Undaunted Read online

  “Thank you,” I said with all the sincerity I could muster. Completely sincere sincerity.

  She extended her bloodstained fingers. Suppressing a shudder, I took her proffered hand and then had to suppress another shudder when she didn’t shake my hand. She squeezed it.

  Her transparent mask tightened over her forced smile. “Welcome to the line patrol, Lane.”

  I left the van with a new job and a new certainty: Chairman Prejean was not someone I ever wanted to cross. I scoured the muddy ground for my bags before spotting them outside the sentry tent near the gate. The tent flap was open.

  “So you killed them all?” someone inside the tent demanded, his voice tight with disgust.

  Inside, a guard slouched in a chair, one leg outstretched. “You bet we did!” he bragged to the medic who was unlacing his boot. “Put those grups down like the mutts they are. I wish more had come at — ow! Hey. That hurts.”

  “You want me to check your ankle, the boot had to go,” the medic said, setting the boot aside.

  I stiffened, recognizing the sharp, clear voice. Crouched that way, he looked like the ultimate line guard with his dark hair cut ruthlessly short and his gray shirt stretched tight over a body that, even from the back, hinted at extreme military training.

  Oh no, no! I wasn’t ready to go face-to-face with him yet. I didn’t have a good excuse for giving him the cold shoulder, and I could feel the chairman watching me through her tinted window. What was I supposed to do?

  Not talk to him. That’s what.

  But suddenly, with him less than ten feet away, I wasn’t okay with that at all. Now I wanted to wrap my arms tight around him and lean into his warmth and hear his heart beating strong and steady. I wanted to tell him about my awful dreams and how they always ended with Chorda clawing out my heart. And I wanted to hear about his — every terrifying detail — because he had to be having nightmares too, right?

  Did he wake up from his own shouting? Did the most random, stupid things make him cry? Did he think about our time in the Feral Zone every waking moment of every day and make himself sick and crazy by listing all the things he should have done differently?

  Or was that just me?

  Everson manipulated the guard’s ankle. The guard gripped the edge of his chair with a hiss of pain. “I don’t think it’s broken,” Everson told him. “You twisted it?”

  The guard nodded. “Chasing down the last couple of ’em. Man, we fixed them good,” he gloated.

  “A vaccine is a fix. You made things worse.” Everson let go of the guard’s ankle abruptly. The guard flinched as his foot touched the ground. “Think anyone infected with Ferae is going to come near this place after your shoot-out tonight?” he asked in a deceptively calm tone. “If they don’t come to us, we lose all chance of finding that last strain. Yeah, you really fixed things.”

  “Get bit.” The guard jerked upright in his chair. “I’m paid to follow orders. I’m not some rich jerk here slumming for kicks.”

  Everson rose to his full height — as in, well over six feet tall. “Your ankle is sprained. Ice it, keep it elevated and wrapped tight.” He snapped off his latex gloves and turned. “Stay off it for —” The words died on his lips as he caught sight of me outside the tent. His eyes, gray as the Titan wall, widened as they met mine, and he inhaled sharply.

  It was too late to duck out of sight. Too late to run.

  “Hi,” I said softly, my throat raw.

  His dark brows snapped together, and he frowned. No, not frowned. He scowled at me. “What are you doing here?”

  Everson was not happy to see me — not at all — which made no sense because we’d parted on good terms.

  He stalked out of the tent, his gloves in one large fist. “Tell me Mack isn’t taking you to Moline with him.”

  “Um …” My thoughts scattered at the full force of him under the floodlights. His features seemed sharper than I remembered. His eyes, harder. But none of it detracted from the impact of seeing him again. Not his obvious irritation, not even the pale, raised scars that slashed down his cheekbones to the corners of his firm mouth. Two on the left, three on the right. Thank goodness the feral who’d clawed open Everson’s cheeks had missed his left eye — but only after Everson had smashed the feral’s head against the wall of Chorda’s castle again and again. I wondered if Everson relived those moments like I relived killing Chorda.

