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AUBREY RUSHED INTO the infirmary. She expected to find Doc Simon puttering at her workbench, but the room was empty. She jogged down the short hallway, her waterlogged shoes squeaking in sodden protest.
She heard voices ahead, and her spirits lifted. Don, Snake Lady and Megan had returned during her absence.
Don’s boisterous laugh greeted her as she burst through the half-open door to the mess hall. “Wow, and I thought we looked like drowned rats.”
Jane cradled a hot cup of the chicory root beverage they called “coffee,” warming her hands without actually sipping the steaming liquid. Her eyes widened when she saw Aubrey. “Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
Aubrey pulled out the package. The leather felt damp, but its contents remained untouched by the elements. With trembling hands, she unwound the strap and read the blunt message, her words rushing together.
“Two Hubs destroyed by Trackers. Trust no one. Risk no contact.” She brushed her damp hair away from her eyes. “It’s unsigned.”
A shocked silence settled over the mess hall. Jane spoke first. “It’s unsigned—so it’s impossible to confirm. What if it’s a trick, to keep the Hubs isolated from each other?”
“Whoever left that message knew where our drop-box is,” Doc replied, crossing her arms. “That suggests one of two things. Either the source is legitimate, or the location of our drop-box has been compromised.”
“There’s more,” Aubrey said. “I saw a convoy of Hoarder trucks, not more than a few blocks from the Mission. They’re up to something.”
“Two Hubs gone,” Don’s hand dropped to the handle of his combat knife. “Trust no one, eh? And Hoarders running a convoy not far from here.”
He sighed heavily. “Looks like we’re on our own.”
Aubrey slumped into a chair, her sodden attire forgotten. And Garr, Sheila and Amos are still missing.