to the beat she was keeping with her fingers. Occasionally she would tap the metallic steel of the rifle slung around her shoulder to add the clink of a mock symbol to her own personal concert.
Ian now focused across the room. Anna was visibly nervous, sitting next to Adam on the love seat. Her eyes looked lost, unfocused. The bruise on her face had given way to dark bags that hung from beneath her eyes; it was obvious that she was not sleeping. Anna had been one of Grace’s closest friends over the last five years, and Ian never remembered the girl looking quite this disheveled. He knew about the situation with her parents and what she and Grace had gone through to get out of the city; he hoped that she would be able to control the adrenalin rollercoaster that had become life. For now, she seemed to be handling it, as she by bounced her foot up and down on the hardwood floor while clutching at a small fanny pack with a red cross stitched on the outside. Evolving into the group’s field medic was the only thing that gave her purpose.
Adam’s demeanor was less nervous than Anna. If anything, he seemed angry. The boy had watched his Scoutmaster die, had a gun held to his head, and had stabbed an enemy soldier. Adam had almost paid the ultimate price after taking a bullet by that same enemy. His wounds were raw, but healing quickly; thanks to his youthfulness and the medical attention he was receiving. He was eager to be part of the action, so once everyone was woken up for the meeting, he donned his own equipment, almost daring anyone to stop him. What the group couldn’t see was the interlacing of fingers between Adam and Anna, hidden by gear and the nearness of their bodies.
Leah sat back from Ian a few feet. She visually tried to separate herself from him during times where he had to give orders to other people. She wanted everyone to see that she could take the orders like they could. The behavior was modeled after a psychological ploy used by the CIA, when groups were thrown together as unlikely allies. Ian knew what she was doing and agreed wholeheartedly with her action. He needed her to be able to move freely within the group so that they could make the right strategic decisions based on the information that she learned.
Bob and Violet rounded out the assembly. Bob was sitting in his well-worn recliner chair. Pain etched along the lines of his face; he looked pale at best. His own gunshot wounds were taking much longer to heal than that of his son. But, in true Marine fashion, he was there, engaged and willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his family. Bob had assumed a second in command type of role, and was willing to do anything to protect his family, and now, Ian’s family too.
Bob’s wife Violet was the glue that held the Tiller family together. She always appeared ready and calm. Years of emergency room rounds at the hospital giving her the ability to focus her emotion into action, and compartmentalize the reality into a place that would haunt her in her dreams…something that good soldiers, and ER nurses learn to do as part of the job.
Before Ian spoke, he acknowledged to himself that they had probably let a number of security protocols slip. He could blame how tired he was, or the emotion of almost loosing his family, but at the end of the day, he had been through worse, and he had let his training slip. He vowed not to let that happen again. This group was all that stood between an invading force, Freakers, and the survival of the Tiller and Burrows families.
“It’s been 15 minutes,” Leah quietly said to Ian, snapping him from his own mental game prep. No one else knew that she had spoken.
Ian knew what 15 minutes meant. It was how long they had gone since spotting the enemy, or with a reaction. Fifteen minutes was a benchmark to the readiness of any fighting force; if they couldn’t get it right in that time,
Ian now focused across the room. Anna was visibly nervous, sitting next to Adam on the love seat. Her eyes looked lost, unfocused. The bruise on her face had given way to dark bags that hung from beneath her eyes; it was obvious that she was not sleeping. Anna had been one of Grace’s closest friends over the last five years, and Ian never remembered the girl looking quite this disheveled. He knew about the situation with her parents and what she and Grace had gone through to get out of the city; he hoped that she would be able to control the adrenalin rollercoaster that had become life. For now, she seemed to be handling it, as she by bounced her foot up and down on the hardwood floor while clutching at a small fanny pack with a red cross stitched on the outside. Evolving into the group’s field medic was the only thing that gave her purpose.
Adam’s demeanor was less nervous than Anna. If anything, he seemed angry. The boy had watched his Scoutmaster die, had a gun held to his head, and had stabbed an enemy soldier. Adam had almost paid the ultimate price after taking a bullet by that same enemy. His wounds were raw, but healing quickly; thanks to his youthfulness and the medical attention he was receiving. He was eager to be part of the action, so once everyone was woken up for the meeting, he donned his own equipment, almost daring anyone to stop him. What the group couldn’t see was the interlacing of fingers between Adam and Anna, hidden by gear and the nearness of their bodies.
Leah sat back from Ian a few feet. She visually tried to separate herself from him during times where he had to give orders to other people. She wanted everyone to see that she could take the orders like they could. The behavior was modeled after a psychological ploy used by the CIA, when groups were thrown together as unlikely allies. Ian knew what she was doing and agreed wholeheartedly with her action. He needed her to be able to move freely within the group so that they could make the right strategic decisions based on the information that she learned.
Bob and Violet rounded out the assembly. Bob was sitting in his well-worn recliner chair. Pain etched along the lines of his face; he looked pale at best. His own gunshot wounds were taking much longer to heal than that of his son. But, in true Marine fashion, he was there, engaged and willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his family. Bob had assumed a second in command type of role, and was willing to do anything to protect his family, and now, Ian’s family too.
Bob’s wife Violet was the glue that held the Tiller family together. She always appeared ready and calm. Years of emergency room rounds at the hospital giving her the ability to focus her emotion into action, and compartmentalize the reality into a place that would haunt her in her dreams…something that good soldiers, and ER nurses learn to do as part of the job.
Before Ian spoke, he acknowledged to himself that they had probably let a number of security protocols slip. He could blame how tired he was, or the emotion of almost loosing his family, but at the end of the day, he had been through worse, and he had let his training slip. He vowed not to let that happen again. This group was all that stood between an invading force, Freakers, and the survival of the Tiller and Burrows families.
“It’s been 15 minutes,” Leah quietly said to Ian, snapping him from his own mental game prep. No one else knew that she had spoken.
Ian knew what 15 minutes meant. It was how long they had gone since spotting the enemy, or with a reaction. Fifteen minutes was a benchmark to the readiness of any fighting force; if they couldn’t get it right in that time,
Similar Books
