Now that they no longer had to worry about the gangs, Zach happily returned to working in the clinic. He was updating files from some scribbled notes when Chantal trudged through the door, her mouth pulled into a grimace.

“What happened?” She didn’t make that face without damn good reason.

She shook her head. “Just got back from watching the civilian police interview that man who they detained trying to grab that girl last week. He says he wanted to force her to be his common-law wife. He’s a rapist, all right, but he doesn’t match the description we’ve gotten from the serial rapist victims. We’re still not any closer to finding the guy.”

“Did you seriously expect it to be him?” Zach’s eyebrows shot up. From the moment they’d heard of the case out of the south quadrant, he’d doubted it had anything to do with the young men—and occasionally women—who had been brutalized in all the quadrants.

“Not really, but that’s not what’s bothering me.” She hopped up onto the edge of the desk, facing him with her legs swinging restlessly. “There haven’t been any more attacks by the serial rapist since the Jugs came.”

“Yeah?” Zach almost tacked on the question, What about it? when her meaning dawned on him. “You think it’s someone inside the mountain.”

Chantal nodded. “I do. The only other explanation is that it’s one of the military guards the Jugs detained on accusations of corruption, but the description we’ve got is of someone closer to middle age than any of them are. And none of the victims indicated that the guy acted like a soldier.”

“So it’s someone fairly highly placed.” He shuddered. “That’s a grim thought.”

“I could be wrong.” Chantal ran a fingertip along the edge of the desk. “It could be that whoever it was just went to ground when security in the Clean Zone became less corrupt.”

“Not sure if that’s more or less encouraging. If that’s the case, we may never flush him out.”

“Not until he attacks again.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Chantal made a face. “I’m not an expert, but don’t these guys always go back for more, sooner or later?”

Zach tossed his pencil on the desk in disgust. “So now we’re left hoping he’ll victimize another person. Great.”

“Not hoping.” She slid off the desk and squeezed his shoulder. “Go on home. I’ll finish the paperwork. And let the Jugs know the committee will have another draft for them by the end of the week.”

“Any progress on getting them to accept a Jug delegate to the committee?”

Her eyes slid away from his, and her mouth tightened again. “It’s being considered.”

“This is bullshit!” Schuyler threw the papers down on the table of the apartment she and Kaleo shared in the Delta Company housing, glaring at Nico as though this were all his fault. Admittedly, he had been the one to drag her into it. He nominated Schuyler—who came from a long line of politicians and, as such, had studied political science before a falling-out with her family had driven her to enlist in the Army on a rash, rebellious impulse—to be the Jugs’ delegate to the Congressional Committee. Which was why he was bringing her the latest drafts of the constitution while they debated whether or not to allow her in.

“I know it is,” Nico said, his hands up in a mean-no-harm gesture. “Zach says Morris has resigned from the committee in protest. He says he’s surprised Chantal hasn’t done the same.”

“So not only am I not allowed to act as our delegate to the committee—” she flipped the papers over again and skimmed them as if she might have missed something “—but they’ve added tighter restrictions on which parts of the Clean Zone Jugs with uteri are allowed access to? Are they fucking serious? Is this the Middle Ages? We already know we have to stay away from the civvies when we’re menstruating!”

“Chantal told Zach it’s because they’re afraid you might start bleeding unexpectedly due to irregular cycles.”

“I will fucking give them something to be afraid of and it won’t have a goddamn thing to do with my period!” Her face was redder than her hair, her eyes snapping with fury. “Because I haven’t lost enough to this motherfucking virus, now I’m going to be treated like a leper?”

Even good-natured Kaleo looked pissed off. “That takes some gall. We’re eighty percent of the Clean Zone’s productivity. We’re good enough to help build their houses and dig their perimeter trench and hunt down the revs in a hundred-mile radius, but we can’t have a say in the constitution?”

“I’m sorry,” Nico murmured. “I don’t know what to do. I wish I did. Zach’s afraid they’re going to start putting restrictions on fraternizing between the Jugs and the uninfected population. He’s worried that if he speaks up any more, it’s going to draw their attention to the fact that he’s around us every day.”

“You think they don’t already know that? The moment they don’t need you two as a conduit for communications anymore, they will shut that shit down.” Kaleo sneered and began pacing. “I’m starting to think Charlie Company is right. We need to just get the fuck out of here, go start our own settlement. These assholes can just deal with being under military rule.”

“No!” Schuyler whirled on him. “Not until the fuckers who did this to us answer for it. I want that bastard McClosky out of the mountain and in front of a firing squad.” Her mouth twisted, like she was about to say something more, but then her shoulders dropped and she turned away, stalking toward the door. “Then I’ll walk away, if they still can’t treat me like I belong here, but not a moment before.”

