The fights happened without much cheering or fanfare, the group of kids growing more united in the single purpose of defeating the Anunnaki and less concerned with beating each other. Jones was enraged by the lack of aggression. He made them do push-ups and crunches on the flesh-searing asphalt, yelling at them the entire time.

“We are here to develop the warrior in each of you. We cannot afford you going soft on each other. From now on, you will fight until Dr. Blain says it is no longer safe to continue,” Jones growled.

The doctor had a horrified look on her face, and Shane guessed she was thinking of calling each fight before it started. Jones cast a cold glance at her, and her expression changed, revealing that she’d do what he expected of her.

Ordering them to their feet, he pitted Shane against the ornery Russian prankster, Petrov. The boy didn’t have the viciousness in his attacks of the day before. He slipped a couple of cautious hits to the side of Shane’s head before he got an angle on the boy and drove his full weight into him. The Russian went down hard, and Shane leapt on top of him. He raised his fist, ready to nail the rude boy in the face. Petrov twisted his head and clenched his eyes shut.

“Finish it!” Jones yelled.

It was good enough for Shane—he’d clearly beaten the kid. Knowing they’d all pay for his unwillingness to do what Jones ordered wasn’t enough to make him hammer the boy when he was already down. He got off him and offered his hand, pulling Petrov to his feet.

“It’s nothing personal,” the Russian said, smiling regrettably and not releasing Shane’s hand. “But I’m not good at losing.”

The big Russian pulled Shane toward him and punched at the same time. His fist smashed into Shane’s mouth. He heard bone crunching, and pain exploded across his face all the way to the back of his skull. His vision filled with white and black swirling spots, and his legs went rubbery. He collapsed to the hot asphalt.

Cradling his broken face in his hands, he cursed and moaned. He tasted blood, and he couldn’t open and close his mouth. Dr. Blain was over him in an instant. He let her push his hands down to his sides and forced himself to stay still so she could fix him.

The world grew hazy, but he didn’t pass out. The aliens’ medical technology meant he’d be better than new in less than a minute. It made the pain seem trivial and easier to ignore. As his face healed, he cursed himself for allowing Petrov to trick him.

“Good,” he heard Jones saying, his spirits seeming lifted at the sight of Shane’s blood. “Attack the enemy when their guard is down. Even if they have you on the ground, ready to destroy you, do not accept defeat. The enemy will lie to you. Even with their dying breath, they will do everything to convince you that they are your friends—that they can be trusted. Let me be the one to warn you, they have no respect for your freedom. You are property to them, another disposable species they plan to use to crush their enemies.”

He was mended quickly, and the doctor used a wet towel to clean the remaining blood off his face. When she stepped away, he saw Petrov still standing nearby. He wasn’t smiling and laughing as Shane would’ve expected. He extended his hand to Shane as he got up. Not willing to fall into another trap, Shane didn’t take it. He rose to his feet cautiously, wanting to nail the boy but knowing the fight was officially over and Jones would make him pay hell if he did. There’d be other opportunities to take his revenge. He wouldn’t let his compassion get in the way next time.

“Forgive my behavior yesterday,” Petrov said begrudgingly, casting a glance toward Anfisa and extending his hand to shake. “We are all in this together, and I should have shown more respect.”

“Yeah, okay,” Shane replied, conveying he didn’t believe the boy.

He narrowed his eyes and cautiously took Petrov’s extended hand, expecting the Russian would try to coldcock him again. Balling his free hand into a fist, he fantasized about returning the favor right now, of caving the punk’s face in.

Petrov looked down at his clenched hand and then back up at him. He didn’t retract or appear to plan to try and stop Shane if he hit him. His expression seemed to say, Go ahead—take a free shot at me. I deserve it. After shaking Shane’s hand, Petrov sighed as if he’d just finished doing something he’d been dreading. Leaving Shane confused, he turned away and rejoined his group. Anfisa gave a slight grin to her comrade as he approached, appearing satisfied by the exchange.

Shane walked back over and stood next to Kelly. It was unsportsmanlike of Petrov to hit him when he was helping him up. But at the same time, the fight hadn’t officially ended, and the Russian was just taking advantage of Shane’s weakness. Such sly aggression might mean the difference between winning and losing when it came to the fight against the Anunnaki. As much as it hurt his ego, he knew he should learn a thing or two from Petrov.

The sun climbed higher in the clear blue sky, and it grew hotter by the minute on the tarmac.

“Alright people,” Jones shouted, “give me five laps, and then you can have lunch.”

A wave of grumbles swept through the sweaty crowd, everyone already exhausted by the morning’s exercises.

“Excuse me,” Jones growled angrily, letting them know that the sensitive side he’d shown earlier was locked away and Drill Sergeant Jones was back in full force. “Drop and give me twenty push-ups first to help lift your spirits.”

“Sir, yes sir,” came the response.

Where they were all separated into their respective groups for the morning run, now weary individuals took off around the track as they finished their push-ups. The result was an intermingling of the different teams.

Shane was in the middle of the mob, Kelly on his right side. A few people ahead of them, Anfisa ran next to Steve.

