She knew it was wrong to pray for his death, but she did it anyway. Over and over until her heart finally slowed and she could breathe again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CALEB

  Horse Creek Base, New United States

  Friday, June 18th, 1:10 pm EST

  Caleb stood at ease, expression flat and businesslike.

  At the comm console, Corporal Masterson had a blank, distant look on his face as he listened to the signal coming over his headphones. The radios would pass the encryption tests just fine; Caleb made sure of that. The secondary encryption scheme he programmed wouldn’t kick in for six hours. If anyone else in the base had the least bit of experience with secure comms, they’d have checked the scheme, but no one present would have known what they were looking at if they’d tried.

  Caleb cut a glance at General Thomas. It had been difficult to obtain access to the terminals in the security room to load encryption schemes onto the radios. But he’d not only managed it, but now had a high clearance keycard tucked in his pocket, burning like an ember that might attract attention any second.

  A rough plan percolated in his head, but there were a lot of blind spots still. If he managed to make it work, he could get Elizabeth and Lana out of the base within a day.

  General Thomas shifted position, watching with intense focus as Masterson flipped a switch to engage the decryption on their end, then depressed the transmission button. “Delta Team, check three. Over.”

  A second later, he gave Thomas the thumbs up before pulling the headphones off. “Looks good, sir. Encryption seems solid. I don’t know if it would hold up against another military, but the chances anyone in the region has the equipment to crack it is slim to none.”

  General Thomas gave a curt nod, then looked to Caleb. “Well done, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Caleb replied. “I can beef up the encryption scheme to military-grade with more time. This was just enough to get us operating.”

  “You do that. For now, though, this will be enough to give us better security in the field. This will save a lot of lives, Machert.”

  Caleb knew that the lives he meant were the lives of his men, and maybe anyone willing to bend the knee. No one else counted to the general. “Yes, sir.”

  General Thomas studied him for a moment longer before flashing a tight smile and tipping his head toward the door. “Walk with me, Staff Sergeant.”

  Nothing about the general’s tone gave him reason to be nervous, but a tremor of worry ran through Caleb all the same. He waited for the man to pass and exit into the hallway, then fell into line beside him, consciously forcing his breathing to stay even to keep from showing his nerves.

  They walked for some time before Thomas spoke, taking two turns to move into the officer’s quarters, not far from where Elizabeth would have heard General Thomas speaking with the lieutenant two days ago.

  When he did finally speak, it was with a conversational tone that Caleb seemed a little too calculated for his comfort. “We’re keeping an eye on a group of apparent civilians that moved out of a chemical factory near Lansing. You know it?”

  Caleb shook his head. “I’m not all that familiar with this part of the state, sir. I know where Lansing is, though. It’s not far.”

  “Not far,” Thomas agreed. “They’re coming across some rough terrain. Normally it’s a day’s walk at most, but—well, with things like they are, that’s three days at least for anyone not well supplied and disciplined.”

  Normally, Caleb wasn’t privy to this kind of intelligence. That Thomas was telling him now seemed like another sign that something was wrong. Or had he finally gained the general’s trust by securing their field comms? He couldn’t read the man well enough to know.

  “I take it they aren’t,” Caleb ventured, trying to stay neutral.

  “Not as far as we can tell,” Thomas confirmed. “Of course, if they steer clear of us, there’s no problem.” He left the implication unsaid.

  “Anything I can do, sir?” Caleb wondered. There had to be a reason for this.

  “Well, I don’t know, Staff Sergeant,” Thomas stopped near the door to his ready room and looked Caleb in the eye. “You think there might be?”

  It was a test, then. Was he willing to execute civilians if they crossed some imaginary line they didn’t even know existed? There was only one possible answer. “I’d be happy to get some fresh air, General.”

  Thomas gave a short chuckle. “I don’t know if we can call it fresh anymore. But you’ve got more combat experience than most of the men here, with only a few exceptions. I know it’s not your typical position here, but, well, I have a team that’s down a man and I don’t have anyone ready to replace him.”

