
## Table of Contents

  * Prologue
  * Chapter 1
  * Chapter 2
  * Chapter 3
  * Chapter 4
  * Chapter 5
  * Chapter 6
  * Chapter 7
  * Chapter 8
  * Chapter 9
  * Chapter 10
  * Chapter 11
  * Chapter 12
  * Chapter 13
  * Chapter 14
  * Chapter 15
  * Chapter 16
  * Chapter 17
  * Chapter 18
  * Chapter 19
  * Chapter 20
  * Chapter 21
  * Chapter 22
  * Chapter 23
  * Chapter 24
  * Chapter 25
  * Chapter 26
  * Chapter 27
  * Chapter 28
  * Chapter 29
  * Chapter 30
  * Chapter 31
  * Chapter 32
  * Chapter 33
  * Chapter 34
  * Chapter 35
  * Chapter 36
  * Chapter 37
  * Chapter 38
  * Epilogue

Conscription Compromise

The 5 Star Law Part 1

By M. Findley

Published by Artistic License Publishing, LLC  
Copyright: 2020 by M. Findley. All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

The copyright laws of the United States of America protect this book. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

# Forward

Welcome! Welcome!

Well, it's 2020, and this year I am trying something new. I am releasing all my eBooks as _Pay What You Think It's Worth_ stories. My goal is to get my book into my reader's hands. The fact you are here warms my heart, and I hope you enjoy my story.

Please consider buying me a coffee at Ko-Fi/mfindley

Without further ado, here is _The Five Star Law part 1: Conscription Compromise_.

# Prologue

Taking a deep breath, Lottie slowly brought the rifle to her shoulder, silently thanking her Drill Sergeant from Basic for her training. All those extra pushups, when she missed her shot, helped steady her hands as she sighted down the barrel.

The buck lifted his head and scented the air.

"Come closer," she whispered.

The hefty sized deer was well within range but shielded by scrub brush and a few small trees.

_This has to work_ , she thought as her stomach growled.

The buck bent to nibble at the foliage and took a few tentative steps forward.

"Just one more," Lottie mouthed.

Leaves crackled under the weight of the animal, and his neck stretched, but the bite of dinner remained elusive, and the beast took that final step.

The sound of Lottie's rifle cracked in the still fall air, and the buck jerked as the bullet hit him. He bounded away two steps and then crashed to the forest floor.

Whooping, Lottie slung the rifle over her shoulder and lowered herself from her perch in the tree. She'd eat well today!

She dropped to the ground and hustled over to the deer. Pulling her hunting knife from her belt, she stared at the animal. This kill would be the first real test of her butchering skills, and, up close, the deer looked huge. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves and stomach. "You can do this," she said, and her stomach growled in agreement. Taking the knife, she sliced the beast's throat. The blood gushed, and Lottie nearly threw up.

Driven by the thought of finally eating, Lottie's stomach stopped flipping out over the blood, and she was able to continue butchering. As the deer shifted from animal to slabs of meat, Lottie found the task easier and made short work of the carcass. She dropped the pieces onto a blanket she'd brought for this purpose and hustled to finish. Once done, Lottie tried to swing everything over her shoulder. Grunting with effort, she eventually gave up and instead dragged the meat back to the abandoned home she'd found for the night.

Upon arriving back at the dilapidated house, she dropped her haul at the base of the rickety steps and made her way up the stairs to the porch. Pushing the door open, she resumed dragging the meat inside to the small kitchen workspace she'd cleaned up earlier today. After she secured the venison in the house, she started a fire. She needed to cook dinner and then find a way to preserve her efforts for upcoming days, or she'd be hungry again before tomorrow was out.

After she prepared everything for her meal, Lottie put the pot on the flames and checked the status of her water purification pouches on the porch. They were solar-powered, and the day had been overcast.

As she'd suspected, they needed more time to process the water. Leaving them where they lay, Lottie went back inside to sit next to her knapsack. Pulling out her pilfered book on preserving food, she planned to read while her meal cooked.

About an hour later, Lottie set the book aside to listen to the wind. It whistled through the cracks of the house, creating a sound that was eerie yet comforting. Lottie stood and looked outside. Large fat white flakes of snow were falling, swirling in the breeze.

"It's early for snow," she told the empty house. "Glad I found you." It wasn't the first cold night she'd lived through, but it was the first with snow.

Bored with the view, Lottie sat back down and listened to the wind. It created a high pitched moan perfect for a horror story if accompanied by a rattle of chains or the shuffling feet and cries of the undead. As it was, the windows shook ominously in the breeze, and the shingles on the roof slapped in a steady staccato guaranteed to unsettle the timid.

Luckily, Lottie wasn't the type to be afraid of the dark. Ever since she began living on her own in the woods, she'd dropped any unrealistic fears she may have harbored before leaving her Communal home.

Because really? Who was out here in the Missouri wilderness beside herself?

The ARA... Maybe... But most soldiers lived near the central Forts, so she wasn't worried she'd encounter anyone.

Lottie liked living in the woods. Out here, no one could tell her how to live or demand that she have hundreds of babies for the good of the country. Lottie sighed, thinking of her friend stuck in the system.

Wendy would have loved it out here with Lottie. Wendy never wanted to be a baby factory, either. Not for the first time, Lottie wondered if maybe she should have asked Wendy to come with her.

Lottie shook her head. It was too late now. Besides, Wendy would never have left the sanctuary of the Fort St. Louis barracks, especially not at the end of summer. Lottie hadn't felt the same reluctance. She refused to sit back and become a baby-factory, carbon copy of her biological mother.

A sharp pain of regret and loss cut through Lottie's defenses, and she pressed a hand to her heart. She missed Wendy terribly, but it helped to imagine her friend by her side, sharing her adventures of survival.

Pushing the depressing thoughts of Wendy and her mother aside, she returned to her fantastical daydream. Grinning, Lottie could almost see the steam from the dragon's breath through the front window as he huffed on the broken panes. Better yet, she thought, pretending to hear the sounds of striking metal as the gallant knight fought the mythical beast in the preservation of her honor. Everyone knew of a dragon's evil! She snickered and shifted her weight into a more comfortable position on the floor, relaxing into her daydreams.

It was a good thing she found this place when she did! Lottie hated to admit it, but the empty home had been a lifesaver. Not only did it give her shelter from the early winter storm that raged outside, but it had also hidden a storehouse of weapons. Weapons she could use to hunt game! She never thought she'd be so happy to kill a deer, but her dried food was dwindling, and rationing only went so far. But a home—this home—full of guns, bows, and other hunting gear had given her what she needed to survive.

Her thoughts drifted, and idly she wondered why the prior homeowner never turned in the gear during the mandatory recall over a hundred years ago. Shaking her head, Lottie dispelled those thoughts. It didn't matter. The guns were here, and so was she.

Lottie glanced down at the rifle by her side, letting her fingers caress the barrel. It was a beautiful weapon, but it wasn't useful to her in the long run. She'd never be able to carry enough ammo to survive. No, what she needed was a big knife for gutting game and a weapon that never required bullets.

Shifting her focus from the rifle to her pack, she pulled out her copy of _Emergency Survival_ and opened it to the section about weaponry from the non-industrial era. A picture of a sling caught her eye. It was the answer to her dilemma, but it would take time to learn how to use it sufficiently to survive. Her eyes drifted to the gun at her side. Hopefully, she'd be able to learn how to hunt with a sling before the ammo ran out. 

# Chapter 1

Lottie slept. Her body wedged into the corner of the mostly disintegrated shack. A couch, if exposed wood covered in fabric scraps could be called that, was shielding her from casual glances. She'd chosen this abandoned residence for its two walls, collapsed roof, and rickety-assed floor, but mainly for its protection from the elements.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Lottie awoke with a soft moan. Her brown eyes were wide in the darkness, and she tucked her mud-covered, blonde hair behind her ear, grimacing at the dirt, and listened intently. Her hand drifted down to the gut hook knife at her side, while the other hand dropped to her swollen belly. It growled loudly, but she knew it wasn't her hunger or the press of little hands and feet from within that had awoken her from her fitful slumber. No. It was footsteps. Something was outside the home she'd chosen for the night. The big question was whether or not the steps were friendly... enough.

"Shut up, Paul," a male voice whispered.

Not something then—Someone—Two someones.

A second voice, different than the first, spoke, "Lincoln, circle around that way. Jaesen, go with Paul. We don't want to be surprised like last time."

Make that at least four _someones_ and all of them male.

This was not good.

Get her arms! Hold her legs!

Lottie swallowed hard, sweat pricked her armpits, and her hand tightened on the hilt of her hunting knife. They _could_ be draft evaders like herself, which would be less than ideal, but if they were ARA?

She'd avoided the draft for the past two years, and she'd like to avoid it for a while longer. Besides, there was no reason to assume they were an ARA draft patrol, Lottie admonished mentally since a regular group of evaders was terrible enough.

She shifted her weight and brought the blade up to the back of her forearm, where it would do the most damage to an attacker in a fight. Her other arm curled protectively around her abdomen. Lottie would protect herself if she had to, but maybe, just maybe, they would decide her makeshift shelter didn't suit their needs and would move on.

A flash of lightning lit the night sky. Before the crash of thunder hit, Lottie knew the men would not pass her by, not with a storm looming. She hunkered lower, trying to become invisible behind the dilapidated couch, and pocketed her only other weapon: a sling.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky, silhouetting two men standing at the missing wall of the abode.

"Case! Lincoln! Get over here."

"What is it, Paul?" A deeper voice answered from farther away.

"A dodger," the voice—Lottie now attributed to Paul—whispered.

Lottie mentally swore. She thought she had shielded herself from view.

The man who spoke had moved closer. "Male or female?"

"Female," Paul answered. "Looks like only one, though."

A third voice spoke, "We haven't had an evader in six months."

Lottie sucked in a breath. She would need to protect herself against being taken.

Lightning brightened the sky, and Lottie reflexively brought the knife up to her face. A fourth man was crouched less than three feet from her. He had his head tilted to the side as if studying her. Then he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. "She's pregnant."

She recognized his voice. He was the second man Lottie had heard. The one who'd issued the instructions.

"Shit! Case! Are you sure?" Paul asked.

Lottie felt a vibration through the floor and assumed Paul must have climbed into the raised platform of the home. How had she not felt this Case do the same? How had he gotten so close without her sensing his movements? Lottie glanced behind Case, noting the newcomer.

It was quite possible that all four men now surrounded her, but without daylight, she couldn't confirm it, and it made her uncomfortable. Another aftershock of memory coursed through her, and her breathing hitched.

"Yes," Case replied, his voice carrying no inflection. Lottie found it creepy.

Paul whistled. "How do you figure she got away from Fort St. Louis?" he asked.

"Unknown," Case replied.

Lottie tucked her knees closer in preparation to gain her feet. She'd have to strike and run. A single tear slid down her cheek. Her back ached, and the baby kicked her hard in the ribs. Running would be nearly impossible, but she had to try. These men had to be a part of an ARA patrol. She couldn't go back to Fort St. Louis.

Not now. Not ever.

A crash of thunder made Lottie twitch in surprise. She begged her ever-absent God for another flash of lightning. She needed to see who was closest, who she should strike at first before trying to flee.

"How far along are you?"

The question brought her up short. Case's voice deceptively smooth, only a mild curiosity expressed. Lottie shuddered and pressed her lips closed. She would not answer.

"Lincoln? Paul? Back off."

Lottie felt the floor move. She strained to see.

A flash of lightning illuminated the inside of the structure. Three men stood by the missing wall, talking amongst themselves, but the one in front of her—the one named Case—crouched three feet away, and stared.

A boom of thunder.

Lottie hissed and struggled to come to her feet. Her large belly jutted out in front of her, and she panted from exertion and fear. The baby in her womb, responding to the added adrenaline in her bloodstream, kicked her hard, and Lottie oomph-ed as her breath left her.

She had one shot at this.

Lottie lashed out with her knife, but Case caught her wrist and pulled her to him. He whispered in her ear, "If you leave, I will bring you back." He squeezed her wrist, right below her thumb, and slid his hand along the hilt, forcing her to release the blade. As he tugged it from her grip, he tossed it toward his comrades. "A treasure like yours needs to be protected."

_Protected? Ha!_ But his words confused her. Weren't these men a part of a patrol? She supposed they might be other drifters on the prowl, but either way, she needed a miracle to escape.

"Why are you out here and not in Fort St. Louis?" he asked, his question laced with implications. She had no reason to answer to him and every reason not to. Lottie choked back a sob.

Case's voice turned cold. "How far along?"

She shook her head.

Case sighed. "Fine. Keep your silence for tonight, but tomorrow I expect answers." He guided her back to the floor before barking a command to one of his men, "Paul, stand watch. Jaesen, you're next. Lincoln? Get our new friend some food. You'll bring in the dawn." Once done ordering his team around, he turned back to Lottie. "Here," he said and offered her a canteen of water. "The name's Casey. Case, for short."

The urge to take the water and to answer his question was strong, but Lottie clamped her mouth shut and bit her tongue to refrain from responding. Lightning flashed along with simultaneous thunder, and the sky opened up above them. The rain pounded down on the remaining roof of the structure. Lottie could feel the moisture seeping in along the floorboards.

Then she heard Paul grumble, "Don't know why we need to stand watch tonight. Ain't no one out in a thunderstorm. Not even us."

"The storm won't last forever," Case replied, over his shoulder. The next time he spoke, he was further from her, and Lottie couldn't hear what he said.

After a minute, a small packed pemmican cake found its way into her hand. Lottie weighed the benefit of eating the travel ration or tossing it aside. She didn't want to owe them, but she was so hungry, and hunting was getting harder every passing day. Lottie's thoughts shied away from how difficult it would be to feed herself when the baby came. She didn't want to think about it. Without help, life was going to get exponentially more difficult, but she would not give up the baby she carried.

Decided, Lottie ate the ration and listened to the rain hit the roof. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly. The motion soothed her frayed nerves, and the baby inside calmed and slept. All the while, Lottie watched and waited. The three men not on guard duty settled in and fell asleep. She heard their quiet snoring from across the small distance of the ruined home.

Maybe they would underestimate her desire to flee.

She could hope.

Lottie twitched awake, unsure of when she'd dozed off. She listened intently. Did she hear four distinct snores? Yes! Yes, she did. Now was her chance.

She rolled to her knees, every rasp of her clothes sent her heart into orbit, afraid that one of her captors would hear her and wake. At last, she stood and surveyed the small room where they were all holed up to escape the Midwest summer storm. A break in the clouds let moonlight flood the floor at her feet. Quickly, before another cloud obscured her light, Lottie checked for obstructions in her path and confirmed that four men were crashed out on the floor away from the missing wall. She looked for her knife—a mass-produced one from before the fall—but when she couldn't find it, she had to assume one of the men had it. She frowned. It was a good sharp knife, losing it was a blow to her future success, so finding a replacement would be imperative. But would she succeed? Finding a blade like that in the first place had been a lucky break, one she wasn't likely to duplicate anytime soon.

Lottie shook her head.

_Focus_.

She needed to flee.

Sneaking past the slumbering men, Lottie feared her heartbeat would wake them. The pounding of her pulse sounded excruciatingly loud to her, and every time she misstepped, she held her breath, worried that the men would hear her stumbling gait.

At the edge of the platform, she paused. Her joints were too loose, and her balance too delicate to attempt jumping off the structure. Lottie suppressed a sigh as she on the edge of the home and gripped the damaged railing. She needed all the help she could get to get down safely.

Within moments of reaching the ground, rainwater saturated her worn-out shoes. Lottie wrapped her arms around her baby belly to help stabilize the weight and started to pick her way across the field. If she could make it to the tree line, she could get lost amongst the foliage.

Glancing back often, Lottie checked for anyone following her as she picked her way across the field. Her hands and legs shook from fear and excitement. Only fifty more meters and she'd reach the safety of the forest.

She was going to make it.

She _had_ to make it.

In that moment of almost victory, something cold and extremely hard pressed against her temple.

"I told you I would bring you back." Case's bored voice stopped Lottie in her tracks, and she gulped.

She never heard him approach.

***

Casey swallowed a sigh. Sometimes he hated his job of rounding up draft dodgers, especially when it involved holding terrified pregnant chicks at gunpoint.

When he first enlisted—okay, drafted—into the army, he had applied for one of the military's special forces: Asset Recovery and Acquisition. It was a way for him to act on his resentment and to justify the required armed service foisted on all USA citizens.

Unfortunately, time and experience had worn him down, and now Casey had some doubts about his original philosophy of 'if men had to serve their country in the army, then the women should too'.

Casey ran a hand through his short brown hair. Last night was shaping up to be a giant clusterfuck.

He could detach four men from his squad to march her back to Fort St. Louis today, or he could house her at Fort Sutton until she had the baby and then take her back. Neither option was optimal. For one, She looked ready to pop, and Casey wasn't sure she'd make it back to Fort St. Louis before she delivered. Two, his Base at Fort Sutton would need additional supplies and specialty tools to handle a baby, and three, no matter which option he chose, she would disrupt his careful routine.

Deconstructing the problem, Casey debated the merits of each option. If he chose to keep her at his Base, then the first order of business would be revising the team's deployment circuits. This chick was a flight risk and would need a constant watch. If he shipped her off, how could he prevent her escape from her detail?

Conflicted, he gave her another once over. It was hard to tell by the cloud obscured moonlight, but she appeared older than the usual dodger he rounded up, and she looked more fit too. Usually, the ones who ran didn't have the first clue how to hide, and reclamation was swift. Besides, pregnant women never left the security of the Fort. The surgeons made sure of it.

How did she come to be here? There was only one way to get that answer.

Casey came to a decision. He would keep her close and watch her himself, and then, when the time came, he would personally escort her back to Fort St. Louis. "Turn around slowly, and walk your ass back to the shelter." He pushed at her temple, just a little, just hard enough to prove he meant business. "Move."

She whimpered but complied, and they slowly made their way back to the abandoned home. As they walked, Casey kept the revolver trained on her back. She was practically hyperventilating by the time they reached the structure, and Casey worried that she'd be unable to make it to Base tomorrow. It was only a half a day's hike for him and his team, but would she be able to travel the rough terrain in her condition?

They had to try.

Then again, maybe he should send her back to Fort St. Louis immediately. He suppressed a snort of irritation at his capitulation.

Looking to the east, Casey estimated dawn about two hours away. There were roiling clouds, but most of the storms seem to have moved off, leaving a sticky oppressive heat behind. The high humidity already making his shirt stick to his back.

When they reached the army maintained decoy shelter, he stopped, momentarily perplexed when she turned to face him, her wide eyes focused on his hand holding the gun pointed at her torso. Casey tensed. Did this chick expect to run with him standing inches from her? But then the woman answered his unvoiced question a moment later when she shimmied backward onto the raised floor of the building. She turned and pulled her knees under her to regain her feet, and took an unsteady step forward before turning to eye him warily again.

Relieved, Casey told her, "Sleep. We leave at dawn."

He watched her shoulders slump, and her head bobbed in response. She turned and walked with slow, careful steps back to her corner. Upon reaching it, she struggled to sit on the floor.

Casey grimaced. She looked uncomfortable.

He walked over to Lincoln and kicked him in the foot with his boot. "Get up," he said quietly, hoping not to disturb Paul or Jaesen sleeping nearby.