“I think there’s love in the air,” Tracy joked. She was behind Shane and Kelly. “Who knew? You break one of Steve’s ribs, and he’ll follow you around like a puppy.”

Shane laughed, taking a closer look at the pair. Sure enough, he saw Steve glance over at the tall Russian girl and smile. She returned his gaze with a flirtatious grin and sped up. Steve took off after her.

“Oh my gosh,” Jules groaned. “It’s like a stinking Disney movie. I’m gonna barf.”

“Come on, guys,” Kelly said, her voice thick with emotion. “I think it’s sweet.”

Shane just hoped it wouldn’t be a distraction, though he wasn’t one to talk. Joking around made the laps tick off easier than before, and soon they were in the air-conditioned cafeteria.

“How are you holding up?” he asked Rebecca. She was replenishing napkins in stainless-steel holders near the food line.

“I’m okay, I guess,” she replied timidly. Her cheeks turning red, she glanced up at him and smiled. She was not much younger than Shane was, but she made him feel like he was an adult by the way she addressed him.

“So you guys are being treated well?”

“Yes,” she replied. “We have to work in here a few hours a day, and then help with the children, but it’s not bad.”

“Good.” He’d gotten used to his little squad deferring to him as their leader, but her reverence made him feel awkward. “How about the other girls who…?”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at the napkin holder. “I think we’re all getting over it, slowly. Dr. Blain met with us to talk. You’d think you’d just want to forget, but talking with her and the others did make me feel better for some strange reason.”

“Good,” he said again, the response feeling wholly inadequate. “Well, if you ever need anything.”

“Thanks.”

She gave him another smile filled with respect and admiration—a look he reckoned was reserved for fathers. Smiling back, but feeling terribly uncomfortable, he spun away and grabbed a tray.

Heading down the food line, he encountered two of the other girls who were attacked in the gym serving kids from the other side. When they put food on his plate, he noticed they were looking at him the same way Rebecca had. She, and probably every other kid who his team protected before the aliens showed up, believed he was strong and smart enough to save them. What they didn’t realize was he wasn’t all that special. He’d gotten lucky a few times, but he didn’t think he was a hero. The responsibility to protect them, to defeat the Anunnaki so that these kids wouldn’t die or become slaves, was always pressing on him. But it suddenly seemed to double in weight.

“Want to eat with the little ones?” Kelly asked when he stepped off the end of the food line.

“Uh, sure,” Shane replied, sensing that was the answer she expected. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but he couldn’t think of a decent excuse to say no to her.

His stomach twisting into knots from his interaction with Rebecca and the other girls, he followed her. The kids’ table was an uproar of laughter and conversation, but when he approached, some of them grew quiet and looked at him. He threw on his best smile again, hoping they couldn’t sense the fist of panic tightening its grip around him.

He looked at Kelly, and her expression showed she could see something was wrong. He felt like a teapot on the stove, the pressure increasing inside of him until he feared he couldn’t contain it. He remembered trying to save his aunt, and how miserably he’d failed. And that was just a bunch of bees. Images of how her body looked when she died, his dad’s cockroach-eaten face, and all the other mutilated corpses he’d seen ripped through his mind. Then he remembered the kids he’d shot in the gym and in the fight in Atlanta, their slack faces as their souls tore away from their bodies. When he blinked, his tormented imagination creating a picture of Nat, Sara, James, and all the other kids at this table, along with Rebecca and the others, dead and swollen like the adults. He looked at Kelly again, afraid of imagining her the same way.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, then sat his tray down on a table and headed for the doors of the cafeteria at a brisk walk.

“Shane?” Kelly called after him.

He pretended not to hear her and stayed on course. Breaking into a run when he was fifteen feet from the exit, he burst through the doors and darted around the side of the building. The woods were too far. Partway through the egress between buildings, he doubled over and barfed up bile, his stomach empty.

When the heaving stopped, he punched the metal wall of the hangar, refreshing pain enveloping his fist. Blinking and studying his hand to see if any bones protruded from it, he leaned against the building and wiped his eyes.

“Shane?” Kelly’s concerned voice came from behind him.

Her feet crunched on the gravel as she approached, and then her hand was on his shoulder. His head drooped, his unfocused eyes directed toward his feet. He wasn’t proud of himself at the moment and didn’t want her to see him like this.

“You aren’t alone, you know?” Her touch and voice soothed him like powerful medicine. “We’re with you in this.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m trying to be strong, to inspire confidence in the others, but sometimes, it’s just too damn much.”

“It is too much,” she said. “But Steve, Jules, Maurice, and the rest are all here to help you. I’m here.”

He let out a long, shaky sigh and raised his head.

“I know,” he said, looking at her. “Guess I just got overwhelmed in there.”

She pulled him into an embrace, pressing her cheek against his.

“I’d kiss you,” she whispered, “but your breath smells like puke.”

He chuckled and squeezed her tightly against him. They held each other in silence, and he could feel her heart beating against his chest. Her touch diffused the pressure that had built in him.

