“Phaeden wanted a reason to decommission you, and I was told to find the seeds for him to sow your downfall. Jenkins didn’t care about you, he just wanted the promotion.”
“And the rest of my unit?”
“What about them?”
“You set them up, too. Admit it.”
McKean shakes his head. “It had nothing to do with me, I swear. Their charges were solid.”
Silence.
Silver had never really considered the possibility of their guilt. Or rather more precisely, she didn’t want to. “Either way, you’re a lousy sonovabitch for bending to the will of worthless assholes like Darius Jenkins and Phaeden Rist.”
McKean half nods, holding back tears of pain. “Look, I can give you the name of the person responsible for engineering the virus, but I want protection.”
“Suck it.”
“Help me disappear,” he carries on regardless. “I’ll quit my job. I’ll sign the papers for voluntary exile.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You need me!” he yells, the rage in his voice startling the approaching Chimera.
“The only thing I need from you is to see you die.”
With perhaps a little too much enjoyment, Silver watches the Chimera start to maul McKean, despite his best attempts to fight it off.
“You’ll let me die despite yourself? What kind of soldier are you?!” he cries, as the Chimera tears a chunk of meaty flesh out of his arm.
Silver smiles.
She knows precisely what kind of soldier she is.
A vengeful one.
Eventually, McKean’s screams fade and his body relaxes into an uncomfortable, agonizing death. When the beast is done feeding, Silver shoots it.
Back at the Bin, Maydevine and Alex observe nervously from the watchtower as the last dregs of the Hunter Division units travel back across the City Bridge. Silver isn’t at the head of the convoy, where she ought to be.
Alex scans the crowds, but he can’t find her and they’re preparing to close the gate. “Make them hold the gate.” He turns to Maydevine. “Make them wait for her.”
Maydevine is powerless. “It’s not my Division.”
“She’s still out there.”
Maydevine is about to place phone call, just as a figure emerges from the Out District, covered in blood. The City Bridge gate narrowly closes behind her.
Silver.
Safe and sound … sort of.
Blood dripping from her injured arm, she leaves a trail of ooze behind her. Chimera are lured out from the shadows by the scent of her blood, and two manage to slip through the closing gate after her. A third one doesn’t quite make it, and becomes caught in a painful limbo between both worlds and inevitable death, crushed beneath the gate.
The two that made it through follow eagerly in Silver’s footsteps, sniffing and licking at her blood on the ground, until the snipers pick them off with ease. An armored truck—the last in the convoy—doubles back on the City Bridge to pick Silver up and bring her back into the Bin. All the while, their progress is eyeballed with great interest by the refugees in the Belt beneath them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A Page Turns
Silver sits at Alex’s kitchen table, a spaghetti strap tank top revealing her freshly stitched and bandaged arm. In the open doorway onto Alex’s deck, Maydevine smokes a cigarette while Alex busies himself wrapping an ice pack in a towel. Sitting down next to Silver, he holds the ice pack against her arm, the sudden chill and the pressure against her bruised skin making her wince.
“Three Hunter Division units were deployed against a vacant District with nothing more than a handful of wandering Chimera. Everyone else came back without incident, and yet you still manage to come home injured,” he mollycoddles. “Explain to me how that happens?”
“I had a bad day.”
“What happened out there?” he pushes her. “And where’s Lockie McKean? Hunter records show that he called for help right before this happened to you, and there’s no record of him re-entering the city.”
“That’d be because he’s dead.”
Alex’s grip on the ice pack falters for a second, revealing his insecurity. “You killed him?”
“No, not really. But thanks a bunch for allowing that to be your first assumption.”
Maydevine tosses the butt of his cigarette off the edge of the deck. “He shot you?”
“He did.”
Maydevine sits himself down. “Why?”
“The laptop belonged to him. Or at least, I was supposed to give it back to him in exchange for the name of the person who’s responsible for causing all of this mess.”
“He knew the origins of the CV2 virus?”
“He didn’t just know about it, he was in on it. He wanted to trade for his immunity.”
Alex tries to shake off a startlingly apparent truth, but can’t. “No offense, but why was he making deals with you? And why the heck didn’t you tell me about it?”
“Okay, first of all, I don’t think he was trying to make a deal with me. I think he was humoring me so that he could get close enough to kill me. The man drugged me and sold me to a butcher shop, for christ’s sake. It’s not like he was my best friend.”
Drugged her.
Rohypnol and ketamine.
Alex feels guilty for suspecting the worst of her, and so does Maydevine.
Silver is oblivious. “Second of all, I was mad at you.”
“Mad at me?” Alex seems genuinely surprised. “Why? What the hell did I do now? Is this about Kink Central again? I thought we—”
“It doesn’t matter what you did, Alex. The point is, McKean tried to kill me because of what was on that laptop, and when that didn’t work, he tried to kill me again. And again. And now he’s dead. So let’s move on, shall we?”
Alex leans back in his chair, leaving Silver to hold the ice pack herself. He can’t believe that she’d let their personal life interfere with their work.