Lincoln woke with a snort and rolled to his feet.

"Your turn for watch," Casey said. "I need to sleep. Wake me at first light, and for fuck sake, watch her closely. She may try to run again."

"So, your trap worked?"

"A little too well," he responded, and then made himself comfortable on the dirty floor and fell asleep.

He awoke to someone tapping his boot, and he came to his feet fast. If his team had woken him any other way, he would have come up swinging. The sky was already light enough that objects in the world had definition. It was later than he'd requested, but not late enough to be an issue. Casey took the three steps to join Lincoln at the edge of the floor at the missing wall.

"You let me sleep too long," Casey said, his tone low enough to not carry. A habit learned by too many years discussing plans while men slept at his feet or in tents nearby.

"I know," Lincoln replied. "You looked like you needed it."

Casey frowned and adjusted his uniform shirt so that it rested on his shoulders better and then brushed out a few wrinkles. "Maybe," he admitted and scanned the field from his perch. "We have to finish the circuit today and then get back to the site." It would be a slow trek with their Asset in tow. Casey could feel her eyes on his back, watching his every move. It made the hairs on his neck stand on end. Thumbing over his shoulder to indicate the woman behind him, Casey asked, "Did you have any trouble with our new friend?"

"No, Case," Lincoln replied. "But she's been shifting around so much back there I thought she was going make another run for it."

Casey nodded. Time to help their new friend adjust to life under his wing, or at least until he dropped her back on Fort St. Louis's doorstep.

"Wake Paul and Jaesen. We'll roll out in thirty."

He turned and bent to grab two rations out of the bag at his feet, pushing the evader's butchering knife out of the way as he did so. Last night Casey had been relieved to see the glint of the blade after a flash of lightning. He knew she planned to lash out at him even before she did. The knife was wicked sharp, and Casey had wrapped it in a scrap of cloth to keep it from slicing his pack open.

As he advanced toward his new charge, he took a bite out of the pemmican cake in hand, making sure she saw it. With each step closer, he saw the young woman push herself further into the corner, and he could almost smell her fear. Casey stopped a few feet from her and crouched. He perused her form from head to toe.

Ever-absent, God, she was filthy. She had so much mud ground into the strands of her hair that he wasn't sure if ner natural color was blonde or a light brown. Why had she let herself get so dirty? Casey's gaze lingered on her full belly, thick arms, and tone legs. She was muscular, even if she was on the thin side, but her abdomen was disproportionately large compared to the rest of her. Then he met her gaze with his. Her brown eyes were wide, watching his every move. Her wariness seemed out of place, and he wondered how long she had been on her own? One thing he was sure of, even without her confirmation, this chick was not a new evader.

But she was a successful one.

"You hungry?" Of course, she was hungry. He could hear her stomach growling from where he crouched. Hunger was an excellent motivator for survival. He took a bite of his ration, and chewed it in front of her, before holding up the remainder in silent question. Her eyes tracked it.

"Here," he said and held it out to her.

She declined.

This wouldn't do, Casey thought and schooled his expression to hide his irritation. They had several kilometers to hike before returning to his Base, and he needed her strong enough for it.

"Take it. Eat. If I have food and water, you'll have food and water," Casey promised her.

She licked her lips, her eyes dark with fear and anger. Though the emotions were misguided, Casey did not doubt that he bore the brunt of both, but the injustice of her silent accusation rankled. It wasn't _his_ fault she ran.

And she still wouldn't take the dried meat.

"What is your name?" Casey asked.

She glanced behind him, and Casey surmised she longed for escape. When she returned her gaze to him, he quirked an eyebrow, before offering her the ration again. When she licked her lips, he hoped she'd take it.

"Please," she trailed off, her voice not much louder than a whisper. "I need to use the bathroom. Will you let me pee and not shoot me? I promise not to run."

Casey could have smacked himself. That was why the woman squirmed. "Yes," he replied. Casey stood and offered her his hand to help her up. She only eyed it warily and struggled to her feet without his assistance.

She stepped past him, and he shoved her ration into his pocket and nodded to Lincoln—his Second in Command—as they passed. "Don't go too far now," Casey drawled to her and hopped off the ledge to follow.

***

_Is he going to watch me pee, too?_ Lottie wondered as she waddled the last few feet to the bushes. She lifted her oversized shirt to reveal a belt of rope that held her ill-fitting shorts up and quickly untied it with shaking fingers. Lottie hastily opened the zipper and yanked the shorts down. The quicker she did her business, the less Casey would see, and she sure didn't want him to see her in such a vulnerable position. It was bad enough he had the upper hand.

"You finished?"

"Yeah," Lottie mumbled low enough he didn't hear and readjusted her clothing before coming out from behind the bushes. She looked up and met Casey's eyes. His gaze was cold and calculated, and it made her nervous. Lottie smoothed the oversized shirt over her round belly and cradled her stomach in her hands. Casey blocked the path back to the shelter, so she stood there waiting and wondering what he had in store for her.

"You're coming back to base camp with us," he said.

Base camp.

Lottie's shoulders fell, and she swallowed hard. All her immediate escape plans were moot in light of this confirmation. He was a collections soldier, an ARA member. She'd read about them before trying to run away. The United States Army created that special ops branch at the same time they enacted the female fertility draft. These men were stationed in the wilds and tasked with finding and returning any female draft dodgers they caught to their closest primary Fort.

She nodded.

Without turning around, Casey raised his arm, and in one sharp motion of his hand, he beckoned his comrades to join them. In seconds, the three other men were off the abandoned structure and marching toward them, packs in hand. Their movements coordinated, and as they approached, she noticed the military issued guns strapped to their thighs.

If she had any remaining doubts, then they were gone now.

When the men got close, Casey held his hand out, and the taller man dropped a pack strap into it. Casey shouldered the bag. The man returned to his comrades and stood behind and to the left of Casey. The last man took a position to Casey's right.

"This here's Lincoln," Casey motioned over his shoulder to his right. "And that's Paul and Jaesen," he said, indicating the other men. "You are?" Casey continued.

Lottie marveled at his attempt to gain information, playing on the societal mores to exchange pleasantries. It almost worked, and Lottie gritted her teeth to prevent her name from slipping out.

He sighed. "No response. Right. You have her pack?" Case asked the men behind him.

"Sure do," Paul responded, his tone light, almost jovial. He appeared to be the youngest of the group.

"You search it?"

"Sure did."

"Anything I need to worry about?"

"Nope," Paul answered. "No weapons."

No, she didn't have any weapons other than her missing knife and the sling in her pocket. She carried the barest minimum to provide for her needs.

"There's a change of clothes, some weird plastic cup thing, a blanket, and some standard travel gear," Paul answered.

"Excellent," Casey replied. "Do you wish to carry it?" He asked her.

Would he let her carry her bag? Hope for a future escape rekindled in her mind. She tried to hide the excitement of having her possessions returned. Lottie wasn't sure she succeeded when she nodded that, yes, she did, want to carry her bag.

Paul stepped around Casey and handed it to her. Lottie slipped the straps over her arms. As its weight settled on her shoulders, she felt some tension drain from her back. If Lottie could escape five men a few months ago, then she could escape four, even if they were well-trained soldiers. Lottie would have probably tried it without the pack, but having her gear would make survival simpler. Lottie wondered why Casey would willingly hand it over. He had to know she would try to run again.

"It's several kilometers to the campsite. You up for the hike? If not, we can carry you," Casey asked her.

Carry her? She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. She wasn't that incapable. Besides, she would push herself to exhaustion before she'd ask for _his_ help.

"Again, nothing," his tone neutral and devoid of judgment. "Fine. Moveout."

Her feet felt glued to the ground as Lincoln, Jaesen, and Paul pushed past her and started walking toward the treeline.

"After you, chica," Casey said, motioning with his arm.

Lottie forced her feet forward with Casey right behind her.

***

The men navigated the large rocks in their path with ease, but as if Lottie weren't dirty enough already, sweat and dust-turned-mud covered Lottie from head to toe. Her arms ached from climbing boulders, and her knees felt like they would give out at any moment. Not to mention, she was so hungry she wanted to chew on her own arm.

Her belly growled so hard she thought she would vomit from the pain of the acid gnawing at her stomach. Lottie could ask for a travel ration, she knew, but she didn't want to. She clenched her jaw in frustration and reached above her head to help haul herself up the newest rock in her way.

There was one benefit of scrabbling around on the forest floor. None of the men paid attention to her hands anymore. Lottie took advantage of that fact and grabbed a few small round stones for her sling each time she thought she could get away with it. She had about six stones in her pocket. The next time an opportunity presented itself, Lottie would kill a squirrel or rabbit and eat that for her dinner.

Fuck Casey and his travel rations! She could provide for herself, thank you very much.

At the top of the latest boulder, Lottie paused, resting her hands on the small of her back. She pulled a muscle in her mid-back, and it was making the hike excruciatingly painful. Lottie wiped the sweat from her forehead and eyes. The cool of early morning had long since burned away, and the only reason she wasn't dying of heat already, was due to the trees providing abundant shade. No denying it, though, she was hot, muddy, and exhausted. Lottie took a swig from her canteen—another lucky find while on her travels.

"Halt," Casey's detached voice sounded from behind her. "We'll break for lunch here."

Lottie suppressed her sigh of relief. Sliding her pack off, she walked to a log that looked high enough for her to sit on without too much difficulty getting down, and later, back up. She eased her body onto it, sighing with relief. Her legs twitched from overuse, and it felt good to rest. She set her elbows on her knees and let her head hang forward, watching as drops of sweat dripped off her nose and splashed on the ground. The patterns created on the dirt fascinated her, and Lottie lost herself to imagining animal shapes within the water blots.

When she looked up again, Casey was staring at her. He held up some jerky and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Lottie shook her head, no she didn't want his help, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion she would have to accept his assistance. Casey shrugged and took a bite of the dried meat and walked to Lincoln and Paul. Lottie slumped forward. Her stomach growled again. The urge to eat what he offered was strong. She knew it was dumb not to eat it, and only her stubborn desire to stay self-sufficient kept her from accepting.

The men sat and talked amongst themselves, all the while leaving her alone with her thoughts, but they were far from inattentive. Every time she shifted, four sets of eyes would focus on her. Lincoln, Paul, and Jaesen would resume their banter immediately, but Casey would study her for a few minutes. Almost like he expected her to make a run for it at any moment. Lottie snorted to herself. At her speed, he'd catch her before she even stood up.

No, if she were to escape, success would only come at night.

_Probably not tonight, though_. The four soldiers were hyper-vigilant. Casey knew her every shift. It would take a few days—maybe a week—to lull him into a false sense of security about her desire to run.

The men stood. The break hadn't been long, but too much longer and her muscles would cool to the point she'd hurt worse when they started again. So it was with relief that Lottie struggled to her feet after them.

"I'll catch up to you," Paul spoke, loud enough for her to hear. "I have to water some bushes."

"You got her?" Lincoln asked.

Casey's unwavering gaze never left her, and he answered Lincoln with the smallest of nods.

"Good. If you need, I'll watch her when I get back," Lincoln offered.

The three men moved off into the woods in different directions before stopping. She could see them with their backs to her, and she flushed, wondering why men didn't require more privacy than facing the other way when they urinated. It had been difficult enough for Lottie to pee with Casey a few feet from her this morning, and he'd stayed out of her line of sight.

"You suffering from the same issue?" Casey asked.

Her cheeks reddened further.

"Don't go far, but now would be the time to take care of that," he added.

Lottie nodded and turned away from him. She would take this moment to do the same and maybe even kill a squirrel. She heard a few scampering about in the trees behind her.

Finding an appropriate tree, Lottie squatted and did her business quickly. The men were laughing in the clearing behind her, and Lottie deemed it safe to make a hunting attempt. She slipped the sling out of her pocket and dropped a stone into the pouch. Two full rotations later, and Lottie had built up enough force to let her missile fly. She'd aimed accurately, and went to get her dead squirrel. As she reached for it, a hand gripped her wrist, and before she even registered the threat, someone plucked the sling from her grasp.

"I wondered how you kept from starving all this time when Paul said you had no other weapons. We just hadn't searched the right place."

Lottie turned to face Casey, desperation making her beg, "Give it back."

Casey lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe. Leave the squirrel. You don't need it," he answered, twitching his head in a slight 'go back there' motion.

She glanced at her dead squirrel with longing, leaving it behind, meant she would have to accept his help. Lottie couldn't feed herself if she couldn't hunt for her food.

With a sigh, she abandoned her kill and walked back to the clearing. Casey followed, and less than a minute later, she stepped from the thicker trees to rejoin his team.

"Paul? Jaesen? Go on ahead. I leave it to you to figure out where to put chica." Casey paused, "On second thought, set up a bedroll for her in my tent." Lottie shuddered in disgust, imagining the lustful gleam in Casey's expression.

Paul smiled. "Will do Case." He turned to Jaesen, who was at the edge of the clearing. "Let's go."

Casey stepped around her to watch Paul and Jaesen's back as they moved away through the woods. "We're going to the wash point," Casey told Lincoln. Turning back to her, he said, "You look like you could use a soak, and frankly, you smell." Lincoln smirked. Casey continued. "I figured you'd rather take a few moments before we arrive without all the extra eyes." Casey eyed her. "I have—There are others at Base."

"Any of them women?" she choked out.

He shook his head no.

"How many?"

"Full squad."

Lottie paled. Fourteen men. She took a shaky step back. Her mind racing through her recently formed escape possibilities. Each scenario ended with her caught and brought back. How would she ever evade a squad of elite soldiers? Eluding five drifters had taken weeks of careful running. The blood rushed in her ears, and the world grew black around the edges of her vision. She barely registered Lincoln's "She's going down" before the trees tilted.

Warm, calloused hands gripped her upper arms, holding her up. "Sit," Casey commanded.

That was a certainty since Lottie's legs no longer held her weight, and she plopped down onto a log she didn't remember being behind her.

"Put your head down and breathe slowly."

"I know how not to faint," Lottie ground out, but complied with his order anyway.

Fourteen?

Lottie was about to cry. There was no chance she'd escape that many soldiers. She tilted her head and looked up at him, her vision cloudy with tears. "Is there any way I can buy my freedom?"

"Nope."

"Are you going to take me back to Fort St. Louis?" she asked.

"That's the plan."

Lottie struggled to swallow past the lump in her throat, and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. "I need a moment. Please," her voice cracked. "Can I be by myself?"

"No," he answered. "But, I'll wait over there for a few minutes." Casey turned and walked to Lincoln, and they stood talking while she cried.

She couldn't go back. The terms of the draft were clear. She would deliver her baby, and they would take it away. Lottie loved the life she carried, even if it meant ignoring the memory of how she came to be pregnant. She refused to give it up!. She _had_ to find a way to escape. Lottie _just_ had to!

The log shifted as Casey sat on it, and Lottie glanced at him.

He handed her a travel ration. "You are hungry and tired and bordering on ill. Please eat."

She took the food and bit into it. It was as dry and unpalatable as the last one Casey had given her.

"We'll get you cleaned up and settled in at camp. Then after a good night's rest, I'm sure you will feel better."

She hung her head and sniffed. Of course, he'd think that. He wasn't going to carry a baby for nine months only to have to give that infant away. He wouldn't have to watch that child grow up in the communal homes. He wouldn't be the one prevented from acknowledging that baby as his.

Lottie swallowed past her fresh tears and stood. "Let's go."

***

She was determined, Casey'd give her that.

He wasn't surprised by her tears. Most of the draft evaders he'd recovered over the years dissolved into hysterics as soon as they knew they were going back to Fort St. Louis to serve their country. Usually, after the initial reaction, the dodgers fell into three categories: heartfelt relief, total apathy, or abject despair. Rarely did he encounter an avoider that tried to run repeatedly, but he had a sinking suspicion this chick would test him in that regard. It was one of the reasons why he chose to address the threat by keeping her in his tent.

He had to hold his smile in check. Threat? She could hunt, yes, and had a fair idea what to do in a fight, but she would be no match for him or any under his command. Why did the army always want them to treat the deserters as threats? It was one of the few mentalities of the military that made no sense to Casey.

Women were entitled little shits, that was a given. They had a luxurious life. They had access to medicine when they were sick. No one expected them to do hard labor on the farms. They had access to all the amenities Fort St. Louis had to offer, like Army surgeons! Casey failed to understand why being required to help cure the infertility illness and to try to bear daughters, scared the female enlisted so much that they would run. Without their efforts, the human race would go extinct. Countries across the globe had similar enactments in place. It wasn't like the military forced these women to suffer through extensive weapons training or made them learn how to kill another human. All they had to do was have babies and submit to science. How hard could that be? He didn't get it.

"The Black's not quite a kilometer from here and almost all downhill. Think you can make it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Lincoln, take point," he commanded.

As they picked their way down the hillside, they navigating rocks and boulders, and it took the chick another forty-five minutes to reach the Black River. With each step, Casey could see her fatigue building, and her request to stop on the tip of her tongue, but she never complained. Each time her arm encircled her waist protectively, he wanted to call a halt to their hike. Making her march until she had a heart attack or dropped that baby would be detrimental to his position. He was relieved when they stopped at the bank of the river.

Casey didn't think he could stand to hear her whimpers of distress any longer. In his six years of active duty, he'd only recovered two other pregnant assets and neither of them as far along as this one. The need to take it easy on her was a new emotion, and Casey didn't quite know how to address the feeling.

At the river's edge, he left her to speak with Lincoln. "She's not going to like what comes next."

"No, I don't suppose she will," Lincoln agreed. "But you will."

Casey glared at him. "Make sure no one at Base decides they need to shave right now." He glanced back to where she stood. The woman looked at him with a question in her eyes then she turned back to study the water, Casey continued, "This is a one-time courtesy for her."

They stood in companionable silence for a while.

"You ever get the feeling we're going about this wrong?" Casey asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything," Casey answered. "Stick close. I don't expect trouble, but I want backup."

"Will do."

Lincoln moved off into the woods to watch, staying out of sight but within range. Idly Casey wondered if the woman would need help submerging in the water. She seemed unstable on her feet, and it was worse after her trek through the woods.

He walked back to her. "Strip down. Give me your clothes, and get in."

She turned her wide eyes to him and went to take a step back. His hand reached out and latched around her upper arm before she shifted her weight backward. Casey was in no mood for her to attempt to flee.

"Devushka, you are caked in dirt, and your clothes are sticking to you," he explained. "Take them off, and while you get clean, I will wash them for you." _And search for any other surprises,_ he thought to himself. "You have a dry set of clothes in your bag. You can wear those after you tidy up a bit."

Casey let go of her upper arm, and it joined the other in holding her belly.

Defensive. Tense.

"Look, as you so eloquently pointed out a little bit ago, I'm not about to let you go. But I do make some concessions to your gender." He indicated her belly with his open hand. "You'll always have a guard, but they will keep a modest distance when you attend to your personal needs. It is the best I can do under the circumstances."

"How long will I be here?"

"At least two weeks, maybe as much as three. I need my team to work flawlessly together before I bring you back."

She turned to gaze at the water, her expression unreadable.

