“And afterward?” Tara pressed.
“What about it?”
“Will you allow us to clear out the lab?” Tara asked. “And will you let me continue my research if we do?”
“I’ll think about it,” he said with a frown, and she realized it was the most she’d get out of him at that moment.
It was better than nothing, though, and she stuck out her hand. “We’ve got a deal.”
They shook on it, and he called one of the guards to escort her and her friends to the armory and contact points. After giving the instructions, he turned toward her. “Godspeed, Dr. Lee.”
“Thank you, Major. You won’t regret this,” Tara answered, moving toward the door.
“I’m already sorry, but you’ve got a way of persuading people,” Major Reed said. “A gift.”
“If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place, Major,” Tara replied before stepping outside.
She left behind a puzzled-looking commander. He couldn’t know what her words meant, of course, but she’d never forget her superior Dr. Bannock. Nor could she forget the way she’d failed to convince him to take the Vita virus seriously. They’d lost valuable time because of that failure, allowing the disease to mutate and spread.
The fault for the outbreak lay on their shoulders. His for ignoring her warnings; hers for not trusting her gut and going over his head. It weighed on Tara every day, driving her ever onward with her mission. It was her way of repenting for her mistake, but when it came to Dr. Bannock… If I ever see that man again, I’ll shove the virus down his throat and watch him turn. Maybe then he’ll believe me.
Chapter 2 - Dylan
Dylan paced up and down her cell with her hands clenched behind her back. It wasn’t hard. It only took three steps to cover the entire length of her prison from front to end. Beneath her breath, she counted each step. Eight-hundred and twelve, eight-hundred and thirteen, eight-hundred and fourteen. Each time she reached a thousand, she’d start over.
She’d lost count of the times she’d started over.
Her temper simmered just below the boiling point, and she was afraid it would explode at any moment. The first time it happened, she attacked a guard. The second time she smashed the barred window and shredded her mattress with a shard of glass — all out of pure frustration.
After that, they’d transferred her to a windowless cell, and she only got fed once a day through a tiny slot. Who knew what they’d do to her if she screwed up again? Give her the electric chair, maybe.
Either way, death was starting to look like an attractive option. Without the sun, moon, or stars, time had no meaning. The lights were on day and night, the guards changed at the same hour, dinner arrived like clockwork, and she never saw or spoke to anyone except the hand that pushed her food through the slot. She missed Ethan and Tara, even Saul, and she hoped they were all okay. What about Amy and Alex?
Her mind was coming unhinged.
She knew it.
The guards knew it too.
Especially when she threw herself at the door like a maniac.
Or sang karaoke songs in the tiny shower cubicle.
Saul probably had it easy compared to her. A big cell with lots of sun, three meals per day, and a bathtub with real soap and shampoo. The man was the picture of calm when he needed to be.
“He probably meditates too,” Dylan mumbled to herself as she flopped down onto her bunk. The springs protested at the abuse, and one dug into her ribs. She wriggled around until she found a more comfortable spot and stared at the ceiling. One hand traced across the scar on her forearm.
It had healed up, and the stitches had been removed by a nurse who refused to talk to her. The nurse had also given her a full examination before pronouncing her healthy.
It was the only perk to being imprisoned. For the first time in weeks, there was nothing wrong with her. No injuries, bumps, bruises, or wounds graced her form. She got regular meals, enough water, and too much sleep. Ugh, sleep.
With a sigh, Dylan rolled onto her side, resigned to another night spent tossing and turning. With the return of her health and energy, she hated being forced to do nothing. It brought out the worst in her, and she wondered how much longer she could keep from going insane.
When the door to her cell suddenly opened, she was out of the bed in a flash. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Tara.”
“Tara?” Relief flooded Dylan’s veins. “What are you doing here? Are they letting me out?”
“Temporarily,” Tara said. “I struck a deal with the powers that be.”
“What deal?”
“I’ll explain on the way, but we need to hurry,” Tara said, waving Dylan outside. “And please, no more shenanigans. I need you to be on your best behavior.”
“I’ll do anything to get out of here,” Dylan said, eyeing the guards. They let her pass with wary caution, their hands tightening around their gun stocks. It amused her, and a dry chuckle escaped her lips.
“Dylan,” Tara growled. “What did I just say?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be good, I promise,” Dylan replied, following Tara down the hall. A soldier walked ahead of them while two more brought up the rear.
Together, they marched toward another cellblock where they found Saul. He emerged from his room looking as fit as ever, his expression smooth and stress-free. It seemed his time in the slammer had been easier than hers.
“I knew you’d get us out,” he said, hugging Tara and clapping Dylan on the back. “I’m glad to see you both.”
“You might not be so happy once you hear what I have to say,” Tara answered as they walked away. In low tones, she explained the deal she’d made with the major.
“We get to fight?” Dylan said with rising excitement. Despite the danger, she itched to see a little action — anything to wipe away the
