beneath them, heard the hum of the engine. The truck traveled at a steady speed, but she didn’t hear any signs that there were men around them. She couldn’t try to move until she knew for sure.
She gazed at the man beside her and swallowed against the dryness until it receded. “Are they GenHance?” He nodded again, confirming her worst fears. “Where are the men?”
He shifted his eyes up toward the sound of the engine.
Lilah felt his rigid body tremble, and saw pain in his eyes before he shut them tightly. He was in worse shape than she was, perhaps having some reaction to the drugs he’d been given. She moved the lead weight of her left arm, forcing it up until she felt the back of his arm under her hand, and held on as he shook.
“Easy,” she said, over and over.
Gradually his convulsive movements slowed and then stopped, and he released a breath against her cheek. A moment later his left hand moved from her neck, his fingers sliding up until he cupped her cheek.
He opened his eyes, blinking away sweat that was now pouring down his face from his hairline. “Must. Escape.”
Her heart constricted. “You’re too sick.”
Now he moved his head from side to side. “Better. Stronger. Soon.”
Lilah understood the string of words. He wasn’t convulsing, he was fighting the drugs—or they were wearing off. She watched him as he rested, although like her he kept his eyes open and on her face. She tested her limbs, grimacing as her right arm began to wake with a wave of pins and needles. She managed to lift it, startled by how heavy it was, and then she saw the reason why as her flexing fingers touched the backs of his.
“They handcuffed us together.”
He nodded slowly.
“Jackasses.” She tried to hold his hand for a moment, but they were knuckle to knuckle, so she could only rub the backs of her fingers against his. He had huge hands. “My name is Lilah.” She glanced down at his neck, where the only thing he wore, a length of chain with two metal tags, lay against his skin. She could read one of them. “Walker Kimball.” She looked into his eyes. “You’re a marine.”
Walker’s expression turned curiously impassive, as if he was waiting for some negative reaction. From the beginning the war had never been popular, but Lilah knew the troops who were sent over to fight in the Middle East were never consulted as to whether they thought it was worthwhile or not. They were sent there to fight, many of them to die, in a conflict that probably made as little sense to them as it did the rest of the world.
The other tag was an enameled navy blue football helmet with the icon of a white horse with an orange mane. “Looks like you’re a Denver Broncos fan, too.” Lilah smiled. “Were you coming home on leave?”
“No. War.” He struggled to get the next word out. “Afghanistan.”
“They took you from Afghanistan? From the fighting over there?” He nodded, and Lilah felt sick. “How?”
“Wounded. Alone.” And then he said one last word that chilled her to the bottom of her heart. “Sold.”
Aphrodite and her other Takyn friends had told Lilah about GenHance’s plans to harvest their DNA and use it to create a superhuman vaccine, one they intended to sell to factions and governments for use on their covert operatives and soldiers. Walker must have been purchased for use as a test subject; who better to experiment on than a real soldier who had been left for dead? No one would ever know what had really happened to him. The military would simply list him as one of the missing in action.
“We have to get out of here,” she told him, gripping his arm with her free hand. “How much do you weigh?” She’d drag him out if she had to.
“Too much. Rest.” Walker moved his hand to stroke his palm over her hair. “Soon.” He gave her a small, grim smile before he repeated, “Soon.”
Until that moment the enormity of the situation hadn’t actually registered, but the gentle
She gazed at the man beside her and swallowed against the dryness until it receded. “Are they GenHance?” He nodded again, confirming her worst fears. “Where are the men?”
He shifted his eyes up toward the sound of the engine.
Lilah felt his rigid body tremble, and saw pain in his eyes before he shut them tightly. He was in worse shape than she was, perhaps having some reaction to the drugs he’d been given. She moved the lead weight of her left arm, forcing it up until she felt the back of his arm under her hand, and held on as he shook.
“Easy,” she said, over and over.
Gradually his convulsive movements slowed and then stopped, and he released a breath against her cheek. A moment later his left hand moved from her neck, his fingers sliding up until he cupped her cheek.
He opened his eyes, blinking away sweat that was now pouring down his face from his hairline. “Must. Escape.”
Her heart constricted. “You’re too sick.”
Now he moved his head from side to side. “Better. Stronger. Soon.”
Lilah understood the string of words. He wasn’t convulsing, he was fighting the drugs—or they were wearing off. She watched him as he rested, although like her he kept his eyes open and on her face. She tested her limbs, grimacing as her right arm began to wake with a wave of pins and needles. She managed to lift it, startled by how heavy it was, and then she saw the reason why as her flexing fingers touched the backs of his.
“They handcuffed us together.”
He nodded slowly.
“Jackasses.” She tried to hold his hand for a moment, but they were knuckle to knuckle, so she could only rub the backs of her fingers against his. He had huge hands. “My name is Lilah.” She glanced down at his neck, where the only thing he wore, a length of chain with two metal tags, lay against his skin. She could read one of them. “Walker Kimball.” She looked into his eyes. “You’re a marine.”
Walker’s expression turned curiously impassive, as if he was waiting for some negative reaction. From the beginning the war had never been popular, but Lilah knew the troops who were sent over to fight in the Middle East were never consulted as to whether they thought it was worthwhile or not. They were sent there to fight, many of them to die, in a conflict that probably made as little sense to them as it did the rest of the world.
The other tag was an enameled navy blue football helmet with the icon of a white horse with an orange mane. “Looks like you’re a Denver Broncos fan, too.” Lilah smiled. “Were you coming home on leave?”
“No. War.” He struggled to get the next word out. “Afghanistan.”
“They took you from Afghanistan? From the fighting over there?” He nodded, and Lilah felt sick. “How?”
“Wounded. Alone.” And then he said one last word that chilled her to the bottom of her heart. “Sold.”
Aphrodite and her other Takyn friends had told Lilah about GenHance’s plans to harvest their DNA and use it to create a superhuman vaccine, one they intended to sell to factions and governments for use on their covert operatives and soldiers. Walker must have been purchased for use as a test subject; who better to experiment on than a real soldier who had been left for dead? No one would ever know what had really happened to him. The military would simply list him as one of the missing in action.
“We have to get out of here,” she told him, gripping his arm with her free hand. “How much do you weigh?” She’d drag him out if she had to.
“Too much. Rest.” Walker moved his hand to stroke his palm over her hair. “Soon.” He gave her a small, grim smile before he repeated, “Soon.”
Until that moment the enormity of the situation hadn’t actually registered, but the gentle
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