  “Which team, sir?” Caleb asked. “I hadn’t heard we lost anyone.”

  “We’ve lost several.” Thomas shook his head slowly as he reached for the door handle. “These people don’t know what we’re about, Machert. But we’re going to show them soon. Report to Lieutenant Warren at 1800 hours. I’ll let him know you’re joining his detail.”

  “Yes, sir.” Caleb saluted.

  “Warren’s a loyal officer and a fine soldier. You’ve impressed me, Staff Sergeant. Impress him, too.”

  There was a veiled warning in that, Caleb knew. Warren was the lieutenant who had suggested Caleb gave him bad intel. “I will, sir,” Caleb assured him.

  “Good. Dismissed.” The general disappeared into his ready room.

  Caleb turned on his heel to leave, picking over the conversation. He resisted the urge to pull out the keycard he’d created. Would it work? Had someone noticed that a new card had been issued? Or was this something else?

  At first, he’d assumed it was a test; was he willing to execute civilians on command? But there was another possibility. He’d secured their comms as far as anyone knew. Was that the limit of his utility?

  If it was, and Thomas—or Warren—thought he’d outlived his usefulness, then the general might have just ordered Caleb to his own execution.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LANA

  Horse Creek Base, New United States

  Friday, June 18th, 6:27 pm EST

  Lana punched the bag harder. Her breath came quick and fast, and her knuckles ached from the workout but she didn’t quit.

  Working janitorial drove Lana crazy. If she’d been cleaning guns or learning the radio system or even working in the kitchen with her mother, she’d have lost herself in the task and quieted her mind for a while.

  School had been like that. She could focus on studying, writing a paper, or anything related to her classes for hours while the rest of the world passed on by.

  Something about mopping floors and scrubbing toilets and showers and doing laundry—all of which seemed to only ever be done by the women in the base—gave her none of that relief. Her thoughts ran on a loop, following a track that she couldn’t seem to alter for more than a minute at a time.

  A snippet of conversation with Jessup: the day they met, their first date of late-night pizza at the dive off-campus, the first time he’d become so absorbed in a math problem, he forgot she was even there.

  His death in slow motion and all her poor decisions. She fantasized different scenarios, some ridiculous and impossible. She threw a knife into the clouding ash and struck the man who’d killed Jessup in the throat. He died, and she was Jessup’s hero, and he was still with her and… doing something important on the base.

  Her parents, huddled in some corner, talking in hushed tones about how fragile, or young, or plain broken she was now. Her mother wishing they had a therapist she could see. Her father thinking she needed hard work, or purpose, or something nebulous to take her mind off it all.

  She punched the bag again, a quick one, two, three, and wiped a bead of sweat before it dripped off her chin. She knew it wasn’t her fault. Intellectually, anyway. Jessup had saved her. He’d thrown himself in the way, and paid for it, but she was alive because of him. But it didn’t stop the loop of her thoughts.

  Her heart pounded in her ears and her muscles burned. In the exhaustion—the moment when she barely sucked in enough oxygen—she could almost forget it all. Almost.

  On the verge of giving up, she relaxed her stance as the door to the gym swung open. She looked over, half expecting to see her father, but found Derek instead.

  Great. Cause that’s what I need right now. More complicated feelings.

  Derek stood in the open door, taking in the scene. Her, breathing hard, knuckles wrapped, sweat coating her face and neck and arms, stripped down to just the tight, regulation tank top and shorts. The bag still swung slightly from her last round. He seemed surprised to see her, or at least to see her like this. “Getting a good workout in?”

  Was he nervous? Lana sucked in a breath and tried not to huff her words out. “Had some free time. Thought it would help me sleep.”

  “Didn’t see you at mess for dinner.” He stopped within arm’s reach. “Glad I found you here.”

