The office was on the second floor of Peterson Air Force Base’s command and control building – the old headquarters of the North American Aerospace Defense Command from before the outbreaks. Nothing distinguished the door from the other rooms along the hall. But Alex knew it was the temporary office of the Cheyenne Directorate’s new commander: Brigadier General Alan Harrison.

Harrison had summoned her to the meeting an hour earlier. The ringing phone at her bedside had saved her from something – a dream or nightmare, she couldn’t remember. She woke cold and sweaty with her heart thudding in her chest as she answered the phone. Shepherd. It was something about Shepherd.

As she stood outside Harrison’s door, the memory of tearing into Shepherd’s face returned. The barriers she had attempted to build around her memories of Kansas City kept collapsing. She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. The scene faded although Shepherd’s cry of pain lingered. That cry focused and encapsulated everything that had happened: her slaughter of the NEA and the deaths of everyone in Kansas City.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since the team’s return to Peterson. There had been no debriefing of the mission or the events at Topeka, and as far as she knew, no official debriefing would take place.

She took another deep breath and then knocked on the door. Her heart was beating just as fast now as it had been upon waking up from her nightmare.

“Come in,” General Harrison answered.

She opened the door and went inside. The office was small and undecorated. Harrison sat behind a desk with only a closed laptop and a manila folder on the otherwise empty surface. She went to attention and saluted. Harrison returned the salute without standing up. “Have a seat,” he said.

“And aren’t we looking sharp.” Alex spun around. Agent Ellzey sat on a folding chair in the corner of the room. He flashed a wide grin and gave her a mock salute. “I sometimes forget there’s a woman underneath those fatigues.”

She felt embarrassed. She had put on her dress uniform expecting a formal meeting with General Harrison. She now wished she had stayed with her normal duty uniform.

“What is this?” she asked Harrison. “Why is he here?”

Harrison began, “Agent Ellzey is—”

“That’s no way to speak to a general,” Ellzey said. “What would Daddy think? And not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here to represent the Committee. We’ve learned from our mistakes and we’ve decided to keep much closer tabs on our military.”

Harrison bristled but made no reply. He gestured to a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”

Alex sat while Harrison opened the laptop and tapped a few keys. He spun the laptop around and pushed it across the desk. Alex leaned forward and examined the screen. She recognized Kansas City’s downtown loop – or what remained of it. The image was from a satellite or high-flying drone. Snow-covered the toppled buildings and cracked streets.

“You know what this is?” Harrison said.

Alex nodded slowly.

“We never finished our conversation in Topeka, but Agent Ellzey was kind enough to fill me in on the details you and Captain Shepherd refused to provide.”

Harrison held her gaze, waiting for a response. She looked away and said nothing.

“Modesty is the lowest of the virtues,” Ellzey said in a cheery voice. “Don’t you want to take credit for a job well done?”

She had a sudden, strong desire to jump out of the chair and attack Ellzey. With any luck, she could slam her fist into his face just as Shepherd had done days earlier. The bruise showed prominently above Ellzey’s cheekbone. If she hit him right, she could break or at least dislocate his jaw. That or break her own hand or fingers. She kept seated, rigid and silent.

“There’s something I want you to take a look at.” Harrison took the laptop, typed into the keyboard, and manipulated the touchpad before turning the computer back to face her. The image of Kansas City remained in the background but now there were two more windows near the top of the screen. Both were low-resolution videos, paused, with white text identifying them as originating from Directorate units. The date and time of the recording showed in the upper right-hand corner of each window. Both recordings displayed 22 OCT 2032 and 23:17:00 – the date and time of Kansas City. Alex looked closer. The video on the left showed the final overpass above the interstate. The designator identified the video’s source as Shepherd’s helmet camera. The other recording showed a C-130 parked on a strip of tarmac. Directorate soldiers frozen midstride were loading boxes and palettes of equipment onto the aircraft. The source of the video was somewhere high above the scene, perhaps the control tower or the top of a hangar. Alex guessed the video was from the Kansas City downtown airport.

“Go ahead,” Harrison said. “Play them.”

Alex put a finger to the touchpad, went to each video screen, and clicked the start button. Sound played from the laptop’s speakers. There were screams as the first of the NEA soldiers on the overpass dissolved. A single gunshot followed, then another, then a full barrage until a staccato roar overwhelmed the speakers, creating an electronic crackle. An APC blocking one end of the overpass erupted into fire as if a landmine had exploded beneath it. The vehicle’s turret spun into the air and then slammed down, breaking apart the pavement. Everywhere, men were dying. The grainy, low resolution of the recording spared her from viewing most of the details, but the sound of the soldiers tearing apart made her feel ill. It was the piercing shriek, the shrill note that seemed impossible from a human being. Then the scream would drop in pitch to a wet, tortured howl before cutting off completely with the shredding of the victim’s vocal cords.