They stood in silence for five more minutes before Casey lost his patience. "Well, _I'm_ hot and irritable, so I assume you are too. Get naked. Get in. Get clean and cool off. And while you soak your stressed-out muscles in the river, I'll wash your clothes." He ran a hand across his face encountering dirt caked on at his temples. He grimaced and decided to bathe after settling her in.

She twitched her head in what Casey assumed was a nod but didn't move. His patience was thin, but he could let her have five more minutes to come to grips with the situation and act on her own. Casey stepped back a pace to give her some space and waited. At the five minute marker, Casey stepped forward, and letting all of his annoyance and irritation bleed into his voice, said, "I'm tired of you pussy-footing around. Since you don't do it voluntarily, I will help you comply."

She shuddered but began to shed her clothes. She didn't look at Casey as she handed over her shirt and a form-fitting tank top. She quickly untied the rope acting as a belt to her shorts, and as it came loose, they fell to the ground. She stepped out of them, but before she bent to retrieve them, Casey stooped and collected them.

Taking pity on her, Casey said, "Wear your panties if that makes you more comfortable. You'll get clean enough with them on."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome."

Casey took her clothes and quickly determined that aside from some rocks in the pocket, there were no other hidden threats. After she submerged herself, he moved down the river where he would be close, but yet give her some room to breathe and bathe without an audience.

Grabbing a few of the algae-free river stones, Casey wadded them into her clothes, then agitated the combo in the water. It was a poor substitute for a washboard and soap, but they could clean her clothes properly later.

Once done, he glanced at the sky. Sunset was approaching, and he wanted to be back in camp before full dark. Casey placed her pseudo—cleaned garments over some bushes to dry, and sat on the bank of the river a few feet away from the water. He would let her soak for thirty more minutes before moving her on to the campsite.

While he sat on the bank, he studied his new charge.

She stood in waist-high river water, and the current tugged at her balance. Her back was smooth and slender from this angle, and it dipped in at her waist. Her body was so lean that if he hadn't seen her from the front, he never would have known she was pregnant. Casey's eyes traveled up her spine and over her pale white shoulders to her tan arms, a dark contrast to the skin of her torso, and then up to her almost white-blonde hair.

She slipped on a stone, and he saw the side of her full breast before she caught her balance. Glancing at him, the woman blushed and ducked into the water entirely, as if that would hide the fact he had seen her nudity.

"Femme fatale," he called out to her, "Time to go."

She hesitated.

Casey gritted his teeth, barely controlling the urge to hustle her along when finally she stood and picked her way toward him. He questioned why she irked him with her reluctance. All of the evaders in the past reacted the same way. She was no different, and he shouldn't be bothered.

He met her at the edge of the water. "I'd offer you a towel, but I don't have one. You want a minute to air dry before getting dressed?"

She shook her head.

With a shrug, Casey stood and dug the dry clothes out of her pack and held them out to her. She snatched the shirt and hastily pulled it over her head. She lost her balance as she tried to put on her shorts, and Casey reached out to steady her, his hand clasping around her bicep in the process.

He noted the muscles in her arm.

"How long were you own your own?" he asked, yet didn't expect an answer.

"Not long enough," came her soft reply.

"Why would you not want the security of Fort St. Louis?" Casey queried genuinely curious.

She spat back, "Why would you want the security of the military?"

"I didn't have a choice."

"Exactly," she replied and then didn't say anything more.

Case let the silence stretch between them while she tied her rope belt.

"You ready, Devushka?"

"Yes," the woman replied.

Casey stepped on the well-used stone pathway leading to his Base. Behind him, the woman's wet shoes squished on the river gravel as she followed. In a few minutes, they gained the eroding road that would bring them the rest of the way to Casey's campsite. They were going up a steep hill, and he could hear her labored breathing behind him. Casey slowed for her sake and checked on her. "You okay, bean?"

She nodded, but she looked a little pale, and she was clutching her stomach.

"We're almost there, and you can rest then."

She sucked in a sharp breath, fear shining out of her eyes.

He turned and continued up the hill, crossing over a low water bridge. When they reached the plateau, they entered his Base. Lincoln fell into step behind them as they passed Lincoln's lookout point.

"Lincoln, secure a few extra blankets for the dame and drop them off at my tent. I want to make sure she is comfortable tonight when she sleeps. You're released from duty afterward. We'll see you at Mess."

"Thanks, Case," Lincoln replied and trotted off.

"This way," Casey addressed the woman and paused, hoping she'd volunteer her name. He wasn't surprised when she didn't, but it was getting old.

Shaking his head, he walked toward the cooking fire and seating area that was surrounded by several of his men's tents. There was a healthy-looking blaze in the center, and a few of his men already milled about.

"Here is our Mess hall and pseudo-breakroom. My tent is that one," Casey told her and pointed to a tent up the hill from the others. "You'll be with me most of the time, but there will be times when someone else will be in charge." Indicating the building behind him with a thumb point, Casey said, "Over there are the outhouses for this side of camp. There are two others directly opposite, as well."

Falling silent, Casey studied the camp with a practiced eye. Lincoln was delivering blankets to his tent, and Ty, Matt, and Jules were cooking dinner. Paul and Jaesen were discussing something—most likely the girl—with Teo and Wu. Tristan, Javier, Ethan, and Hong should be on perimeter watch. Casey wasn't sure where Adan had gone off to but guessed Adan was either in his tent or in the pisser.

"Any questions, senorita?" Casey asked, turning to look at her.

She shook her head.

_Of course not_.

"I'll leave you with Ty, Jules, and Matt. Grab some grub when it's cooked."

"Wait? Where are you going?" she asked, sounding panicked.

Casey almost didn't want to answer. He could give the silent treatment as well, but in the end, he sighed and replied, "I'm hot and dusty. I'm going to wash up. And unlike you, I don't need _you_ to supervise me. Although, if you want to assist, I can arrange that." _Why did I say that_?

Her eyes widened in alarm, and she shook her head.

"Come on then," Casey retorted and headed over to the cooking fire.

"Ty, Matt, this is"—he looked to her to supply her name, and when she didn't, he continued with—"a very stubborn dodger. Evader, this is Ty and Matt. Over there is Jules."

Casey addressed Ty, "I'm leaving her here with you while I wash up. You are authorized to use force if she runs." Casey turned, heading back to the river. "Oh, and Ty?" he called over his shoulder. "When the food's done, make sure she gets the first serving."

He was almost out of earshot when he heard Ty respond, "Sure, Case."

# Chapter 2

It was fully dark, and Casey was sitting in the command shed, looking at his formal report. The stifling heat of August barely registered even as sweat dripped down his temple. He ran a hand through his wet hair, contemplating the task ahead of him. Deciding what to do with her would be so much easier if he had the asset's name. At least then, he could look her up, see what he was facing, but without her name, Casey'd had no way to get her personnel records.

Casey sighed. He had no idea what to write to his commanding officer. It was his duty to report the young woman's acquisition, but Casey knew what that would entail: her immediate removal from his camp. She'd never make it. Yet, if he didn't mention her presence, he'd be breaking the law.

What should he do? What should he say? He had no idea.

With a grumble, Casey reached for a field training manual. Maybe it would help him decide what to do. Checking the index, Casey flipped to the correct passages about pregnancy and transport. He ran his finger over the text, searching for anything relevant. There was nothing about proper protocol when finding a pregnant asset, but Casey did see a section about determining due dates based on a woman's abdomen size.

He let his mind drift back to when he studied her naked form at the river and tried to recall her belly size. According to the documentation, if he measured from pubic bone to navel, the distance in centimeters would indicate her fetus's developmental week.

Casey looked at his fingers and spread them until he figured his reach spanned forty centimeters.

He shook his head.

In his imagination, he placed his hands on her abdomen. He could envision his reach spanning her whole belly. She had to be a week—no more than two—away from delivery.

Groaning, he went back to the index at the back of the book. Casey was looking for a chapter about labor and delivery. He would need to read up on how to do a non-surgical fetal extraction. He flipped to the section and started to read.

He was a few pages into the chapter when a knock sounded at his door.

"Case?" Lincoln poked his head into the command center.

Casey grunted in response.

"You send that report yet?"

"Yeah," Casey replied and looked up from the book when Lincoln didn't retreat right away. "You need something? She running?"

"No, nothing like that." Lincoln looked back outside. "It's almost shift change. Wu and Teo want to know if they should continue to guard her or go rest for their watch later tonight."

Casey rubbed his face. He'd forgotten Wu and Teo were on runaway duty while she rested in his tent. "I'll be right there. I need to quit for the night anyway."

"What are you reading up on?"

"Labor and delivery. Looks like we might be handling one soon."

"You think she's that far along," Lincoln asked. "I thought maybe a month. Enough time to ship her back, at least."

"No, that's too long," Casey grumbled. "I estimate a week. No more than two." He turned to the communications device and clicked the power key to wake it. His report stared back at him. Unsent.

"I thought you said you sent it?"

With a suppressed sigh, Casey submitted his report before Lincoln could read over his shoulder. In the end, it reaffirmed his decision not to inform his commanding officer about the woman's presence. He would wait to see what happened with the chick over the next few weeks.

"I thought I had," Casey lied.

Standing up from his desk, he powered down the equipment. The solar battery that ran the machine couldn't sustain more than a few electronics at a time, and not for very long. Casey preferred not to test the battery's limits. At least not with that glorified Morse code machine that he was required to use for official documentation. The Army might investigate the Base if they didn't receive weekly correspondence from him, and that was one intervention he didn't want to face while disobeying direct orders and housing the girl.

Casey joined Lincoln at the door. He turned off the one light in the small room and left the building, locking it behind him.

"Good night." He said to Lincoln, as he pocketed the key and strode toward his tent for some well-deserved rest.

***

Lottie couldn't get comfortable.

Her belly was too full, and the baby wouldn't stop wiggling. A few of its kicks were downright painful, and Lottie couldn't wait for it to be born.

She'd read some literature before she ran and knew that pregnancies lasted forty weeks on average. That would put her at thirty-seven weeks today, and if Casey kept her the full three weeks? She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking the thought. Lottie did not want to be near soldiers when the baby came. She'd rather be out in the wild risking death due to complications than owe them any more favors.

"Wu, Teo, get some rest. You're on dawn watch," Casey's low tone drifted to Lottie's ear. "Have Adan report to me."

The campfire near the entrance wavered as if someone walked in between it and the tent, and Lottie heard the two men guarding her walk away. Lottie pulled the blankets higher on her chest. So far, no one had tried to touch her, but Casey's tent was far enough away from the others that if he tried something...

Who was she trying to fool? The other soldiers would turn a deaf ear at best, and at worst, help.

Lottie swallowed hard. Bile rising.

More footsteps approached.

"Case?"

Lottie guessed that was Adan.

"You're on watch. She's a flight risk."

"Gotcha," Adan replied, and his footsteps moved away from the tent.

Lottie didn't know how far away Adan went but guessed he had a clear view of the tent flap from wherever he stopped.

The light of the fire flickered away and back again, and she heard soft footfalls in the grass coming closer.

Lottie closed her eyes and willed herself to look asleep, but flinched when the zipper rasped. She struggled to keep her breathing steady and slow, despite how hard her heart pounded. Nervous sweat pricked under her arms, as she hoped Casey wouldn't realize she was awake.

Casey entered the tent and sat at the end of his bedroll. He had set it up on the ground next to hers. "You can stop pretending, Bean. I know you are awake."

Damn.

Lottie opened her eyes. He was sitting a few feet away, his hands in the process of untying his boots. Deliberately Casey unlaced the top and tugged the first boot off and tossed it to the side. He looked back down to his other foot and pulled the second one off and threw it aside also.

"Comfortable?" Casey asked.

No.

"Yes," she whispered but tugged the blanket under her chin.

"Good," he replied and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Lottie's anxiety kicked into overdrive, her mind grasping at Casey's first promise to protect her _treasure_ , but she worried that it didn't extend to her person. He folded his shirt and set it with his boots, then removed his holster and started to unbutton his shorts. She couldn't keep the squeak of fear from escaping, and she struggled to sit up, dragging the blanket with her. He was in the process of folding his shorts when she whispered, "Please don't."

"Don't what, babe?" Casey asked, never quite looking at her. "Don't get ready for bed?"

It was so hard to breathe in the tent. The air felt stagnant, and Lottie thought she might throw up. "Don't touch me," she panted.

Casey looked at her, searching. "What happened to you?"

_No!_ She couldn't think about those hellish few weeks. She 'eeped' and shook her head. "Just don't touch me... please."

"Don't plan to, Devushka," Casey replied and set his shorts on the shirt, and crawled onto his bedroll in his boxers. "I need sleep, and so do you," he said and pulled the blanket to his waist. He laced his fingers together and rested them on his chest. Within moments of closing his eyes, his breathing smoothed into the rhythm of sleep.

Slowly, Lottie's breathing returned to normal, and her tense muscles relaxed. The unfortunate side effect of the adrenaline rush was now she had to pee. With a sigh, she hugged her arms around her belly and watched Casey sleep.

He looked young, not much older than herself, but most definitely seasoned within his squad. Lottie remembered his warm, calloused hands on her wrist and forearm, and shuddered. Casey's grip had been firm, not painful, and radiated strength. It reminded her of before, and she gagged.

_You have to stop thinking about that!_ The memories forced themselves forward regardless, and she felt the tears slide down her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her nose against her sleeve and grimaced. It was gross, but she didn't have a tissue.

Sniffing again, she rested her elbows against her knees and rested her chin on her forearms. In one last angry attempt to rid herself of the memories, she let her mind turn blank and stared off into space.

***

"Ow," she whimpered, waking when her neck kinked in pain. Her chin rested on her arms on her knees. She wiped a hand across her face. It felt itchy, and her eyes were gritty from the lack of sleep. Was that drool or dried tears on her cheek?

"You would have been more comfortable laying down."

Lottie snapped her attention to where Casey'd slept. He reclined on one arm and looked at her. She swore Casey'd been deeply asleep a few seconds ago. If he was that light of a sleeper, how was she ever going to sneak past him in the night? Fear coursed through her, holding her immobile, and her surroundings faded to the background.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and settled back onto the ground.

The world whooshed back as she took a shaky breath. Now she had to pee so badly she feared she'd wet herself. Lottie licked her lips. Should she ask permission or go? Forget asking permission; she should go.

Right now!

Lottie rolled to her knees and started to crawl toward the tent flap.

Casey sighed, "What are you doing?"

_Oh, for fuck's sake!_ "I have to go to the bathroom, you jackass," she snapped.

"Conveniently, so do I."

Lottie groaned. Of course, he did!

Casey chuckled. "At least there's an outhouse near, and you don't have to squat behind a tree."

"Well, if you don't want a puddle, you better hurry up," she grumbled. Turning back to the tent flap, she tugged the zipper up to open the door and slipped through the opening. She heard Casey get up behind her. She stood and stretched her tight back and felt a muscle tear near her ribs. She winced and sucked in a breath.

That hurt.

Lottie took stock of her surroundings. The camp was silent, and aside from the cooking campfire, Lottie didn't see any other blazes. She looked to the sky. Before her capture, she would be taking this time to prep a quick meal and pack up her campsite to be ready to move with the dawn.

"Halt," a voice called.

Lottie's heartbeat slammed into her ribs, and she skittered sideways. Lottie forgot that Casey had Adan watching the tent.

The nylon rustled behind her, and then she felt Casey's body heat behind her. She shuffled to the side to let him by and to put space between them. He was uncomfortably close.

"I've got her," Casey answered. "You're dismissed for the rest of the night."

The reply, when it came, was said through a yawn, "Thanks."

Casey touched her lower back with the flat of his hand, and Lottie shivered with aversion at his touch. Before she could distance herself from him, he exerted pressure to get her moving and said, "Latrine's this way."

"I know where it is," she snapped and succeeded in sidestepping his reach.

Casey's hand latched around her arm, his thumb rubbing a small path along her bicep. Up and down. The caress out of place with the force of his grip. "Walk in front. I don't trust you."

Lottie couldn't help herself. "As if I trust you."

His grip tightened on her arm in subtle warning, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"Move then," he growled at her. "I thought you had to piss." He pulled on her arm, only letting go when she stepped in front. Her gait felt off knowing he was behind her, watching her walk. She focused on making her steps light and silent to distract herself from the feel of his eyes on her back. The sensation reminded her of spiders crawling along her arm. It wasn't pleasant.

The smell of the latrine preceded their arrival at the small building.

The baby kicked, and her bladder spasmed, and Lottie about wet herself.

"Use that side, and I want to hear the lock engage," Casey ordered.

Lottie's cheeks flushed, but she didn't make the snide remark that was on the tip of her tongue. Stepping through the bathroom door, she turned and locked it. The chain from the lock scraped against the wood as it slid into place.

"Is there a light?" Lottie couldn't see her hand in front of her face.

"There's a wind-up flashlight on a hook next to the door."

_Okay..._

Lottie patted around the edge of the door frame until her fingers encountered the device. The lever easy to identify even in the dark. She twisted it a few times, and the flashlight turned on. Its beam weak, but she could at least see the toilet seat two steps away.

The outhouse door next to hers opened and closed. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds from the other stall while also ignoring the fact she knew Casey could hear her in here. With a hiss and a wince, Lottie stood and refastened her shorts. Her skin itched and felt raw where the rope rubbed her bare belly. She eagerly awaited the time she could fasten them shut instead of requiring a belt.

Just as she finished and unlocked the door, her little light winked out. Thankful she didn't need it anymore, Lottie pulled open the door and stepped out into the fresher air. It still smelled like an outhouse but not as strongly. The hot, humid air was almost sweet in comparison.

Her skin prickled, and she wrapped her arms around her abdomen. She didn't know how she knew it, but Casey was standing right behind her. She didn't hear him leave the outhouse or his steps as he closed the distance between them. His words, when they came, were not a surprise.

"We have a cistern for washing hands and hatching mosquitos. It's over here." His breath stirred her hair.

It was a relief when he moved away from her back. She turned and followed his silhouette toward the barrel uphill from the bathrooms.

She'd seen it earlier but hadn't realized its purpose. The brown barrel was tall, about the height of her chest. As she got closer, she noticed it sat on a bed of bricks about the height of her knees, putting the nozzle level with her thighs.

It looked like wood, but she'd seen some plastics in Fort St. Louis that were convincing replicas. Lottie touched the barrel. It felt like wood.

"The army issued one gave out a year ago. They refused to send a replacement. This solution is what I came up with—well, Tristan did—he's handy with a hammer and plainer," Casey told her, pointing to the soap that rested on top of the barrel. "Rainwater refills it—sometimes—but mostly it's on someone's daily detail to fill with river water. We have to clean out the sediment every month." He depressed the stopper and let a trickle of water through. "I wouldn't drink from this one. We have treated water closer to the command shed."

His statement didn't seem to require a response, and Lottie couldn't find the energy to fake being pleasant. She ran her hand and the soap under the trickle of water and lathered her hands. Rinsing them, she returned the favor and controlled the tap while Casey cleaned his hands. By the time they finished, dawn was near, and Lottie could see details forming in the world around her.

"There should be someone preparing breakfast by now. I have work to do. I will leave you with them." He turned and started walking. "Come," he commanded, and grudgingly Lottie followed.

