Page 21

Marinah

The next few days passed without anything eventful happening, just an overwhelming sense of boredom. There were only so many spots on the wall to count, and the books they’d left me were boring tomes that did nothing but put me to sleep. I’d requested a meeting with the president to address my lack of activity, but I hadn’t heard back.

Friday felt like it would never arrive. I’d only spoken briefly to Labyrinth since the bar meeting, but it was enough time to relay what Landan and the women had told me. Labyrinth was worried they were setting me up, and I couldn’t blame him. Still, he hadn’t been at the bar to see their fear and anger at the Federation. If they’d planned to betray us, it would already be too late. We’d either be jailed or dead. I’d left him after saying exactly that.

When Friday evening finally arrived, Officer Daniels himself escorted me to the women’s quarters. “I’ll pick you up here in three hours,” he said curtly before walking off.

“Make it four,” I called after him. He didn’t turn, and if he showed up early, he could cool his heels in the hallway for the extra hour.

My situation with the Federation felt murkier than ever. I’d been given no orders as Secretary of Defense, no information about our troops, and no invitations to meetings. Having a guard shadow me was just another reminder of how little they trusted me. Or worse, how little they thought of me at all. They had no idea what I was capable of, and I planned to use that ignorance to my advantage. Tonight, for the first time, I was being left somewhere without a guard. It was the first proof I had that my scared little rabbit routine was working.

Landan was hiding in the closet and emerged only after Mila confirmed the coast was clear. Skylar pulled pencils and paper from a small bag and brought them to the table in the cramped room, which barely fit all of us. I raised an eyebrow at the paper.

“We’re analysts,” Kara explained. “It works better if we analyze our chances and come up with a plan that has the highest ratio for success. We’ll burn the papers as soon as we’re done with them.”

A short, stocky candle sat in the center of the table, its flickering light illuminating the cramped space. I filled them in on everything that had happened in Cuba: King holding hellhounds, what the creatures truly were, though I left out the fact that I was a Shadow Warrior. I did, however, share the details of my relationship with King.

“You’re his queen,” Mila said, her eyes filled with romantic stars.

“I love him.” It was as simple as that.

Mate. Ms. Beast whined softly in the back of my mind, but I ignored her.

Landan quickly took charge of the communication issue. “We eat in the cafeteria at a different time than you do,” he said. “We’ll place an encrypted note under our usual table if there’s something urgent. You can do the same.”

I nodded. “I think it’ll work. My only worry is being caught with the notes.”

Landan’s eyes lit up. “We’ll keep it simple and use acrostic code. If we write love notes, it’ll throw off suspicion if someone finds them. Chances are, no one will look past the flowery words. Would that work?”

Oh boy. Ms. Beast was not happy, and I fought not to wince when she kicked me in the gut.

“It’ll work,” I said, relieved we had a straightforward solution. Acrostic code was easy enough. You crafted sentences where the first letter of each word spelled out a hidden message. Love notes were a brilliant cover, even if Ms. Beast vehemently disagreed.

I tried not to think about how King might react. His thoughts would undoubtedly be violent, but I also knew he’d understand why it was the safest option. Getting him to a reasonable conclusion would be the tricky part.

Skylar broke into our strategic planning with a wistful tone. “You really had bacon?” Her voice carried pure longing, and from the look on her face, she might just drool at the thought.

“And steak, along with fresh fruits and vegetables,” I added.

“Those Federation bastards,” Mila swore, her unexpected profanity breaking the tension and sending us into a fit of laughter. It wasn’t a word she typically used, but when it came to bacon, exceptions could be made.

“We’ve lived off the same crap food for years,” Landan groaned, joining the growing food-porn discussion.

Skylar had her own thoughts. “I could deal with our rations if government officials ate the same damned thing. The way our food is handed out disgusts my husband. He sneaks things to me when he can.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about the food differential?” Mila asked, her brow furrowed.

Skylar glanced at me first before answering Mila. “We had enough to worry about, and food, as long as we were being fed, wasn’t at the top of the list.”