She looked at the other recording. The timestamp mirrored the first with only a two-second lag. The men loading the C-130 had all stopped what they were doing. They were looking in the same direction, toward something off-screen. Alex wondered if it was the sound of the gunfire and explosions coming from the overpass. As far as she could tell, the second recording was mute. The men began to flee. They dropped the wooden crates, which shattered and disgorged their contents on the tarmac. Alex leaned closer. One-by-one, the men fell. They writhed on the pavement as if fighting some invisible enemy until all of them lay still. The camera was too far away to clearly make out the bodies, but pools of blood were spreading beneath each of them. She again looked at the timestamp. She stared at it, then back at the other video. The overpass was quiet. All of the NEA soldiers were dead. Shepherd’s camera tilted down, and she saw herself resting in his lap. She was staring straight ahead. Her eyes were dark red. Shepherd began to shake her and call out her name. Suddenly, the picture flew backward. She saw her face snap toward Shepherd. She heard his scream.

“Turn it off,” she said, looking away. Her mouth was dry.

Harrison reached across the desk and pushed the laptop closed. Alex stared at her hands. The Directorate soldiers at the downtown airport, less than a mile from the overpass, had died only seconds after her slaughter of the NEA. A flash struck her, the memory of the overwhelming hunger, of how she had reached out across Kansas City, killing anything that had drawn her attention. She thought all of her targets had been NEA soldiers. The recordings seemed to prove her wrong.

“We have the final count.” Harrison’s tone was solemn. “Or at least as close as it’s going to get. One thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven. Fifteen percent of our active-duty combat arms personnel. I don’t expect that you knew many of those men. I did.”

One thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven. Alex found it difficult to conceptualize the number. She had never even seen that many people gathered in one place. She recalled something her father had said once: One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic.

Harrison continued, “Do you know what we call it when a soldier fires his weapon ‘by accident’?”

“A negligent discharge.” Shepherd had told her that on her first trip to the firing range.

“That’s right. Some people try to call it an ‘accidental discharge,’ but it’s nothing of the sort. A weapon doesn’t fire by accident. It has safeties. Those safeties have to be disengaged, and only then will the weapon fire if that soldier pulls the trigger. We treat a negligent discharge as an actionable offense. We expect our soldiers to have control of their weapons at all times.

“Our official line is that you had absolutely nothing to do with the disaster. As far as anyone is concerned, it was the NEA. But you and I both know who killed those soldiers. I don’t care if you ‘lost control.’ You may not be charged or punished for this, but you killed my men and I hope you never forget it.”

Alex blinked. Harrison’s voice was calm and controlled. It was not what she expected from the man she had often seen shout and lose his temper. Somehow, this was worse. She felt tears forming in her eyes, and she struggled to keep them contained.

“Now,” Harrison said, “you’re never to speak about what really happened in Kansas City. If anyone asks, your unit arrived to fight the NEA, you were forced to break contact, and you were knocked out by an unknown weapons system. We’ve prepared an after-action report on your mission. You’re going to read it and memorize it. That report is what really happened. Do you understand me?”

Harrison slid the manila folder across the desk.

Alex fought to maintain her composure. “I understand.”

“There’s one more thing to discuss before we’re done here. I debated putting your entire team on stand down. Unfortunately, we no longer have the manpower to lose such a well-trained unit. So, you’ve been detached. You’re no longer part of Echo Team.”

She took a moment to process the words. He had said it so casually and with such calmness as if it meant nothing. A weak, “What?” was all she could manage.

“You’re not to leave this base,” Harrison said. “When we transfer operations back to Cheyenne Mountain in a few days, you’re coming with us. And that’s where you’re going to stay.”

“But… what about my team?”

“Captain Shepherd has received orders for Echo’s next mission. They’ll depart tomorrow morning.”

“But you can’t—”

“This is not your decision.” Harrison pointed at the folder on the desk. “Take that back to your quarters and read it. You’re dismissed.”

Alex felt numb as she stood and picked up the folder. She looked at Ellzey as she walked toward the door. To her surprise, he did not smile or grin as she moved past.