By the time summer had passed, the Clean Zone had been transformed. A perimeter trench had been dug and seeded with razor wire and metal and wood spikes to keep revenants and potentially infected newcomers out. Adequate housing had been built, the agriculture and animal husbandry operations were in full production, ensuring everyone would have enough to eat come winter. Deaths due to illness, accident, and suicide were far fewer than before. And most importantly, live births were beginning to outnumber deaths for the first time since the pandemic.

Quarantine had become a more humane—though not necessarily pleasant or easy—process that was far less likely to kill the detainees than it once had. The quarantine zone was set up on the perimeter of the Clean Zone, with another trench circumscribing it. And beyond that was the neighborhood the Jugs had commandeered. Only Zach, Nico, and a handful of other Jugs ever passed along the causeway into the Clean Zone itself, and then only when absolutely necessary.

The Jugs still did what they could to make the Clean Zone habitable while they waited for the committee to surrender. What else were they going to do? Sit by and do nothing while the civilians struggled for survival? But it was with an undercurrent of resentment now. All progress on the constitution had halted because the Jugs flatly refused to ratify the document until it treated them as full citizens with equal rights.

Zach lived with Nico near the Jug housing, far enough away to be safe if one of their neighbors happened to be bleeding. He found and refurbished a bicycle too, because the walk was so long. The clinic was thriving, and Chantal now had two other assistants. If not for the contention over the constitution, he might have called the situation perfect. Until a new patient, just out of quarantine, arrived at the clinic.

“Not you,” the father of the developmentally disabled preteen said, reaching out as if he was going to grab Zach to prevent him from helping the boy to the examination cubicle. “They told me about you. You’re the one that lives with those infected soldiers. I’d like someone else to help us, thanks.”

Zach blinked slowly, biting his tongue on the heated retort that sprang to his lips. He made himself smile reassuringly. “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I assure you, there’s no danger. My husband would never risk infecting me.” It didn’t matter to Zach that they had never filed any papers or made any formal declarations of intent. He knew what Nico was to him.

The man regarded him flatly. “So you say, but I’m not taking any chances. Get someone else over here to help us.”

“Sir . . .” Zach bowed his head and drew two long breaths before continuing. “I understand that you just got out of quarantine. It must be strange to be around people again. Maybe it leaves you feeling a little exposed and insecure. But we’re all God’s children, including the Jugs, and we’re all citizens of the Clean Zone. We have to learn to live together and trust one another. If—”

“Zach, can I have your help back here a moment?” Chantal interrupted, stepping out of one of the exam rooms. “Mandy, take over for Zach?”

Frowning at the interruption, he nodded and left the patient and his father behind, following Chantal to the break room in the far rear of the clinic.

“Zach, as much as I know it hurts you to hear it, that man isn’t wrong,” she said, pitching her voice low. “I think it might be time for you to find some other place to work, away from the public. I don’t want people refusing medical treatment because you’re here.”

For a moment it felt like she had punched him in the chest, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen as he gaped at her. “What? Chantal, are you serious?” He ran a strangely numb hand down his mouth, fingers scraping along the bristle on his jaw but not really feeling it. “You— You’re a doctor. You’ve been working on the constitution, trying to get the committee to remove the discriminatory clauses against the Jugs.”

“No, Zach. I support those clauses. I helped draft some of them. You thought I would try to have them removed because that’s what you wanted, but it’s my duty as a physician to be on guard against public health hazards. You assumed I felt the way you did, but I don’t.” She sighed, looking—of all things—frustrated with him. “I’ve been trying to tell you for months. You can’t keep living with the Jugs and working here. You’re putting us all at risk.”

“I can’t believe this. After everything they’ve done here—”

She folded her arms over her chest, squirming. “I don’t dislike the Jugs. God knows they helped us when we needed them, and the Clean Zone is a much more stable and sustainable place thanks to them. But they are dangerous. It may not be their fault, but it’s still because of them that billions of people have died. We’ve been telling you this all along, but you won’t listen.”

“We?”

“All your friends. Mike, Adam, Karla, me. About the only one who will be near you is Morris.” Now she had the audacity to sneer. “Not that you’d notice, since you never make time to be here with us unless you’re working.”

“Oh, so now I’m, what? A traitor because in the evenings I want to go home to the man I love? You were the one who said I should be the liaison!”

Damn her for daring to act like she was being the reasonable one. She put on her best I’m-dealing-with-an-irrational-patient expression and asked softly, “Did Nico shave this morning?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question. Did Nico shave this morning?”

“Yes, of course he did.”

“Were you there with him?”

Zach growled. “Yes, I was. We always get ready together in the morning. But he didn’t cut—”

“What if he had?” Chantal stared at him without blinking.

“He didn’t.”

“But what if he had?” When Zach refused to answer, she prodded more insistently. “Zach? What if he had cut himself?”