She wasn’t wrong, and I realized we were spending too much time on the topic now. I shifted gears, addressing my question to Skylar. “Did you talk to your husband about what we discussed the other night at the bar?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she nodded. “He’s terrified for me,” she admitted. “For us. His men will have our backs, though. That’s another hundred and fifty men against the Federation. He thinks there are more who will side with us once the Shadow Warriors arrive in force. He fought alongside them and believes they can be trusted. The Federation’s treatment of the Warriors is one of the reasons he started doubting the new government. Now that the order has been given to kill anyone who doesn’t willingly come to Washington to serve under the Federation’s leadership, he knows we can’t wait any longer.” She paused, fixing me with a level stare. “He also said he’d kill you with his own two hands if you betrayed us.”

I grinned. “I always liked him. Does anyone here have a problem with the Warriors?”

Four heads shook in unison, and I moved on. “The president has been in on this from the start. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. He was one of Washington’s top scientists, and he worked for several lobbies connected to GMOs.”

Mila’s reaction mirrored my own. “We’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and didn’t even know it.”

“Am I terrible for feeling relieved that they aren’t actually something sent from hell?” Skylar asked.

Kara scrunched her lips thoughtfully before replying. “Honestly, I liked the ‘hell’ scenario better than zombies.”

“The Shadow Warriors still call them hellhounds, and I agree with them,” I said. “I’d rather think of killing hellhounds because, honestly, I think I’d squig out every time I had to kill a zombie.”

Three jaws dropped as I realized what I’d just admitted.

“My father killed hellhounds, and I asked King to teach me. I’m still working on my technique.”

Mila hugged her arms around herself and shivered. “When you’ve got it down, please share. I’m still terrified of them.”

“Deal.” I meant it. Every human needed to be trained to kill hellhounds, and I planned to make sure that happened. The Federation should’ve required basic training for everyone including the children and spouses. It was a glaring oversight on their part. Anyone who wanted training on the island got it. I felt it should go a step further and be required.

We shifted back to business, putting together a list of everything we knew. That had always been our process: pooling our knowledge, turning numbers into percentages, and finding patterns. It had never failed us before. Unfortunately, we couldn’t come up with a way to stop the formaldehyde from infecting more dead bodies. Eventually, we’d need people with more expertise than us, but that would have to wait until we dealt with the Federation.

Over the next few hours, we reviewed all of our intel and pieced together a tentative plan. It wasn’t much, and I knew most of it would probably change, but it was a start.

Officer Daniels knocked on the door precisely four hours after dropping me off. The long walk back to my quarters gave me time to press his buttons.

“I thought I’d be attending meetings and assessing the military’s needs,” I said, feigning mild disappointment. “I’m surprised my analytics background isn’t being put to use.”

His shoulders stiffened. “The president makes those decisions,” he spat.

This was almost too much fun.

“I just feel the Federation could use more from me,” I said, layering my tone with sincerity. “My father did a great job. I know I can’t fill his boots, but I can help. Please let the president know I’m ready to serve my country.”

I managed to get the words out without gagging, and I was extremely proud of myself.

“I’ll share your concerns,” he replied stiffly.

I just bet he would.

“That’s all I ask. Now, tell me something about yourself.”

I caught the slightest flicker of an eye roll and fought to suppress a satisfied smile.

“My father is Vice President Daniels.”

Oh. That Daniels.

“You must be so proud,” I said, feigning admiration. “Do you plan on taking over for him when he retires?”

He huffed, beyond annoyed now. “The vice presidency isn’t inherited. A new vice president will be elected, not appointed.”

“Of course,” I said, nodding as if I’d just learned something. “I don’t know why we’ve kept those old rules, though. At least they gave President Barnes ten years to reorganize the country. Maybe in the next election, we should change the rules of succession. It worked for Europe for thousands of years. With the country in such turmoil, stability is more important than ever.”