The tears came as soon as she was outside. She found her way through the empty hallways to the nearest restroom. She went into the first stall, shut the door, and then buried her face in her hands. She began to sob. Harrison had finally put into words what she had expected to hear from Nicole or the team or even Shepherd. Yet they had all tried to help her deflect the blame for Kansas City onto Ellzey or the NEA. Ever since her departure from the Reagan, the full weight of the those deaths had stayed on the periphery save for brief incursions quickly suppressed by the events around her – the NEA’s surprise attack on Topeka, the chaotic retreat west along the interstate, and the flight home. Now, it felt like a crushing mass dropped atop her shoulders by Harrison’s damning indictment. And what hurt the most was her knowledge he was right.

What would Daddy think? Ellzey’s voice sneered at her. She had planned to visit the medical center. Now she doubted she could face her father even though he remained in a coma. After everything he had done to build up the Directorate, she had wiped so much of it away in seconds: the men, the city. And she had let the Committee replace him without even putting up a fight.

She did her best to control her breathing and quiet her sobs. Eventually, the tears slowed and stopped. She unrolled a piece of toilet paper and wiped at her eyes and cheeks. Then she noticed the manila folder she had dropped on the ground.

She picked up the folder and opened it. A satellite photo of Kansas City lay inside with an overlay of the team’s route. The overlay showed a path moving straight west from One Kansas City Place. The route terminated a mile beyond the downtown loop. Gone were any indicators of their true movements toward the airport and their eventual arrival at the Interstate-70 overpass. An abbreviated two-and-a-half page report followed the map. Everything up to the Blackhawk’s crash into One Kansas City Place remained true to events. After that, the report claimed the team had evacuated toward the Kansas River before an explosion of unknown origin had incapacitated them. Eventually, an Osprey had arrived on site to fly them to Topeka. The report omitted the presence of Agent Ellzey and the young albino man as well as the separate flight to the USS Ronald Reagan. There was also no speculation regarding the NEA’s weapons system and no mention of the nearly two thousand Directorate soldiers who had died.

Alex closed the report, left the stall, and went to the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and red. She washed her face with a handful of water. If only she were back in her room at the lodge. If only she could see Shepherd.

Did he know? Did he know I was off the team? Someone must have told him. But why didn’t he tell me?

She left the restroom and went to the atrium on the first floor. Outside, the sky was clear and the air warm, although a cool breeze ruffled her hair. That morning, a driver had picked her up from the lodge in a van and taken her to the command building. Now the van was gone, and there were no signs of anyone waiting to drive her back. She sighed and looked down at her polished black dress shoes – whoever had designed the footwear clearly hadn’t intended the owner to wear them for long-distance walks. She could return to the lobby and call for a ride, but it would only take a few minutes to reach the lodge, and she wanted some fresh air and time to think.

And I’m not going back in that building, she thought with contempt.

A group of junior officers greeted her as she started down the path away from the main entrance. She recognized one of them from the mountain although she couldn’t put a name to the face. She smiled back and hoped her eyes no longer betrayed her breakdown outside Harrison’s office.

“Alex!”

She stopped and looked around. A man ran toward her from the lobby. She recognized him as Sergeant Raymond Paul who had accompanied the team to New York and then transferred to Peterson to serve as a technician for command and control.

Paul huffed as he reached her near the parking lot. “Sorry,” he apologized and then took in another series of deep breaths. “Been a while since I did PT!”

She remembered Paul whistling his Broadway show tunes in the command room and later hearing his cheerful voice over the communications network during Kansas City. “How are you?” she said.

Paul shrugged. “Can’t complain. I saw you in the lobby from up on the top floor. I had to haul ass to catch up.”

“Oh. Did you need something?”

“Nope. Just signed out for the day. And you?”

“I’m going back to the Peak.”

“Walking?”

Alex nodded.

“I’d offer you a ride, but…” Paul sighed theatrically, “I’m afraid this lowly NCO doesn’t rate fuel with all the shortages. I’ve had to walk or carpool all this week.”

“It’s okay.”

“So, what’s the buzz?” Paul eyed her uniform. “Did you have a meeting?”

“With General Harrison.”

“General Harrison,” Paul repeated. “Still can’t get over that. Never thought I’d see the day when he went from a bird to a star. Can’t say he hasn’t wanted it, though. How’d the meeting go?”

“I…” She hesitated, unsure of how much she could say.

Paul looked around and then leaned in close and asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Hush hush?”

Alex nodded.

“Let me guess. Kansas City?”

Alex looked at him but said nothing.

“Want to know something funny?” Paul continued, keeping his voice low. “Every NCO and most of the junior officers who were in the command room during Kansas City have been reassigned to their own little corners of the Directorate.”

“What?”

“Poof,” Paul said, accompanying the word with a gesture of his hand. “I think the only reason I’m still here is because they can’t run half the systems without me.”

“You saw everything?” Alex said.