  Lana frowned. She didn’t have a watch and hadn’t looked at the clock. She wasn’t hungry, but mealtimes were the only opportunity to eat on base. Snacking was strictly prohibited. “Guess I lost track.”

  “I was worried.”

  The admission caught Lana off-guard, and she turned back to the bag. “You didn’t need to be.” She huffed out the response between attacks. Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook, grasp, knee-strike, knee-strike, knee-strike.

  Derek didn’t leave. She tried ignoring him, but it threw her off. She steadied the bag and glanced over at him. He was standing, watching her, his expression pensive and pinched.

  Oh, no. She’d seen that look before—the one where a guy hesitates a beat before asking a loaded question. Lana rushed out a question. “Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol soon?”

  Derek exhaled an unsteady breath and moved away from her to finger weights stacked on the wall beside the heavy bag. “I’ve got some time. You doing okay here?”

  “I’m… doing fine.” The question unsettled her. Had her father talked to him, or maybe her mom? Asked him to check up on her? If so, she wasn’t having it. She reached for the bag and stopped it from swinging. “I kinda need some time to myself.”

  Derek’s eyes cut toward her. “You don’t own the gym, you know.”

  Okay—now that was very out of character. This wasn’t about her; something was eating at him. “Are you doing okay here?”

  His eyes fell, suddenly enamored with the cracked concrete. “I’m fine I just… I wish I’d known you were coming here instead of going to the mess. When I didn’t see you I… It doesn’t matter. Wanna spar or something?”

  Lana exhaled and mustered up a scrap of emotional reserves left in the bottom of her proverbial barrel. She rubbed her neck, easing some of the tension, then spread her hands. “Look, Derek. I’m… touched that you were worried about me, but I think you need to know that this”—she gestured, indicating him and her—“it’s not… I mean, you and I aren’t…”

  His brow knit.

  “I like you, but I’m not in a place where I can do that kind of thing, okay?” Her words came out in a rush.

  “Cause you’ve got issues,” he provided the unspoken part. “Right?”

  She tried not to let his choice of words get under her skin, but failed. “Yeah, I’ve got issues.” She crossed her arms. “I’m allowed.”

  Derek’s cheeks colored slightly, but he gave a snort. “You’re not the only one. You think all this is easy? That I don’t have issues? It’s the end of the world, Machert; we’re all screwed up.”

  She blinked. Jessup had been the first guy Lana ever really dated. Prior to that, her closest emotional experience with men was her dad, and he didn’t do emotional stuff. Not anything difficult, anyway.

  Jessup, though, didn’t avoid the hard conversations, he just didn’t understand his own feelings. Half the time, he couldn’t put words to any of it. To hear Derek hint at his own demons… It unsettled her, but Lana did want to know. He was her friend.

  She tilted her head, tried to act casual. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

  Derek’s lips hardened into a thin line as he avoided her stare. “Trade you?”

  She barked out a quiet laugh before lowering herself down to the rubber mat and leaned back on the heels of her hands. Derek followed, his legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, far enough away to be casual, but close enough to have a quiet conversation.

  Lana watched him for a long moment, working up the nerve to bring up Jessup’s death. After a time, she figured it couldn’t be much worse than some of the stuff Derek had seen. He’d been in the middle east just before the US withdrew on combat details. Maybe it would be easier to tell him what she was going through than her dad. He wasn’t so close and hadn’t been there.

  “You know I trekked through the aftermath of the asteroid to get here?

  He nodded.

  “It wasn’t just my parents and me. The guy who told us how to find this place—Jessup. He was… I mean, he was my boyfriend? We weren’t all that serious. Or, I don’t know—maybe we were and I didn’t realize it.”

  “He died,” Derek guessed.

  Lana nodded. “We caught the attention of some people, and didn’t want to take the chance that they’d turn violent. But down at the supply base, right before the rock hit, they attacked us. We defended ourselves, figured they were killed in the impact, or in the aftermath, and moved on.”