“Hmm,” he muttered, his expression shifting slightly. He was thinking about what I’d said, probably considering how to use it to his advantage. Maybe now he was starting to think I wasn’t the idiot he’d pegged me to be. Either way, I knew I needed to tread carefully

Daniels held a low-level military position, but it was clear he believed he was entitled to more solely because of his father. The truth was, he lacked both the intelligence and the temperament to rise through the ranks. The president chose his vice president and even if the presidency were inherited, the president would handpick the person who served with him, yet Daniels was too blinded by his own arrogance to grasp that reality. His attitude was another major hurdle. Spoiled and egotistical, he had likely been given the role of running errands and babysitting, not out of merit but to keep him out of trouble. In the end, he was nothing more than a glorified errand boy. My job in analytics hadn’t been much better.

We were about a hundred yards from the entrance to my quarters when Ms. Beast decided to get feisty.

Run, she demanded, the word slicing through me.

The physical pain that followed zapped through my body. A solid punch to the ribs would have been preferable.

No, I replied firmly in my head, packing the word with all the warning I could muster.

Run.

Cold sweat broke out on my face, and I stumbled when she upped the ante and delivered a blinding kick to a kidney. Officer Daniels reached out, steadying me before I fell.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the words completely devoid of giving a damn.

“I think I just need air,” I said, struggling to control my breathing. “Is there any way I can go outside?”

“Too dangerous,” he replied, his whiny voice grating on my frayed nerves and heightened senses.

Ms. Beast was winning this round, and I knew I had to push harder.

“I just need to stick my head out a door or window,” I pressed, forcing a hint of desperation into my voice. “What could it hurt?”

Daniels let out a long, dramatic sigh, his shoulders drooping with exaggerated annoyance. “There’s a courtyard through that door,” he finally said, jerking his thumb toward the door we’d passed about ten yards back. “If you want to risk your life, be my guest. Just do it after I drop you at your room so no one blames me.” Each clipped word dripped with irritation.

“Thank you,” I managed, trying to tamp down the growing pressure inside me. Ms. Beast was being unreasonable, and deep down, I knew her tantrum wasn’t going to end in my favor.

Daniels left me at my room a few minutes later. I leaned back against the closed door, trying to catch my breath. The moment he was out of sight, I allowed myself to crumble. The K5 surge Ms. Beast caused burned from the inside out. She wasn’t going to give up her relentless attack.

Something was wrong.

King had told me to listen to her when she was like this and ignoring her wasn’t an option right now. I slipped out of my room, carrying my shoes. Pants and a tee were all I wore, making it easier to shift quickly if needed.

The door to the courtyard was heavily barred from the inside, a solid metal beam meant to keep sane people from venturing out after dark. Hellhounds thrived at night, and the Federation made sure to lock down every vulnerable access point to keep them out.

Good thing I wasn’t exactly sane.

The outside door handle locked automatically, and my shoes came in handy to keep it wedged open. I entered a narrow, steep stairway leading upward. I ran up, lifted the final bar and realized I needed to go back for one of my shoes. It took only a moment, but Ms. Beast screamed inside me the entire time. At last, I stepped outside.

The courtyard was small, walled off by an eight-foot concrete barrier meant to keep anything dangerous out, or maybe to keep people in. I scaled it easily in human form, my enhanced strength making it feel like nothing more than hopping over a low fence.

On the other side, I slipped off my clothes, stashing them in some nearby bushes. Ms. Beast surged forward, and this time, I let her take over without resistance. My muscles quivered with pent-up energy as I shifted, the transformation filling me with raw strength.

I sprinted into the dark and demolished the streets of Washington with speed, leaving what little remained of civilization behind.

I stuck to the outer edge of the city’s protective wall, running as fast as I could. Ms. Beast’s urgency burned through me, driving me forward. Whatever had upset her needed to be found and dealt with. If I ran into a few hellhounds along the way, all the better. I’d welcome the fight.

With any luck, I’d uncover the source of her agitation and maybe even sleep soundly tonight.