Paul nodded. “I thought I saw some bad things during the outbreaks, but…” His voice trailed off.

“You remember the outbreaks?”

“Sure. I don’t look that young, do I? I was fifteen when it happened. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of stories. Mine’s not all that much different.”

Alex shook her head.

Paul looked away. He seemed to debate saying anything more, but then he nodded. “Well, it was August, obviously. About a month left until school would have started again. My dad and I were out on a hunting trip east of Amarillo. It was the first time we had ever done anything like that. He was trying to make a man out of me, I guess. I never much liked the outdoors or guns or hunting; I was more into computers and video games. Bet you’d never have guessed, right?”

Both of them smiled.

Paul continued, “We had this little wind-up radio that we’d listen to each night. That’s when we heard about the outbreaks. The smart thing to do would have been to stay at our campsite. It was out in the middle of nowhere. The virus would never have made it to us. The problem was my mom was still back home. My dad told me I could stay put while he went to get her. There was no way I was staying out in the woods though – not alone.

“It took us about three days to make it back to town. Some of the things we saw… But by then, the outbreaks were mostly burned out. When we got home we found out my mom didn’t make it. We decided not to stay in town. We buried my mom in her garden and then packed up and left. About three days later, we ran into this group of rednecks. They didn’t even say anything before they shot my dad. They hit him right here.” Paul indicated a spot on the right side of his chest. “It didn’t kill him, but there was a lot of blood… everywhere. I tried to help him, but he gave me his rifle and told me to run. So… I ran. I never saw him again.”

“And you made it to Colorado Springs?” Alex said.

“Took a while. I think I was seventeen when I first saw one of the Directorate’s patrols. It was right around Albuquerque. They took me with them. When I asked to join up, they said yes. I was a few months shy of normal conscription age, but no one seemed to care.”

“So what you saw… in the command center…?”

Paul looked at the manila folder in her hand. “I got one of those, too, you know. Not from General Harrison but… from pretty high up.”

“Do you think it’s right? Covering everything up?”

“That’s a bit above my pay grade. What do you think?”

“General Harrison said it was my fault. He said I killed all of those people and he hoped I’d never forget.”

“That’s harsh.”

“You don’t think the same thing?”

“You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”

Alex didn’t reply. She remembered what she had felt while slaughtering the NEA soldiers on the overpass. She had wanted more. There had been hunger, something deep and persuasive that had taken control. She had almost torn Shepherd apart while trying to satisfy that hunger. And she knew part of her had enjoyed the killing. The only uncertainty was whether that same part of her had targeted the Directorate’s forces. She recalled the faces, hundreds if not thousands of them. She had seen the eyes and heard the screams of every person she had killed, but only on the overpass had she seen uniforms and insignia. All of those men had been NEA. With the others, her memory was blank, and she was scared to try to dig further.

“Well,” Paul went on, “I wasn’t really with you guys in New York, and I was back here safe and sound during Kansas City, but I know you saved the team plenty of times on both those missions. You saved lives. That’s got to count for something.”

Seven against almost two thousand. Was it worth it?

She had no answer.

They came to a crosswalk at an intersection. Paul pointed down the street to the right. “Well, this is my turn. Tell Captain Shepherd his old tech sarge Ray Paul sends his regards.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll see him,” she replied glumly. “He’s probably busy getting ready to leave.”

Paul cocked his head. “Leave? Where?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“No.”

“I’m off the team. They’re redeploying tomorrow without me.”

Paul gave her a disbelieving expression. “What?”

“I just found out from General Harrison. He said Captain Shepherd already had the orders.”

“Captain Shepherd didn’t tell you himself?” Paul looked confused.

“I haven’t seen him since we landed.”

“Oh.” Paul’s look of confusion turned to embarrassment.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Paul said quickly.

“What?”

“Well… We all just thought – or at least I did – that you two were… involved.”

Alex blushed but couldn’t help smiling. “No.”

“Sorry. Guess I got the wrong idea.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Well, we all came and saw you when you were in the hospital, but Captain Shepherd was there every day. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around base without him until today.” He shrugged. “It always seemed obvious you liked him. Harder to tell with the captain, but I thought he liked you, too.”

“I don’t know.” She thought back to the day of the funeral for Hensley and Neill. Don’t piss in your own rice bowl, Shepherd had said but they had spent time together almost daily the next three weeks, working to help her recover. Then there had been the fight in the hospital, where Shepherd had struck Ellzey. And afterwards, he had held her while she cried and tried to reassure herself her father would be all right. “He’s never really… you know… said anything.”

Paul seemed to consider this. “Have you ever thought he might feel intimidated?”

Alex shook her head.

