If she survived to reach the colonel’s age.
18
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
MARCH 7TH
Grady woke from the light sleep he’d forced upon himself. He was so keyed up that it had been a struggle to close his eyes and not strangle Taavi in front of everyone in the apartment where he’d been put up with the Iranian and the two soldiers, Jake Murphy and Sergeant Turner. The rest of the platoon had been split up into two groups and occupied vacant apartments on the same floor as them.
He listened intently to the sound of the men snoring softly from the bedrooms. He’d chosen to stay on the couch, while the soldiers shared the king-sized bed in the master bedroom and Taavi took the guest bedroom with David, the boy they’d found along the highway. When he was certain that everyone was asleep, he rose and put his feet into his boots. Then he turned toward the guest bedroom, slipping a folding knife from his pocket. The little four-inch blade wasn’t much, but it would get the job done.
Grady glided across the carpet, careful to keep his feet from scraping. He edged his way into the bedroom and saw Taavi—or whatever his real name was—lying on his back, his breathing regular and rhythmic. The long dagger that he always had with him lay in its sheath on the nightstand. Lying fucking bastard, Grady thought as he watched the man sleeping.
He crept close and pressed the blade against the Iranian’s throat. The man’s eyes went wide instantly, but, to his credit, he didn’t move.
“Get up,” Grady hissed.
Taavi sat up slowly as Grady kept the knife pressed against his neck. “Balcony,” Grady directed as he shifted around, putting himself behind the liar and between the nightstand.
The taller man stood and Grady reached back, picking up the dagger. It was much heavier than he anticipated, the handle felt like it was solid metal, not hollow or plastic like most of the shit on the market before the infected came around. He let the sheath fall to the floor as he released the snap.
They walked to the balcony and Taavi opened the door. They went out and Grady closed it behind them. The sheer silence of Manhattan struck him immediately. They were in a high-rise apartment building in what was once one of the busiest cities in the world and there was complete, absolute silence in the darkness around them. Even before the collapse, you would have heard the sounds of vehicles on the highways or distant police sirens. Now, it was utterly quiet.
Taavi put his arms on the rail and leaned down, staring into the night. “What do you want to know?”
Grady hefted the dagger. “Nice knife.”
“It’s a peshkabz,” he replied. “It was made in the Seventeenth Century and carried into combat against invaders of every kind.”
“I thought it felt old,” the operator replied.
“It is. The pointed tip is designed to penetrate the mail armor worn at the time and the curve of the blade to slide up and in between the links. Very effective and dangerous.” Taavi turned his head slightly and frowned. “You are likely the first person not from my family to touch that peshkabz in ten generations.”
“Huh. Well, all good things must come to an end, right, buddy?”
“Why is it that you have woken me with a blade to my throat?”
“Oh, we both know the answer to that one, don’t we, Major?”
“I must confess, I am at a loss, Grady Harper. You profess to being my friend and yet—”
“Friend?” Grady interrupted, spittle flying from his mouth. “You have the audacity to call me a friend after what you did to me?”
“I do not—”
“Stop with the lies. I remember. It took me long enough after whatever the fuck you people did to me, but I remember now. You were at the facility in the jungle. You were there when I was experimented on. You—” Another piece clicked together in his mind. “That’s how I ended up in Kansas on that stretcher. You were transporting me for some reason. Then the infected attacked and took out all of the security. You… You bastard.”
Taavi turned back, staring into the night once more. “It is true, Grady. I was there. I—”
“I fucking knew it. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now, you lying sack of shit.”
Taavi let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you want me to tell you how I came to be at Site 53 or do you want continue to interrupt me?”
The name of the facility jogged more memories in his tattered mind. Hannah Dunn and their budding romance. Akram Bazan, “Baz”, the Iraqi-American Special Forces engineer who was probably one of his closest friends. The constant bitching by Knasovich, the team sniper. All of them dead, all at the hands of the infected, which Taavi seemed to be responsible for.
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you.” Taavi’s proper English was an annoyance to Grady now that he remembered the truth. “I was born and raised Qom. When I joined the Army, I was garrisoned in Qom. I’d known—and liked—a girl named Rabbia my entire life, so it was truly a blessing from Allah when my father announced that she was to be my wife. Our love bore two beautiful children, my little desert flower, Yasmin, and Sohail, my boy. We had a good life, and created a loving home. Then I was assigned to a nuclear testing facility. It was while I was assigned there that I learned of my government’s dealings with the North Koreans. At the time, I thought they were working together to develop nuclear weapons. I was
