She moved her gaze to Tabitha. Aubrey had been upset that Tabitha was second-in-command—that she’d been chosen to lead the group if something had happened to Nick. Aubrey had thought she’d have done a better job. This all proved what a lie that was.
She looked at Rich.
“What did you find out?” she asked over the noise of the rotors.
He seemed uncomfortable, and he glanced at Jack before turning back to Aubrey.
“We found out how the BMP works,” he said. “Everything. I could drive it myself.”
“What about the device?” she asked, but before the words even escaped her lips, the thought struck her. The BMP had gone silent when everything else had. The turret hadn’t pivoted to aim at Josi or Rich when the rest of the soldiers had. It was dead.
“There is no protection for their vehicles,” Rich said. “They’re just as vulnerable to electronic interference as everything else.”
Aubrey’s hand balled into a fist.
“This is good,” Nick said. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is good information.”
Aubrey was seething. “How is this good? How could it possibly be good?”
“It’s not just good,” Nick said. “It’s great. It tells us that they’re disabling themselves whenever they disable us.”
It was Jack who responded. “How is that possible? We’ve heard about how they’re obliterating our forces.”
Nick was smiling. “It means that they’re bringing the device close to us. They’re moving the device around. That has to be it.”
“So we killed all those men to find out they’re moving the device around?” Aubrey asked.
“I can guarantee you,” Nick said, nearly shouting over the noise of the blades, “the brass will be thrilled to get this intel. Thrilled. Do you know how much easier it is to chase down a device than it is to fight against an army full of indestructible vehicles? That BMP is just a regular BMP, and their tanks are just regular tanks. This is great news.”
This was good news? It didn’t feel like good news. It felt more like failure.
Aubrey turned and looked out the window. They were flying low—less than a hundred feet above the freeway. She assumed it was in case the power went out, so they could try to survive a crash landing.
She looked back at Nick. She wished she could talk to him privately. She wanted to apologize. To plead for forgiveness. But it would have to wait until they got back to the base.
She could talk to Jack, though.
She spoke quietly, her voice muffled completely by the rotors. “Jack, can you hear me?”
He nodded.
“I’m not going to let this happen again,” she said. “I screwed up. Bad. I didn’t follow orders, and I might have been the reason that all those men had to die.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but she was glad he couldn’t—at least, not privately.
“I’m going to do better,” she said, feeling another tear on her cheek. “I’m going to be better. A better soldier. I’m going to follow orders. No more screwing around thinking I know more than my commanding officer does. Because I don’t.”
He gave her a smile.
The distant horizon was turning a gray blue when the helicopter landed in a field next to a dozen other Black Hawks and three big Chinooks. Nick stood and slid the door open, and the team hurried out, Jack pausing to take Aubrey’s hand and help her down.
Nick turned and pointed at Josi and Aubrey. Josi looked green again from the flight. “Josi, I need you to come with me. They’re going to want to hear your report ASAP. And Aubrey, get to the medic tent. You know where that is?”
Aubrey nodded.
“You need someone to help you?”
Even though she knew Jack was ready and eager to volunteer, Aubrey shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Nick said. “The rest of you, get some sleep. We’ll debrief later. Good work out there.”
Everyone nodded and began leaving, but Jack paused, watching Aubrey. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Really.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m going to see the medics,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”
He sighed. “Everything’s fine. You’re going to be fine.”
“I know.”
He turned and left, and Aubrey started toward the medic’s tent. But as soon as Jack was out of sight—even though she knew he was probably listening—she took a right and headed toward the training area.
Her leg hurt, but she let the pain motivate her. She found what she was looking for in the center of the training field. It looked the same as the one back at her basic training camp. The obstacle-course wall.
She thought about saying something to Jack, but decided not to. This was for her. Something she needed to do.
Aubrey tested her weight on her bad leg, balancing on it. Pain shot from her knee to her hip, but it held her.
With a deep breath, she took a running start, gritting her teeth against the stabbing jolts coming from her muscles. When she reached the wall, she leapt.
Her fingers caught the top, and she clamped on tight, using the momentum to curl her biceps and bring her chin up above the top of the wooden planks. She gasped as her legs slapped the wall, but she didn’t let the pain stop her. She swung one elbow over the top, then the other, and lifted herself up on the palms of her hands. When the peak of the wall was at her waist, she bent forward and turned, slinging her good leg up and over.
Straddling the top, she took a long breath. She flexed her bad leg, the pain still fierce but bearable. She could feel new wetness dripping near the bandage and knew she’d reopened the wound.
Let it bleed, she thought, and lifted that leg over. She clenched her teeth and then dropped, making sure to break her fall with her good leg.
Aubrey smiled, and limped to the medic station.
Aubrey woke to see Tabitha shaking her shoulder.
“Time to get up,” she said. “We’re meeting in twenty minutes.”
Aubrey stood slowly, her muscles aching from the night’s activities. She looked down at the large white bandage wrapped around her thigh. There was a spot of red just above the cut, but that was all. The medics had given her eight stitches and some painkillers.
