Caitlin all but rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, is that supposed to fluster me? Make me feel creeped out and verbally violated? ‘Cause, I gotta tell you, this hasn’t even reached the level of an average Tuesday on the L train.”
Ferguson looked her up and down. “I can’t tell if you’re blissfully unaware or scared so shitless you can’t even think straight.”
“Why should I be?” Caitlin curled her lip. “I don’t see anyone in this room to be scared of.”
“A bold statement to make to the man holding a gun on your boyfriend.”
“Then shoot us,” she said, about as nonchalantly as was possible given the circumstances. “Prove you’re the toughest man here by firing on two surrendering civilians with nearly empty clips.”
Booker widened his eyes, staring at her.
What the ever lovin’ fuck are you doin’?
Tilting her head a minute fraction, she hoped he could see what she was trying to tell him.
The closer Ferguson got, the easier it would be for Booker to surprise him. Make a move to take his gun off him.
“Civilians,” Ferguson chuckled. “You think this one’s an innocent man rising up against injustice?” He gestured to Booker with the barrel of his gun. “Did he tell you about his time in the service? About all the people he killed because someone else told him to?”
Caitlin wasn’t fazed.
She knew Booker had killed the moment she laid eyes on him.
Clearly Ferguson didn’t have the same insight with her…
“Did he tell you he was in Atlanta?” Ferguson continued. “He was there during the outbreak. I’ve never seen a grown man run faster in my life.”
Booker’s raised right hand trembled as Ferguson kept mocking him.
“Pissed himself the second we’re told to contain the virus. Like we weren’t a part of worse overseas. Like he hadn’t suggested worse to our COs.”
Caitlin grit her teeth.
“But you didn’t have a problem handling things, right?” She started. “You looked at all those innocent people and you saw easy target practice.”
His cold amusement cracked.
“They were a threat,” he snapped. “Thousands of possible infection sites. Dozens had been bit or scratched and were hiding it, getting on to transport vehicles to an Ark camp. Can you imagine? Putting that many people at risk ‘cause you’re afraid to die?”
“And what about the people who never even knew? Never had any idea what was happening until their planes were getting shot right out of the sky.”
Ferguson shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. If you were there, you’d have seen—”
“I saw plenty,” she cut in. “The people on my flight were normal, healthy, innocent people and your bosses decided it was better to slaughter everyone than to give us a chance at escape.”
For a moment she thought he was going to carry on with his ‘it wasn’t personal, it was just orders’ bullshit.
But then his stare narrowed on her, lips parting in surprise.
“You were… on one of those planes?”
Caitlin briefly felt out of control, like slipping on ice without something to grab onto.
Gaze darting to Booker, she found her footing again.
“I’m a walking, talking miracle,” she sniped. “And you’re just a jarhead hired gun who can’t believe he got bested by a couple of rejects.”
Anger flashed in Ferguson’s stare as he took another step closer.
“At least I stayed. At least I pulled my shit together and got people to safety. All those people you supposedly freed? They’re alive because of me.”
Pressing the muzzle of his gun against the back of Booker’s right ear, Ferguson sneered.
“More than I can say about you, huh gunny?”
Booker’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly.
“You’re right. I saw what they—what we were doin’ and I couldn’t take it. I ran.”
“Abandoned your post,” Ferguson said. “Abandoned your men. Your friends.”
“We lost ourselves over there, man,” Booker said, voice rough. “We weren’t people out in that desert, not after all the shit we did. By the time we made it back, I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Comin’ home, I wanted more, I wanted somethin’ better—”
“You think I signed up to be a baby killer in Atlanta?”
“Coulda left,” Booker told him simply. “Coulda picked your own soul over their fear, their greed—”
“You—” Ferguson shoved Booker’s head with the end of his gun, keeping it jabbed into his skin. “—Don’t get to lecture me on righteous behavior, when you’re the one who left us behind.”
Suddenly, Caitlin understood a missing piece of the lethal puzzle in front of them.
Ferguson didn’t hate Booker. He was envious. And he was hurt—abandoned by his friend and brother in arms during possibly the worst moment of their lives.
He’d counted on Booker, looked to him for guidance, and when he was left amidst chaos, Ferguson shut down.
A new opportunity presented itself.
“Do you like being here?” Caitlin asked, stepping forward. “Do you actually like dumping people out of your camp to fend for themselves? Testing a highly volatile drug on children? Being nothing but a man in a uniform with a gun?”
Ferguson stared at her like she’d just spoken Latin.
“What?”
She inched closer. “Is this all you really want out of your life? To be some asshole politician’s goon? Or are you doing it because that’s the only choice you think you have now?”
He smirked at her. “Like you said, I’m just a jarhead hired gun.”
Caitlin shook her head. “That doesn’t have to be the case. Not if you don’t want it to be.”
For the first time, she could see him considering her words.
“There’s nothing left for me,” Ferguson said. “Not after everything…”
“That’s what we all thought,” she told him. “But we’re choosing a different path. The world ended, but that doesn’t mean we have
