with the mirrors—”
“Like the pan in Las Vegas,” Peter cut in. “I thought the same thing.”
“It’s as if their reflection, I don’t know, screws them up somehow. The whole movie is like that.”
“Lish, where are you going with this?”
She hesitated. “Something always nagged at me, a piece I couldn’t place. Dracula has a sort of adjutant. Somebody who still looks human.”
Peter remembered. “The crazy one who eats the spiders.”
“That’s the guy. Renfield. Dracula infects him, but he doesn’t flip, at least not completely. He’s more like somebody caught in the early stages of infection. It got me wondering, what if they all have somebody like that?” She was looking at him keenly now. “Do you remember what Olson said about Jude?”
Olson was the leader of the community they’d found in Nevada, the Haven—a whole town of people who would sacrifice their own to Babcock, First of Twelve. Olson had been nominally in charge, but the fact had emerged that it was Jude who really ran the place. He had some kind of special relationship to Babcock, though its nature had gone unexplained.
“ ‘He was… familiar,’ ” Peter quoted. “I never understood what Olson meant. It didn’t really make sense. And you
“So I was. And believe me, there are days when I wish I’d gone ahead and pulled the trigger. But I don’t think it was gibberish. I looked up the word at the library back in Kerrville. The dictionary said the definition was archaic, so I had to look that up too, which basically just means old. It said that a familiar is a kind of helper demon, like a witch’s cat. A sort of assistant. Maybe that’s what Olson was talking about.”
Peter allowed himself several seconds to process this. “So what you’re saying is that Ignacio was Martinez’s… familiar.”
Alicia shrugged. “Okay, it’s a stretch. I’m sort of cobbling things together here. But the other thing to consider is the signal. Ignacio had a chip in him, just like Amy and the Twelve. That means he’s connected to Project NOAH.”
“Did you tell Apgar any of this?”
“Are you serious? I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
Peter didn’t doubt that. Nor did he doubt that whatever blame she had incurred for the botched raid on the cave was his as well.
Alicia rose to go. “Either way, we should know more about where we stand by the time I get back from Odessa. No point in worrying for now. I know you think you’re indispensible, but we can get along without you for a few days.”
“You’re not making me feel any better.”
She smiled. “Just don’t expect me to come back to feed you again, Lieutenant. You only get that once.”
As she moved toward the door, Peter said, “Lish, hold up a second.”
She spun to look at him.
“What Ignacio said. ‘He left us.’ What do you think it means?”
“I don’t have an answer for that. All I know is he should have been there.”
“Where do you think he went?”
She didn’t answer right away. A shadow moved over her face, a darkening from within. It wasn’t anything Peter had seen before. Even in the most perilous circumstances, her composure was total. She was a woman of absolute focus, always giving her attention to the task at hand. This was similar, but the energy wasn’t the same. It seemed to come from a deeper place.
“I wish I knew,” she said, and slipped her glasses on. “Believe me.”
Then she was gone, the flaps of the tent shifting with her departure. Peter felt her absence immediately, as he always did. It was true: they were always leaving each other.
Peter did not see her again. Six days later, he was released. His ribs would need longer to heal, and he would have to take it easy for a couple of weeks, but at least he was out of bed. Making his way across the garrison to report for duty, a surge lifted his steps. The sensation reminded him of a time many years ago when, just a boy, he’d been sick with a high fever, and after the fever had broken how just being up and about made even ordinary things seem charged with a fresh vitality.
Yet something else was different; Peter could feel it. Everything appeared normal—the soldiers on the catwalks, the roar of generators, the ordered movements of military activity all around—yet he sensed a shift, a discernible lessening of intensity.
He entered the command tent to find Apgar standing behind his desk of battered metal, scowling at a stack of papers.
“Jaxon. I didn’t expect to see you for a couple more days. How are you feeling?”
The question struck Peter as uncharacteristically personal. “Fine, sir. Thank you for asking.”
“Take a seat, won’t you?”
For a while Apgar continued to shift his papers. Though not a large man—Peter stood at least two hands taller—the colonel exuded a strong, physical presence, his movements precise, nothing wasted. After a period of time that might have been two full minutes, he appeared to achieve a satisfactory ordering to the documents and lowered himself into his chair to face Peter across the desk.
“I have new orders for you. They came this morning in the pouch from Kerrville. Before you say anything, I want you to know this has nothing to do with what happened in Carlsbad. I’ve been expecting this for some time, actually.”
The last of Peter’s hopes sank beneath the waves. Going, going, gone. “We’re abandoning the hunt, aren’t we?”
“ ‘Abandoning’ would be too strong a word. Putting under review. There’s a feeling at Command that some of our resources have to shift. For the time being, you’re being transferred to the Oil Road.”
It was worse than Peter had expected. “That’s a job for Domestic Security.”
“Generally, yes. But this isn’t without precedent, and it comes from the president’s office. Apparently she’s of the opinion that security for oil shipments has been too lax, and she wants the Army to take a role. A transport leaves at the end of the week for Kerrville, and I want you on it. From there you’ll report to the DS in Freeport.”
Despite what Apgar said, Peter knew the decision had everything to do with Carlsbad. He was being demoted—if not in rank, then in responsibility.
“You can’t do that, sir.”
A lift of his eyebrows, no more. “Perhaps I misheard you, Lieutenant. I could swear you just told me what I could and could not do.”
Peter felt his face grow warm. “Sorry, Colonel. That’s not what I meant.”
Apgar studied Peter a moment. “Look, I get it, Jaxon. Tell me something. How long have you been out here?”
Of course the colonel knew the answer; he was asking only to make a point. “Sixteen months.”
“A long time in the sticks. You should have been rotated out a while ago. The only reason you haven’t is that you always put in a request to stay. I’ve let it go because I know what the hunt means to you. In a way, you’re the reason all of us are here.”
“There’s no place else I want to be, sir.”
“And you’ve made that abundantly clear. But you’re only human, Lieutenant. Frankly, you need the break. I’m headed back to Kerrville after we button things up, and as soon as I can, I’ll put in a request at Division to move you back out to the territories. I’m not in the habit of making deals, so I suggest you take this one.”
There was nothing to do but agree. “If I may ask, Colonel, what about Lieutenant Donadio?”
“She’s got new orders, too. This isn’t just you. As soon as she returns from the slicks, she’s going north to Kearney.”
Fort Kearney was the northernmost outpost of the Expeditionary. With a supply line stretching all the way from Amarillo, it was typically shut down before the first snowfall.
“Why there? Winter’s only a couple of months away.”
“Command doesn’t tell me everything, but from what I hear it’s gotten pretty thick up there. Given her
