Get her out of here?
As in, she was being rescued? Or as in, she was being moved to a new location?
While she had no evidence to support this, something about these men made her feel like they weren't enemies. More, like they were almost friends. But they weren't her friends, she had no idea who they were or why they were there, so she wasn't going to blindly put her faith in them. That would be both stupid and suicidal.
“I'm Voodoo,” the kneeling man told her, his voice still soft, unhurried, even though she felt an urgency in the room she couldn’t understand. “That’s Steel.” He nodded at the man she had decided was their leader. “Blade, Thunder, Lion, and Dragon.” With each name, he nodded at one of the men, but they were all in black, all wearing night vision goggles, except for one of them, so it was hard to keep a name with a person.
That was when it clicked.
One of the men wasn't wearing night vision goggles.
There was only one reason you would break into a supposedly secure lab facility—and that was what they’d done because they were all armed—and not wear something that would help you to see unless you didn't need its help.
Was it possible?
“Can you tell me your name, honey?” Voodoo asked.
“You have minutes, five of them, then we’re out of here,” Steel said, his voice harsh, but she didn't feel like that anger was directed at her, so Indigo forced herself not to stiffen.
“Indigo,” she whispered. Her throat was dry, and her lips cracked, she was still way too hot, but tentative hope fluttered to lifeinside her. She was doing her best to stamp it out because hope had no place in her world. “You … you're like me,” she murmured.
How was that even possible?
As far as she was aware, no one survived the drugs. At least no one had survived them in the months she’d been kept there. People came and went. Usually lasting little more than a few days at the most. Since they all lived in glass cages side by side, she knew they were either consumed with a rage that led to them attacking the guards and getting themselves killed, or they took their own lives. She’d watched in horror as one woman ran her head into the one concrete wall of their cells repeatedly until she died, watched others hang themselves, while some slit their wrists.
But these men were there, alive, functioning, and just like her. Indigo wasn't really sure exactly how she knew, it was deeper than the warmth inside her, or the lack of night vision goggles on the one man, somehow, she just … knew.
“Yeah, honey, we’re like you,” Voodoo told her, and when he moved his hands from where they’d been pressed on her legs, she almost cried out at the loss.
Somehow, she kept it in, chewing on her bottom lip to do so. These men might be like her, but she wasn't sure what that meant. They’d broken in there, but she didn't know why. Were they looking for Dr. Gardner? If they were, they’d be disappointed because he wasn't there. He came and went, but he never stayed long. Usually just came and yelled at everyone, complained that his drugs still weren't working, raged about someone called Whitney betraying him, and then left again in a huff.
“How?” she asked. She needed to understand how they lived, even though everyone else didn't. Howshelived when everyone else didn't.
Something softened in the man’s stance, although without being able to see his eyes, it was hard to say what exactly, and Voodoo ran a hand over her dirty, matted hair. “We’ll tell you all about it later, but right now, we need to get you out of here. We kind of have a situation.”
“A situation?” Maybe some of the guards were still alive. No, that didn't make sense, she remembered one of the guards telling another that everyone was dead before she heard two gunshots.
“Fire,” one of the men from near the door, she thought he might have been the one Voodoo introduced as Dragon, told her. “And at least half a dozen men. Could be more. It’s hard to tell when the smell of death is so strong.”
“They’re probably thinking that the fire will flush us out,” another of the guys said.
“Must have been nearby, moved in once they thought they had us trapped,” someone else said.
“Our five minutes is up,” Steel announced.
“It’s not, it’s only been three,” Voodoo countered.
“Then consider those minutes lost. We need to move,” Steel ordered.
“No,” she said, surprised by the strength in her tone. There was no way she was going to be able to walk on her own, and if more guards were out there, waiting to just pick them off as soon as they left, the men had a better chance of making it out without her. “Leave me.”
“Not happening,” Voodoo said with a ferocity that surprised her. “We don’t leave a team member behind.”
“But I'm not a member of your team,” she reminded him. They didn't know her, she should mean nothing to them. They were the same, but that didn't make them a team.
“You're one of us,” Voodoo said simply, like that explained everything.
Only it didn't to her. Maybe that could be attributed to the fact that her head was pounding, and her body too hot, her skin too tight, and she felt woozy and disconnected. Or maybe it could be attributed to the fact that she’d never had a team. It had always been her against the world, and she wasn't used to anyone, let alone strangers, being willing to put their lives on the line for her.