Josi was still sleeping, and Tabitha looked reluctant to wake her. Josi had come in even later than Aubrey had.
“What time is it?” Aubrey asked, rubbing her face with both hands.
“One thirty,” Tabitha said.
Aubrey nodded and reached for her pants. Four hours of sleep. She felt like she could sleep another twelve.
“Do you think she remembers her dreams?” Tabitha asked. “The way she remembers everything else?”
“I hope not,” Krezi said, pinning up her hair. “She needs a break.”
Tabitha reached down and touched Josi’s arm. She woke with a start, sitting up.
“What is it?” Josi asked.
“Meeting in twenty,” Tabitha said, and then checked the clock. “Make that eighteen.”
Josi flopped down again and covered her eyes with her arm.
There was something comforting about being back in ACUs. Aubrey felt like a real soldier again instead of a spy.
Josi uncovered one eye. “You guys already shower?”
“I did before they stitched me up,” Aubrey said.
Tabitha shook her head, and ran her hands through her short blond hair. “I wish I did.”
“We can’t keep going at this pace forever.” Josi swung her feet over the side of her cot. “I know. I know. We’re at war. But don’t the Russians have to take a break for showers and sleep?”
“Do you remember your dreams?” Krezi asked Josi.
“Every single one,” Josi said without looking up. “It almost doesn’t feel like being asleep.”
“Is your brain going to explode one day?” Krezi asked, reaching for her patrol cap.
Josi groaned and stood up. “It feels like it is. They say after the war I’m going to get studied—they want to see if they can make everyone’s brains work like mine. Which proves they don’t get how awful it is.”
“I think we’re all going to get studied before we get out of this,” Aubrey said. “We’ll have lifetime careers as test subjects.”
“But they’re just using us while they can,” Tabitha said. “We’re tools. Krezi’s a gun.”
“Hottest gun you ever saw,” Krezi said, and made a kissy face in the mirror.
Aubrey laughed. “Yeah, these ACUs are really hot.”
Josi had pulled on her pants and was lacing up her boots. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m glad the ACUs are formless. The last thing we need is one more reason for the boys to stare at us.”
“I don’t mind,” Krezi said.
“You’re fifteen,” Aubrey said.
“We don’t all get to have our boyfriends on the team,” Krezi shot back.
Tabitha laughed. “Jack and Aubrey are just friends. Isn’t that what you told the drill sergeant back in training, Aubrey?”
“I’ve seen Rich looking at you, Krezi,” Aubrey said, dodging the question.
“I’ve seen Rich looking at all of us,” Krezi said. “He’s a fifteen-year-old boy.”
Aubrey finished buttoning her jacket and moved to the mirror to pin up her hair. Her eyes were better now that she’d slept.
“Jack isn’t Aubrey’s boyfriend,” Josi said. “He’s her puppy dog.”
Aubrey turned and stuck out her tongue. “You’re just jealous.”
“I think we’re all jealous,” Tabitha said.
A moment later Josi joined Aubrey at the mirror. “I wish we could wear our hair down more often.”
“I’m sure we will,” Aubrey said. “We’re spies, remember?”
“We’re special ops,” Josi corrected. “And if you want my guess, we won’t be doing any spying for a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the Russians are on the move. I’m sure that’s what our meeting is about.”
“Great.”
“How do you know?” Krezi asked.
“I spent a lot of time in the library during basic training. I read Sun Tzu, Carl von Clausewitz, Jomini. All of the great classics. And every one of them says that if you want to win a war, you attack when the enemy is least ready. We’re getting more ready every day—more of our soldiers are arriving, and from here we just have to get them on the train through Snowqualmie Pass, and they’ll cross the mountain in a matter of hours. Who knows how many people we’ve already amassed on the front. But we’re still not ready—not as ready as they are. According to every strategist I’ve read, the best plan is to attack now and don’t give us time to get more troops dug in.”
Aubrey grinned at Josi in the mirror. “And I thought you were just a pretty face.”
Captain Gillett and the six other Green Berets were already in the tent when the girls arrived. Rich and Jack hadn’t gotten there yet.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” VanderHorst said as they took their seats. He was looking at Aubrey, and she felt instantly uncomfortable.
“Nick deserves all the credit,” Aubrey said quietly, looking down at the table.
“That’s not what I mean,” VanderHorst said.
Gillett put his hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “What he means is that you’re going to get a Purple Heart.”
That stunned her. “Seriously? I’m walking around. I’m fine.”
Rich and Jack entered the tent. Jack was smiling—he must have been listening.
“I read the medic’s report this morning,” Gillett said. “You took shrapnel from a Russian grenade.”
“I only needed eight stitches.” The last thing Aubrey wanted was an award for her own stupidity. For disobeying orders and getting a dozen men killed—even if they were the enemy.
“Eight stitches still qualifies,” VanderHorst said. “You were injured in combat by an enemy weapon. Welcome to the club.” He rolled up his sleeve and showed a jagged scar on his forearm. Then he began to clap and the rest of the room joined in.
