Wolf trotted over and lay his head on Zeke’s lap. He scratched the dog’s ears as he looked around him. There was no way he was ever going to get to the level of the soldiers on the machines, who were practically machines themselves. He looked up at them reverently. How long did it take to get their strong, toned muscles? He didn’t have long before they threw him in front of ravenous beasts who would tear him apart in seconds.
A familiar face materialised before him, blocking his view. Splat. He looked confused—probably because Zeke was the only one in the gym sitting down against a wall. “What are you doing? You know Wolf can’t be in here, right?”
“I was lifting some weights.”
“Uh-huh. What happened?”
Suspicion seeped through him. “Did Noah send you to keep an eye on me?”
“What? No, I was just walking to the armoury when I saw you through the window.” He paused for a moment. “There’s a reason we usually train new cadets out in the training field, rather than in this gym. Namely, so they don’t start comparing themselves to people that have dedicated their lives to pushing their bodies to the limit.”
Splat shifted on his feet. “Why don’t you come with me? I can show you my demolition kit. You can help me take inventory. I can even show you how to calibrate the devices. Nobody else has ever had any interest, so it’ll be good to talk to someone who can understand the difference between C-4 and Semtex.”
Shouting erupted from outside of the building. As if a spell had been broken, people jumped from their machines and filed out, concern and fear peppering their voices.
Splat froze, his eyebrows furrowed. “Come on.”
They hurried out behind the others, Wolf hot on their tail. The closer they got to the commotion, the louder the shouting—and the wailing—became. Someone, a woman, was uncontrollably sobbing. It was a gut-wrenching sound of almost inhuman proportion. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd that had gathered near the gate, where Zeke had first entered the compound a few nights ago. It was hard to see the woman at first, as five others—her squad mates?—were huddled around her. They stroked her hair and squeezed her arms as she howled.
“Should we be here?” said Zeke, raising his voice so Splat could hear.
He felt hands on his shoulders and turned to see Noah and Vitt, with the others behind them. Frankie moved to stand beside Zeke, slipping one arm through his.
“They’re all… dead…” the woman screeched out. Zeke’s view of her cleared. Rather than the navy uniforms soldiers were required to wear around the barracks, she wore the black combat gear worn outside of the compound. Her helmet rested on her lap and a splatter of blood covered her left cheek. Her whole body trembled as she clutched her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.
Splat, standing behind him, gasped. “That’s Sandhurst! She’s in the squad that came on after us at the wall.” The sound of a heavy engine drew closer as a small pickup truck came out of the garage gate. It was hard to see inside, but Zeke could make out body shapes under white cloth. The sight of the truck further distressed the crying woman, who beat her fists against the floor.
“Enough!”
A silence fell. All eyes turned to lock on to the speaker. The voice belonged to an older lady, coarse grey hair tied up in a high bun. She wore a style of military suit Zeke hadn’t seen yet, heavily decorated with sparkling gold pins.
“Captain Murphy,” Noah breathed into his ear, tickling him.
“Officer Sandhurst,” she said to the woman on the floor, who’d stopped moving to stare at her. “I understand that you’re upset. But in the chaos and confusion at the border, you, and now the members of your squad, have breached protocol. I need everyone to step away from Sandhurst immediately.” A ripple of murmurs circulated through the crowd. Sandhurst’s companions let go of her, leaving her alone on the floor in a crumpled ball. Someone immediately ushered all five of them into the back of a van.
Captain Murphy marched across the tarmac to talk to the pickup truck driver. From the look on the captain’s face, what they said did not impress her. The truck hastily backed up into the darkness of the garage.
Zeke looked around. It seemed as if the entire regiment was now here—a turbulent sea of people stretching all the way back as far as he could see. Another scream burst out from somewhere in the crowd. Everyone’s eyes shot to Sandhurst. Rocking back and forth in her ball, the woman was moving so fast it almost looked like she was vibrating. Her head started snapping up and down, flying back further and further each time. What was happening? Was she fitting?
Someone yanked Zeke’s arm backwards so hard it almost ripped from its socket.
“Stay behind me,” Noah hissed into his ear, stepping in front of him and unsheathing his dagger from his belt.
But Zeke was in no mood to be pushed around. “Why? What’s happening?”
There was no need for Noah to answer. In a flash of movement, Sandhurst was on her feet, crouched in a hungry, predatory pose. She heaved once, twice and then thick, clumpy, dark-red gore exploded from her mouth onto the concrete. A sickening wave of revulsion pulsated through Zeke as light-headedness took hold of him at the sight of the blood.Please,not here. Not in front of everyone.
“Permission to shoot, Captain?” shouted the officer closest to Captain Murphy. But Murphy didn’t have time to give the affirmative order before Sandhurst flung herself into the crowd. If the soldiers were on edge before, they were hysterical now. Hundreds of terrified souls surged backwards, scrambling to get away from her.
An all-out stampede began. Zeke felt himself get ripped apart from Frankie as he floated in the sea of panicked unarmed officers fleeing for their lives. He heard round after round being emptied as an alarm shrieked. Three long beeps followed by a pause. The lockdown alarm?
A body tumbled into Zeke, hard, causing him to stumble over something—a rock? A human body?—and trip, sending him flying. He landed painfully on his wrist, scraping it against the side of the pavement. The hot sting told him he’d torn the skin. That was bad. That was very bad. The last thing you wanted when faced with a bloodthirsty nightmare was the scent of blood on you. Even more so when you were prone to fainting at a single droplet of it.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
He urged himself up onto his hands and knees, but within seconds a kick to his stomach sent him flying onto his back.
Crack!