“Did he give you a name?”
“Before the Chimera ate him? No.”
“You didn’t interrogate him?”
“I already told you”—Silver fixes him with a ferocious glare—“I had a bad day.”
“Well, that’s just great.” Alex sighs.
“Thank you for being so sympathetic, by the way. It’s really charming. Seriously, it’s making me wet.”
“Okay, kid.” Maydevine gets up from the table, trying to dispel the tension. “Do you have any coffee?”
He begins searching through cupboards, ignored, while Silver continues to berate Alex.
“Did you hear the part where I said he tried to kill me?”
“Yeah, I heard it. And if I’d have been there, I would’ve killed the bastard myself. In fact, if you’d have come to me in the first place, instead of sneaking around behind my back, I would’ve shot the asshole before attempt number one.”
“Oh, here we go.” Silver leans back in her chair, tossing the ice pack down onto the table. “That’s what this little outburst is all about.”
Maydevine locates the coffee. “Anyone else want some?”
He gets no answer, and carries on regardless as the argument behind him continues to blaze.
Silver slides her chair back from the table and gets up, looming over Alex. “You didn’t get to be the hero. I’m sorry.”
She’s pushing him. Alex knows it, Maydevine knows it, and it’s not going to work.
“That’s not it, Silver.” Alex’s voice suddenly has more sadness in it than anger.
“Isn’t it?”
“I can’t be there for you if you’re not there for us.”
“Us?”
“You and me. We’re supposed to be a team.”
“Since when?”
“Since always. Don’t let our personal shit get in the way of us doing our jobs.”
Silver slams her chair in against the table. “I was banished. I didn’t have a job!”
Alex stands
up to face her. “You never stopped being a Hunter.”
Silence.
Silver’s cell phone rings.
“Don’t answer that,” he chides.
“You’re one to talk,” she mutters, taking a look at the caller ID. “I have to take this, it’s the Governor.”
She answers the call as Maydevine offers to make Alex a cup of coffee. Disinterested by that, Alex reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a bottle of scotch.
Maydevine shrugs. “Be like that, then.”
By the time Silver hangs up the phone, Alex has poured himself a generous glass and is already halfway done. Avoiding eye contact with her, he stares down into what’s left of his drink.
“The trucks are ready,” she announces. “Phase two commences at dawn.”
Assuming that Alex has nothing left to say to her, she leaves the room. Both men know better than to go after her, and her impromptu departure leaves Maydevine with the task of trying to console his would-be son-in-law.
“You’re worried about her,” he guesses.
“Of course.”
*************************
Alone, Silver enters the Belt.
It’s the middle of the night, and most of the refugees are sleeping—or trying to. The broken down, unmaintained Belt looks like a slum, and is already liberally decorated with runic code. Some faces watch her curiously as she walks by them, but others are too traumatized by recent events to care. She stands out like a sore thumb in her regulation Hunter Division uniform, silently making her way through the streets, scanning the crowds for a familiar face.
She finds a pregnant woman sheltering in the doorway of a crumbling building, but a closer look reveals her to be a stranger.
Silver keeps looking.
In one dark corner at the very edge of the Belt, a sheet of corrugated plastic has been torn away from a pile of construction garbage and used to construct a temporary shelter from the elements. Beneath it, Alice is wrapped in a blanket.
On the other side of the water, Silver runs her eyes over the Out District. Upon its shores, a large pack of Chimera are gathered and they’re pacing back and forth. They sniff the air, some shrilling, calling out to other Chimera. They smell humans, sure enough, but are still uncertain whether or not they should make the leap into the frigid water.
Silver stops in front of Alice, who instantly flicks open her bright violet eyes, running them over Silver’s uniform and taking in every detail of her appearance.
“What’ve you become?"
Silver’s eyes betray an internal war between two opposing loyalties as she considers her answer to Alice’s question. “I’m not sure, Al.” The uncertainty in her voice confirms the truthfulness of her response.
Kneeling down in front of Alice, she half expects a welcoming embrace. Instead, Alice tucks herself deeper into the blanket, choosing its meager warmth over the unspoken offer of physical contact.
“These people actually think that you’re going to save them.” Alice glances over at the hordes of sleeping homeless that are crowding the dingy streets.
“That’s the plan.” Silver’s eyes are drawn to Alice’s pregnant belly. “Where’s Dylan?”
Alice looks away sadly, shaking her head.
The virus, Silver assumes.
“Then who takes care of you?” she presses Alice for more.
“Not you. Not anymore.”
Silver hears the click of a gun, the barrel soon shoved against the back of her head. She raises her hands steadily in the air and rises slowly to her feet—no threat.
“I’m not here on official business,” she offers, hoping to allay her aggressor.
“I can see that.”
Something in the voice triggers recognition in Silver’s brain, and she pivots around to face the woman holding the weapon.
Jax.
Silver can’t smother the relief in her voice. “You’re alive.”
“You’re astute,” Jax growls. “Now back off.”