Sergeant Lytle spoke up. “I hear you’re not too bad with a gun either.”
Aubrey looked down and shook her head.
The applause quieted, and Gillett took his place at the head of the table.
“I wish we had more time to debrief last night’s mission. There are things that we need to talk about, but first I want to make you aware of a new situation that’s arisen.”
He unfolded a map on the table.
“We’re here, just north of Yakima. The Russians are on the other side of the Cascade mountain range. That’s good, because there aren’t a lot of ways to cross the mountains, and under normal circumstances we would be able to pin them in the mountain passes and stop their advance.”
“But,” Rich said, “they have the device.”
Gillett nodded. “This morning, an armored division tried to move into defensive positions around the mouth of Snowqualmie Pass and got stopped in its tracks—literally, I guess. Our satellite intel suggests that the Russians will be both moving through the pass and making use of the railroad.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Rich asked.
“No,” Gillett said, and pointed again. “The railroad takes a slightly different course through the mountains.”
“Can’t we bomb the railroad?” Jack asked.
“If we could keep anything in the air long enough,” Gillett said, frustration in his voice. “We should be able to bomb the pass, too. Our analysts expect the Russians to move fast. They want to take all of Washington, and they want to do it before we are able to get enough troops here to defend it.”
“How far away are reinforcements?” Rich asked.
“We don’t have that kind of information. We need to focus on our job, and right now our job is to find that damn device and destroy it.”
“Captain,” Chase-Dunn said. “If the Russians haven’t made it through the pass yet, then how did the device get up to stop our armor? Is it moving separately?”
“We don’t know,” Gillett answered. “At this point, we have no idea what this device looks like or how it’s being moved or activated. Some have suggested that it’s a satellite, or a high-altitude plane. Some have suggested that it’s small and being moved in a civilian truck. Some have even suggested that it’s a lambda.”
“That would be one scary lambda,” Chase-Dunn said.
“And that’s why the lambda theory keeps getting shot down,” Gillett said. “We’ve never encountered anyone with powers even remotely on the scale of this thing.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Aubrey asked.
“We’re going to the front lines—for real this time,” Gillett answered. “We’re officially the recon team looking for the device.”
He looked at the six lambdas. “You can all perform without power. And we can all fire our rifles without power. We’re going to stop them.”
TWENTY-ONE
ZASHA STOOD OVER FYODOR’S BED, watching him twitch and writhe under the effect of the drugs. They were in a farmhouse just off of I-90, in the town of Cle Elum, at the far east end of the pass through the mountains. She’d been told the name of the pass but it was some American Indian word she couldn’t pronounce.
Two companies of armor and an artillery company were in the town now. All of them were immobilized by Fyodor, but he was positioned as the barrier blocking the American advance. Behind them, in the pass, hundreds more Russian vehicles were approaching. They were being covered by Russian fighter aircraft—Zasha couldn’t be everywhere at once.
“We need to break through here—and soon,” General Feklisov was saying in the other room. “Our northern and southern spearheads are struggling to cross the mountains. If we can’t do it with Zasha and Fyodor, then no one can do it.”
Zasha sat down in the large overstuffed chair
in the corner. This house seemed very American to her—the bedroom was a child’s and it was decorated with posters of basketball players. It wasn’t a sport she’d ever seen played, but she recognized the distinctive ball. There hadn’t been much time for sports in her training camp, other than the occasional game of football—what did Americans call it? She couldn’t remember.
This child seemed to have a lot of toys. More than one child should need. He certainly didn’t have enough books. Those had been her childhood entertainments, and the pitifully small shelf above this boy’s bed made her disgusted with him. Or with his parents. They were probably the ones to blame for a boy who cared more for toys and basketball than for books. She looked at Fyodor’s twisted, emaciated body. He loved to read, even more than she did.
Doctor Safin entered the room, and Zasha stood.
“He’s been on the drugs too long,” she said.
Doctor Safin nodded. “Yes. But it will have to be a little bit longer.”
The doctor took Fyodor’s pulse, and then his blood pressure. He checked his temperature and his pupils. All the things he normally did. Zasha wondered if there would ever be a time when Fyodor’s health would override the general’s demands. She doubted it.
And why should it? Fyodor’s powers were immense. If he wasn’t utilized for his powers, then what good was he to the country? He was just an invalid boy.
No, he was a friend. A powerful tool, but a friend. She wished that he were awake so he could speak.
“When do we move out?” she asked the doctor. She rarely spoke with the generals directly—she worked with Doctor Safin. “And are we bringing in the glider?”
“Are you feeling overworked?” the doctor asked, looking up at her.
“The generals are talking about a full ground attack, aren’t they? We ought to have the glider ready.”
“If you’re positioned well you won’t need to move about too much,” he said.
“When are we moving out?” she asked again.
“There is already American armor at the edge of Fyodor’s bubble,” he said. “Quite a bit. And more is coming. We’ll wait until more of our artillery has been brought into position.”