I got some side effects from something the doctors put inside me. Tyren knows about it, but he’s the only one. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to tell you more. It’s a secret for now, and I want to keep it that way.
I never want to end up a lab rat again.
Seriously, I can’t believe all that’s happened in the months since I left Woodlawn. I’m sorry to hear about the looting and rioting. People suck. I guess the A.N. was right about the masses panicking about the invasion.
Be careful out there—okay? Hey, if you make it to NYC, go to Hell’s Kitchen. There’s an old, abandoned post office. Find it and ask around for a girl named Joanie. Tell her you’re my friend. She’ll help you out.
Tyren says I won’t be able to write you again for a long time. I’ll be very far, and they can’t send messages or use comms for fear that intel will leak.
If I ever get to take leave, I’ll come to New York, if I can.
I’m sorry how things ended up for you. I hope we meet again soon.
Your friend always,
Ida Sarek
Twenty-Five
The ones you remember are the ones you can’t save.
-Anonymous combat medic
6 Months Later
Spangdahlem Air Base, Germany
I dashed across the grassy quad to the hospital, ignoring the latest message from the vibrating biocuff wrapped around my wrist. Jenna’s fifth attempt.
“On my way,” I spoke into the comm, still not accustomed to the curved AI band that monitored my biostats—and whereabouts.
The gray sky above threatened frost, and I crammed my hands into my uniform pockets for warmth. Glimpsing the towering pine trees surrounding the base, I smiled. The sight of the mysterious, dense forest never grew old.
I reached the hospital entrance and jogged in place as an AI scanned my face. After the doors slid open, I climbed the stairs two at a time. Upon reaching the second-floor corridor, I slowed to a brisk walk, smoothed my recently cropped red hair, and calmed my breath.
A group of six fellow trainees huddled together in front of supervisor Merck. In the middle of a lecture, he didn't break flow when he saw me, but raised an eyebrow. I tried to blend in next to Jenna, who shot me a peeved glance.
“… and that’s why you need to be sure the limb is stabilized first using a splint and padding, and only then do you apply the cold pack and elevate the extremity,” Merck said. He paused and made a note on his digital tablet.
I thought I might escape a lecture, but no. “Sarek,” he said. “You’re ten minutes late.”
“Sir, yes… I was taking a special training—”
“I did not ask for an explanation.”
I fought against the words bursting from my mouth. “But, sir. I tried to get here as—”
“Quiet!” Merck had never warmed to me. I was the only student who volunteered to study combat protocols—during my free time. Unlike the other medic trainees, I didn't grow up wanting to be a doctor. In fact, the sight of blood made me queasy. But the higher ups had chosen for me.
Was it my fault I got along better with the grunts than I did the medics? Except for Jenna Duncan, my only friend here.
“Sarek, you’ve lost rec room privileges for the rest of the week,” Merck said.
I started to protest, but Jenna squeezed my wrist and glared at me.
“One more outburst from you,” he continued, running a hand through his buzz-cut blond hair, “and it’ll be two weeks.”
Staring at my boots, I accepted my punishment. Loss of rec room privileges meant being stuck in my bunk with nothing to do except study the ceiling or, worse, read medical books—which felt as exciting as swimming in mud.
Finally, he turned his attention to the other students. “Now, follow me. We’ll start our rounds.”
The group shuffled forward, and I followed with sagging shoulders.
Jenna fell in step beside me. “Where were you?” she whispered.
I kept my voice low. “A soldier showed me a new guided drone weapon system.” A smile escaped my lips. “It was badass.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll never understand why you’re so attracted to combat training.”
“We're going into a war, or did you forget?”
“But we’re noncombatants. Medics are protected under the Geneva Convention.” She pushed a loose strand of curly raven-black hair behind one ear. “Merck says combat is beneath our station.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don't care what Merck thinks.” But I resisted going off on him; she had a crush. Tugging her arm, I held her back, letting the group get farther ahead. “I don't want to be in the field not knowing how to defend myself. Imagine being the only one in your squad who can't launch a weapon system or lead an attack.”
“That's someone else’s job. My job is to save lives.”
I shook my head. Jenna—so pretty, bright—and delusional.
“Come on. Let’s keep up,” she said and strode faster.
But I wouldn’t let it go. “Sure, in the past wars—when humans fought other humans—medics didn’t have to fight. They could focus on medicine. But now… everything has changed.” I leaned over and grabbed her shoulder. “We're fighting aliens for chrissakes. It can’t hurt to know the combat side of war.”
She shushed me as we neared the group. Inside a hospital room, Merck lectured as he checked a patient’s progress. Outside the doorway, Jenna craned her neck to listen, though I barely understood a word. My thoughts lingered on my last conversation with Captain Tyren on the holofeed. He’d looked exhausted. Worn down. His deployment location was classified and had required a day’s travel. With no communication in two weeks, I worried.
A warning siren blared, making me jump. Circular blue lights flashed along the hospital ceilings. Merck pushed himself through the group and stood across from me.
“A training test,” he said, glaring at me. The others, including Jenna, huddled around him for instructions. “I told you all about this. It’s an exercise