She glared at Casey's bare back as she walked behind him. His shorts from the day before sat low on his hips. Low enough, she could see the tan line at his waistband, and she jerked her gaze upward to the USA-ARA tattoo on his back. The black letters rested to either side of his spine, connected by a hyphen, and were placed right between his shoulder blades. The whole tattoo was no longer than her index finger, and declared to any who saw it, that he was the property of the United States Army. It made her thankful the government didn't tattoo her with a permanent reminder of their ownership of her body.

She wrapped her hands around her pregnant belly.

No, the government had other ways of owning her.

***

Casey left her in the clearing, with a parting command to his soldiers to watch her. He'd then gone back to his tent, only to emerge a few minutes later dressed in camouflage shorts with his gun strapped to his hip, a muted green t-shirt, and his boots. Lottie watched him walk down the hill and enter a shed-like building made of wood that they had passed yesterday on their way into camp. With nothing else to do, Lottie turned back to the campfire and walked to the log she had used the night before. There she sat to await the events of the new day.

With legs stretched out in front of her, she stared at the fire. The heat shimmered and distorted the ground behind the flames. It was a bit hypnotic. Lottie felt her eyes drooping, and she couldn't stop yawning. The sounds of soldiers moving in camp not quite enough to wake her from her stupor.

One of the soldiers—she couldn't remember which one—stepped between her and the blaze. He had his back to her and was stoking the coals. His closeness commanded her attention, and she watched him add a few new branches. He soon had the flames roaring high again.

"The heat is goin' to be intense for a few minutes," he said.

Lottie craned her neck to look up at him.

He continued, "It's a bad cookin' fire right now, but after a bit, those logs will cool down, and the coals will be great for fast fryin' the eggs and searin' some venison." The soldier moved off and poured something into a cup. Making his way back to her, he handed her the mug.

Lottie looked at him with her eyebrow raised in silent question.

"It's coffee."

"Coffee?" Lottie asked. What the hell was _coffee_?

"A slightly bitter drink that wakes you up," he answered her. "Haven't you ever had it? It's everywhere in the Barracks. We used to have it a lot before imports were grounded. We are lucky here, though. There are a few Kentucky coffee trees in the woods, and we roast the seeds. We don't have a lot of it, but when I'm on Mess detail, we each have a cup. At least 'til the supply is gone. Drink up."

Lottie looked at the beverage askance. It smelled slightly acidic and too sharp.

"It's good." He prompted her again to drink the beverage.

She took a sip. It was as bitter as it smelled.

"You like it?"

"I guess so." She wasn't sure she liked it and took another sip.

"The name's Tristan," he said with a smile and sat next to her on the log. His leg pressed against hers.

Lottie stared at her cup, concentrating on keeping her face blank. She didn't want him to know how much his touch disgusted her.

"Case—also known as Staff Sergeant Casey Brennerman Huxley—said you weren't the chatty type. He wasn't kiddin'." Tristan chuckled. He didn't seem bothered by her lack of response. "I have been instructed to answer any questions you may have. Within reason, that is, so fire away."

They sat in silence for a while. Lottie thought of and discarded all of her questions. None of them were charitable, and some were too specific to the workings of the camp. Tristan would never answer them. Not in a million years.

"Okay," Tristan said, breaking the silence. "Maybe if I tell you a little bit about the camp, you'll think of some questions. Our Base... Yeah, Case has some of the highest loyalty commanded by a Staff Sergeant that I've ever seen. Basically, he only has a few rules, and they're easy for us to follow. We have light daily duties—Ya'know, patrols, and such—he doesn't fill our days with shit work. Our last Staff Sergeant was a hard-assed bastard. He's the one who broke the water pump in the showers. 'For your own good,' he said. 'Toughen ya up. Make ya better soldiers,' he said. 'Yadda, yadda,' I say." Tristan smiled at her.

"Why don't you fix it now that _he's_ in charge?" Lottie couldn't bring herself to saying Casey's name out loud.

"Can't. The Army won't send parts. Says, 'there aren't enough of 'em.' I call bullshit. Not that it matters much. Couldn't have hot showers even if the water pump did work. The tank on the roof rusted away to nothin'. It'd be nice to use a flushable toilet, though," Tristan said. "Casey's tried a few times to cobble something together. Hell, he even asked me to take a look, but we don't have the tools to make die-casts of the parts that we need? Yeah. It sits and rots. Soon there won't be nothin' to fix even if we had the ability."

"Is that why he took me to the river to wash?"

"Yeah, we pretty much live off the land here in Case's camp." Tristan stood and poked at the fire before rejoining her again.

"Why? Doesn't the Army supply you with rations?"

"They do. Everythin' we get is locked in the supply house. It used to be the bathhouse, so it's cinderblock floors and cinderblock walls. Good for keepin' out critters. We get a few in there, but not as bad as in the command shed or the smoke room."

"If the Army sends you what you need, then why don't you use that stuff?"

"You ever been hungry? Like really hungry?"

She shuddered. Of course, she understood hunger. "Yes," she whispered in answer, her free arm wrapping around her belly protectively.

"Staff Sergeant Kerner—the guy before Case—he wasn't too careful, and we had a hungry winter one year. Then when Case took over, we had a lean year when the army couldn't send rations. He had to deploy half the squad back to Fort St. Louis for the rest of the winter."

Lottie remembered that winter. It was cold, and the influx of more soldiers in Fort St. Louis meant the Army rationed everything strictly. That was the year Lottie decided to run and had spent the next few months planning her escape, reading everything she could find about the dangers she would face once she left the security of Fort St. Louis. She had turned seventeen only days before.

Tristan continued, "After that, Casey enacted details for mandatory huntin' and fishin', and we smoke all our meats. Survivin' off what the land provided became his priority. At the time, I was his only AHC. He leaned heavily on what I knew." Tristan chuckled.

"You'll find a few of my free-range chickens up a ways from camp. That's where we get the eggs, and we use the river for all our water needs." He smiled, and the skin around his blue eyes crinkling. "I like workin' under Case a lot better than Kerner. Even with the required huntin', he makes me do. It doesn't take long before the green recruits are loyal, too. Not goin' hungry will do that to a person."

Lottie found herself humming in agreement. Not being hungry was a huge motivator. "When _did_ he take over?"

Tristan snorted, "About two or three years ago. Maybe a bit more. We both served under the last Staff Sergeant." Tristan took a sip of his coffee.

"How long have you been serving?"

"Twelve years, but not all of them in ARA."

Tristan glanced at his cup and frowned. "I spent the first four years of my enlistment in AHC—Agricultural Husbandry Cultivation. Pretty much where you end up if you don't know where you want to go. Backbreakin' shitty work. Farmin'. I hated it. I couldn't wait to reassign. I did a two-year stint in FAP. Then, when I was required to move, I joined the ARA. Case was a raw recruit. But even then, you could see he was a leader." Tristan chuckled. "He was such a pup! Green! Man, he was green. He used to blush when handlin' dodgers. Like he didn't quite know what to do with his hands. It was amusin'."

"Tristan," a voice barked from across the fire from where Lottie sat. "The fire ready yet?"

Lottie glanced at the flames. They were low, and the coals looked deep orange. In her opinion, they looked good to go.

"Yeah, they're ready," Tristan answered.

"Then quit kid-gloving the prisoner and come help me cook the eggs."

"You gonna be all right, Momma?"

Lottie snapped her eyes to his. "Momma?"

"Well, if you won't tell me your name, then I'll call you Momma in deference to your condition." He smiled at her again. It softened the lines of his face. He stood and rested his hand on her shoulder. "All the guys will start callin' you somethin' if you keep refusin' to tell us your name. Some of the names won't be nice." He squeezed her shoulder before moving off around the fire to work on breakfast.

Lottie thought about that for a while. Was it worth staying silent? Yes, she decided. If Casey had her name, then he could look up her file and if he could look her up? Well, then he would know too much about her.

She didn't want anyone to know that her genetic mother was an abnormality: a breeding machine compared to all the other women of her enlistment class. She was a woman who could—in the end—conceive the old fashioned way. Casey would learn about her mother's natural resistance to the drugs that forced submission. How that natural resistance ended up making her hollow, a shell of a person as she watched each of her eight babies taken away from her. Or how, by extension, the Fetal Conservation and Obstetrics surgeons and the Fecundity Analysis and Remediation scientists had hoped Lottie had the same tendencies.

She rubbed her belly. Her baby pushed a small foot or hand against hers, and she felt tears building.

The part that scared her the most about Casey reading her file was how he would learn when she ran away. He wasn't stupid, and he could count. He would know her baby wasn't a medical inducement; Lottie too could conceive the old fashioned way. A way that the FCO and FAR would want to study. The thought of bearing to term even one baby that they would take away set her skin to crawling.

Lottie never wanted the life she carried, but now that she was pregnant, she couldn't imagine her life without her child. She even knew what she would call the baby. Greysen. It was her genetic mother's name. A woman who did so much for her country. A woman who didn't have a choice in the matter. A woman who died bringing one more American citizen into the world.

She wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye and looked around the camp. Tristan was whipping eggs while the soldier with the snide remarks was tending some venison over the fire. Lottie could see Tristan's relaxed smile, so unlike the smile from the shorter man. _He_ was smirking at her, and it gave her the creeps. It too closely resembled the expressions of the men who gave her the baby. She couldn't repress the shudder at the memory, and she gagged.

She stood up. Lottie needed to move away from the stranger's all too knowing gaze.

Before she could take a step, a shrill whistle rent the air, and she whipped around to locate the sound. Casey stood in front of the shed. He had his fingers in his mouth and whistled again.

"Looks like we're having a company meeting," a soldier said from behind her. "You can hear that whistle for several kilometers."

Lottie twitched and stepped away before turning to look at the speaker. He was younger than herself, with dark brown curly hair and eyes so dark brown they were almost black. This new soldier smiled and extended his hand toward her. "Hi, Chica," he said. She was sure he had been one of the men cooking the meal last night. Jules—or was it Adan?—she thought.

When she didn't reach for his hand, his smile slipped. He forced a grin back to his face, but it no longer looked natural. "You should sit. This clearing will fill up fast as all the guys come back from the field."

Lottie gulped. _All fourteen?_

"He doesn't usually call us all in. Must be about you. I'm Jules, by the way. This is my first deployment after Basic. I couldn't believe my luck when I landed Case's squad. There's a waitlist for him—informal, of course—but you can ask your superior for assignment to specific squads. I didn't bother, but I got in, anyway." He chuckled and sat down on the log Lottie had vacated. He kicked his legs out and rested his hands on either side of his hips. "Bill was pissed. He'd requested Case but didn't get in."

"A friend?"

"Yeah, from Basic. Not a close one, though. Just someone to share a rough up when the mood strikes. You know what I mean?"

Lottie had no idea.

"A sparring partner," he clarified.

_Oh._

Yeah, she still had no idea but for a different reason.

"You really should sit, Chica, or you won't have a seat. I'd give you mine, but..." His smile wavered and fell away. "No one will do that for you. Make us look weak. Can't be seen helping the prisoner, even if she is cute." He winked at her. "Sit, I don't bite... unless you ask me to." Jules chuckled at his joke.

Lottie struggled for calm.

"I'm serious. Sit," Jules ordered and tugged on her hand. "I was joking about the biting, but not about how no one will forfeit their seat for you, regardless of your condition."

Lottie allowed him to tug her down next to him. He seemed kind enough even if he made her skin crawl. Of course, all men did now. She felt her heart race at the thought of all the soldiers about to surround her. If they wanted to do things to her? She gulped and shoved the concern away. If they were going to do that, they would have by now, she reasoned. There'd been plenty of chances for them to hurt her. She took a shaky breath and forced herself to worry about why Casey would call all his squad into the clearing.

"You okay, Chica? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," she ground out through clenched teeth. After a few more deep breaths, she actually believed she wouldn't throw up on Jules's feet. "Thanks," she managed to say.

"De nada."

Tristan returned to her side with three plates in his hand. After handing one to her, then Jules, Tristan sat, jostling them both.

"I was here first. Get your own chair," Jules grumbled as he shifted into a more comfortable seat.

"I see you met Jules. Horribly gregarious, that one, but he's a good kid," Tristan said.

"Hey!"

"You're just a pup," Tristan joked.

"And you're an old man," Jules retorted over her head.

"Yup. But I'll still whoop your ass."

"Let's see you try it," Jules challenged.

"Sure, after breakfast. I'm hungry," Tristan agreed. "Momma, eat up. I wouldn't put it past some of the younger ones to try to take your food. They eat like horses."

"Horses? Have you seen horses?" Lottie blushed at her question. _Way to show your ignorance._ She knew what they looked like from the books in Fort St. Louis, but she'd never seen one.

"Yeah, we use them—and mules and donkeys—on the farms to help with plowin'. They eat a lot and are big brutes. Docile enough, I guess, although I did get stepped on regularly. We also had cats and dogs to help with the vermin."

"Domesticated?" Lottie was envious, all she'd ever seen were wild animals that ran when you came too near, and that was if you saw them at all. She wondered what it would be like to have the freedom to do something other than to breed more Americans. She would love to see a horse or even work on a farm—no matter how backbreaking it might be. Carrying the extra weight from her baby seemed to be backbreaking work too.

Lottie turned her attention to the eggs and meat on her plate. She poked at a mush she found there. "Are these—"

"Hominy grits? Yea," Tristan answered, interrupting her. "We do what we can to have all the food we need right here at camp. We get sweet corn at the end of the season, but it doesn't keep for long. The field corn can be treated and made into flour or grits like those." Tristan pointed to her plate. "We don't make bread. Found sourdough starter didn't keep with a bunch of soldiers tendin' it. Most of us don't come from LPD."

"LPD?" Lottie no longer remembered her training about all the branches of the military.

"Logistical Provision Distribution. Tristan means we aren't chefs," Jules answered.

"Oh, Mess hall soldiers." She stabbed at the grits with her fork before tasting them. They weren't bad, kind of mushy, and extremely bland. It could use some milk and honey. She mixed up a bite with some eggs, and it made the grits taste better. It didn't take long for Lottie to clear her plate. She felt guilty at her lack of self-control.

"Here, let me take that from you. You too, Tristan," Jules said and reached for her cleared dish.

"You're goin' to volunteer to do them too?" Tristan asked, his eyebrow quirked in question.

"Fuck no. I'm going to give them to Javier," Jules replied with a wink to Lottie. "He's a dick, and he deserves it."

"He's also quick enough to drop your punk ass, so be careful not to piss him off too much."

"Thanks, Director Tristan. Might be fun, though—a nice challenge for a change. Unlike you," Jules replied as he stood and danced out of the way of Tristan's halfhearted kick.

Lottie watched as Jules made his way over to a black man Tristan had been joking with earlier that morning and drop the stack of plates next to him. The man, she assumed, was Javier, sneered, and said something to Jules that she couldn't quite hear. Jules laughed in response and clapped him on the shoulder.

A figure hopping on a stump caught Lottie and everyone else's attention. She shifted her focus to him.

"A few quick things," Casey said from his perch on the stump. "I have posted the new rotation roster. Please be advised your teams have changed, and I have adjusted everyone's duties effective immediately." His eyes panned across the soldiers looking up at him. His gaze fixed on her hers. "As you are all aware, we have a draft dodger in our midst. Lincoln and I brought her in last night. She will be with us until she delivers." He again looked at all of the soldiers assembled. "She has proven herself to be a flight risk."

Lottie felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

"In the event she tries to escape, you are authorized to use force, but within reason! The Army won't approve of us injuring an asset. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your meal," Casey told the group and stepped down.

One of the soldiers stopped him and said something. He laughed in response and looked her in the eyes. It made her think the joke was at her expense. She shivered under his assessment. Lottie didn't see any hostility, but that didn't reassure her.

Post announcement, the volume from all the men resumed. It hurt her ears, and Lottie felt sweat trickle down her shoulder blades. She struggled to keep her breathing even as she scanned the crowd. Jules and Tristan had distracted her while they all ate, and Lottie hadn't noticed many of the soldiers arriving. But now that they were there, she felt uncomfortable in their presence and longed to escape. Most of the soldiers returned her gaze. Some men were openly hostile, a few—like Jules and Tristan—were smiling, but most stared at her with neutral expressions. The attention made her uncomfortable. She'd even prefer open hostility to not knowing what they were thinking.

"Hey, you all right, Momma?" Tristan asked with a nudge.

She swallowed hard.

_No._

Her mouth was dry, and her stomach flip-flopped.

"Do you need somethin'? You look a bit pale," Tristan pressed. "You're not goin' to puke on me, are you?"

With a struggle, Lottie found her voice. "No. I'm fine." She looked down at her arms. She'd curled them around her abdomen and had to force her hands away. Lottie couldn't remember wrapping them around herself. "I could use a drink of water. Where am I to get it?"

"Don't move. I'll get it for you."

"Okay," she said, irritated to find her voice wavered as she spoke.

Tristan got up, and Lottie watched where he went. He stopped at the command building.

Under the extended roof were covered barrels. There Tristian took a dipper and filled a mug before turning and heading back toward her.

As he walked back, he passed Jules, Lincoln, and another soldier. He said something to them, and Jules laughed.

With her attention on Tristan, she wasn't paying attention, and Casey's booming voice startled her. She snapped her head to look at him. "Don't everyone get up at once!" he said to a few of the slower moving men, and few of them chuckled before tucking back into their meal. Casey looked down at her and then sat on the log next to her.

Lottie went to shift away from him, but Tristan sat next to her before she could move.

"Here," he said and handed her the mug. Her hands shook as she took the cup from him. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Tristan. Get out of my spot," Jules called as he came closer. "I have fifteen minutes left on my watch with Chica here, and I intend to do it sitting down next to her. Don't worry, big T. Your turn is at sixteen hundred. Now scram old man. Oh, and get me some of that coffee while you're at it."

Tristan stood and clapped Jules on the back, unsettling him. "Remember, I'm bigger."

"Bug off. Right, Chica?"

Tristan started to walk toward the command shed but turned for one last statement. "Get your own damn coffee, pup!" He laughed and continued away from them.

Lottie wrapped her other hand around her mug to steady its shaking.

Jules dropped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. "Relax," he said when he felt her tense.

She could feel her cheeks warming again. How could she explain that being surrounded by fourteen men who are all bigger than her was scary and intimidating? He'd never understand. Lottie gripped the mug tighter. Jules's arm was uncomfortable around her, and she tried to shrug him off.

At first, Lottie thought the tug on her hair was due to her trying to remove Jules's arm, but when Tristan spoke, she knew it was his hand doing the tugging.

When had he returned?

"Case. you want me to do a basic perimeter walk or somethin' more in-depth?" Tristan asked.

"Perimeter is fine. Check the crops while you're out there. Let me know if they need maintenance," Casey confirmed.

She slipped from Jules's embrace, and Jules stood.

"Will do Case," Tristan replied. Calling to someone Lottie couldn't see, he said, "Wu? Let's roll."

Before Tristan's yell had finished, Jules was asking, "You see where Ty went?"

"No," Casey answered.

"Is the meal plan posted?"

"Yeah. The new one is up," Casey replied.

"I guess I'll go prep for lunch." Jules looked to the command shed before turning back to Lottie. "You're all mine tomorrow, Chica. Later, Case." Lottie watched as he walked away.

She wasn't sure what to think. Jules's tone had been light and playful, but she didn't like how he talked about her.