  He closed the distance between us, his gaze sliding over me, seeming to take in every detail. “Lane, answer me.” He was even bigger than I remembered — so tall and broad he blocked out the stars.

  “Uh …” I was uncomfortably aware of the white RV parked on the other side of the meadow. When Ilsa Prejean told me to keep away from her son, she probably meant by more than twelve inches. I sidled back a couple of steps and recaptured the reins of my runaway thoughts. “Dr. Solis said you knew about my dad’s mission.”

  “His mission. Not yours.” Everson tossed his gloves through the open tent flap. The gloves narrowly missed the guard who’d limped out to watch us, his face alight with curiosity. Everson ignored him and stood, hands on hips in perfect symmetry, glaring down at me. “Your dad should’ve left you in the West. What was he thinking?”

  I frowned. “That I can handle it.”

  “You’re sixteen,” he said, like that explained everything.

  “Seventeen,” I corrected. “My birthday was last month.” The ego on him! He was only eighteen. Or nineteen. Maybe giving him the cold shoulder wouldn’t be so hard after all.

  The guard with the sprained ankle looked me over. “I’m glad your dad didn’t leave you behind.” He grinned. “So, your name’s Lane?”

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Everson asked, irritated.

  The guy didn’t take his eyes off me. “Nope.”

  “What are you doing here, Cruz?” Captain Hyrax demanded as he stalked toward us. It seemed to be the question of the night.

  The guard hopped out of the line of fire, leaving us to face the captain. Everson straightened and snapped off a salute. “Dr. Solis put out a call for all medics, sir.”

  Hyrax wheeled on Dr. Solis, who was watching the exchange from the tent. “I told you to keep Cruz in the lab tonight.”

  Because I was going to be on base tonight?

  Everson’s scars whitened as his lips pressed tight. Guess that was news to him, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Yes, Captain, you did.” The doctor strolled closer, tall and elegant, even with his lab coat fluttering in the breeze. “But when I called for medics, it didn’t occur to me to specify who shouldn’t respond. Next time, I’ll be sure to keep my priorities straight.”

  Hyrax glared at him, but Dr. Solis returned his look with the serenity of a Buddhist monk.

  Everson turned to me. “Where’s Mack now?”

  “He’s already gone on to Moline. It’ll be our home base.”

  He cut a look at the captain. “Where some rando grups rammed through the gate last week?”

  “Her father is scoping out the situation,” Captain Hyrax informed him. “Won’t surprise me if we’re hovering the two of them back over the wall come tomorrow.”

  “Won’t happen,” I said coolly. “My dad will stay in Moline and do the job. If he thinks it’s too rough for me, Chairman Prejean said I can stay on the base and take care of the orphans.”

  Everson stiffened as if touched by a live wire. “Lane, those kids will chew off your hand faster than —”

  “She got the okay, Cruz,” Hyrax cut in with a smirk. “From the chairman.”

  “My mother’s never set foot in the orphan camp,” Everson replied, seeming to forget whom he was talking to. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe his guard act was just that — an act. One that he could drop at will because, ultimately, Everson was Chairman Prejean’s son and sole heir, and someday Captain Hyrax would report to him. “She has —”

  “The final say,” Hyrax snapped, ending the discussion. “Get her
bunked with the brats and report back. Don’t turn it into a slumber party. You’ve got ten minutes.”

  Everson’s jaw went hard, but his reply was pure patrol. “Yes, Captain.”

  I hesitated as he strode toward an ATV parked by the fence. Any second now Hyrax’s radio was going to squawk to life as Chairman Prejean unloaded a mountain of protest.

  “What are you waiting for?” Hyrax snapped. “That’s your ride. Unless you want to hike a mile across the island.”

  “No. I’m going.” I shot an apologetic look at the RV, hefted the duffel bag across my back, hung the nylon backpack off my other shoulder, and hurried over to where Everson was revving the ATV.

  He raised a brow at my duffel. “That’s all you brought?”