“We’d better get back to lunch,” he said, wanting her to forget the whole ordeal. Holding hands until they got to the tarmac, they returned to the cafeteria and made their way over to the tables where the seven teams were sitting.

“Lunch is over,” Jones yelled from the door. “Up and out!”

“Ready to play capture the flag?” Steve asked, standing.

“Not really,” Liam replied. “Every bleeding muscle in my body hurts.”

“Well, it’ll make you that much easier to beat,” Jules teased, picking up her tray and taking it to the scullery.

Shane’s stomach growled. His hunger flared at the thought of not getting to eat until dinnertime. He already felt dizzy because he’d burned off his breakfast. Snatching the remainder of Laura’s sandwich from her plate before she could trash it, he stuffed most of it in his mouth.

“I said out!” Jones glared at him.

He couldn’t swallow the mouthful fast enough to be able to take another bite, so he slipped the remainder of the sandwich behind his back and headed for the door, acting like he didn’t notice the captain staring at him threateningly the entire way.

Walking out alongside Shane, Liam grumbled about Jones’ yelling. Fortunately, other than Laura, who had looked stunned by his sudden voraciousness, no one seemed to have noticed Shane’s moment of weakness. He glanced at the little kids’ tables, hoping he hadn’t frightened them. Their usual roar of laughter and conversation carried across the room.

The teenagers crowded out of the cafeteria, back into the blazing sun. He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as fast as he could. Whether or not he’d end up injured like the day before, it was a relief to think he’d soon be racing up the side of the mountain. For at least a little while, his mind wouldn’t be able to focus on anything besides not getting shot and capturing the flag. He just hoped he wouldn’t pass out from not eating enough.

“Gather around,” Jones shouted. “Today, the game is going to be a bit different. First off, there will be no guns. In the event that you lose your weapon during the mission, this will be good practice. Secondly, there are no teams. It’s each person for themselves, and the one to retrieve the flag and bring it to me doesn’t have to run at all tomorrow.”

A wave of conversation washed through the group.

“Quiet,” Jones ordered. “The purpose of this task is to prepare you in case the rest of your team is eliminated and you have to complete the mission on your own. So take this seriously.”

Shane looked at Kelly, Steve, and the rest of his team, not wanting to compete against them.

“I’ll warn you now, don’t hold back on this competition, or I’ll make you run double,” Jones growled. “Now go!” He pointed up the mountain.

Everyone looked stunned for an instant. Shane’s game brain took over, and he darted into the undergrowth, tearing through it into the forest. In a wild stampede, everyone else followed.

The serenity of the woods was disrupted by the shouts of kids and the crunch of leaves under their feet. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder, knowing the herd was on his heels and they’d trample him if he lost his footing. Judging by how long it took him to get to the top yesterday, he reckoned it was about a mile climb.

Within minutes, the noise behind him diminished. He could hear kids huffing for air, but it sounded like some of them were dropping off, exhaustion taking its toll. Shane’s legs were on fire. His lungs felt like they were bleeding, and he was dizzy from not eating enough lunch, but he refused to be beaten. Using every ounce of his strength, he pumped his legs up and down, all the while trying to watch where his feet landed.

No one passed him before the light showed through the tree trunks ahead, and he knew he was near the top. Then he could see the little red flag. Digging deep for an extra jolt of energy, Shane gave a burst of speed. His foot found a slick root hiding under the leaf litter, and his leg shot out to the side. He went down hard, and several competitors barreled past him.

Cursing and bruised, he scrambled to his feet in time to see Steve knock three others out of the way and grab the flag. The big linebacker gave a victorious shout, pivoted, and lunged back down the mountain. There was only one way to get the flag out of his friend’s clenched fist. When Steve passed, Shane dove at him, slamming him into a tree.

“Not today, brother,” Steve growled, twisting his body and tossing Shane stumbling headlong down the hill.

Steve charged onward, only a handful of kids on his heels. He knew a bunch of them must be waiting to ambush whoever came down the mountain with the flag. But once the linebacker was on the move, he was like a force of nature—no one could stop him. Refusing to give up, Shane popped to his feet and chased him. Petrov dove out from between two trees and wrapped his arms around Steve. Using a tactic they learned in football, he spun completely around, throwing the Russian off. Then two of the Finns dove at his legs, and the surprisingly nimble boy leapt over them. Shane was almost close enough to try a tackle when they made it to the bottom. Steve burst through the briars and slid to a stop.

“That’s right, people,” he shouted, prancing around the gravelly area between the buildings and the forest like it was the end zone and the flag was a ball. “This is my flag,” he sang triumphantly. “Mine!”

Gasping for air, Shane couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s victory dance. He would’ve loved to capture the flag two days in a row, but he was happy to see a member of his team had gotten it anyway. The rest of the kids trickled out of the forest, mixed looks of defeat and relief that the run was over on their tired faces.

Jones didn’t give them long to rest, ordering them out onto the tarmac to run laps. Shane’s stomach growled again, and hunger pangs tormented him. Fighting bouts of dizziness, he ran at a slower pace and was tortured by fantasies of dinner the rest of the afternoon.