"He's an all right kid," Casey said.

"I guess so. Seems a little too friendly."

"You can never have too friendly."

She did not agree. She took a shaky breath and shifted away from Casey as she turned to look at him. "Am I to work while I am here?" It wasn't like she wanted too, but she was capable of helping out if it was needed.

"No."

"Then what will you expect me to do?"

"Stay out of everyone's way, sweetness. Don't be a pest. Don't run. And for God's sake, deliver that baby safely. I am not equipped to handle a problem labor."

Casey stood, drawing Lottie's eyes upward to watch him.

"Ethan, Teo," he said to someone who stood behind her. "She can go anywhere within a half hour's brisk walk from this clearing. Make sure she is back for meals and has plenty to drink. Don't want our femme fatale here to get dehydrated and go into preterm labor." He dug into one of his cargo pockets and pulled out her sling, handing it to her. "She's even allowed to hunt if it keeps her entertained. Maybe she can bag some rabbit, squirrel, or mink. Oh, and Devushka?" He turned his gaze to hers. "You will be back by nightfall, and you will be in my tent to sleep. Understood?"

How could I forget?

"Yes."

"She has a pretty voice," the second soldier said.

"It's not the only thing that's pretty on her," the first man agreed, his words sending a chill down Lottie's spine. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

_He doesn't mean anything by it,_ she chanted to herself.

Casey gave her a pointed look. She couldn't tell what his reaction was to what his soldiers were saying. "I'm on patrol again, so you'll be in the tent by yourself tonight." He glared at her. "That doesn't mean you won't be under surveillance. I expect you to behave for Lincoln and Hong. If they even breathe a word to me that you gave them grief, I will put you on Camp Arrest. Understood?"

Lottie gulped. "I understand," she answered.

"Now, I have work to do. I'll see you later, Bean." As he left, he shouted for Javier to meet him at the command shed.

"It's so hot in that building," one of the soldiers guarding her complained. "I don't know how he stands it."

"He doesn't. During the day, he'll move whatever paperwork he needs to do to the picnic table outside," the second man answered. "Haven't you ever seen him at that small table near the smokehouse?"

"I don't think so," the first replied.

"You need to be more observant. Didn't your Drill Sargent teach you that in Basic, Ethan?"

Teo—the man who answered Ethan—sat down next to her on the log in the spot Casey vacated. Ethan sat on her other side. Lottie took a sip of her water and looked at each man quickly. She wanted names with faces. Teo reminded her of Jules in his complexion: dark black hair, dark tan skin. He even had a few dark freckles on his arms. The other man, Ethan, was young. Young like Jules, and he had bright blue eyes, reddish-brown hair, and little freckles everywhere. He flashed her a smile that bordered on a snarl.

"What do you think he does with all that paperwork?" Ethan asked.

"Don't know. Don't much care. I have no interest in being a Staff Sergeant. It looks like shit work. Worse than AHC."

"Not much can be worse than AHC. Hell, I'd rather do LPD than AHC."

"I've eaten your cooking. You'd be better in AHC."

"Thanks," Ethan said, his tone sarcastic. "Your meals aren't that much better. I don't know why they don't deploy some LPD for the field."

"They do," Teo answered. "I don't know how Case did it, but he managed to convince the Brass that we don't need LPD. That's why none of them are here."

"Shit. Why'd he go and do that?"

"Dunno, you'll have to ask him," Teo answered. "You know you can do that, right? He's approachable. I was assigned to his squad when he first made Staff Sergeant. I didn't realize how lucky that was 'til you hear some of the stories about that Kerner guy."

"Kerner?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah, Staff Sergeant Kerner—jackass all the way, apparently—he broke the pump for running water and ripped out the heater and left it to rust. He's the one to blame for us having to bathe in the river."

"I wonder if she'd help us bathe in the river."

"Nice thought, but I think I'd rather watch her bathe in the river without you there," Teo answered.

Lottie gripped her cup tighter. Casey had told her she'd have space for personal needs. He hadn't lied, had he? She swallowed hard, bile creeping up her throat.

"I guess with enough time, one of us will be lucky enough to see it," Teo continued. "Case won't let her start to smell. Not while she sleeps in his tent."

"You think he gets to have some fun?"

"Dunno. She didn't scream last night, that's for sure. Adan did say she cried. So maybe?" Teo replied. "I don't think so, though. He doesn't seem the type to extract payment for room and board. And I've never heard a story saying he had, so," Teo's statement trailed off.

"I hope she runs. I know what _force_ I'd use."

"As if you—and half this squad—would know what to do. You're what? All of eighteen? Do you even know what parts to stick it in?"

"I know what to—"

"Oh, that's right. You learned it all from the mags that were passed around the dorms, right? Did you even go to a communal sanctioned dance?" Teo asked. "It's about the only place you could have got any play at your age."

"Like you have that much experience."

"Calm. I ain't attacking you. I never said I'd know what to do either," Teo responded.

"We could practice..."

She looked at Ethan. He was smirking at her, and then he looked past her to Teo. Lottie turned and found Teo grinning. She looked back at Ethan.

"What?" his tone dripped false innocence.

Lottie stood. She needed space.

Ethan's hand grabbed her arm. "You know beautiful," Ethan said, his voice too smooth. His thumb brushed circles around her captured wrist. Goosebumps erupted in their wake, and Lottie thought she was going to throw up. "Every one of us has to pull double watch duty now with you here. We finish a standard shift and then go directly to watching your sweet ass for another four hours. It's good that you're cute. Otherwise, it would be more of a chore."

"Please let me go," she asked and tugged her arm. Ethan's grip tightened. She could feel the bones in her wrist grind together.

"Where do you think you're going, gorgeous?"

"Just the bathroom. Please let go," Lottie pleaded. She had to get away from him. "I think I'm going to puke."

Ethan dropped her arm, and Lottie moved as fast as she could, tripping over her feet in her haste. She really did think she was about to lose her breakfast.

"You think Sergeant—"

"Case," Teo interrupted.

"—Case will let us escort her back once she pops this kid?"

"Why would you want to do that job?" Teo asked. "She'd probably whine the whole time, and who wants to listen to a baby cry? I hated that part of the communals."

"That's all secondary."

"Tell me then."

"No one would notice if she's used on the way back. That's why I joined ARA. Why go to the trouble to capture and drag back evaders, if you don't get to have fun with them while you're at it?"

Lottie had heard enough. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled to the closest tree and threw up behind it.

#  Chapter 3

Casey sniffed. The coyly sweet smell of tobacco teased his nose. "I asked you not to smoke."

"No one here to hide it from," Javier replied.

"Immaterial. It will cling to your clothes, and a sensitive nose will detect it."

"By the time they smell my clothes, you'll already have their face pressed to a tree, their hands behind their back, and a gun to their head. I hear you did that to the evader chick the other night. So again I ask, why does it matter?"

Because it smells horrid and I don't want to breathe in your fumes?

Casey ignored the question. Responding would gain him nothing and would negatively affect his careful balance with the most volatile on his team—that volatility the very reason why Javier was on his squad in the first place, and the reason they were both on this rotation. No one else knew what to do with him, and Basic hadn't beaten the fight out of him. So it was Casey's job to try to shape him up.

After only a week, it seemed like a lost cause.

Casey spotted something on the floor of the decoy shelter and stepped closer.

Mud.

But not just any smear of mud. It was a track. A partial tread of a boot. Too big to be feminine. So a dodger of the other sort.

Casey sniffed the air. Maybe there was an identifiable scent, something he could track. He smelled nothing but the sweet odor of Javier's cigarettes. Casey stifled his sigh. "We have something to investigate," he told Javier and pointed toward the print.

Javier leaned in and looked down. "Another dodger? This far out of town?" Javier laughed. "We can start up or own whorehouse. Call it Huxley's. It could be as swank as the State-run brothels."

Casey glanced at him. Javier was leaning against the corner of the building, the one open to the woods. "What would you know about places like that?"

"Only what I've read. Never been to one myself. But I think paying for a screw would be worth it, don't you?"

"Right now? No," Casey answered, and turned back to studying the partial footprint. "I have more important things to do."

"Than fucking?" Javier asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"I can't believe rounding up evaders is that high on your list."

"It is. And as long as you are on my squad, it will be your top priority also." Casey struggled to keep his tone neutral.

Javier continued as if Casey hadn't rebuked him. "It's annoying we're not s'posed to have relations with the enlisted until they are thirty and out of the program."

"You know why. The field manuals explain this." Casey stood and hopped off of the structure. He scanned the ground for indications of passage. The man took refuge in the shelter, most likely during the same storms as when they captured the girl. He was probably long gone, but Casey needed to confirm just in case. If the dodger was young enough, Casey could send him back to Fort St. Louis for his mandatory service. And if he was too old? Then Casey needed to make sure he didn't pose a threat to his camp.

"Sterile and controlled environment for the treatments," Javier huffed. "I hear a few get pregnant the natural way after their enlistment is over. They get shipped off to medical labs upstate. Kids still end up in the communals, though." Javier paused. "Makes you wonder—don't it—if they all got fucked the right way, would they get pregnant more often?"

Casey grunted in response. He was already tired of this conversation. Nobody had sex until after thirty—well, the few who paid for it did—and every baby ended up in the communal homes. It was the only way to be fair to everyone else.

"I wonder what you have to do to get on the donor list for the treatments."

"Prove yourself," Casey answered, distracted. He found some more tracks.

"How do you prove yourself?"

"Not get transferred to four different military branches due to misbehavior, for starters."

Javier laughed.

"I am serious."

"I know. That's why it's so funny. You're the perfect Staff Sergeant, aren't you," Javier responded. "You do everything the Brass tells you to, without fail. I bet you don't even notice the piece of ass in your tent. I know half the guys had to fist it after you sent her to your bed for lights out."

"That's enough," Casey said and looked at him pointedly. He didn't like the direction of the conversation.

"Hit a nerve, huh? Didn't get a chance to blow a load before you crawled in with her?" Javier chuckled and quirked an eyebrow. "I bet you could get away with using her too. She's in your tent, already pregnant, no one would notice if you touched her, and if they did, ain't no one going to report on the perfect Huxley."

_Lincoln would._ Casey shook his head, more to dispel the thoughts than to negate Javier's words, but he wouldn't tell him that. "She deserves our respect for doing her duty for the country, even if she ran."

"Respect? She could serve under her country—if you know what I mean."

_Yep, he's a lost cause._ Casey thought with disgust. "You have as much experience as the rest of us when it comes to carnal matters. So I suggest you quit daydreaming about being nestled between some thighs and start focusing on your job."

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say, _sarge_."

"It's no wonder they shipped you to me. With that attitude? Numbers don't mean a thing if you can't keep your mouth in line."

"Set me up with a nest and a long-range scoped rifle, and I can take out your evaders. No problem. Doesn't mean I know how to track 'em. Or keep 'em alive," Javier retorted. "My job was to pick off border jumpers, not rescue 'em."

"Well, rescuing and detaining's your job now, and I expect you to give it your full concentration."

"It'd be easier if I could sc—"

Casey cut him off. "I'm sure it would, but that isn't the situation and talking about it won't change that fact. So, if you're not going to help me track, the least you can do is be quiet while I do the work."

"Will do," Javier smiled and dragged hits thumb and forefinger across his lips as if zipping them closed.

Casey turned away and scanned the ground. He didn't want Javier to see him grit his teeth in frustration. Javier's deployment papers had warned Casey that Javier liked to press, pushing for weaknesses in leadership. Casey assumed this was an extension of his natural desire to see how far he could go before Casey lost his control. Well, today wouldn't be the day that Javier succeeded.

"This print is headed north, but that isn't a guarantee of direction," Casey instructed. "You look over there for tracks, and I'll follow these. If you don't see anything in a fifty-meter perimeter check, head north after me."

Javier nodded, turning on a business-like demeanor, which was a stark contrast to his humor of a few minutes ago. He pivoted on his heel and began a methodical examination of the ground.

Casey shook his head. Maybe Javier wasn't as bad as his paperwork implied. Casey would withhold judgment. It was only a week after all. How much could you know about a man in that amount of time?

He scanned his surroundings and started walking in the direction of the tracks. It didn't take long for Javier to catch up with him. His arrival wasn't a surprise. There were too many footprints in the dirt for Casey to not be following the correct set of prints.

Javier inclined his head, pointed, and signed the equivalent of, _Concerned?_

_No,_ Casey replied and scanned the ground for more prints.

_There. Dirt. Boulder. Climb?_ Javier asked.

No. Decoy. Direction. Wrong.

With careful steps, they followed the sparse trail left behind by the individual. Casey estimated they'd traveled a klick and a half when Javier pointed at another depression on the ground.

It was a full boot indentation.

Casey spread his fingers and measured them against the tread. He guessed the man to be six feet tall and not carrying much weight. The sole's pattern from the boot had pressed deep into the rain-softened soil, and Casey concluded that the man either didn't care that someone could track him, or was too stupid to know better. If it were the former, Casey would need to be careful when they found him.

One consolation to this expedition was that the man had no interest in Casey's camp. The prints were too far north and east to be a concern, and each new track they found led them farther away from Base. Traveling even another kilometer wasn't worth it for a male evader. The man was already out of range for Casey's usual patrols and not a concern.

_No further,_ Casey signed to Javier.

_Yes,_ Javier replied. _Wait._

Casey stopped and listened. What was that rustling noise?

He turned slowly, with his ear toward the sound. At last, he spotted the paper fluttering right above his head. Casey tugged it off the branch it was impaled on and read: _You missed me! Noah_

"Damn!"

The man—Noah—was toying with them. Casey shoved the note into his pocket. He would ponder it later.

"Let's check out Shelter Six," Casey ordered.

"Lead the way."

***

Lottie wiped the sweat from her eyes and tucked her hands under her cheek. It was swelteringly hot in Casey's tent, and she was thirsty. Lottie licked her dry lips and rolled over. She didn't want to get up and go outside for more water, but she couldn't get comfortable without it.

She sat up.

"There's Tristan," Teo said, sounding closer to the tent than he did a few minutes ago.

"About damn time," Ethan replied.

Lottie listened for footsteps.

"You're late," Ethan snapped.

She was pretty sure she heard two people walking up the hill toward Casey's tent, their boots crunching on some gravel. "Get over yourself, Ethan." She recognized Tristan's voice.

"You'll have an easy time of it," Teo said. "She hasn't left Case's tent since she got sick this morning."

Lottie grimaced at the reminder. Her mouth still tasted like vomit.

"She's sick?" Tristan asked, concerned.

"How long has she been in there?" Someone else asked at the same time.

She wrapped her arms around her belly when Ethan answered. "Eh? I think it was right after our shift started. Right, Teo?"

"Yup," Teo said at the same time as Tristan asked, "Seven hours?"

"Yep."

Tristan barked, "Without lunch?" There was a pause, and Lottie assumed Ethan or Teo answered with a shrug or shake of the head. "Did you at least make sure she had water?" Again there was a pause, and Lottie assumed the guards responded. "Jackass!" Tristan growled, and Lottie shifted in her seat. She tried to see Tristan out of her tent screen. "She's court-martialed. _Not_ a prisoner of war!" Lottie watched the shadows on the ground shift and move. "You"—the word punctuated by a shadow of a finger pointing—"get me a canteen of water. And you"—another shadowed arm wave—"get me some travel rations. No. Out of your hidden stash."—again, a shadow of an arm wave—"No! I don't want to hear it. You should have been more attentive to what she may need."

"She never said anything. We figured she—"

Tristan cut Ethan off. "—If she refuses to talk, you have to guess what she may want and then offer it. Especially when Case's orders are clear, and you can't get much clearer than 'make sure she eats and drinks.' Now go get me that water," Tristan demanded.

Lottie heard someone move away from the tent, and she took a deep breath.

"Wu," Tristan said, his voice calm, and his tone low. "She hasn't met you yet. Do you mind waitin' out here while I see if she's all right?" He paused before adding, "She's skittish—rightfully so—and I don't want to overload her with people in such a small space."

"Sure. I'll let you know when they get back with the supplies."

Tristan thanked him and then scratched at the tent flap door. "Momma? Ya'll'ight in there? Can I come in?"

"Yes," she answered him. It was kind of him to ask, but she wondered why he bothered. He had no reason to be courteous, and he could come and go as he pleased.

A moment later, the zipper rasped, and Lottie saw his booted foot enter the tent. Then, Tristan ducked his head into her temporary quarters. "Good lord, it is hot in here," he said as he stepped through the door. "You doin' all right, Momma? They said you were ill."

"I am all right," Lottie whispered. Her throat was dry and scratchy, and his request for water made her thirst almost unbearable.

"Our food make you sick, or is it the pregnancy?"

He didn't fool her. Tristan would tell Casey every word she said, and she worried about Ethan and Teo's reaction. What if Casey punished them, and they took it out on her? They already lamented the fact she created more work for them, and they had threatened her safety. She wouldn't say anything about their behavior. "The pregnancy."

"Not much I can do about that," Tristan replied and squatted at the end of her bedding near the door. "Water and food are on their way. You hungry now?"

"A little," she replied to his question and looked into his blue eyes. The skin around them crinkled when he smiled, and he brushed sandy blond hair from his forehead. His friendliness perplexed her. Did he expect her to fall for his good-guy act? It wasn't as if she'd begin to trust him. That would not happen. Lottie dropped her gaze to the blanket under her.

"I bet." Tristan cleared his throat as if he was nervous. "I'm curious. I know statistically, you're goin' to have a boy, but do you know the gender of your baby? Or did you run before you found out?"

Lottie debated about answering truthfully. She could guess the sex and say yes, she knew. If she were wrong, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It wasn't like the surgeons' were always right with their diagnosis. But saying yes would mean she'd been running for under six months. And, how would she explain escaping the tightened security? The pregnancy wing of the hospital was a prison. No one got out. But, if she answered no, then she had to worry about how much he could deduce from the information Casey already knew. Again, she decided to go with the safest answer. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm goin' to hope you have a girl. We need more women in the world."

Lottie didn't think she agreed. At least a boy would be able to do grow up and be something other than a human guinea pig.

There was a shifting of weight outside the tent and a scratch at the flap. "Tristan?"

"Yes?"

"Ethan is on his way up the hill."

"Thanks." Tristan looked at her. "I'll be right back."

She nodded in understanding and licked her lips in eagerness. Tristan smiled and stepped back out into the sunshine.

Lottie took a moment to wipe the sweat off her forehead and then dried her hand on her shorts. She felt gross and wanted to soak in the river. It had been cold and refreshing yesterday, but Lottie discarded the idea. Someone would have to watch her soak, and she didn't trust any of the soldiers to leave her alone. Even though it had been uncomfortable to bathe with Casey a few feet away, he had been discreet when he watched her. She'd been amazed when he sent that other soldier, Lincoln, away so that she could have more privacy. Maybe when Casey came back from his patrol, she would ask him to take her back to the river.

The sound of crunching gravel drew her attention, and she focused on the door.

"I think you have Mess duty." Tristan sounded so cold and angry, and Lottie opened her eyes wide in surprise.

"I can read a schedule," Ethan replied.

Tristan added, "That was me tellin' you to leave."

"You know you're an asshole, right?" Ethan retorted. "We didn't do anything wrong. It isn't our fault she puked and then hid in the tent all day."