  “I’m traveling light.” There was no point in bringing things that I would run out of like body wash and deodorant. Eventually I’d have to get used to the off-grid equivalents. Might as well start now. Hopefully the soap and shampoo they made in bulk in Moline wouldn’t turn my skin into rawhide and my hair to straw.

  I climbed onto the ATV behind Everson and hesitantly looped an arm around his waist.

  “You’re going to have to hold on tighter than that,” he called over his shoulder.

  When the vehicle lurched forward, I snaked both arms around him. If this ride was going to get me booted off the island, at least I could take some comfort from the warm, solid feel of Everson’s back. However, when we peeled past the RV, I loosened my hold. Chairman Prejean might tolerate me getting a ride, but clinging? Why push my luck? In fact, if I was going to be smart about this, I’d put more than just a few inches of distance between Everson and me.

  Starting … now.

  Back on the island, we pulled up at a large tent on top of a wooden platform, tucked into what had to be the only dark corner on base. As soon as Everson cut the engine, I clambered off so fast, I nearly landed face-first in the mud. Luckily, my bag acted as a counterbalance. I shrugged it off and onto the first step up to the platform.

  “The orphans used to have their own barracks,” Everson explained as he swung a long leg over the ATV and joined me by the wooden steps. “But with all the new recruits, the patrol needed the space.” He frowned up at the tent. “You’d be better off sleeping in the infirmary. No one stays with these kids overnight.”

  Well, that sounded ominous. I’d endured scratches and a couple of bites while volunteering at the Davenport animal shelter — not fun. Stray children had teeth, nails, and imaginations. Guess sleeping with both eyes closed wasn’t in my future. “Your mother hired me to take care of them, so that’s what I’m going to do. Even if I had to talk her into it.”

  Everson snorted. “So you think. No one can talk her into anything. No one. She doesn’t listen,” he said bitterly. “Her own scientists told her using a virus to drop DNA into animals was a crap idea, but she wanted a Minotaur for her labyrinth. End of discussion.” He directed a finger at me. “If she’s letting you stay on base, she has a reason.”

  I swatted his hand away. “Like what?”

  “Rafe.”

  Something shifted in my chest at the regret in his voice. Regret that I shared ten times over. “What about him?”

  “She knows about his history with Mack — that Rafe would do anything for him …” Everson paused, looking faintly uncomfortable. “And you.”

  “You told her?”

  “During my debriefing, yeah.”

  I let out a harsh breath. Everson might be the one line guard I trusted, but he was still a line guard whose mission it was to stop the virus. Nothing came before that with him. Not friendship, not flirtation, not even a promise. He’d proved that the night he’d promised to help me rescue Rafe from Chorda’s human zoo, then reneged in order to bring twenty-nine missing virus strains to Dr. Solis. “What does Rafe have to do with letting me stay on base?”

  “She probably thinks he’ll come looking for you.”

  A prickle of unease slid down my spine. “What does your mother want with Rafe?”

  Everson cleared his throat and unfolded his arms. “We need his blood.”

  I stared at him, trying to breathe, trying to think, until finally I stupidly asked the obvious: “The missing strain is tiger?”

  “No one told you?” he asked with surprise.

  “Tiger,” I repeated and closed my eyes. “Of course.”

  Chorda would never have allowed his queen to take his blood for her collection of genetic mash-ups — animal and human — that she infected and crossbred. Chorda would never have let anyone take his blood. He denied that he was even infected, despite his fur and fangs. And now Dr. Solis needed Chorda’s blood to create a vaccine, but Chorda was dead … thanks to me. I had plenty of regrets from my time in the Feral Zone — more than I wanted to remember. But even after hearing this, I still didn’t regret killing that heart-eating lunatic.

  “Can you get a blood sample from a corpse?” I asked, though I had no idea what the people in Chicago had done with Chorda’s body. Ripped it to pieces and flung them over the fence for the ferals to eat? That would have been my choice.

