Had.
I have no idea what to say—like, nothing, but to my surprise he continues. “My girlfriend got pregnant in high school. She was seventeen, I was eighteen. We were months from graduation. I loved her and she wanted to keep the baby, so we got married. I was a historically terrible student. College was never going to be part of the equation, so I enlisted.” He pushes aside some bushes and holds them back so I can pass. “We had some money and military housing. We had another baby. I thought things were good, you know?”
“Sure,” I say.
“About a year in, I applied to one of the Special Forces teams. When I graduated they assigned some of us to go a mission to Liberia. I thought it would be good experience—an adventure. Things went to hell down there, as you know. I got back from that mission and—the things I saw—they changed me. Those girls down there. The way they were treated by the rebels. I couldn’t help but think about my wife and daughters the whole time. I came back a different person. Moody and scared. I felt like I needed to do something. Fight harder and protect my family, but I just felt helpless.” He sighs. “Even before the world spun off its axis, my life had fallen apart.”
“What did you do?”
We’ve made our way back around the house and he sits on the front step. “I knew we’d been contracted out by a private group for that mission. I packed a bag, kissed my girls goodbye and left. I left everything. My house. My family. Even my career. I went AWOL, but I didn’t care. I walked in the front door of PharmaCorp and volunteered.” He cuts me a glance. “You sister welcomed me with open arms even though I was a wanted man.”
“She probably knew it didn’t matter by that point. The parasite had already started to spread.”
“Probably.”
“Do you know what happened to your wife and girls?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” I want to tell him that maybe they’re okay but there’s no such thing as okay in this world anymore. There are just different levels of hell.
He gives me a tight but appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
I hear the distinct call of the same bird again, but this time closer. I look at Davis, his face barely visible in the night. “Do you know what that is? It sounds weird.”
“Oh that,” he says. “Yeah.” I watch in confusion as Davis stands and cups his hand over his mouth. He mimics the call back and before I can ask what’s happening there’s a rustling in the nearby bushes.
I jump to my feet and grip the weapon at my side.
“Dude, you can come out. It’s just me and Alex,” Davis says, shaking his head.
“Dude?” I ask, but I should have known. A figure, dressed in black, emerges from the edge of the property. Davis steps forward, meeting Wyatt halfway across the yard, and they shake hands. I don’t understand what’s happening here, but when do I ever when it comes to these two.
“I thought you’d never call back,” Wyatt says. He glances in my direction, eyes holding mine.
“Had to wait until the others were asleep inside. Plus that first call sounded ridiculous. You needed to wait.”
“Mine? Yours sounded like a dying parrot.”
“What are you doing here?” I cut in, keeping my voice to a low whisper.
“Hello Alexandra, nice to see you.”
I rest my hands on my hips. “Answer me.”
He removes his gloves and scratches chin. A piece of shrubbery is sticking out of his hair. I let it stick. “I’ve got some important intel on your mission.”
Davis frowns. “What’s happening?”
“They know you’re coming. Haye
s set up a separate team to investigate after the slaughter of the Fighters and missing survivors at the evacuation center. They know it was you guys. ”
“We have an alternative for that scenario. We knew it was possible that we’d be met by force.” Davis says. “We can take on Hayes—we’ve done it before.”
Again Wyatt shifts his gaze to me. “I agree about Hayes but he won’t be alone. You’re going to need to figure out a way to tell Cole so he’s prepared.”
“Tell him what?” I ask but already know. In the pit of my stomach there’s only one thing that would bring Wyatt out here. “Chloe, right?”