  “But?”

  She smiled grimly at the floor. “They followed us up from the supply base, tracked us through the ash and then…got the drop on us. One of them jumped me and we rolled down the mountain. It was all ash and dirt and broken branches.”

  She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Jessup was like… this nerdy math dork, you know? He wasn’t a fighter, wasn’t an athlete or anything like that. And I never thought he was all that brave, really. Turns out I read him wrong. He followed us down.”

  She almost choked as the images flashed through her mind again. The sound of Jessup calling her name rang in her ears. “He… saved me. And it cost him.”

  When Derek didn’t respond at all, Lana struggled to find something else to say. Some confession of guilt, but the words died in her throat, where an aching tightness threatened to choke her.

  It was a long minute before either of them spoke. “You couldn’t have saved him,” Derek said finally. “I imagine that you probably play it through your head again and again, imagining what you could have done differently. Telling yourself a different story.”

  He had no idea.

  “But when those things happen…” Derek shook his head, “Everything that goes down, every move, decision, reaction—it’s all kind of pre-determined. Not because there’s some… fate or destiny or anything like that, but because when you get right down to it, we’re all just animals. We can train ourselves to do some cool tricks, but in combat, the adrenaline drives us. We act on instinct.”

  Lana wanted it to be true. Desperately wanted it.

  Derek glanced up at her, waited until she made eye contact. “Sometimes those instincts aren’t fast enough, or the other guy is just faster, or… I don’t know. But it happens the only way it could have. You’re not responsible for Jessup’s death, Machert. But I know that it’ll be a long time until you can believe that. And that’s okay. It takes a long time; there’s not a shortcut.”

  To hear Derek lay it all out caused Lana a strange mix of embarrassment and pain. As if her ordeal was so typical, so cliched, even, that everyone knew the answer and she was making too big a deal out of it. But more than that… It was like pulling up her shirt to show off a bleeding wound, making it burn fresh and sharp.

  She cleared her throat. “My parents… I haven’t talked to them about it much. I’d appreciate it if you don’t… I mean, if they ask you, or something.”

  He gave her a sad, lopsided smirk. “I don’t think they will, but your secret is safe with me.”

  She nodded absently before nudging his knee with the toe of her boot. “So that’s my trauma. Pay up. It’s a trade, right?”

  Derek breathed a nervous chuckle and dipped his head. “Yeah, I guess. Mine is a little different.”

  “Bonus points if it’s worse than mine,” Lana said, trying to lighten the mood and failing. She leaned forward. “Seriously, you can tell me.”

  “I’m actually not sure that I can?” Derek rubbed a hand across his face and glanced at the door. “So… keep it to yourself, too.”

  She reached up with one hand and crossed her heart with a finger. “You keep mine, I’ll keep yours.”

  He sucked in a slow breath, held it, and then eased it out as he spoke. “I’m really, really grateful to be here. It’s safe, it’s fortified, we’ve got three squares a day and fresh water. We get to shower, right? And I met you. Which… is good. Really good. But…”

  Lana tried to be as patient with Derek as he’d been with her. But something dark slithered into the room as Derek spoke, something grim and ugly. His eyes were half-closed, and his nostrils flared. Lana shifted position, suddenly tense.

  “The… the general, you know,” he went on, barely more than a whisper from his throat, “he’s brilliant. He knows what he’s doing, and how to make sure we survive and come out of this better. I believe that. Some of the things he’s asked us to do to get there, though…”

  A breath slipped from Lana’s lips as they fell open. After her mother told her about the conversation she’d overheard, she knew that the general’s men had killed civilians. But she never connected Derek to it. Which was naïve and ignorant.

  She’d been so wrapped up in her own world… “You’ve had to kill people,” she offered cautiously. “Civilians?”

  His jaw tensed and gave a short nod. “Nation building is messy,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “I get that. We… we were all left here, all these people, with nothing. My family… didn’t make it out.”