He’s protecting me, she thought.
“Not that tough without your other men, are you?” Carter looked past her down the path from which she’d come. “Are there more of you?”
His knuckles turned white as he gripped his knife. He dropped the rabbit and took another knife from his belt.
“I’m on my own.”
Carter started to laugh with a sarcastic tone. “Afana’s men are never on their own. There are always at least six of you.”
“I’m not one of Afana’s men!” Ryder was getting really pissed off with this jerk.
“The mark on the back of your neck says different,” Carter snapped.
Ryder pulled at her collar, trying to cover up the tattoo she’d been given as a kid. Yes, I was one of Afana’s cattle. Ryder didn't know what would be worse for her to say—that she was female, or that she was a runaway. Men always tried to take advantage of lone women, but if she said she was a runaway, it would reveal that she was from the bunker.
Ryder gestured in the children’s direction. “I was kidnapped when I was their age and forced to live in the bunker.”
The kids lowered the knives, but Carter didn’t. “Tommy, go tell the others we’ve captured one of Afana’s men.” Carter watched as a small boy ran off into the woods.
I've got to get out of here before any more men come. She leaped out of the hole. The wolf was beside her instantly, growling at Carter.
Everyone pointed their weapons at one another, tensely waiting for someone to make the first move. Ryder wouldn’t hurt the kids—their little faces reminded her of the children in the bunker—but she would happily take down the bearded jerk.
If he attacked her, she would take his dumb ass down.
Chapter Seventeen
Robert Moss, head of the advisors, came over to see what the hell was going on. The other advisors quickly told him that Jerkins had brought an infected head into the bunker.
Robert Moss was a tall, skinny man who wore a white lab coat. He didn’t have much hair on his head, but his eyebrows made up for that. They were overgrown like his nose hair, making him look quite furry, despite his bald head. He was one of the oldest men here. He’d lived through the Ebola outbreak, and the color drained from the pale man’s face.
He was already wearing latex gloves as if they were part of his morning ritual for getting ready for work, and three pens were neatly lined up in his pocket. This man was a perfectionist, yet he’d let his hair go astray.
Robert reached out for the bag. “May I see inside?” His voice was calm, almost soothing. It sounded unusual with all the chaos around them. Jerkins handed it to Robert without a single word.
Ivan’s silent head would do all the talking now.
Robert put his hand into the bag, and General Murray and Jerkins looked at one another in surprise. Robert didn’t pay the two men any attention as they backed away.
Murray took his chance and continued backpedaling. He wanted to get down to Level Six to his son Martin.
Although Robert never looked up, he knew that Murray was moving. “Stop,” he politely requested.
For fuck’s sake! Murray was done with all this Level One nonsense. He hoped he would never have to come up here again.
Robert pulled his hand out of the bag, and there was no trace of blood on his latex gloves. The other advisors watched Robert, waiting for his reaction to the contents of the bag. They didn’t have to wait long.
“It’s not Ebola,” he said, and everyone in the room relaxed visibly, as if they could breathe again. “But I’ve never seen anything like this before. The man’s eyes are red. Has anyone else been infected, or are we currently looking at an isolated case?”
Jerkins turned to Murray, silently prompting him to answer.
Murray shrugged. “This is the first fucked-up head I’ve received in that condition, with the freaky eyes.”
Robert nodded. “We learned a lot from the Ebola outbreak, which brought our bunker down to thirty percent of the original population. Our immortal leader put preventative measures in place to stop another virus from spreading.”
The assembled advisors looked at each other nervously and a murmur rippled through them.
Robert cleared his throat. “Please follow protocol,” he announced as if he’d been prepared to say that sentence for many years. The other scientists stared at Robert grimly.
General Murray wondered what “protocol” was.
Robert clapped his hands together once, and the sharp crack startled the advisors from their stunned surprise.
“Acting fast will save the bunker. Move your asses!” Robert commanded. “We need to contain the virus. Now!”
The scientists got to work implementing the protocol. All doors were shut on Level One. Afana would decide if he wanted the other levels to go on lockdown. A stern-faced scientist switched on a microphone, and his voice boomed out from hidden speakers, informing everyone on their level that this wasn’t a drill and to prepare for virus containment shutdown.
General Murray watched these events unfold around him like something out of a dream. Everyone ignored him as they went into crisis mode, making him feel detached from the situation as if he weren’t even there.
The advisors gathered in the room next to the lab where all the monitors were. They looked at one another in horror. He’d seen that look in men’s eyes before when he was leading them into a fight.
Murray sidled up to Robert since he seemed like he knew more than anyone else.
“What are they looking for?” the general asked.
“To see if anyone else is infected.”
“Do you need my men?” General Murray wanted to get out of here. He would send his men out, then go for his son.
Robert shook his head. “You can’t leave.”
General Murray knew the doors were closed, but that didn’t mean
