Her cheeks burned. “Sorry. Go home now,” she told the diamondback.
It hissed as though grumbling at her, but slid off her body and headed to his other half.
“I’ll be damned,” Mace said, and Friday realized she’d ordered the reptile around again.
“Don’t blame me,” she told them. “Blame the snake!”
With everyone staring at her, she hurried toward the bedroom. It was time to get out of the Red Zone and see if she had a future ahead of her.
…
Friday lasted almost an hour in the red mist before the questions started. Striker was impressed. He figured she must have been bursting to talk for at least fifty minutes of that hour.
“Does the mist have any effect on you at all?”
“Nope.” He walked behind her, closely behind her, to keep an eye on every move she made.
Mace was in front of Friday, the hope being that if they kept the woman between them, she would be less likely to touch the mist. Their first priority was to guard Friday, which was why they hadn’t bothered with the pretense of wearing protective suits. Without the suits, they could maneuver more easily and react faster if she needed saving again. Which he didn’t want to even think about.
“Do you stick to the paths through the mist when you don’t have other people with you?” Her voice had a strange echo, coming at his earpiece through the comm unit in her helmet.
“We stick to the paths. We’re not sure what long-term effect going into the mist might have on us, if any. We’ve already had enough exposure to it. That’s why we need a scientist. We have lots of unanswered questions.”
“How did you find out your saliva combatted the mist?”
He smiled. He’d bet her brain was bursting with questions.
“Less talk,” Mace snapped, “more concentration. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re walking through Death Valley here, and you’re the only one that can be killed.”
“What’s your animal?” She sounded irritated. It didn’t look like Friday and Mace were gonna braid each other’s hair anytime soon.
“None of your business. You survive and get a security implant, then we’ll talk.”
“It’s a bear, right? A grumpy, antisocial bear. Tell me I’m right.”
Mace growled, kind of proving her point, making Striker smother a laugh.
“Were you this huge before you woke up?”
Friday was undeterred by Mace’s attitude. Striker wasn’t sure if that made her brave or reckless. There weren’t many people who’d confront the big man when he was annoyed.
“Woman, stop talking,” Mace ordered.
“Of course. I’ll get right on that.” She sounded amused. “But first, did you wake up this size or were you this size beforehand? I’m wondering if you’ve taken on the bulk of a bear.”
Her only answer was a deep, irritated growl.
“Striker,” she changed tactic, pulling him into the mix. “Is his animal a bear? It is, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sayin’, chère.”
“A coyote, then. A real bad tempered one. Oh, an alligator! Is it an alligator? They’re antisocial, too.”
“Are you sure she’s worth it?” Mace said. “Maybe we should just toss her in the mist and cut our losses.”
“Is Sandi really your sister?” Friday changed the topic fast enough to make a man’s head spin. “You don’t look alike. And I didn’t think women were allowed in the special forces a hundred years ago.”
“She was among the first wave of female Army Rangers,” Striker said.