The Girl Who Punched Back (Death Fields 2)

“What?” Parker asks, buttoning her shirt.

“A lot of things turned out differently than I expected and I’m dealing with it, you know? Like sure, I’m not going to college. I’ll never go to a football game or watch Duke play in the Final Four or you know, get into med school. There’s no way I’ll ever get that Mini Cooper I dreamed about buying. But wearing drab military uniforms and constantly being on one “team” or the other is a whole other level of my life has gone off the rails.”

Parker stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, which is fair as I’ve definitely lost my mind. “At least we have clean clothes.”

“Yeah.” I pull on a white T-shirt and tie my shirt around my waist. Just before we leave the room I glance at my face in the mirror.

“Holy crap, Park! You didn’t tell me it was so bad,” I say, wincing at the sight of myself in the mirror. Both eyes are blackened from hitting the tree root in the fight with the Hybrids. My nose is swollen and puffy.

“I didn’t think you’d really want to know.”

When we exit the room Cole waits for us outside the door fresh and squeaky clean from his own shower. His blue eyes widen when he sees my face but he quickly rearranges it into something more appropriate. Too late.

“I know. It’s awful.”

He touches my cheek, gentle and soft. “How does it feel?”

“Like I landed on a tree stump with my face.”

“Ouch.” He kisses my temple.

I brush the damp blond hair away from his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

“Fair enough. You?”

I nod and say quietly, “Are you okay? You know, with the whole Chloe thing?”

“No, I’m not really okay with it.” His jaw tics. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“With Erwin?” he asks. Neither of us want to get into it with Erwin again, not after last time.

“If we have to. At some point we’re going to have to go bigger to deal with this. We can’t beat my sister and all her resources with six rouge Fighters, none of which have much experience.”

A guard—or soldier—they may be the same thing, waits for us at the end of the hall. The others file out of their rooms and I give Davis a smile. He greets me with a warm smile—we’ve become close over the last couple of months. I don’t know his full story but he’s the best soldier I know after Wyatt. He’s big and burly, sort of like what you’d think a Marine would look like. Rambo or the Hulk, but not green. He has dark hair and watchful eyes that are currently still watching Paul closely even though he seems normal enough today after his display of heroics last night. Maybe it was just one of those bizarre adrenaline spikes last night.

Maybe pigs can fly, right?

I tug Davis on the sleeve and he slows. I ask the question that’s been building for hours. “So what’s the deal with that?” I ask gesturing carefully at Paul.

“So you saw that last night.”

“Uh, yeah. He saved my life. I was one second from being Eater dinner, but let’s be clear, the Paul I knew could not do that.”

Davis nods. “Do you think he’s one of them? A Hybrid?”

“God knows what my sister did to him. I know he was pumped up with a half a dozen vaccine combos over the last couple of months. He may be hybrid of a Hybrid for all I know.”

Davis looks thoughtful at that idea. “I’ll keep an eye on him. If he steps out of line I’ll take him out.”

“You think you can beat him?”

He doesn’t acknowledge that statement. I continue to keep pace with him and he says, “Something else?”

“Where do you think Wyatt went last night? One minute he was there—the next—gone.”

He shakes his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”