She couldn’t help but admire how fast and efficient he was. He had a head injury and yet he didn’t so much as hesitate. He’d killed three of the MSS members in seconds and had swept around the boat to provide a distraction. He hit the back of the boat with the hilt of his knife, deliberately scraping. Her target turned toward the noise, shooting blindly into the dark, murky water toward the sound.
The moment he turned, firing his weapon, she shot out of the water, slashing at the back of his thighs, deep cuts that took him down. He retained his weapon, shooting into the air as he fell. She was behind him, holding herself out of the water with one hand, knife ready with the other. As he went to his knees and then fell forward, she slammed the blade deep into the back of his neck, severing the spinal cord.
The gunfire will draw others. Hurry, Shylah. We have to go. They’re already close.
Draden caught her arm and yanked her down almost before she could take a breath. He took her to the deeper water, settling into thick layers of sediment, anchoring her beside him with his hands on her waist. The current tugged at her. Something hit Draden, but she couldn’t see what it was, only felt the movement of his body.
She could hear the sound of an engine now, as a second boat chugged through the water with more MSS seeking to find their comrades. They could hear the voices of the soldiers calling out to the dead.
Are we going after them? She didn’t want to, but she would if Draden thought it was a good idea. She was tired. Very tired. And scared. Very scared.
They’re on alert. I have no doubt that we could take them, but why risk injury? We have a plan. Let’s stick to it.
She was glad someone had a plan. She didn’t. Her plan had gone to hell the moment she realized he was infected and she probably was as well. She closed her eyes and let herself relax. There was nothing else to do. They had killed six more MSS members. It was a large group. The recruiting had been heavy. Whitney had been watching them for some time and knew they had serious funding. He was trying to find out who was the moneyman because their goal wasn’t just to take down the government in Indonesia, they were targeting anyone American. That meant if they were testing the virus, they were considering introducing it into the States.
She knew Whitney was angry with himself. He had absolute faith in himself and his ability to find the right people to work for him. In this case, he’d been wrong. The three men he’d mentored were far more interested in money than in patriotism.
He’s been getting it wrong lately, Draden said softly in her mind, proving he was adept at using telepathy and once she’d given him the pathway, he could use it at will.
Shylah was unsure how she felt about that, but right now, she wanted the comfort of his presence, filling those lonely places. She shivered. It wasn’t that she was cold. Her body seemed to adapt to any climate easily, but she was afraid. Something kept bumping Draden and then it hit her in the back. She had braided her hair before she’d gone to the village the terrorists had taken over, but part was loose now, strands coming out of the weave. Whatever bumped them tangled in her hair and pulled.
She reached back and batted at it. Her hand swiped across a large object and her heart sank. She knew immediately it was a body. The first reaction was to surface. To get away from it. The dead man came floating around her with the current. Its foot seemed to be caught in branches so that the body just bobbed there under the water, faceup. Eyes staring. Heart pounding, she tried to turn her head from those accusing eyes, but the body couldn’t move, and she couldn’t look away.
Draden’s arm swept around her, dragged her right into him, one hand pressing her face into his chest. You’re all right. You did good.
I’m not all right, she denied, trying to keep the sob and the belligerence from her voice. She didn’t know which was worse. I’m going to die and I’m going to do it in a really ugly way. Worse, I’ll probably die before I can find the three men who cooked this abomination up and let it loose on the world. The least I could do before I die is contribute by getting their location to Whitney or someone else who could deal with them.
I’ve got two friends who are proven in this type of crisis who are good at finding immune and drug therapies that help with hot viruses. They’re military and will have the full confidence and cooperation of our government. Anything at all. They need to find answers fast. We have a chance. It’s a small one, but still, it’s a chance. Depends on incubation. If Whitney’s virologists left their remote lab on the run, the three of them probably left behind enough notes for me to send my friends. Trap Dawkins and Wyatt Fontenot are considered two of the leading minds in the field.
Shylah kept her eyes closed. She could still feel the horrible dead body scraping at her with his hands. She wanted to scream. Instead, she burrowed closer into Draden. I don’t know if you’re telling me that to keep me from losing it, but thank you. I appreciate it.
I don’t believe in giving false hope. It’s a slim chance, but they may be able to help us. If it’s too late for us, maybe others. You ready to get out of here?
She was so ready. Absolutely.
We’re going to swim back around the curve to where we were before. That’s the best place to exit the river and they’ve looked at it twice now.