“We’ve all seen you do some pretty spectacular things. I’ll bet you could KO anyone in the Directorate without lifting a finger. I heard about what you did to Ellzey right before you guys left for Kansas City.”

Alex wondered how Paul had found out about the incident. Then she realized the lobby had been full of people. Everyone in Peterson probably knows about it by now.

“Plus, I’d be pretty scared asking you out knowing your dad could disappear me if I did anything to piss you off.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, maybe not. But I’ll bet he wants people to believe he would.”

Alex smiled. She had a feeling Paul was right.

“Anyway, I better get going. You good the rest of the way?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Paul started away but then he turned back. “Hey, one more thing. If you want something, go for it. Don’t have any regrets. Life’s too short. You know what I’m saying?”

“I think so.”

Paul smiled. “Talk to you later.”

Alex watched him go and then crossed the street and continued along the sidewalk. Her uniform felt sweaty and uncomfortable by the time she arrived at Pike’s Peak Lodge. Once in her room, she kicked off the uncomfortable dress shoes and stripped out of her uniform. She took a quick shower before changing into a blouse and a pair of jeans.

She went back into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection was a stark improvement from how she had appeared after waking up onboard the USS Ronald Reagan. Her face remained gaunt but her eyes were no longer as sunken, and color had mostly returned to her skin. Her damp hair hung down to her shoulders. She often considered cutting her hair shorter to mimic the pictures of her mother. Except she enjoyed the way her longer hair framed her face and neck. Besides, she already had something of Katherine Bedford, a hereditary trait passed down from mother to daughter – the blue-grey eyes the color of steel and the old cities, of the skyscrapers in New York and Denver… and Kansas. Alex frowned. The face in the mirror frowned as well. She turned her thoughts away from Kansas City and back to her mother. She thought about that radiant smile from the pictures and tried to imitate the expression as she had done on so many occasions. She grimaced at the attempt; her smiled came off as forced and unnatural. She could not remember the last time she had come close to achieving that single most radiant element of her mother’s beauty. She turned from the mirror and shut off the bathroom lights.

She went to her bed and sat with her legs crossed. The satellite photo of Kansas City had slid out of the manila folder. She traced her finger along the route, starting at the landing zone just south of One Kansas City Place. Her finger came to the intersection. She took her hand away. She could still feel Park’s grip, how he had held onto her as if she were the only thing that mattered. Then he was gone. She shut the folder and set it aside.

Has Shepherd seen this? He must have. Everyone on the team must have been given a copy by now if they want all of us on the same page.

She flipped through the pages, again skimming the details of the mission. This time, she continued to the final sheet after the report and noticed the two signatures at the bottom. The first belonged to General Harrison as the approving authority for the report. The second signature belonged to Shepherd. She stared at the messy cursive writing and the printed name beneath. She shook her head. Shepherd couldn’t be the author of the report; they had only arrived at Peterson the previous morning – barely enough time to process the events of the battle let alone write a report. And he would never sign his name to such a blatant lie.

Alex got up from the bed and went to her door. She had no idea if Shepherd was even in his room but she began to imagine their conversation as she put on her shoes. She prioritized everything in her mind, thought about what she would say first when she saw him and tried to guess how he would respond. In her haste, she almost forgot the folder and her room key. She picked them up and went out in the hall.

When she reached Shepherd’s door, she stopped and listened. Silence from within. She raised her hand and knocked twice. Nothing. He’s not here. He must be off with the team getting ready. Even if he was here, he would be doing something more important than talking to—

The door opened. Shepherd stood in front of her, looking groggy and half-asleep. He wore a grey undershirt and a pair of black athletic pants. Stubble showed along his neck and chin but what immediately caught her attention was the ugly patch of scabbed and torn skin on his cheek. The bandage was gone. When he saw her, he straightened and his eyes became more sharp and aware.

“Alex?”

“Captain Shepherd.”

“What is it?” he said evenly.

“I…” Her voice faltered. She tried to recall the conversation she had rehearsed in her mind. Everything was gone. Then she remembered the folder. With a jerky motion, she held it out. He gave it a curious look and then took it from her hand. He opened the folder, examined the first page, and then closed it and handed it back.

He frowned. “Come in.”

Alex followed him inside. Sheets of notebook paper littered his desk. He had drawn a top-down view of a four-way intersection on each of the sheets. Tiny stick figures covered the middle of the southern street. The arrangement of the figures resembled the formation the team often used when moving in the open. She realized the intersection represented the one in Kansas City just east of their original objective. It was the intersection where Park, Williams, and Fletcher had died. He’s been replaying it, too. Wondering if he could have done something different. So much for letting it all go.