  “No. The sample has to come from a living host. That’s why Rafe is on the patrol’s most wanted list.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. At all. The line guards had hated Rafe long before our jaunt through the Feral Zone. He’d been stealing supplies from the base for years, and none of the guards had ever managed to catch him, although the cook’s assistant had come close and had gotten stabbed in the gut for his trouble. The bad history between Rafe and the line patrol meant the guards wouldn’t care how they got a blood sample out of him. In fact, they’d probably skip the hypodermic needle altogether and simply take a bowie knife to his arm.

  “You haven’t heard of anyone else infected with tiger?” I asked.

  Everson shook his head.

  Unlike other ferals, Chorda hadn’t been compelled to bite his victims; instead, he ripped out their hearts, leaving no survivors. As far as I knew, Chorda hadn’t told anyone where he’d been when the feral had infected him.

  Everson glanced away from me. “They sleep under there,” he said, tipping his chin toward the shadowy space underneath the platform. “The strays.”

  “Don’t call them that,” I hissed, then bent to see several small figures scuttle deeper into the shadows. I straightened, heart racing, and sent Everson a questioning look.

  “They’re not used to beds,” he explained. “On the upside, you get the tent to yourself and all the blankets you want. They’re stored in the footlocker.”

  I took a long breath, stowed my panic, and crouched. A cluster of children watched me with suspicion. Jia broke from the huddle and crawled forward, as quick on her hands and knees as I was on my feet. “You,” she rasped.

  Was she glad to see me? “Yep, me. I’m Lane,” I said loudly enough to address all of them, and then pointed to the platform above. “I’m going to stay up there for a while. That okay with you?”

  Growls erupted from the huddle, but Jia just narrowed her eyes, considering me. I rose and faced Everson. It felt risky to turn my back on them, but I refused to show fear.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay in the infirmary?” Everson lowered his voice. “There’s no predicting them. Sometimes they act human. Sometimes … not.”

  “I’m fine.” That was fast becoming my mantra, though it was more hope than fact.

  “I could stay with you,” he offered.

  “No! I mean, thanks, but no,” I said quickly. “Since the kids don’t trust guards … So they’ll give me a chance.” He seemed about to argue, so I said, “You should go. It’s been ten minutes.”

  “At least,” he agreed, glancing away, but not before I’d caught a glimpse of what looked like regret in his eyes. He probably thought I was mad because he’d told his mother and Hyrax about my friendship with Rafe. Actually, I was mad about that. How many times did he have to prove to me that he was a line guard first before I bel
ieved it?

  Maybe what Everson said was true — maybe the chairman was using my presence at Arsenal to draw out Rafe. But I didn’t want to press my luck with her. I’d steer clear of Everson as she ordered. Besides, if Mahari was hidden away on base somewhere, I wasn’t going to find her with him on my heels.

  He climbed back onto the ATV and started the engine. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Okay.”

  I couldn’t say something to soften my rejection. Could not. If I did, he’d approach me another day and I’d have to shut him down again. Now he felt bad and I felt worse — on top of being worried for Rafe and terrified that biohaz agents were probably tearing apart our empty apartment right now, all because I thought the West deserved to know the truth about the Feral Zone. Hours ago, posting my video had felt urgent and important. Now it seemed like the stupidest, most reckless thing I’d ever done in my probably short life.

  Suddenly a cool feeling crept along my neck as I heard scuffling under the platform. A small figure darted out. I took two steps back before recognizing Jia. Hunched and wary, she curled her fingers as if she had claws. The other orphans followed, surrounding me — not close enough to touch, but close enough that their odor brought a sour taste to the back of my throat. Their faces were savage, some bared their teeth, others growled and grunted. My skin slickened with sweat, and my muscles tensed, but they came no closer.

  “Okay,” Jia said, her voice a rasp. “You can stay … but maybe don’t close your eyes when you sleep.”

  The other kids snorted and giggled at her not-so-subtle threat.

  “No problem,” I said, hefting up my duffel bag and turning toward the wooden stairs. “I’m not much of a sleeper. Too many nightmares.” I glanced back at the cluster of dirty kids, who’d suddenly fallen silent. “You ever have nightmares?”