“Fine. Then I’d be exposed, and there’s no way I would have come into the Clean Zone today.”

The mental image of that happening was like something out of a nightmare. The utter devastation Nico would feel if he accidentally infected Zach with the Beta strain. It was almost enough to make Zach regret discarding the ampule of the Alpha strain. Zach supposed it said something that he was less concerned for his own safety than he was for what it would do to Nico if that situation ever arose.

“How do I know that?” Chantal persisted, her arms still folded stubbornly across her chest while Zach was the one pacing and gesticulating. “How do I know you wouldn’t still come into work?”

“Oh, good Lord, Chantal! Because you know me!”

“True. But I don’t know Nico.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you absolutely certain he didn’t cut himself this morning?” She lifted one eyebrow. “Maybe just a nick, when you weren’t watching. Something he covered up?”

“He wouldn’t do that. He knows the dangers better than anyone. All the Jugs do. Why do you think they’ve formed their own enclave outside the Clean Zone?”

Chantal shrugged. “People panic and make horrible decisions. Sometimes because they want to deny—maybe even can’t accept—that there’s a problem.”

“Nico wouldn’t do that.”

“So you say, but am I supposed to risk my life on that? The lives of my patients?” Finally, she dropped her arms, and now she looked angry, and it awoke a similar fury in Zach because how dare she? “Nico has an accident, he can’t make himself face the fact that he’s killed you, so he hides it. Doesn’t let you or anyone else know, and then all of us are dead. Just like that.”

Zach gaped. “That is the most far-fetched, irrational piece of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

“I admire your loyalty, Zach, but the fact is, they’re not human. Not anymore.”

He stared at her, horrified. “Chantal—”

Her eyes were sympathetic but merciless. “You need to decide where you belong, Zach.” She turned away, stopping at the break-room door to speak over her shoulder. “Go out the back exit, away from the patients, please. And good luck, whatever you choose.”

Nico had awoken knowing in his gut something would happen that day. There was a charge in the air, leaving his skin prickling. He was antsy and distracted as he got dressed, had barely focused enough to kiss Zach good-bye, and had spent the day helping to clear a new field. New survivors were still trickling into the Clean Zone, and it wasn’t likely that this year’s production capacity was going to be sufficient for the number of survivors who would arrive next year.

Kaleo wasn’t wrong. They had become the labor force for the jobs the civilians didn’t have the physical strength to do. What else were they supposed to do? Leave the Clean Zone unlivable, sit around all day doing nothing? The Jugs lived here and needed those crops and supplies even more than the civilians did, and it made horrible sense for the Jugs to do the heavy labor that once could have been done by machines. They had the strength and endurance for it, and the civilians would only accomplish a fraction of the work in much more time. And they couldn’t do only enough to take care of themselves and leave the civilians to starve; that would be tantamount to genocide. The civilians were the only people who could reproduce, who had any hope of ensuring the continuation of humanity.

So in that way, it was at least voluntary labor, but the dynamics of the whole situation were incredibly uncomfortable. Especially knowing now that they weren’t going to get equal representation in any government the Clean Zone formed.

Nico’s head came up when he realized the people around him had stopped working, their attention drawn to a commotion at the far end of the parking lot. He dropped his pickax and stripped off his gloves as he jogged over, finding a sweating Kaleo in the crowd.

“They’re surrendering,” Kaleo explained excitedly, catching him up on the news the messenger from Delta Company had reported. “They sent a message out from Cheyenne Mountain today, asking for a list of demands from the civilian government. Foxtrot’s going to deliver it when they relieve Bravo.”

Cheers broke out, incredible whoops and shouts of triumph as the Jugs jumped and embraced and clapped one another on the backs. Nico laughed when a woman he didn’t even know from Echo Company jumped up and wrapped her arms and legs around him in celebration, before he eased her down to her feet.

The messenger held up his hands to get their attention again. “We’re all ordered to return to our housing. We’ll be forming up outside NORAD to take custody of the prisoners when they open the gates to surrender.”

Nico wanted nothing more than to go find Zach and celebrate. There was no way the Jugs were going to relent on the siege unless the military government handed over McClosky and any other high-ranking personnel involved in the implementation of Project Juggernaut. They would finally see justice for what had been done to them and for all the deaths that had followed.

The walk back to their apartment complex was a long one, though Nico took it at a jog. He would need to shower anyway while they waited for the order to join Foxtrot outside the mountain. Nico took his time bathing, stroking his dick leisurely as he imagined what he’d do when Zach got home from working at the clinic.

This was it. It was almost over. The waiting would be done, and after over a year of being in limbo, they could settle into whatever would pass for “normal” lives in the postpandemic world.

In his mind, he was spread out on the bed, in the process of being screwed into the mattress by Zach, when the building caved in on him.