She looked at the bed. The sheets lay hastily thrown aside, and the imprint of his body showed on the mattress and pillow. She felt guilty but also wondered why he was sleeping so late into the afternoon.

Shepherd sat on edge of the mattress. “You read it?” he said, looking at the folder.

“Yes.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“General Harrison. I had a meeting with him.”

“So you know?”

Alex nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry.”

She noticed spots of blood on his pillow. She found it difficult to look him in the eyes; her gaze always drifted back to the wound on his cheek. “Did you write this?” she asked finally, holding up the manila folder.

“No.”

“But…”

“I signed it, but I didn’t write it.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you didn’t write it, then why did you sign it saying you did?”

“Orders.”

“From who?”

Shepherd gave her a hint of a smile. “Who do you think?”

Harrison. Who else?

She set the folder aside on Shepherd’s desk and then sat down next to him. He looked at her as she stared into her lap. “This is my fault,” she said softly.

“What?”

“That.” She gestured at the manila folder and then at the wound on his cheek. “And that. Kansas City. Everything.”

Shepherd reached up and touched the scarred tissue as if he had forgotten it was there. “I should have told you. About the team.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“There was a… debriefing after we landed. It was more like an interrogation. General Harrison was there. So was Ellzey. I was there for hours before they told me to sign that report. After that, they told me you were being detached. It was midnight by the time I got back here. I figured you were asleep.”

His explanation made her feel better but did nothing to change the reality of her removal from the team. She asked halfheartedly, “Did you… Did you try to fight it?”

“Of course. But it wasn’t my decision.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Alex noticed Shepherd’s hand resting at his side on the bedsheets. There was only a foot of space between them. He was not looking at her but at the wall. She wished she could read his thoughts. Is he thinking about me? The team? The mission? Before she realized what she was doing, she reached her own hand over and placed it on his.

Shepherd looked over. He did not move his hand away.

“Alex…”

“What?” Her voice carried a hint of desperation she had not meant to betray. “I remember what you said about not getting involved. But… if I’m off the team, then I’m not your subordinate anymore. I want to be on the team but I’m not. So what’s wrong?”

Shepherd withdrew his hand. Alex stared at him. She wished she had stayed in her room. She felt discarded and humiliated. Yet she couldn’t fault him. He claimed not to blame her for Kansas City, for what she had done to his face, for all the people she had slaughtered. But both of them knew she had done it just the same. She had hurt and nearly killed him, and he had watched while she tore apart the soldiers surrounding the overpass. She wanted to be with him – the calm, confident leader who had been patient but firm during training, who had led the team through life and death situations, and who had always treated her with kindness and respect. Yet she hadn’t considered how he felt about her, of how he would feel being with the woman who had destroyed Kansas City and killed everyone there.

“I-I’m sorry,” Alex said. Her vision was turning watery, and she wanted to escape room before her tears came. She started to stand from the bed.

“Wait.”

She hesitated, glanced at him, but then turned away. The first tears escaped her eyes and trickled along her nose, past her lips, and down to her jawline. She swallowed and shut her eyes to try to calm down. She hated appearing weak and emotional, especially in front of Shepherd. She was supposed to be strong, someone who could keep up with the men on the team, could keep up with Shepherd, not a sheltered daddy’s girl who broke down at the first sign of stress.

“Hey, look,” Shepherd said, “I didn’t mean to—”

“N-No. It’s my fault. I— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. Just… Just forget what I said.” Again, she moved to stand up. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Sit down,” he said gently.

She sat and wiped at her eyes. Shepherd was looking at her, appearing, she thought, somehow both concerned and amused. He took his hand from her shoulder and said, “Do you know what I thought when I first heard you were joining the team?”

She sniffled. “I bet you weren’t too thrilled.”

Shepherd smiled. “I thought it was a publicity stunt by your dad and that my unit was going to become a bunch of glorified babysitters. Then you showed up and started training with us. Even at the start, you always carried your own weight. You never tried to use your dad to get special treatment.”

“I wanted to be part of the team.”

“That’s what impressed me the most. It impressed all of us. You’re a good soldier. I bet you’d make a good officer, too.”

“But…?” Alex asked.

“I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Is it because of what I am? You don’t want to go out on a date with a walking nuclear weapon?”

Shepherd sighed. “I want you to consider something. You have a way out. You can get away from all this. With me, that isn’t going to happen. I can’t place you or anyone else ahead of my men.”

She was surprised; it was not what she had expected him to say. “I know.”

“I won’t be around much – not with the war. I know how difficult it can get. I’ve talked with some of the men on the team. I’ve talked with their families, too. I’ve gone and seen their wives and kids when they don’t come back.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, standing back up.