"Somehow, I doubt that," he snapped, and Lottie wondered if more emotion had shown in her expression than she'd wanted. "If it turns out that's all it was, then I'll give you an apology. I'm not holding my breath. I've seen pups like you before. Bluster and asshattery—"

Ethan snapped, "Fuck you, Tristan. You're not perfect."

Tristan talked over him. "—Takes a few knocks to the ears before you figure it out."

"Others think she should be put to work while she's here. Earn her keep."

"Others? Like you?" Tristan inquired.

"No—"

Again, Tristan talked over Ethan, "That's not how things work. Do a few round-ups, and you'll realize how hard it is on them. Maybe then you'll grow a pair and be nicer. Take care of them like they deserve."

"Deserve?" Ethan spat. "Have you seen the treatment they get in the communals? They're pampered pets," Ethan said, incredulous.

"You have a lot to learn, pup." Lottie crawled to the edge of the tent and peeked out the door. Tristan was shaking his head. "Pampered? We may be owned by Uncle Sam, but at least in the Army, our bodies are ours. We have choices."

"Their bodies are theirs—"

"Open your eyes, youngster." Tristan shifted so Lottie could no longer see his face. "If you saw how hard pregnancy was on their bodies, you never would say somethin' that insane. If you want to see how _pampered_ she is, watch her struggle to walk, or sit, or even eat. She's earned any _pamperin'_ we can give her." He paused, and Lottie wondered what face he was making to cause Ethan to appear that angry. "And then, when the government thinks she's used up, they give her the option of workin' her to death actin' as a mother in the communals or being a prostitute for the whims of men."

_That's not entirely accurate,_ Lottie thought. There were other choices available.

"They get to live in plush housing, take all the meds we manufacture, food, sex. I'd pop out a couple of kids for that."

"All you hear is the word sex." Tristan shifted again, and Lottie could see his profile. He was frowning. "Yes, they're given what they need to keep their bodies healthy. But nowhere in that equation are they given the option to choose their life. Then, God forbid if they produced offsprin'."

She watched as his anger melted away, and sympathy replaced it. "If you saw the required treatments after a healthy pregnancy, you'd want to run away too. It's bad enough we have to take her back. The least we can do is make sure that her stay at Fort Sutton is as pleasant as we can make it." Lottie was spellbound as even the sympathy left his expression, and only a weariness remained. "Now get out of my sight, pup. You have failed in your task today."

"I think she should work for her keep," Ethan grumbled, evidently unable to let it go.

Tristan frowned. When he spoke, his tone again conveyed anger. "You would. Now go away. You have work to do."

Lottie watched as Ethan pulled himself straighter, and gave Tristan a dirty look, before turning on his heel and marching down the hill.

There was a pregnant pause before Wu asked, "You believe all that, or are you giving him the business?"

"I do believe it," Tristan said.

"I wish I could say the same."

"Give it a few more years, and you will. I've seen women at every stage of pregnancy. It's hard work. Harder than anything I'd ever want to do. And I've worked the fields."

"I doubt it," Wu said.

Tristan shook his head, and when he turned, Lottie yanked her head back. Her heart pounded in her chest. It wasn't like she eavesdropped. He had made no effort to hide the whole exchange, but she hadn't intended him to see her staring from the tent.

A second later, he scratched at the tent flap and stuck his head inside. "Momma? Why don't you come out of that hot tent? It isn't good for you or the baby to bake yourself in there. Come sit in the shade and eat."

He seemed so sincere.

After a moment of indecision, she replied, "All right," and crawled toward the door. Tristan offered her his hand and helped her stand. "Thank you."

He acknowledged her appreciation with a nod of his head. "There is a nice comfortable place to sit, right over there." He pointed to a log under a tree about twenty feet away. "You look flushed. Do you need help? Here is that water."

Lottie took a deep breath and reached for the canteen. He was standing too close, and it was making her uncomfortable, but he was trying to help her, so she schooled her expression and exhaled slowly. "No, I can manage," she told him after she felt in control.

She made her way over to the log and declined his hand when he offered to help her sit. After she settled, he sat on the ground next to her.

"So, Momma, what do you want to do with your time between now an' dinner? I'm not going to let you go back into that hot tent 'til the sun dips behind that bluff." He pointed to the cliffs to the west, then put his hands behind him on the ground and leaned back. "We could go for a walk, or if that's too much, we could sit here and watch the Base."

Lottie sipped her water and looked down the hill from Casey's tent. Ethan and Teo were by the cook fire, and someone else was walking out of a shed. "I know that building's command, and the other one is the storage shed, but what is that one?" She asked and pointed down the hill.

"The smokehouse."

She'd forgotten that they smoked their kills.

"That reminds me," Tristan said. "Here's that jerky I promised."

She took the dried meat that he handed to her, and she sucked on it to soften it. "You said you raised chickens. May I see them?"

"Sure. You want to feed 'em some corn?"

Lottie smiled, unable to hide her eagerness. It was amusing, even to her, how excited she was at the prospect of seeing some birds. It wasn't like she didn't see small wild animals before, but the only ones she ever got close to were the ones she killed. Fort St. Louis didn't allow domesticated pets, let alone, farm animals. It was hard enough to keep people fed.

He returned her smile. "You sure are pretty when you smile."

She felt the smile slip, and self-consciousness replaced the ease growing between them.

"Give me a minute, Momma. I have to get the grain." He stood and called to Wu, "I'll be right back. You got her?"

Lottie heard Wu's sullen reply.

She sighed and took a bite of the jerky and rubbed her baby through her belly while she waited. The action earned her a kick in response.

Lottie smiled.

***

"Nope, last night was quiet," Lincoln informed Casey. They were standing near the small table outside Casey's command shed, wrapping up Lincoln's debriefing.

Casey was relieved. At least his little dodger hadn't tried to run on her second night. "No issues?"

"Other than the fact she needs to piss every hour? No, no issues." Lincoln smirked. "Although I did instruct the guys not to challenge her after that first time."

"No need to detain her. Bean's not that fast, but I bet she'd give us one helluva time if she wasn't pregnant."

"Paul said she nearly went into labor after they stopped her," Lincoln said with a smirk.

"Oh?" That wasn't good.

Assisting in a non-surgical fetal extraction wasn't high on Casey's list, but he didn't want the evader to go into labor without him, either. Anything could go wrong, and he'd rather be the one with the responsibility than one of his men.

"Yeah. The dodger held her stomach tight and whined when Paul grabbed her arm. He forced her to sit for a bit before letting her walk down the hill."

That didn't sound like labor to Casey.

"No one here envies you," Lincoln chuckled. "Half a dozen of them have been practicing your signature whistle. I betcha, the second she goes into labor, all of them will be searching for you."

Casey stifled a snort and ran a hand through his hair. It was barely nine in the morning, and the air already felt thick and heavy. The temperature had to be close to ninety. He would never fall asleep in his tent in this heat.

Movement caught Casey's eye, and he looked over Lincoln's shoulder to focus on the activity. The young woman was waddling down the hill with her guard. Ty, as expected, followed behind her at a respectable distance. Jules, on the other hand, was chatting with her—no, not with her, _at_ her. She was silent as ever. Casey was impressed. If anyone could learn her secrets, it would be Jules, but she seemed immune to his charms.

Lincoln turned to see where he was looking. "She's headed this way."

"Looks like it," Casey replied. "Anyone learn her name yet?"

"Nope, but she's taken to Tristan." Lincoln turned back to him. "He's probably going to crack her shell before Jules does. You hear he chewed out Teo and Ethan at the start of his shift yesterday, and she seemed more comfortable around him afterward."

"Jules?" Casey asked.

"No, Tristan."

"I hadn't heard. Elaborate." If she already trusted Tristan, maybe he would ask Tristan to assist when the girl went into labor.

"I didn't ask for a report. What I gathered from Ethan's grumbling at Mess is that Tristan yelled at them for letting her hide in your tent all day without food or water. I'm not surprised. They're both pissed about the double shifts."

"Anger and a weaker person to take it out on," Casey agreed. It was a common problem with the recently enlisted. He was surprised Teo would react that way being a few years out of basic. "Think I need to say something?"

"Na, I'd let it slide."

Casey grudgingly agreed. It was a balance between letting the men have their opinions and forcing them to obey when needed. "Understood."

"Case," Jules acknowledged as they came closer. "Anything exciting happen while on patrol?"

Noah.

"Nope," Casey lied.

Jules rocked on his heels. "Good."

The woman wrapped her arms around her belly and looked to the ground.

"Chica said she had a question for you."

He turned his focus to the evader. The woman's hair clung to her head, and she had a twig sticking out of a messy bun holding it up off her neck. There was a slight smudge of dirt under her right eye.

"Would you... Um, could you..."

Casey had to concentrate on hearing her weak voice. "Speak up," he snapped, cursing his insensitivity when she flinched. He tried again, infusing as much calm into his tone as he could muster. "What do you need?"

She glanced at Lincoln before meeting his eyes, then dropped her gaze to the ground. "I would like to get clean in the river." She looked at him from under her lashes, not quite willing to meet his gaze. "Without witnesses," she added.

"Alone? I can't do that."

"Not alone," she said with a touch of defiance. "Just without them." She twitched her head backward, indicating Jules and Ty standing behind her.

Casey sat back and studied her before he said, "You're asking me to act as your guard while you bathe?" He shoved the thought of seeing her naked again out of his mind.

She nodded, not meeting his eyes, her cheeks turning bright red.

Lincoln nudged him. When Casey turned to see what he needed, Lincoln smirked and twitched his eyebrows up and down. Casey ignored him and turned back to the evader. When he answered, his tone was harsh. "Fine, but we go now. I have work to do this afternoon."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He couldn't help but feel a touch of excitement at the prospect of seeing her without clothes. He cursed Javier for putting that thought in his head. Casey didn't want to admit he liked watching that first bath. Taking physical enjoyment out of watching her get clean seemed inappropriate and unprofessional despite the fact supervision was in his job description. Thinking back on it, he couldn't remember feeling the same desire with the other evaders over the past six years. But then again, it wasn't until he became Staff Sergeant that supervising became a requirement, and he hadn't had to do it often.

"You remember how to get there?" Casey asked.

She nodded.

"Lead the way," he ordered.

He followed behind as she exited his camp and crossed over the low water bridge and down the gravel path to the river. Her hips shifted from side to side, and Casey wondered if she waddled that much two days ago? He couldn't remember.

Snapping his hand out, he caught her arm when she slipped. She tensed at his touch. Casey refused to believe it was his hand on her arm that did it and instead decided it was due to her near fall. "You all right?"

"Yes," she answered, slightly breathless.

He held her steady for the rest of the way down the path, but he did loosen his grip.

"We're here. Get clean," Casey grumbled, letting her go.

Bean didn't say anything, only pulled the shirt over her head and dropped it to the ground. She then shimmied out of the tight tank top and let it fall onto its fellow garment. Her cheeks were bright red, but she didn't hesitate as she untied the shorts and dropped both them and her panties to the ground.

Before Casey could register the fact she was completely naked, she'd already stepped into the river and lowered herself until the water lapped at her neck. He heard her hiss as the cold water covered her bare skin, but then his mind caught up with he'd seen, and his body reacted. Casey had to readjust part of his anatomy. Doing so reminded him of something Javier had said while on deployment. _Half the guys had to fist it after you sent her to your bed for lights out._

Casey groaned. He did not want to think about that conversation. Not with the object of the discussion less than ten feet from him and completely nude. He tried to not stare at the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, or how the dusting of freckles drew his eyes to her upper back.

Could serve under her country—if you know what I mean.

She reached up and pulled the stick that held her hair in place. It fell free from the bun, and she swept it to the side. Casey had to look away. Didn't she have any idea how alluring pulling her hair from her neck made her look? The desire to run his fingers through her hair forced him to shift his weight from foot to foot.

Hit a nerve, huh?

"Shut up, Javier," he growled to himself.

He had to put some distance between them. Casey moved further away so that he wouldn't see the curve of her breast as she tilted her head back to wet her hair, or how she shifted enough to tease him with a glimpse of her ribs as she plucked at the river gravel under her hands.

_You could get away with using her too_.

"No. Chica deserves respect and care," Casey told himself, dismissing the uncomfortable thought. He was above such behavior.

He took a shaky step backward, and then another. After several paces, he took a deep breath.

Already he felt better. Less aware of the dodger's skin taunting him. He relaxed the tension in his shoulders, and with effort, he pushed his thoughts toward his new enigma.

_Noah_.

The man needed to be found and questioned.

Casey shifted his weight and pulled the note from his pocket.

You missed me! Noah

What was Noah's goal?

***

Lottie's life settled into a tolerable routine. Her guards changed in a steady rotation. Casey let her bathe in the river every evening when he did, and he kept his distance whenever possible.

She rolled over and tucked her hands under her cheek.

It wasn't so bad here in Casey's camp compared to that _other_ one, and Lottie was trying to ignore the few things that did upset her. Most of the soldiers were not friendly—and some were downright rude—but Lottie was used to that. The communal homes weren't known for their rainbows and sunshine either.

Actually, after a week in Casey's camp, there was only one thing that made her worry. Two or three times a day, her belly would tighten repeatedly. It didn't hurt—much—but it wasn't comfortable either. The sensation would repeat itself every few minutes for about an hour and then would go away. She wondered if there was a name for it. Maybe Casey would know. When he got back from patrol, she would ask him.

Lottie sucked in a breath as another of these muscle spasms happened. As it released, she let out the air she was holding and took a shaky breath. _It's passed,_ she told herself. Her stomach growled. She should probably get up and get something to eat for breakfast or drink some water. She knew there was food since she could hear the men working and eating around the campfire.

With a sigh, she pushed to her knees and crawled to the tent entrance. It was easier to crawl out and then stand instead of trying to maneuver within the tent hunched over. She nearly fell that one time, and she didn't want to repeat the scare.

Lottie exited the structure and zipped the tent flap closed before putting on her ratty shoes and gaining her feet. As she stood, another of the spasms gripped her, and she bent over to brace herself on her knees. She waited for it to go away.

"Is the princess feeling ill again?"

Ethan.

She declined to answer the snide question. When she started walking down the hill to the bathroom, Ethan and Teo followed after her.

_Great._

It was the first time she had to deal with them alone, since that first full day. They kept to themselves when Casey was nearby.

That strange tightening sensation happened two more times on her way down to the restrooms, and she struggled to appear unaffected. She didn't like being the object of their ridicule, and Lottie didn't want to give them anything else that they could use to make fun of her.

When she arrived at the outhouse, she locked herself in and took a calming breath and then another. As her tension drained away, the tightness in her abdomen did too. The relief fed on itself until she was completely calm and in control. She used the restroom and then schooled her expression before unlocking the door.

Lottie stepped out from under the roof and into the sunshine. Her face tilted toward the sun, which filtered through the leaves.

"Enjoying yourself, beautiful?"

Lottie sucked in a breath. Ethan was standing way too close. She looked right then left for some way to escape him, or at least put some distance between them.

"At least one of us is," Teo remarked. "I know I ain't."

Lottie stepped back and to the side, trying to skirt around Ethan, but he advanced. He managed to keep her from moving around him. In a few more steps, she felt the wall against her back. She couldn't move any farther away.

"You're going to stay right here and listen," Ethan said. He punctuated the 'hear' and 'listen' with a hand on either side of Lottie's head. Each thud of Ethan's palms hitting the wall made her jump. She panted in fear.

Ethan leaned in and brushed his cheek along hers. "So soft. I bet your pussy is too. Damn, I can't wait 'til you get rid of that brat in your belly." When Ethan looked at her again, he was smiling, but it had an edge to it as if he were pleased with how uncomfortable he made her feel.

She clasped her hands around her abdomen, giving it gentle rubs. Lottie couldn't tear her eyes away from Ethan's. It was as if the whole world faded away to nothing, leaving only his smirk.

"Look, dollface. I expect some sort of compensation for having to stand out in the heat to watch your ass, but you're too fat to fuck right now." His eyes traveled down her body and then back to hers. She held her breath. "Once you have that kid," Ethan said, then grunted appreciatively. "I _will_ take payment for all those watches Case made me take. A couple others may join in, or maybe I won't share. I haven't decided yet." A hand left the wall, and she could see him adjust himself. Ethan returned to his position of caging her in, and Lottie let the air out of her lungs slowly. Ethan continued, "But no matter what I choose, I will have satisfaction from your ass and your pussy. Who knows? Maybe I can knock you up again before you get back to Fort St. Louis."

A chuckle drew Lottie's gaze to Teo, who she could see over Ethan's shoulder. She quickly looked back at Ethan. Teo was doing something with his hands, and Lottie didn't want to examine the motion too carefully. She gulped.

"Looks like I'd have to fight Teo to keep him away from your cute ass. Good thing I don't want to, right, Teo."

"Yep," he said, his reply was strained. With effort, Lottie kept her gaze locked on Ethan.

"Make no mistake," Ethan said. "I'll get to you here in camp or on the march back to Fort St. Louis." His hand lightly brushed the hair from her cheek, and he cupped her neck. "I hope you have that brat soon. My balls are so blue that I can hardly wait to receive your payment."

With that, Ethan stepped away from her. Lottie's legs were shaking too hard to hold herself upright, and she slowly sunk to the ground as Ethan walked several feet away. He turned and adjusted himself again, grinning when she noticed.

"Told you she would like it," Ethan said, then laughed and punched Teo in the shoulder.

Lottie felt the hot tears spill down her cheeks. She let them fall without trying to stop them. 

#  Chapter 4

Lottie wasn't sure how long Ethan and Teo let her sit in the dirt and cry. It had to have been several minutes, at least. While she cried, they mocked her, but eventually, they grew bored and stopped. Slowly she regained control of her emotions, and her tears subsided, leaving her to sniff as she wiped her eyes.

Ethan and Teo snickered as she struggled to her feet. Lottie pressed her palm to her side. The baby was kicking her in the ribs. Sucking in a breath at the pain, Lottie braced her self for further mocking. With effort and faked confidence, she stiffened her spine and walked between Ethan and Teo to get to the handwashing station behind them. Once her hands were clean, Lottie splashed some water on her face, needing rid herself of the scratchy tear tracks on her cheeks. Tilting her face to the sun, she relished its warmth as it dried the water on her skin.

"You ready to eat, precious?" Ethan asked.

_No._ Lottie's hunger had disappeared the moment he threatened her, but she nodded in answer.

"Good, I'm hungry," Teo groused and pushed past her. Lottie's stomach did a flip-flop at his touch, and the sensation of a band tightening around her abdomen returned, more intense than before.

Ethan unsettled her anew when he shoved her between the shoulder blades. The hit wasn't hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her stumble. Lottie staggered to keep her balance. The nerve down her leg spasmed, and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

"Move, babydoll," Ethan ordered.

Lottie followed after Teo, her hands wrapped around her belly, and she felt her cheeks flame when they marched her passed Paul and Hong. She tucked her head in shame and marveled at how Teo and Ethan could make her feel like a burden. None of the other soldiers—not even the ones who disliked her—worked so hard to make her feel so small and insignificant as they did.

