“Got it.” Stumpy shifted to one side as Kiera stepped up next to him and peered around his shoulder. He stowed the gun he’d briefly drawn. A black and white image flashed over the phone screen. Big, innocent eyes stared back at her. “Just a doe having an afternoon snack.” He pointed. “About fifty yards thataway.”
“Shouldn’t we be able to see it?”
“Normally, yes. But the mesh makes it hard for us to see. That’s what the perimeter cameras are for.”
“We’re okay?” The tension in her back loosened by a few degrees.
“You’re safe here. I swear. That’s what the system is for.”
“It’s the backup system.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you sweating?”
“Lady, I don’t sweat, I glisten. Besides, the backup works well.” His smile went from rakish to hungry. “If anything tries to come through the barrier,” he said and pointed, “the intruder will literally get lit up.”
“What?”
“Touch mesh and bzzz—couple thousand volts of no-thank-you.”
She took a step back. “Would have been nice to know about the risk of electrocution before this little hike.”
“You’re right. Should have been on the safety brief.”
“What about the deer? Won’t it get zapped?”
“That’s why the system didn’t fully alarm. It’s programmed to know the difference between Bambi and a bad guy.” He scrolled through other surveillance screens and showed her images of swaying hemlock branches and rhododendron leaves. “These digital feeds are of the immediate perimeter”—he swiped again—“and these are from a quarter-mile into the woods on all sides. All we see is Bambi and woodland friends.” Putting the phone in his back pocket, he pulled up the cane, moved his fingers over the top of the support, and they began walking again.
Thick, uncomfortable silence settled between them. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Not to bring up a taboo subject, but don’t you worry about the government finding you guys?”
“You know the whole story? How the squad got to this place—literally and metaphorically?”
“Some of it.”
He nodded. “At first, the government was our biggest fan. We were good little soldiers, taking part in the experiment. Things went great. We were unstoppable. The Army flat-out loved what we could do. And to whom.” His step faltered. “It wasn’t until the changes emerged in each of us that the brass realized the project wasn’t as fabulous as they had hoped. We couldn’t be controlled. So they told us we were going home for an honorable discharge from the military.”
“No?”
“Not even close. When we realized the truth, that’s when we all exited the service early.”
“Exited?”
“The Morpheus Squad escaped a maximum-security military testing facility. Together. Unscathed. Which is more than I can say for our jailors.” A grim smile flashed. “We were on the same side as those people … until we weren’t.” His gaze hit somewhere a mile behind her. “Then our team all went AWOL. No other choice.”
“But wait.” She planted her feet and faced him. “What about Jake? Hadn’t he left before the rest of the team?”
He leaned on his cane. “Yes, then no. We all received the virus at the same time and performed missions together. A few months prior to the time when all the … stuff happened in his personal life. He rejoined the team in Afghanistan a month later. So … a little less than two years ago. Shortly after he returned to fight with us, the Army pulled the plug and brought us all home.” His barked laugh came out hard.
“You volunteered for a dangerous mission to serve your country and they put you in jail?”
“Well, they said it was for testing, but it was against our will. And painful. Therefore, prison. This little virus of ours made us prime experiments for good old Uncle Sam. Too valuable to let go.”
“How could they?” She conjured a picture of Jake, alone in a dark cell, escorted out to have horrible tests run and then returned to the isolation. She rubbed her aching chest.
“We were government property. They could do whatever they wanted.” He flashed a tight grimace. “And they did.”
That wince had nothing to do with his limp, did it? Oh, God. They had been through hell. All of them.
“You all really did escape military prison?” she asked.
“Top-security military prison.” At a right angle in the mesh perimeter, he stopped at another security black box for a minute. Now that she knew the secret, it was clear how he avoided touching the electrified mesh.
“Wow.” She studied his closed expression. “Including Jake?”
“Yes. After escaping, most of us kept in touch, worked together, and eventually created something useful from the ashes of our lives. We’re good at maintaining low profiles so most of us literally hid in plain sight. But Jake? He didn’t just leave. He disappeared.” They turned at the back property line and headed toward the main buildings.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I had no idea. But then again, Mateo never mentioned it. Other than what Brady shared, I haven’t known details about Jake’s life for years…”
“Brady. That’s another story. He got injured and discharged from the Army several months before Jake had to take leave with his wife and all. Man, that was a really bad year for Jake. He blamed himself for your brother’s injuries, too.”