Shepherd now looked surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“I know what you’re doing. I know you’re trying to protect me. But I already know this stuff. I was there at Hensley and Neill’s funeral. Don’t you remember? I was right next to Hensley’s wife when she started crying. You think I don’t know what could happen?”

“Then…”

“I don’t have anyone else. It’s only you and the team. A year ago, my only friend was Nicole. I’ve never had a boyfriend because everyone was too afraid of my dad or maybe of me. That’s not going to change once General Harrison locks me up in the mountain. So yes, I know what could happen. I know you’ll be gone a lot. I know you have to put the team first. I’m okay with all of that. I just want… someone. I want you.”

Alex’s cheeks were warm. She wished she were wearing something else. It was a strange thought; she rarely spent time worrying about her clothes, especially since joining the team. Yet as she stood in front of Shepherd, she realized she wanted to impress him. She wanted to make sure he knew she could look good and wasn’t just a tomboy who only wore jeans or fatigues. I should have put on a dress. Or at least something better than this. Or maybe I should have stayed in uniform. Maybe he would have liked that more.

Shepherd gestured to where she had been sitting on the bed and said gently, “Come here.”

She sat next to him, closer this time, and again wiped at her eyes and cheeks. Most of the tears were gone but her palm came away with a few wet streaks. Shepherd took her right hand before she could place it back into her lap. He held it, the same hand Park had held. The memory made her wince. “What’s wrong?” Shepherd said.

She gave his hand a light squeeze. “Nothing.”

“You know we’re leaving in the morning?”

“I know. How long will you be gone?”

“About a week.”

“Where are you going?”

Shepherd paused. Strangely, she thought she saw guilt in his expression. “East.”

Alex considered pressing him for more information but then realized he was telling her all he could. Echo was a special operations unit; their missions were secret. “I’m not in the ‘need to know’ anymore?”

“Sorry.”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“They wouldn’t send us if it wasn’t,” he replied gravely. Then he smiled, “But we are the best.”

“Only because you had me.” She had meant for it to sound lighthearted, but it came out with a trace of sadness. She looked at Shepherd’s eyes, at his face, trying to ignore the ugly scar on his cheek, and then down at his hand. “So… Are you okay with… us?”

Shepherd grinned. “I wouldn’t mind giving it a trial run.”

Alex laughed and then asked, less nervously, “Do you want me let you get changed? Maybe we can go do something.”

She expected Shepherd’s answer but was still disappointed when he glanced at the clock on the bed stand and said, “Sorry. I already slept in too late. I have to talk to Murray and Wilson, get our equipment ready to go, study the maps…” His voice trailed off. She was surprised; she had seen the wheels turning, mentally planning for the mission, but now he stopped and smiled. “Look, maybe… I might be able to find some time tonight. How’s dinner sound?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll try to call. Don’t wait up for me if it’s getting late, though.”

“Call me anyway. Even if it’s late. I’ll stay up.”

Shepherd nodded and then ran a hand along his chin and down his neck. She could not recall ever seeing him with so much stubble. Even in the field, he found time to keep himself clean and well-shaven. “I need to get ready. If I don’t see you tonight, we’re leaving at 0600 from the airfield. If you want—”

“I’ll be there.”

They both stood. Alex was unsure of what to do. She thought about simply saying “goodbye” or “see you later,” but it seemed insufficient. Shepherd broke the stillness by placing his hand on her shoulder. She reached up and held it. In a sincere voice, he said, “I hope this works out, Alex.”

“Me, too,” she said. “You’ll call me, right?”

“I will.”

“Okay. I’ll… see you later,” and hesitantly, she added, “Ryan.” It felt and sounded strange coming off her tongue. It was the first time she had called him by his first name. She thought for a moment he might object to her using it, but he only gave her an approving smile.

As soon as she was out in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. She wanted to feel happy, to cheer or even smile. But she couldn’t shake the image of his face and the damage she had done. Each time she saw the burnt tissue, she heard his scream, a scream painfully renewed in her memory by the recording on Harrison’s laptop. Yet what bothered her most and took away her ability to smile was that lingering feeling, that strange dream of her mother where she had watched the growth from youth to adulthood of just one of the men she had killed. And there we so many more. Do I deserve this? Do I deserve to be happy after what I did? Can life just go back to normal after that? For once, she knew the answer.

Alex held Shepherd in a tight hug. His ballistic vest ground against her chest but she maintained the embrace until he let go. Behind them, Murray walked up the Osprey’s loading ramp and said, “We’re all up!”

