, Kade pulled out Drew’s map and checked his location. The Smithsonian Castle was a little farther down the Mall. He said thanks to Henry, then pushed his body into the river. With the Judges hiding under his shirt and the soldier’s rifle in his hands, Kade continued on his mission.
It took everything in his power to keep himself from running down Independence Avenue, but he figured he looked less suspicious walking. The Mall grounds had been turned into a motor pool for all the vehicles and weapons at the president’s disposal. Kade figured there were enough tanks to take over a small country. He’d put together some story about being on patrol in case someone happened to stop him, but he didn’t run into another soldier until he reached the Smithsonian Castle.
The building lived up to its name and truly looked like an English castle that had been dropped in the center of the capital. The Castle was made of red stone and was three stories high—four at the rook-like buttresses posted at the corners and center. The formerly beautiful windows had been shot out, and the garden that had once surrounded the building was nothing more than a mud pit, but against the backdrop of the war-torn city it looked regal. Kade contemplated sneaking in through a broken window but assumed this would draw attention. So far, the front door plan had been working for him.
As Kade hurried up the short steps that led to the entrance, the sky was turning a light pink. He pulled on the door, but it wouldn’t budge, so he tried knocking. A moment later the door inched open.
“Did they screw the schedule up again?” the soldier on the other side asked.
“I guess so,” Kade said.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take the rest of the night off. Got a civvy I wouldn’t mind meeting up with,” the soldier said.
“Sure thing,” Kade replied.
“Great, man,” the soldier said, opening the door and walking past Kade.
Kade caught the door and waited for the man to descend the stairs. He stepped inside and let out a huge sigh. For someone who never felt like luck was in his favor, he couldn’t believe how easy it had been to get this far. Perhaps it was his proverbial lucky day.
Inside, the building had high, decorative ceilings. The structure was long but narrow. Kade cautiously made his way down a small set of steps and surveyed both directions as far as he could see. It looked to him like the entire interior had been retrofitted as a prison, with small cells running two wide down the center of the room. The entire place smelled like a toilet.
There were five prisoners, each held behind separate fencing. Because of Mick’s bright red hair, he was the first one Kade recognized. Jem and Zack were housed beside him.
Kade couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have made it this far. Jem and Mick looked beat to hell. They were covered in bruises and dried blood and seemed to have lost a good bit of weight. Standing at the cages, he could see their pupils were gigantic, making their eyes look alien. He could only guess that with pupils the size of black holes, they were in a delusional state.
“Everyone else seeing this, or am I hallucinating again?” Mick asked, catching sight of Kade.
“That you, chief?” Jem asked. His icy eyes had lost their shine.
“One and only,” Kade replied.
Jem beat a drumroll in childlike excitement on the bars of his cage. “Mick’s gay.”
“Not a surprise,” Kade said.
Mick bounced his forehead off the bars of his cell. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Can we discuss this once we get out of here?” Kade closed the distance to the prisoners.
Zack came to the edge of his cage. “How is she?”
“Alive and on her way home,” Kade said.
Zack’s head lifted like a weight had been removed. “Great.”
“What’s up with those two?” Kade approached Zack’s cell.
“They haven’t had the nicest of stays. The president has been trying to get your location out of them. How’d you get in here?”
Only able to see the bruised and cut faces of Jem and Mick, he could only imagine how badly damaged the rest of their bodies were. Kade surveyed the locks on the cages. They required keys.
“I just walked right in.
Getting out is where I am going to need the help.”
Behind Kade, someone roughly cleared his throat.
* * *
Alpha slept soundly with Pepper curled up with him. While Alpha slept, he again went to a different place. He saw himself with his hair cut short and rust-colored instead of long and filth-ridden. He didn’t have a beard, and he wore skin covers like the others did.
He lay on a soft floor holding a tiny other in his arms. The other had a head much larger than its body, and it was wrapped so tightly he couldn’t see its arms or legs. He knew the tiny creature was a girl, and she was propped up on his chest, and her large gray eyes stayed locked on him like he was the only thing in the world.
His eyes shot open and his cheeks were wet. There was a pain in his chest for which he could not find a source. He didn’t know where he was going when he closed his eyes, but something called him toward it like he had to return. Shutting his eyes tight, he waited to return to the other place.
Chapter VIII
Forest through the Trees
Ashton had fallen asleep on her back with an arm and leg hanging off of her dorm bed—the exact position in which she had landed after her guard shift.
Her room had posters across the walls of Olympic soccer players. The bed was two singles pushed together, and she had a light-blue queen-sized bedspread that X had brought back from one of his grocery runs. The only memento from her former life she displayed was her soccer cleats, which sat atop her dresser like a trophy, a reminder of the future she once had as a top-tier soccer player who was offered scholarships from almost every Division I institute in the country. That was before she had torn her Achilles. In hindsight, though, if she hadn’t taken a semester off to recuperate from her injury, she would now be dead or a foamer.
Franklin quietly pushed her door open, holding Bristle over his shoulder like a baby about to be burped. The cheetah had become too large to cradle in his arms.
“Miss Ashton,” he said, shaking her hanging arm. The only answer she gave was a zombie-like groan.
He set Bristle on her chest. The animal spun around in a few circles and then kneaded the spot where she wanted to lie down.
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