Reaching up to the stick that held her hair off her neck, she pulled it loose and let her hair fall around her shoulders, shielding her from everyone's scrutiny, but the hairs on her arms stood on end, and she knew Paul and Hong watched her. She hunched her shoulders and tried to become smaller. Gone was her earlier bravado from when she'd walked between Teo and Ethan to wash her hands.

They gained the clearing, and Lottie went to the log she usually sat on for meals. She glanced across the cooking fire as she eased herself down. Jaesen and Matt were working on the meal, and Adan was standing near them and talking. Besides Teo and Ethan, no one else was in the clearing, but she could see Paul, Lincoln, and Hong heading toward them.

Lottie glanced back at the men preparing breakfast and caught Adan's glare. She dropped her gaze and brushed her hair forward, trying to ignore the prickles on her skin his stare created.

The band tightened around her belly, and Lottie couldn't hold back the hiss she uttered in reaction. This spasm was different than last time, and it genuinely hurt for a moment before it relaxed. The baby squirmed in her belly, and she patted her stomach soothingly.

The action distracted her, and she wasn't paying attention to the soldiers around her, so she was startled when a slightly raspy, gruff voice grumbled, "Here" and a plate of eggs and grits found their way into her hand. Lottie looked up in time to see Matt turn and stalk away. If he had stayed a few seconds, she would have thanked him. He didn't like her, but he wasn't mean either, and she felt she owed him a bit of courtesy.

She spooned some grits onto her eggs and forced herself to take a bite.

"Hey Momma," Tristan said as he plunked down on the log next to her.

"I thought you were on perimeter duty," Lottie mumbled around her food.

"Na, that's Jules and Ty right now. I'm supposed to be sleepin' before my evenin' shifts tonight, but it's too damn hot," he answered, and dropped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "I thought I'd eat breakfast with my favorite Momma."

After her morning with Ethan, his touch was too intimate, and she could feel the tears threatening to overflow. "Please," she whispered, hating how her voice cracked on the word. "Don't touch me."

Tristan lowered his voice and turned to her. "Momma?" He kept one hand on her shoulder and brought the other hand up to grip her other side. She tensed, knowing he was trying to see her face, but she kept it averted from his scrutiny. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? In pain? Are you in labor?"

"I'm fine. Please let go," Lottie begged.

"I want you to talk to me," he told her, his tone firm.

She shook her head. She didn't trust herself to speak. If Lottie said anything at all, she would burst into tears again, and that was no way to convince Tristan that she was okay.

Tristan grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. She resisted, but his grip was firm, and she had to yield.

"Your eyes are red and shiny. You've been crying. Why?" Tristan asked, searching her face for an answer to his question.

She tried not to glance at Ethan, but she found her gaze found him anyway. Lottie quickly averted her eyes and looked to the ground, but it was too late. Tristan had seen.

"What did Ethan do?" he growled.

Lottie couldn't look Tristan in the eye and shook her head. She refused to say anything that would raise Ethan's ire. It was bad enough that Tristan supported her, and Lottie didn't need further damage by having Tristan challenge Ethan. She shuddered. The thought of Ethan acting on his threat before the baby was born nearly paralyzed her with fear.

She needed to escape. Lottie had put all plans on hold after the first night in Casey's camp on the hope that when she had the baby, she'd be able to travel faster, but maybe she should leave sooner.

Tristan let go of her chin and stood. "What did you do to her, pup?" he asked Ethan. She tugged at Tristan's sleeve, trying to get him to sit again. She didn't need him to talk to Ethan. "Just a minute, Momma," he told her without glancing down at her. Lottie looked at Ethan.

Ethan shoved a bite of eggs and grits in his mouth. He waved his fork in her direction and said with his mouth full, "I didn't do a damn thing to sugar-pie over there, so bug off."

"She's been cryin'," Tristan said.

Ethan took another bite and spoke around it. "And that's my fault, how?"

Lottie pulled on Tristan's sleeve again.

"When I asked her what was wrong, she looked at you and refused to say anythin'. If she won't tell me what you did, then I'll ask you."

She pulled harder, desperate for him to stop.

"Not now, Momma," he replied without looking at her.

Lottie let go of his sleeve and set her plate aside. She didn't feel well enough to continue eating.

"There's no reason to blame me, Tristan. Maybe she's crying 'cause she's a stupid girl."

"She is not stupid."

"Yes, she is. All she does is sit around the camp."

"Sittin' does not equal stupid, or you'd be the king of ignorance," Tristan retorted.

"She doesn't work for her food or a place to sleep, yet we're _required_ to work harder with her here."

"It was work you already had to do. Momma didn't _add_ to it."

"I have double watches now 'cause of her." He pointed his fork at her again. "That _is_ adding to my workload," Ethan grumbled. "All I told her was she needed to add value to the camp. That's it."

"Add value?" Tristan queried.

Lottie swallowed hard, not willing to give the value he wanted. "Please, Tristan, let it go."

"See, even she knows she doesn't do shit around here and ought to," Ethan replied. When he looked at her, he smirked. "Isn't that right, beautiful."

Lottie dropped her gaze and shook her head.

"Of course, she isn't all that beautiful while carrying all that weight. The only work she does do is get fatter."

"She is not fat. That's all baby," Tristan defended.

"Doesn't matter. Looks like she's tubby to me."

Tristan growled and took a step toward him, and Teo stepped behind Ethan, adding his support.

"I told 'er she needed to work for her keep. Plenty of the guys agree with me," Ethan replied and took another bite of food. "So don't go looking at me if she got all uppity about that."

There was a grumble of agreement from the men sitting around the campfire. Not a single one besides Tristan looked like they disagreed with what Ethan was saying.

Tristan stood a little straighter. "She is workin' for her keep."

She desperately wished Tristan would stop arguing on her behalf. The other soldiers were getting agitated, and the increased hostility made her stomach hurt. The tensing of her belly kept happening, and Lottie hoped it would go away if Tristan would drop the subject.

"Don't start that bullshit again. She's got it easy. I've seen her. I'd love to sit around in the shade all day, taking naps whenever I am tired. She does nothing worthwhile."

There was a quiet chorus of agreement from several of the soldiers.

Tristan reasoned, "Growin' a baby is hard work, and you know we need the addition to the population."

"It will be a boy. We don't need more of them. There are enough of us as it is," Ethan shrugged and took another bite of food.

"Every baby brin's us closer to solvin' the fertility problem. He might be a brilliant scientist who finds the cure," Tristan argued.

_Ow._ That spasm made Lottie hold her breath for a second. When it passed, she whispered, "Please, Tristan. It doesn't matter."

Teo spoke over her. "No one is going to find a cure. No one's going to solve the fertility crisis."

"You don't know that," Tristan countered.

"You're right. I don't. But it's been what? A hundred years? Two hundred? The human race will die out. And we should start right there," Teo punctuated his words with his forefinger pointed at Lottie. "When she has the kid, leave him in the woods to die."

Lottie sucked in her breath, and her hands wrapped around her stomach. He couldn't mean that, could he? He was speaking from anger and in the moment, right?

Tristan seemed to struggle with that statement also, for he sputtered and did not answer right away. In the silence, Ethan added, "We should get to have some fun before we die."

Wu and Adan laughed.

"Fun?" Tristan choked out.

Ethan didn't reply, but Adan and Wu nudged each other and grinned in her direction, while Lincoln stared at her impassively. Lottie shivered. She wasn't sure what he thought of the conversation, but his cold gaze made her feel he favored their opinion.

"I told you, I don't think that's a good idea," Hong spoke up.

"No one asked you," Teo snapped.

"Fun, pup?" Tristan interrupted. "What type of 'fun're you referrin' to?" He took a step closer.

"Oh, get over yourself," Ethan huffed. "I told her she needed to pay for what she was using."

Someone laughed, and Lottie didn't catch who.

"Pay?" Hong questioned. "She doesn't need to pay for anything. We swore an oath to bring dodgers back to Fort St. Louis. The Army thinks that baby in her belly is her payment for our duty."

Ethan looked at Hong. "Huh. I didn't peg you as someone on the 'protect the pussy' brigade."

"I'm not, but that doesn't mean I don't think she doesn't already pay enough," Hong replied and fell silent.

"She's using up rations I have to replace," Ethan groused. "I want some form of payback."

Adan chuckled and whispered loudly to Wu, "I want some payback too."

The way Wu grinned at Adan's statement made Lottie think he agreed with Teo and Ethan. She gulped.

"Ethan, shut up," Matt grumbled. "You too, Wu."

Lottie pinched her lips together. Was Matt on their side?

"Dammit, Ethan!" Tristan growled. She watched as he looked from Ethan calmly sitting, eating his breakfast to Teo, Wu, and Adan, showing their support by standing behind him. "What kind of payback are you plannin'?"

_Get her arms! Hold her legs!_ Lottie remembered and bit her lip to hold back her yip of fear. After a shudder, Lottie tried one more time to stop Tristan, "Please, don't." She couldn't stand to hear their plans again. Especially now that there were four of them.

"Not now, Momma," he snapped at her, and she flinched.

Lottie jumped and squealed in alarm when someone grabbed under her arms from behind. "I've seen Tristan this pissed before," Jaesen whispered in her ear. "You need to get out of the way before his fist starts swinging."

Lottie swallowed hard. Jaesen tugged her backward off the log and lifted her to her feet. "I suggest you go to Case's tent to get out of the way." She nodded. The tension in the clearing was making those spasms worse, and she longed to flee, but her feet would not move.

Ethan set his plate on the ground and stood slowly. She was amazed at the menace he portrayed. Tristan was older, bigger, and more massive than him, and she didn't think Ethan would win in a fight against Tristan. "I told her several of us planned to take the pay from her after that brat is born."

She watched as Tristan looked to Ethan and the three other men who stood in solidarity with him. Lottie could see the exact moment Tristan understood what they wanted as payment. "What?!"

"Yeah, that's right," Ethan confirmed. "I told her she needed to part her legs. I'd be willing to take her payback that way."

"Now would be the time to move," Jaesen urged.

"That's rape," Tristan spat.

"Fuck you, Tristan. Don't tell me you never tasted the wares while you were in the labs."

Tristan flinched. "If you'd spent any time there, you'd know how stupid you sound," Tristan threw back at him. "No one touches the women in the labs. The mission is to keep them _there_ and keep them _safe._ " Tristan took a deep breath.

_Tristan worked in the labs?_

"Well, she gave up the right to that protection when she fled Fort St. Louis—" Ethan argued.

"It is your youth speakin'," Tristan said, cutting him off. "If you had any idea what you are proposin'... Rape is punishable by bein' sent to prison camp Fort Twenty-four. You _do not_ want that. Ask Javier what it's like."

"If she didn't want to get fucked, she should have stayed in Fort St. Louis where assholes like you can 'protect' her. Besides, it's only 'rape' if you get caught," Ethan snorted. "We could keep her here. Let her service all the men. I know I'd work double shifts for a screw. Who knows, maybe if we fuck her enough we'll find the cure for the infertility crisis." Ethan paused and looked her straight in the eyes and smirked. "She can be a dedicated camp whore like the days of old."

Lottie swallowed hard, her throat constricting as the tears started to flow down her cheeks.

"Dodger, this isn't going to be pretty. You need to go." Jaesen turned her from the image of Tristan stalking toward Ethan, and Jaesen gave her a push. "Now!"

Lottie stumbled and moved a few feet away, before stopping at the sound of flesh smacking into flesh. She turned in time to see Ethan shaking his head and getting back to his feet. He had a split lip and blood dribbled from it. Ethan wiped his chin with his thumb and flicked the blood to the ground. He made a fist and settled his weight. Tristan matched Ethan's stance and waited for the younger man to strike. The other soldiers watched as Ethan took a swing at Tristan, who blocked it, and followed through with a jab to Ethan's chest. Ethan jumped out of the way, and when Tristan advanced on him, Teo, Adan, and Wu hopped over the log to surround him. Within seconds all Lottie could discern were body parts moving and flesh striking flesh. The yelling, cursing, and commotion made her knees shake, and she took a step backward. Then another.

As Jaesen and Paul joined Tristan in the fight, Lottie turned and fled toward the river, unwilling to stay and watch the outcome.

The sounds of men yelling dulled as Lottie stumbled her way down the rocky path to the river. She didn't have the energy to go all the way to the bathing pool and would make do with the shallower water closer to Casey's command shed. At the water's edge, Lottie wrapped her arms around her stomach and splashed her way into the river. She lost her balance and fell when the water reached her knees. Completely soaked, Lottie sat where she landed. Lottie's clothes were stuck to her as the water lapped at her chest.

It wasn't until she shifted with her knees on the bottom of the pool that she realized she was crying, huge racking sobs that shook her body and made her feel worse. Her stomach hurt, her head hurt, and her heart hurt. She longed to be held by one of the communal home caretakers. Someone—anyone—to say everything would be all right. Lottie covered her eyes and rocked back and forth, completely unaware of her surroundings.

So consumed by her pain and fear, Lottie didn't know someone joined her until strong arms tugged her into their lap.

She screamed.

"Shh, Chica! It will be all right."

Recognizing the voice, she wrapped her arms around Jules's neck and cried harder. "What the hell happened? Where is your guard?" he asked her.

She couldn't answer and buried her face in the crook of his neck as her tears fell.

"Ty, find out what happened in camp and then get Lincoln here," Paul ordered.

"You got it," Ty replied.

Jules ran his hand through her hair and rocked her. The water splashed against her chest, and she shivered.

"Chica?"

Lottie shook her head. There was no way she could explain the fight or Ethan's threat to Jules and be coherent while doing it.

Jules continued to make shushing noises, and slowly Lottie calmed, but as she relaxed, she realized the pain in her stomach was rhythmic and getting stronger. It was uncomfortable and scary.

"Chica," Jules asked. "I can feel your stomach tightening under my hand. You're not going to throw up on me, are you?" He tried to pull her face from his neck. She held on tighter and shook her head.

"I feel it again. What is it? Is that normal? Is that the baby moving? Did that always happen?" His voice had an edge to it, and each question he asked became a little more insistent.

Again she shook her head no.

"Does hurt?" he queried.

Yes.

"No," she whimpered, unable to admit that it hurt.

"When did this start happening?"

She moved her mouth away from his neck to answer. "The past few days, but it's stronger today." After she explained, she pulled closer to him again.

"There's another one," Jules said

Lottie knew that, and she sucked in her breath to hide the pain.

Jules cursed. "Those are contractions. You're in labor, aren't you?" he asked.

She assumed so and nodded.

"How many contractions have you had? How far apart are they?"

She didn't know, but having the news verbalized didn't help her feel better. _Don't let them take my baby to the woods to die._ Lottie felt new tears spill down her cheeks, and they wet Jules's shirt.

"Shh, it's going to be okay. We'll get Case here, and everything will work out."

"Jules?" Ty called.

"Yeah," he replied.

"The whole camp is in an uproar," Ty replied. "Lincoln said you should deal with her. He has his hands' full sorting out the fight before Case gets back."

"Fight?" Jules asked, and then discarded his question immediately. "Doesn't matter. I need Case here. Now."

"Ain't going to happen. He's on patrol."

"I know that!" Jules snapped at him, and wrapped his arms around her tighter, trying to keep her calm. "Chica's in labor, and he wanted to be here. Tell Lincoln to deal with the fight later, and to get Case here. Now!"

"Labor?" Ty asked.

"Yes," Jules barked. "You have any idea about how to birth a baby?"

"No."

"Well, neither do I, and I would prefer to have Case do it. So get Lincoln on that!"

Lottie sniffed and felt the tears growing again. "Hush, Chica," he murmured, trying to calm her. "What did that field manual say?" he asked himself. "Time them... and something about breathing."

Lottie felt relieved someone was with her and hugged herself tighter to Jules.

***

Casey forced his fingers to relax, as he yet again questioned whether or not he should have deployed this morning. In an attempt to be fair, he kept himself on the camp rotation roster, but he didn't have to. He could have ordered someone else to take his place. _Maybe I should have stayed at camp._ His thoughts were uncharacteristically tangled, wondering if Bean was all right. She didn't seem to be. His worry for the young woman gnawed in his belly.

He'd gone into his tent after completing his early watch to change clothes before his patrol, and she'd not stirred. Usually, she slept lightly, but she had slept through his arrival. He was so surprised that he spent several minutes watching her sleep, his apprehension growing. Each whimper and clutch of her hand made him more concerned.

Something was wrong, and Casey wanted to get back at camp to keep an eye on her.

Javier pointed to a print on the ground, drawing Casey's attention away from his worry for the woman. Casey grunted in acknowledgment. He'd had seen it already. The footprint appeared to match the tread and size of the boot they had tracked last week. Casey ran a hand through his hair. _Noah._ This man was just one more thing to worry about when Casey didn't have additional capacity to address it.

He glanced around the clearing of Shelter Two, which was northwest of the camp. Last week, they'd found the first print east of the Base and north of Shelter Four.

If this was indeed Noah, he had an impressive range.

"We 'oin' to 'ollow 'em?" Javier asked, his question slurred due to the hand-rolled cigarette clamped between his lips. Some ash shook free and fell to the ground as he spoke.

Casey stifled the urge to rip it out of Javier's mouth. "Yes."

"What're you going to do if you catch 'im this time?"

_Good question,_ Casey thought _._ He wanted to confirm there was only one of them. A lone man in the woods wasn't a threat, but a band of men could cause him problems. And then there was that little niggling thought, what if it was special ops sent to check on him. It had happened in the past. Staff Sergeant Kerner regularly had rangers tracking him.

If Noah was a ranger and was watching him? Casey dismissed the thought. If that had been the case, Casey's recall to Fort St. Louis would have already happened.

"Determine why he is so close to camp," Casey answered.

"Free food?"

"The vegetable gardens are untouched," Casey retorted. "Tristan does a regular headcount on the chickens, and they're all accounted for, so if he's stealing food, it isn't from us."

"Good. I wouldn't want my rations cut short."

A snort of laughter escaped Casey's lips even though he tried to suppress it. Javier was an ace with a gun. He wouldn't go hungry anytime soon.

Despite Casey's initial misgivings—and the occasional fights Javier instigated—he was proving to be an excellent soldier: methodical and meticulous. He could be a valuable member of the team if he stopped pushing people's buttons.

"Take point. Prove you can track," Casey ordered with a smirk. An easy task.

"Sure, _sarge_ ," Javier joked and saluted.

Dropping the act, he started his inspection of the land around them. After a few minutes, he'd found the next clue and led Casey along the trail. The two took turns tracking, often needing to split up to locate the infrequently spaced prints. Last week, Noah's tracks led them on a goose-chase precisely like this one, to the point, Casey was positive they were following the same man.

As the kilometers slipped by, Casey wondered at Noah's game. Why use the shelters at all? Evidence said that the man they followed could survive off the land and didn't need to use the decoy buildings as shelter. It didn't make sense.

"Is this a test?" Javier's question startled him from his musings, and Casey stopped walking.

"No," Casey answered. _Time to quit trailing._

"Good. Otherwise, the high an' mighty Case's tracking skills need work," Javier drawled. "Felt I had to ask to make sure, though. Were you going to march all the way to KC today?" Javier grinned. "I didn't plan on visiting that hellhole anytime soon."

With effort, Casey ignored the slur against his communal home's location. Fort Kansas City wasn't any worse than Fort St. Louis if you compared amenities, but the streets were rougher there. Less military police to keep the soldiers in line.