That meant pushing past the dead body. A tiny shudder went through her. His arms tightened around her. Keep your eyes closed.
I hate being all girly. It’s just that I spent some time with dead bodies and they had their eyes open, and I’ve never quite gotten over it. She could kill when she needed to, but the eyes of the dead were a problem for her. She’d been careful when viewing his handiwork on the commander of the MSS not to give his glassy eyes more than a quick glance. She could look at bodies all day, even those covered in blood, but staring at dead eyes really got to her.
How old were you?
He was moving, slowly unfolding his long legs. She had long legs and as he unfolded his, she mirrored what he was doing, straightening very slowly. All the while she kept her eyes closed and her head tight against his chest.
Eight. It was a really bad night.
Eight? What in the hell was an eight-year-old doing surrounded by dead bodies?
Whitney wanted us tough and immune to girlish squeamishness. It’s a little ironic that he gave me nightmares, and I still have trouble looking at the dead. I can kill, but then I can’t look at my handiwork if their eyes are open. Makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?
There was a sense of comfort being wrapped up in his arms. He was calm in the middle of a terrifying experience. He was a rock she could cling to. She hoped she was doing the same for him but felt like she was failing miserably.
I think you’re pretty brave, Shylah. Let’s stretch out, heads turned away from the dead guy. Keep your eyes closed and let me haul you around him. Once we’re away, I’ll let you know. He made certain every hair from her head was unwrapped from the dead man’s fingers.
Do dead guys freak you out when they stare at you? She almost hoped so.
Not dead guys, he admitted. Needles do. I fucking hate needles.
She frowned. You’re a doctor.
He was towing her through the water. Around something large. She kept her eyes closed tight and stayed as relaxed as possible, so she wasn’t a hindrance.
Exactly. I work with a group of men who would give me a rash of shit like you wouldn’t believe if they knew. So, if you meet them, keep your mouth shut.
She liked that he acted as if it were possible she might meet his teammates. You have to work with needles every day.
True, but they aren’t usually going into me. I don’t mind looking at them, or using them on other people, but don’t want them in me. We’re clear. Let’s get around that bend, then we’ll only have a few hundred yards to go before we can head for the shallows.
They began to swim toward the spot where the bank wasn’t steep, all the while hugging the bottom of the river as they neared the bend. They picked up speed once they were cer
tain they were a good distance from the most recent boat. Around that curve an explosion blasted through the water. The only thing that really saved them was they were already a good distance away from the blast site.
Draden didn’t hesitate. He was already able to touch down in the shallower water and he reached down, plucked her out of the river and tossed her onto the bank. Run for the trees.
Shylah struggled to her feet and had already covered half the distance when the second explosion hit, rocking the ground slightly as if a seismic event were taking place. She didn’t look but trusted her partner to be right on her heels. When she reached the first line of trees, she halted and turned back.
Draden wasn’t just out of the water, he was directly behind her. She hadn’t heard a single sound, not even labored breathing. He swerved to avoid running into her, caught her hand and kept going without slowing down, taking her with him. Water poured off both of them and she tried not to think about how polluted it might be. She really shouldn’t worry about things like that, not when she had given Draden mouth to mouth. She’d tried to save his life and in doing so had condemned herself to death.
She wasn’t afraid of dying. She had always contemplated ending her life. She detested always going back to Whitney’s compound and giving him power over her. This was too much though, living minute by minute knowing every second the virus was turning her insides to mush.
Shylah. Stop. Don’t think about it yet. That’s a few steps from now. You need to be running in the lead. We didn’t have time to wipe out our tracks so they’re going to be on to us. Even if they don’t find us tonight, they’ll be back in force tomorrow. We need a place to rest. I presume you have a camp.
She hesitated, which when she thought about it, was rather stupid. Secrecy had been drilled into her. The only partners she’d ever worked with were Bellisia and Zara. But that was early on when Whitney had thought to create a team of female soldiers capable of taking out the enemy easily. There had been five of them back then.
Two had died during that first trial, attempting to escape. Deserting—that was how Whitney had seen it. Because of their actions, none of the girls could be trusted. She’d never been allowed to work with her friends again. Whitney had sent them out individually, holding the others as hostages, threatening to harm them if the one in the field dared to desert. Bellisia, Zara and Shylah had talked it over, encouraging one another to leave if they ever got the chance. Two of them had done just that. Shylah had been very alone ever since.