Frozen

Nat put a hand to her scalp, surprised to find her hair covered with blood. “Funny, I didn’t feel anything.”

“Shakes—stop the truck. Zedric—get your brother bandaged up, that cut might get infected, and bring me some of the antibio when you’re done,” Wes ordered.

They stopped at an abandoned parking lot of what used to be a shopping mall. Nat leaned against the hood while Wes cleaned her wounds with a sponge. “Pop-can must’ve got you after all,” he said. “Huh.” He stared at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought—I was ready to stitch you up, but it looks like it’s almost healed.”

“I told you, I didn’t feel anything,” she said. “I’m okay.”

Wes could have sworn he had seen a deep, ugly gash, but when he pushed her hair away, it was nothing —a surface wound—the blood had slowed to a trickle. He didn’t want to think about what that meant and decided to ignore it for now. Maybe she hadn’t been hit that badly. Yeah, right.

“Nice crew you got there,” she said, rolling her eyes toward the Slaine boys. Daran was yelling as Farouk and Shakes held him down while Zedric rolled a canvas cloth around his middle.

Wes shook his head, his jaw hardened. Now why did she have to go and say something like that? He didn’t like it when anyone insulted his boys. “They’re all right. Not my first choice, but it’s a dirty job, taking people through the Pile. Not many would want to do it,” he said, looking at her pointedly, as if to say, If they weren’t here, you wouldn’t be, either. “Dropouts are all I could get.”

“Right,” she said, chastened. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “You know how it goes.” He wasn’t sure if she did, but she had to have been in Vegas long enough to know that dropping out of the military was like dropping out of society. The army was the only game in town for the likes of them. Without an honorable discharge, there was a slim chance of being hired for any decent work.

“Leaving the military’s no joke,” he told her. “So when they end up with me, I try and teach them to be better soldiers. There’s no room for heroes or horseplay in this line of work. When it comes down to it, a soldier’s only goal is to stay alive, nothing more, nothing less.” He frowned and continued to clean her wound, trying and failing to ignore the spark between them as his fingers touched her forehead. “A guy goes off and starts shooting randomly, it’s my duty to take him down a notch, put him back in line. I did Zed a favor when I busted his nose. It might save his life one day, the next time he thinks of doing something that stupid.”

“So why’d you leave, then?” she asked. “Shakes said you won a Purple Heart and a Medal of Honor. He said you could have been a general one day, maybe.”

He sighed, placing a bandage on her head, pressing it down so it would stick. “I didn’t have it in me to be a career man, I guess, let’s leave it at that. How about you, where’d you serve?” he asked innocently.

“I didn’t,” she said.

“Oh, right, you got an upper school pass?”

“No . . .” But she didn’t elaborate. “I thought you said you had me checked out?” She smiled, but her tone was guarded.

He gave her a long look. “No questions.”

“Thanks for this,” she said, pointing to his work.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Boss, we gotta move,” Shakes said, coming up to them. “Farouk picked up a seeker signal on the radar. They’re two clicks north.”

Wes nodded, hiding the wave of nausea he felt from the news. “Let’s go, maybe we can lose them.”

They climbed back on board the LTV and Wes took the wheel again. He stuck to the back roads, plowing the truck through front yards and rough earth, forcing the truck to go as fast as it could. The team was quiet, tense, and even the Slaines were subdued. They knew Wes was angry with them for giving away their position.

“What happens if the seekers find us?” Nat wanted to know.

“Let’s hope they don’t,” Wes said.

“You keep saying that. Will they kill us?”

“There are worse things than being shot and dying quickly,” he said tightly. There was no use frightening everyone. Either they would be caught or they would be able to evade them. Life or death, but wasn’t it always? Military prisons were notorious for their brutal treatment of captives, and Wes sure hoped they wouldn’t end up in one. He’d been lucky so far; maybe his luck would hold.

“If it looks like they’ll be able to take us into custody, just shoot me, okay, boss?” Shakes whispered next to him. “Promise. I’d rather die at your hand than theirs.”

“It won’t come to that,” Wes said testily. “Cut that self-defeating chatter.”

“Go faster,” Nat whispered from behind him. Her breath was almost at his ear, and he felt his skin tingle.

“I’m giving it all she’s got,” Wes said.

“I think we lost them,” Farouk said, looking up from his scanner.

Nat exhaled, but it appeared the young soldier had spoken too soon. She looked up just as Wes hit the brakes and the truck screeched to a halt.

A pair of white-camouflaged Humvees were blocking the road.

The seekers had found their prey.

17

THERE ARE WORSE THINGS THAN GETTING shot and dying quickly, Wes had said just moments ago. Even he had to admire his own bravado. That was a good line. He willed his fear away. Maybe there was hope yet, since the Humvees hadn’t shot them on sight.

“It’s fine, leave it to me,” he told Nat as he turned off the engine.

Zedric’s fun with explosives in the hills had brought the seekers directly their way, just as Wes had warned, and running into the rebar and the caravan hunters hadn’t helped. They were trapped now. There was no use running; the trucks were too close to them and heavily armed. Even if he tried, there was a pair of drones circling above that would fire on command.

A soldier wearing officer stripes on his jumpsuit got out of the nearest Humvee, followed by a team of his men. They all had rifles slung over their shoulders, but no one made a move to attack.

Daran gripped the top hatch and drew his weapon.

Shakes moved to follow, but Wes stopped him. “Sit tight, boys, I’ve got this one.” He kicked open his door and jumped down onto the muddy, snow-covered road.

“What are you doing?” Shakes wanted to know. “Those aren’t some fool tour guides you can bullshit, those are RSA boys, you know.”

“Yeah, well, and so was I once,” Wes said. He got out of the truck, his heart beating in his chest, but his walk as smooth and languid as ever. He kept a lazy grin on his face as he approached.

The officer was leaning against one of the Humvees’ front grilles, its engine rumbling behind him, making clouds of steam rise from the truck’s warm hood.

“Morning, sir,” Wes said.

There was no reply. The soldier just stared up at the cloudy white sky and waited for Wes to come closer.

I hope I’m right about this. Wes kept his cool as he walked toward the seekers. He saw that both of the Humvees had their long guns trained at his head, the massive barrels rotating slowly to follow his progress. He noticed that the group of soldiers hanging back had a marked one with them, a boy his age, his red eyes gleaming with hatred, the mark on his forehead like a third eye. Wes had heard those who bore the third eye could read minds. The seeker team had probably used him to sense them. That program was