The Girl Who Kicked Ass (Death Fields 3)

He tries to look around but his neck is stiff and sore. “Where are we?”

“Down in the bunker.”

He holds my eye and a million questions run through his head. He’s trying to assess our situation. Calculate the risk. Plot our next move. All he needs to do is heal.

“Chloe knows about the bunker. We’re not safe.” Again he tries to move and this time manages to get a couple inches off the bed. I gently push him back down.

“We’re okay for now. And you’re in no shape at all to move.” I haven’t heard fighting for a couple of hours and I’m dying to know what’s going on above ground.

“Who else is down here?” he asks.

“Just us and my father.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah, he’s resting in the other room. He patched you up and gave me orders to keep an eye on you.” His eyes flutter and I reach for the medication my father left on the bedside table. “Take these and go back to sleep.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do?” he mutters, but opens his mouth and allows me to give him a little water to wash the pills down. I wipe the dribble of water off his chin and again he grimaces.

I drag my chair closer so I can take his hand in mine. I stare at his battered face and think of all the things we’ve gone though. His fingers lace though mine and he drifts off. I’m sure he can’t hear me, but I tell him anyway, “Get well, Wyatt Faraday, because the battle isn’t over and I’m sure as hell not done with you yet.”

Chapter 19

I eye the game board, my pointer finger lingering over a chess piece. Across the tab

le my father’s face is blank, but he tents his fingers together in a recognizable tell. He’s counting moves. If I’m reading him right, he’ll probably take my queen in three.

I switch pieces and hastily slide the black piece across to an empty square. Without changing expressions, he leans forward and assesses the board. A familiar feeling of frustration builds in me and it’s like I’m eight years old again, sitting at our kitchen table.

I try not to pout when he beats me in one move.

“What do we do now?” I ask, leaning back in the seat. He picks up the game pieces and places them back in the box we found in a closet.

“I saw a pack of cards in there,” he replies.

I shake my head. “No, I mean what do we do now? About everything. How long do we stay down here? What do we do about Jane and the Hybrids.”

“Oh,” he says, fitting the lid on the top of the box and resting it on the table. “I’m not sure.”

Of course not. God forbid someone else have a plan. Or think of a plan, or have a freaking clue as to what to do next. I run my hands through my hair, which I left down after my shower to air dry. Without frequent haircuts, it’s developed into a grown out, tangled mess.

“Well, we can’t stay here much longer,” I say, mostly because I’ve got a mixture of cabin fever and obligations I can’t turn my back on, but most importantly, I need to know if my team survived the battle.

“I’m sorry about all of this, you know,” my father says suddenly.

“About what, specifically?” There’s a long, unspoken list.

“My role in all of this. At the beginning I had no idea what her motives were. I thought she just needed me to create the vaccine. And I did. But I underestimated her desires to maximize on the Crisis and turn it into something else. I always knew she was determined and opinionated politically, something that scientists try to leave at the laboratory door, but I didn’t know the extent.” He sighs. “I spend hours every day wondering if I could have done something different, if there was some way I could have stopped her.”

I understand my father’s worries more than I care to admit. But I’m also fully aware that going to that place doesn’t change anything. We can only move forward and I told him as much.

“I don’t think any of us could comprehend Jane’s real motivations here. While we were thinking about survival she was plotting domination.” The air hangs heavy between us and I decide to change the subject. “How did you end up with Hayes and Chloe?”

“I came on my own, well, with the help of your friend in there.” He gestures to the back room where Wyatt is sleeping. “After I’d seen what she’d done—how she’d mutated the EVI-1 vaccine to create the Hybrids--I knew I needed to observe the Center myself. Things are changing at the Fort. Jane has increasingly taken over the assignments in the lab, and is overseeing much of the work. I’m being squeezed out.”

We look at one another as that sinks in. Jane is a brilliant scientist. She created the E-TR virus that started all of this. Then the EVI-2 Vaccine, that creates the Hybrids. The last place we need her is in the lab with no oversight. “Wyatt brought you here?”

“Yes, I became aware of his allegiance when we gave you the vaccine to hand over to the Army.” He eyes me carefully. “He’s a good man. A complicated one I believe, but his motives seem true.”