The team was watching her and Shepherd. Lunde was there, too, and smiling. She had worn her combat uniform to the airfield, hoping that somehow orders would arrive for her to go on the mission. There were no such orders.

She had spent five restless hours in bed after Shepherd had left her room the night before. He had called as promised, although only to tell her he would be late. It was midnight by the time he arrived at the lodge. She had gone out on her own to eat hours earlier but brought back food for both of them. The meals were cold. Shepherd didn’t complain. They spoke for a short time while eating – small talk mostly, awkward and uncertain but somehow pleasant in the newness of their relationship. When they finished eating, Shepherd hugged her and wished her good night.

I should have asked him to stay. What if this is it? What if he doesn’t…

She shook her head and shut away the thought.

“I’ll be back soon,” Shepherd said as if reading her mind.

“Be careful.”

“You know me.” He patted her shoulder and then went to Lunde. “General.”

“Good luck, Captain.”

They exchanged a salute. Shepherd turned and started toward the Osprey. Inside, he stood looking back at Alex. She held his gaze until the ramp swung shut. The blades on the Osprey’s nacelles began to spin, slowly at first and then blurring together. The wind beat against her face, forcing her to shield her eyes. As the aircraft taxied away, she lowered her hand and watched it go. The aircraft sped along the runway and then lifted from the ground. The nacelles locked forward as the Osprey continued its ascent in a long arc east over Peterson. Alex watched the aircraft until it disappeared on the horizon.

“I should be with them,” she said.

“I know,” Lunde said. “But they’ll be fine.”

She paused. Then hesitantly, she said, “Do you think Dad would be upset? About Captain Shepherd and me?”

“Shepherd is a good man. Your father wouldn’t have trusted him to lead your team otherwise.”

“I don’t think this is what he had planned.”

“Maybe not. But no matter what, he’ll always be proud of you, Alexandra. Despite everything that’s happened, you’ve managed to stay on your feet. You’re certainly doing better than I am.”

“You did your best.”

“I hope so.”

They moved off the airfield. The air was cold despite the early sunrise. A chilly breeze ruffled her hair and uniform.

“Do you think we’ll win?”

Lunde didn’t reply.

“Gene?”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

There was something in Lunde’s eyes, a look of being lost in thought and of surprise as if he had forgotten she was following at his side. Alex wondered if he had heard her question. Instead of repeating it, she said, “Do you think this is what Dad would have wanted?”

Lunde was silent for a long time as they continued toward a waiting van. Alex walked at his side. Finally, he spoke, “Did he ever tell you why he chose me as his deputy commander?”

“No. Why did he?”

Lunde shrugged and half-smiled. “I don’t know. I never asked, but I’ve wondered almost every day these past sixteen years. I wasn’t the most senior ranking officer when you and your father arrived at Cheyenne Mountain. I barely had any leadership experience. I joined the Air Force to fly. My first major command was only two years before the outbreaks. Still, as far as I know, I was the only person your father approached for the job.”

“He knew you were the right choice.”

“Perhaps. I just… I wonder sometimes what his standards were for right.”

“What do you mean? You’re a good person, Gene. Everyone knows that. You’re good with people. Dad… well. You know.” Both of them smiled.

They reached the waiting van. The driver started to get out to open the door, but Lunde held up his hand. He turned away and looked out at the Rockies, the long mountainous range stretching from Cheyenne Mountain north toward Denver. Another cold breeze swept the airfield. Lunde did not seem to feel it. When he spoke, his voice was quiet as if he wanted to avoid the driver overhearing. “There’s a song I used to enjoy. I haven’t listened to it in years…” His voice trailed off. Then he went on, still low but now half-singing in a gravelly voice, “How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man? / How many seas must a white dove fly, before she sleeps in the sand? And how many times must a cannon ball fly, before they're forever banned? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind…”

“The answer is blowing in the wind,” Alex finished.

Lunde smiled and finally met her gaze. “So you’ve heard it.”

“I’ve listened to it before,” she said and then hesitated before adding: “I don’t really like it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… too sad.”

“Yes,” Lunde said simply. “I was listening to it once when your father came into my office. This was perhaps a year after the outbreaks. He asked me to turn it off. I haven’t put it on since.” He opened the side door to the van and gestured inside.

“I’ll be okay.” The lodge was only a few blocks away. “I’ll see you later, Uncle Gene.”

He nodded and then got inside and began to close the door. Then he hesitated. “Alexandra, I want you to promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t ever… Never compromise yourself. Not for anyone. Always do what you think is right.”

Alex was surprised, and it took her a moment to reply softly, “I will.”

She stood watching the van until it rounded a corner. Then she turned away and started toward the lodge.