Alice gets up and moves past Silver, standing behind Jax for cover. Taken aback by Alice’s apparent new social alliance—and Jax’s obvious acceptance of it—Silver’s confused and a little hurt.
“I guess I didn’t need to come here tonight.”
She begins to lower her hands, but Jax ushers them back up.
“Why did you come here?”
“I just had to make sure, that’s all.”
Jax’s aim is unwavering, her expression cold. “Feel better now, Hunter?”
“Hunter General,” Silver corrects her.
Jax spits on the ground at Silver’s feet. “Traitor.”
“I’ve been called that a lot lately.”
“Must be true, then.”
“I only did what I thought was best.”
“You did what was best for yourself.” Jax pokes the gun at Silver’s name and rank, embroidered on her Kevlar vest. “Hunter General.”
“Believe me, this was not the plan.”
“No? Lucky turn of events, then.”
The sarcasm in Jax’s voice lights Silver’s fuse.
“Four months ago, I was on my knees, staring down the barrel of an Enforcer’s gun. I didn’t ask for this. When everything went to shit, I brought Maydevine Arcadian’s head in exchange for his word that nobody would come looking for you. I figured that a life in the Out District—away from the Fishers and the rotten stench of Omega—was better than a life in the Fringe District, by a country mile.
“You said it yourself: that’s what you wanted. I thought I was doing you a favor. How the hell was I supposed to know that this would happen?”
Jax seems uncertain, her resolve faltering. “You turned yourself in?”
“I acted in the best interests of the unit.”
“Well”—Jax lowers her weapon slowly—“this isn’t your unit anymore.”
Silver looks around, expecting—or hoping—to catch a glimpse of another familiar face.
Oz.
Jax reads it in her expression and shakes her head.
“The virus?” Silver asks, looking defeated.
Jax nods, holstering her weapon. “One of your Hunters shot him this morning.”
Silver doesn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Jax shakes her head. “You’re just doing your job, and your job doesn’t involve us—not anymore. So do the rest of us still living a favor: turn around and walk the fuck away.”
Tempting fate, Silver hesitates to obey her old friend’s request. “That weapon …”
“You can call it what you want, but this is still the Out District, sweetheart.” Jax grins. “There are plenty more where this came from.”
Feeling guilty that most of the weapons are probably hers anyway, Silver turns and disappears into the darkness of the Belt streets.
*************************
Hours later, Silver lingers in the doorway to Alex’s bedroom.
He’s sprawled out in the bed, half in and half out of the covers, sound asleep and snoring, his tackle bared. The gentle rhythm of his breathing and his relaxed, contented appearance is enough to remind Silver of the benefits of her decisions, and to put to rest any doubts that her visit to the Belt may have stirred up.
On her pillow, there’s a note.
Careful to step silently, she approaches the bed to retrieve it.
Spare us both the bullshit & just say yes.
On the pillow beneath the note: the engagement ring.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Another Piece of the Jigsaw
Not long after dawn, Silver wakes up awkwardly on someone else’s couch.
She’s avoiding Alex.
He’d want to talk about the obvious, and she’s got too much else on her mind. She’d left him in bed, sleeping like a baby, while she decided to make an overdue visit to an old friend.
Rolling over onto her side, she’s startled to see the owner of the couch sitting patiently in a chair on the other side of t
he coffee table, waiting for her to rise.
Red.
Silver nearly jumps out of her skin, slipping off the couch and struggling to reposition herself while Red ‘watches’ her in silence. Managing to perch herself back on the couch, she tries to look casual.
Red raps her fingertips against a copy of today’s newspaper, folded carefully in her lap. “I’m deeply offended. I just want you to know that.”
“It’s okay.” Silver rubs her tired eyes. “I’m having that effect on people lately. What did I do to piss you off?”
“How long have you been back?”
“I don’t know.” Silver shrugs. “A week?”
“And what happened? You got lost on your way to my apartment?”
Silver is shamed. “There’s been a lot going on,” she weakly defends.
“Oh, I know.” Red tosses the daily newspaper at her. “But since you gave up your life to save mine, I thought I might at least get the chance to buy you a drink.”
Silver glances at the newspaper’s headline story. Her own face is on the front page, leading the Hunter Division front line onto City Bridge.
“Well, you’re going to have plenty of opportunity for that, I hope.” She discards the newspaper onto the coffee table.
Intrigued, Red raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Making herself comfortable, Silver leans back on the couch and wriggles down into the soft cushions. “I’ve been told to elect a Deputy.”
“And?”
“I’m hoping that you might be in the market for new employment.”
Silence.
Silver begins to feel awkward. “Or not …”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been offered that position.” Unimpressed.
“No, but those were worse circumstances.”
“Worse than the death of my father?”
More wretched silence.
Silver mentally chastises herself for having let that little detail slip her mind. “I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, really, but it’s not necessary to lie.” Red remains stoic. “I read a copy of your report from yesterday’s asylum project, including all the gory details of McKean’s deathbed confession, right before his rather conveniently unpreventable demise.”
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