They started walking again. Kiera sniffed. “I blamed Jake, too, for a while. It wasn’t fair of me.”
The words came slowly. “Your brother was a good soldier. Strong and eager. He wanted to prove himself on a mission. He took … a calculated risk to try to accomplish the mission objective.”
“Brady never got the virus.”
“You’re correct. Brady was injured and discharged right before we were inoculated.” He looked up at the trees again, then back to her. “It’s not to say he wasn’t an excellent soldier and a valued member of the team.”
“Of course. But you said he took a calculated risk?” Her eyes stung. God, she missed her headstrong brother.
Stumpy leaned on the handle of his cane, knuckles blanching. “Brady calculated wrong. His decision had a ripple effect.”
Something in the way he rubbed his leg and stared into space made her pause.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Did that have to do…”
“With my nickname?” he interjected, way too fast. He held up a hand when she tried to take back her words. “No. I’ve been called ‘Stumpy’ since high school. I was a late bloomer in the, uh, height department.”
“You sure made up for lost time.” She leaned back and smiled up at him.
“True.” His cheeks went scarlet. “Anyway, my nickname became much more fitting later on in life, as it turned out.” He knocked the cane against his leg.
They followed the perimeter, the afternoon light shifting as a cool breeze moved tree branches in the forest. The rustling sounds remained muffled. Shadows danced all around them, hinting at hidden threats in the woods. She didn’t care how good Stumpy’s security system worked and how Bambi wouldn’t hurt anyone, the creepy-crawly feeling remained. She tugged her cardigan closed.
He finally spoke. “When Brady took the risk, damn it all if Jake didn’t try to stop him. Ran in after your brother. We all did.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “But it was too late. The bomb had gone off.” Pausing, he thunked the butt of the cane into the ground in a rough circle. “Several bombs, actually. We all walked right into a trap.”
Through a dry mouth, she managed to respond. “I had no idea.”
“Classified.”
She had to clear her throat to let the words out. “So, my brother made a bonehead move and Jake tried to bail him out, but failed. And you got hurt as well?”
“Not this.” He gestured. “I didn’t lose my leg until after I’d taken the virus. Apparently, the Morpheus Virus does not regenerate limbs when they go missing. Or heal preexisting scars. See these?” He held up his striped arm. “They’re from moving burning wood to get to Brady.” He raised his hand. “We all knew what we were getting into when we signed on as Special Forces.”
“I understand.”
“It’s also why we volunteered to take the virus. We knew that risk was part of the job. If we could become more effective and help to shut down the fighting over there and if it meant other lives would be saved? Hell yeah, we would take that chance all over again.”
“I’ve got a good picture of what happened.” They had all sacrificed so much.
“See, I’m not sure you do.” He went from friendly to fierce in a split second. She sucked in a breath.
“At least, not about Jake,” he continued. “He volunteered to take the damned virus partly because of what happened to Brady. Said if he’d been faster or stronger, maybe your brother wouldn’t have been injured.” He leaned more heavily on the cane.
Each slow step drove a nail of guilt into her chest.
Stumpy continued. “Now you’re here, and the stakes are higher than ever.”
“Stakes?”
“Stakes. Also known as our freedom from a government facility, your life, and your baby’s life. Also known as Jake’s sanity. Even more pressure for him not to fail.”
“Okay, look. You don’t need to remind me what’s at risk, thanks.” She blew out a lungful of air and then softened her tone. “Jake doesn’t owe me anything. I willingly worked with Mateo to get information on Fallen Comrades. I felt the risk was manageable. And yes. I take responsibility for the consequences of my own decisions. Every minute of the day.”
Rubbing his goatee, he said, “That’s not how Jake sees it. I believe when he looks at you, he sees all of his past failures.”
A sour taste in her mouth made her swallow hard. “Thanks.”
He tilted his head. “But then he looks at you and sees future opportunities to screw up. His paranoia goes off the charts. Most guys would be paralyzed stupid.”
She crossed her arms over her midsection again, taking a moment to rest. The stroll was wonderful for getting fresh air and clearing her mind, but it was hell on her hips. “I’m not putting any pressure on him.”
He dropped his hand, gaze intent, assessing. “I didn’t say you were.”