"We're too far from camp again. Let's go back to Shelter Two." Casey took a moment to get his bearings—it was harder to do so in the woods. He turned and headed back at a jog. His sense of unease was growing.

Javier didn't comment, only matched his pace as they ran. In less than half an hour, Shelter Two came into view, and they slowed to a walk. "Do a clockwise sweep," he ordered Javier. "I'll take this side, afterward, we'll head to Five. We'll stay there tonight."

_Impressive,_ Casey noted as Javier blended into the trees and undergrowth. Javier's skills continued to surprise, though they shouldn't. His deployment papers had said as much. It was Javier's mouth and attitude that kept getting him in trouble with his commanding officers, and not his skills.

Casey shook thoughts of Javier from his head and studied the building in front of him. What kept drawing Noah to the decoys? There had to be a reason other than to get Casey's attention.

Something rustled in the breeze. A leaf? No, a paper, and it wasn't part of the dilapidated decor of the shelter. Pinned to the partial wall of Shelter Two was a note. Casey strode toward it, hopped up onto the raised floor, and walked inside the building. Pulling the paper from the wall, Casey read, _Watch out for that filly. The colts think they are stallions. Noah_

_What the hell does that mean?_ Casey assumed the 'filly' was the evader, but who were the colts? Casey felt the blood drain from his face as the significance of the word 'filly' registered. He took a deep breath. Noah was watching them. And what was worse? No one had encountered Noah's prints anywhere close to camp. Casey needed to rethink his first assessment of the man.

Noah was a threat.

The shelter floor shook, and Casey turned to look at Javier as Javier joined him. Glancing over Casey's shoulder, Javier read the note. "Interesting."

"No kidding," Casey replied, again looking at the note in his hand. He kept his voice carefully neutral. "I'm going to need to step up the perimeter watches." _I want to find out why he's stalking my camp._

Javier muttered in acknowledgment or possibly irritation.

"What? Too much work for you?" Casey asked, wanting to know how much trouble Javier would end up being if he increased his perimeter guard.

"Me? No. I'm here to do a job."

It was Casey's turn to grunt in agreement and irritation. He had to concede that point. Although Javier wasn't motivated—not like Casey—he didn't shirk his duties like some on the team tried to do. "Too much work for others?" Casey asked, only half-joking.

Again Javier grunted in acknowledgment.

_That sounded like... Guilt._ Casey lifted his eyes from the note to pin Javier with a gaze. "What do you know?"

"Not much," Javier remarked.

"Not much?"

"Yeah."

"But you know something," Casey said, his voice trailing off.

Javier shrugged.

Casey stifled his sigh and kept his jaw loose. "And?"

"I know that Ethan's been pushing."

Worse than the other newbies? Casey wasn't sure he agreed. All of the younger soldiers pushed some until they learned their place and settled into a routine. "At least he hasn't started any fistfights yet," Casey pointed out, unable to hide his irritation. He was speaking with the worst offender of that crime.

"This is more than finding a guy's hot spot and exploiting it," Javier responded, his tone bland. "He's collecting supporters."

_Supporters?_ _Damn._ It was time to change the roster to keep any cliques from forming. "For what?"

"Surprisingly, he hasn't approached me about it," Javier replied. With a sweep of his hand, he added, "I'm too closely associated with you. But, I'd keep that piece of ass close."

Bean?

Before Javier could anticipate the move, Casey turned and fisted Javier's shirt in his hand. His forearm across Javier's chest. He shoved Javier against the wall of the shelter, keeping him pinned there.

Javier slowly lifted his eyebrow but made no effort to counter him.

"What _are_ you planning?" Casey asked him.

"Me? Nothing." Javier smirked. "I've always said you should pay for services rendered. Not everyone agrees."

The word 'service' so closely tied to the evader in his camp conjured up unpleasant images. Casey didn't like the conclusion he was drawing.

He pulled Javier far enough away from the wall to slam him against it again. He heard Javier's teeth rattle. "Drop the game and explain. And don't lie to me."

"Rape," Javier answered, the humor draining from his expression. "They plan to take 'payment' for the double shifts."

Casey cursed. "When?"

"When you're on patrol."

Was this why he had felt uneasy all day? Casey looked into the middle distance, calculating how fast he could get back to camp.

"Relax," Javier said to him calmly, as if Casey didn't have him pinned to the wall. "They'll wait until after she delivers."

When Javier spoke, Casey focused on him again. Javier's statement settled one issue. He would adjust schedules after getting back to camp. Take himself and the girl off standard rotation. He would keep watch on her for the remainder of her pregnancy, and then after.

Casey glanced at his clenched hand, fisting Javier's shirt, and he forced his fingers to let go. He took a step away from him.

"I wondered what it would take," Javier said with a wolfish grin as he pulled himself from the wall and rolled his shoulders, settling his shirt. "I should have known a threat to the evader would get to you."

Grudgingly, Casey agreed with Javier. Casey had fallen for Javier's verbal trap.

"Nothing outside of your job seems to rile you up—well except for the cigs. You are a boring man to play with," Javier said with a chuckle.

Grunting with irritation, Casey looked out into the woods. He didn't like what he felt. Something was wrong.

Ignoring the sensation, Casey turned back to business and asked, "You know the way to Five?"

"About fourteen kilometers south and west of here," Javier answered.

"It's a long walk and hilly. The distance plus an area scan will take the rest of the day." Casey jumped down and stepped away from the shelter. "Let's go," he said before moving off into the woods.

He heard Javier light a cigarette, then a crunch of leaves as he left the shelter. Casey gritted his teeth but didn't say anything to him about it. He'd already lashed out once today, and chastising him again would only highlight precisely how worried he was about the girl, Noah, and his men back at camp.

They were less than a quarter-mile from Shelter Two when a shrill whistle rent the air. The sound came from the decoy residence behind them. Casey stopped and looked at Javier. Javier returned the glance. To Casey's surprise, there was worry visible in Javier's gaze. Casey knew his expression had to mirror Javier's.

What happened that would bring someone out of the camp to find them?

As one, they turned and jogged back to the building, and within moments it was in sight. Paul was bent at the waist, resting his hands on his thighs. Casey assumed by Paul's posture that he'd thrown up or was about to. As Casey entered the clearing, Paul stood and looked in their direction. Paul was breathing hard and looked relieved. His mouth formed the words, "You're here!" But Casey wasn't close enough to hear them.

While Casey walked toward the other man, he took note of the bruise blackening Paul's eye, and the way he held his ribs. Something more than a side stitch made him wince with each breath.

"You didn't break a rib, did you?"

Paul shook his head. "No, a lucky punch to the kidney," he said and winced, his fingers going to and touching his split lip. "You have to get back to camp," Paul said each word with a sharp breath in, and a rushed exhale.

"Did you run the whole way?"

"As much as I was able. Still took too long," Paul replied, panting. "But that doesn't matter. I can rest here a bit before heading back." He paused to take a few deep breaths. "You need to go. Now."

"Explain what happened." It wouldn't do for him to go rushing back without knowing what he was facing. It was clear there had been a fight, and Casey needed to know details.

"The girl," Paul began.

Casey thought his heart would stop. Who attacked Bean?

"She's in labor. Lincoln sent seven of us out. One for each shelter. Hoping to catch you at one of them," Paul continued.

Shit.

It would take a few hours to get back to camp. Casey suppressed the urge to turn on his heel and sprint back, but he needed more answers. He stared at Paul. "If the problem is the evader, why did you fight?"

Paul dropped his gaze, unwilling to challenge Casey's authority but not quite contrite. Whatever the fight had been about, Paul felt justified in his part of it. "Ethan was baiting Tristan."

Damn. It had to be about the evader. Tristan was too laid back, too hard to anger about anything else. Except, maybe, for his chickens. That man was way strangely attached to their food.

"Whose side were you on," Casey asked. The answer would highlight more of the internal division.

Paul looked up and met his gaze. "Tristan."

_Good._ Casey had a feeling that Bean's supporters were few.

"Lincoln's handling that part, but no one wants to touch the girl," Paul reminded him. "Except for Jules. He's been sitting in the Black River for hours, holding her."

Casey nodded and added Jules to the list of supporters for Bean.

Paul took a deep breath. "They'd just come back from a perimeter circuit when they found her crying in the river. Jules sent Ty to get Lincoln. By the time Lincoln dispatched us, Jules'd been rocking her in the water for over an hour."

"Ethan and Tristan?" Casey needed to confirm their status.

"Camp arrest 'til you get back."

"How long has Bean been in labor?"

"Don't know, Sir—Case," Paul amended his statement at Casey's glare. "Since this morning. Maybe overnight."

_Firstborn labor could take days,_ Casey remembered. _But what if this isn't Chica's first?_ He didn't know. The sense of urgency returned.

"Anything else I need to know?" Casey asked Paul.

Paul shook his head.

Casey was relieved that no one from his Base had harmed her—yet—but that could change. "Paul? Javier? Finish the patrol," he ordered as he took off his pack. "Here," he said as he handed it to Javier. "I'll see you two in the morning."

Casey turned on his heel and jogged from the clearing. If he ran most of the way, he could be there in under two hours.

***

Everything burned: his lungs, his legs, his concern. Casey pushed himself a little harder, a little faster, a little further, urgency lending strength to fatigued muscles when he desperately wanted to stop.

Another klick passed under his feet. And then another. He was close to the camp, maybe two and a half klicks out yet. He needed to take a break, to relax overworked muscles before he arrived. A Staff Sergeant didn't sprint into camp, no matter what the emergency.

He slowed to an I-have-business-to-attend-to-get-out-of-my-way speed. Casey had made good time. He would find Lincoln, find out where Bean labored, and then go to her. And then, after she delivered safely—safely! Dammit—he would take her under his care. He wouldn't let her come to harm. He'd sworn an oath.

An oath? He smiled ruefully. Casey already broke it by keeping her in the camp. He didn't quite understand all of his reasons for not sending her back. But one thing was confirmed. She would never have made the trek to Fort St. Louis, and having a baby in the woods without any form of supplies other than the non-surgical extraction kit had the potential of being disastrous. At least in camp, he had a fire, an abundance of water, and some medical supplies in the supply shed. Outside of his Base, he didn't.

Casey stopped in his tracks and ran his hand through his hair. He was not looking forward to the task at hand. All Casey knew was he wanted to keep her safe. Casey snorted in frustration. When did he start getting protective of the girl?

But more worrisome, when did she become an _individual_ and not a _concept_?

With a shake of his head, and a mental order to get moving, he walked down the final hill before the low water bridge near his command shed. His legs shook from the effort of running so many kilometers in the sweltering heat. Sweat plastered his shirt to his body and dripped past his waistband. As he crossed over the bridge, he looked to the left but didn't see anyone at the bathing point. When he looked right, he saw two people sitting in the river.

It was Jules and Bean.

Casey stopped to watch.

Jules sat in water almost to his armpits with Bean in his lap. He had her tucked under his chin. Casey could see Jules arms around her, cradling her in his embrace. His hand splayed over her belly. Jealousy and envy coursed through him, surprising him that the feelings existed at all, let alone in their intensity. Casey pushed the emotions aside. He had work to do.

Walking up the hill to his Base, he made a mental list of the things he would need. Casey turned onto the path to the command shed and stepped into the clearing next to the structure. Jaesen and Hong were sitting at the picnic table where Casey often did his paperwork.

"Hong? Tell Lincoln I'm here," Casey ordered, pleased he didn't sound breathless.

Hong and Jaesen stood when he spoke. Casey noted the faint discoloration at the corner of Jaesen's mouth, barely visible due to his dark skin. Hong didn't have any visible bruising. "Go," he repeated.

Hong nodded and moved off to find Lincoln.

Casey turned his gaze to Jaesen. The question about which side of the fight Jaesen chose was on Casey's lips, but he stifled the inquiry. Later. He would ask about that later.

"Jaesen, build a fire on the stones by the collection point. I don't think we'll be moving far from there, and I want a blaze going. I fear we may need it." He glanced around the camp to see if Lincoln was on his way over. He wasn't. "When done with that,"—Casey said and handed Jaesen a key, and Jaesen closed his fingers over it—"I want you to bring me several blankets, the extraction kit—it's labeled—and a change of clothes from my tent for Bean and myself. You can leave it all next to the fire." Movement caught his eye. Lincoln was walking down the hill toward him. "Now," he barked, dismissing Jaesen.

Jaesen didn't move, only stared back, calmly assessing him. Casey lifted an eyebrow? "Something unclear?" Casey asked.

"No, Case," Jaesen replied. "Just so you know, I _don't_ agree with Ethan."

"Good. Neither do I," Casey acknowledged.

Jaesen's expression warmed, and he nodded. Taking the command shed key Casey had given him, Jaesen went to the outbuilding to collect the supplies Casey had requested.

"Report," Casey snapped at Lincoln when he drew near.

"Territory war over the affections of the evader. Ethan and Tristan are on camp arrest in their tents. Nothing else to explain," Lincoln told him with a shrug.

Casey wondered at the response. The answer—clipped and distilled to two sentences—made him question Lincoln's views. Did he favor Ethan's opinion? He needed to explore this further, but not right now.

"And what did you do for the girl besides let Jules sit in the river with her?" Casey queried, furious at the treatment of the evader by his soldiers. The emotion was too close to erupting from him, and he had to lock it down. Forcing himself to keep his gaze on Lincoln, Casey waited for his second in command to answer, but Lincoln didn't reply. Lincoln held his expression steady and blank. He didn't even blink.

Casey's irritation grew. He did not need to have this pissing contest right now. He let a bit of his anger show in his expression, and he was about to reprimand Lincoln for his silence when Lincoln broke the standoff and answered. "Ethan and Teo brought her to Mess, and she ate. Jaesen sent her off to your tent before joining the fight."

"Unescorted?" Casey asked.

"Yes."

"And you let her go?"

"Yes. I had no reason to believe the evader wouldn't obey. Besides, where would she go that we couldn't find her? She moves slower than a box turtle," Lincoln retorted.

"Immaterial. Your orders were to keep a twenty-four-hour watch on the woman, and you failed in that regard."

Lincoln's eyes narrowed. "I did not fail—"

Casey cut him off. "You did. If you'd been doing your job, you would have known she was in labor. Instead, you were informed by a private dispatched by another who is actively comforting her in the river." Casey took a deep breath and let it out, trying to reign in his frustration. "Jules has shown more leadership today than you have. I find that unacceptable."

Lincoln opened his mouth to respond, and Casey held up his hand to stall him. "Didn't Ty have to inform you of her whereabouts?" Lincoln closed his mouth and glared at Casey. "Exactly," Casey snapped. He ran a hand through his hair and let some of his tension dissipate. Screaming at Lincoln wouldn't solve anything, and he needed to get to Bean. "After you sent her to my tent, what happened next?"

"When Matt and Hong didn't join in the fight, I sent them to guard her." Lincoln stood straighter and continued, "It wasn't until Ty reported in that I knew she was elsewhere."

"At least you set a guard."

Lincoln's lips thinned. Casey assumed he was shoving an angry retort from his mind. _Good._

With a sigh, Casey asked, "Did you learn any details? When did her labor start? How much time do I have?"

Lincoln's expression relaxed. "You know as well as I do. She hides in silence."

Casey nodded. Would he have known? Each caress of her stomach could have been due to her body's response to her upcoming labor. And if she refused to talk, how would any of them learn of it. "Did you question Jules? Did she tell him anything?"

Lincoln shook his head.

Casey gritted his teeth in renewed anger. He didn't have the patience to deal with this mess anymore today. "Write up a report on the incident. Include all the details—every one of them!—the injuries too, and I'll deal with it later. Now, I'm going to Bean. I want someone stationed nearby as a runner. I will leave it to you to decide the rotation. And the rotation will last until I say it is no longer needed." Casey looked at him pointedly, wanting to make sure his order was clear. "I want whoever is on duty to be far enough away that Bean stays clueless to the surveillance. She is under enough stress right now and doesn't need to have soldiers leer at her. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good," he replied. "Send for Tristan. His experience in the labs will be an asset." _And his presence may help keep Bean calm._

Casey stood up straighter. It was time to deliver a baby. 

#  Chapter 5

"Breath in Chica. Now hold it. Good. And let it out slowly. Excellent. That's my girl."

Casey watched as Jules coached Bean through another contraction. His feet felt rooted to the ground, and he could feel the sweat drip between his shoulder blades. Not all of it was due to his run back to camp from Shelter Two. He hadn't felt this scared since Basic, or when they handed him his promotion pins and gave him a full squad to run.

When she exhaled, Jules asked, "Is that one past?"

He could see Bean's lips move and could almost hear her soft "Yes." in reply.

Casey studied the girl while he counted his breath by using an old technique, where he kept track of each inhalation by placing his thumb against each knuckle on his hand. It was a great way to know the passage of time without losing his concentration or studying a watch, and by the time he reached the base of his pinky, Casey knew that two minutes had passed.

The girl whimpered.

"Another one is starting," Jules told her. Bean shook her head no, but Jules argued, "I can feel it building under my hand Chica." Jules looked up and around and growled, "Where the hell is Case?"

The irritated plea for his presence almost elicited a reaction from Casey, but he told himself he waited because he wanted to see how far apart the contractions were and not out of fear.

His fear ignored him.

Bean made it to just over three minutes before Jules had to coach her through another contraction. Her knuckles showed white where her fingers gripped Jules's arm.

"Dammit, Case. Where are you?" Jules questioned the air again.

Before Casey could step from the shadows, a hand clasped his shoulder.

Casey tensed at the touch but suppressed his instinct to strike. "Dangerous move, Tristan," he told the soldier behind him. "Weren't you beat on enough for one day?"

Tristan rewarded Casey's question with a chuckle. "Ethan barely touched me. And the punches he did land, I let him take." Tristan let go of Casey's shoulder and stepped beside him. Tristan surveyed the scene. After a minute, Tristan asked, "You know, I know about as much about this as you do, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you request my assistance?" Tristan queried. He sounded curious.

"Because you give a shit," Casey replied.

Tristan snorted. "Anyone with a brain would."

Casey's split camp disagreed with that point. "Out of everyone on this squad, you and Jules have been most understanding and supportive of Bean. I'm going to need help, and? Well," Casey trailed off.

"You think Momma won't flip out at our presence."

Casey grumbled an affirmative and tilted his head, indicating Jules, who was cuddling Bean in the river. "A week ago, do you think she would have done that?"

"Maybe," Tristan replied. "No, probably not," he amended. "Never saw such a scared rabbit with a spine of steel. If you think about it, she's pretty amazin'. Living by herself in the wilderness? Not to mention pregnant." Tristan shook his head. "She had to have planned her escape for a long time. The only way she could succeed was if she fled right before the medics confirm her pregnancy. There's no way she would have made it out of the labs otherwise."

"You think this is her first?"

"Undoubtedly," Tristan answered. "If it were her second, she would have needed help escapin'. Ain't no one there who would have helped. And the scientists don't let anyone out of the labs if they've conceived before. This is her first. Guaranteed."

A flash of relief and some of the tension drained from his shoulders. If this were her first, then she wouldn't be able to compare what he did to Fort St. Louis's medical professionals.

Tristan continued, "I feel a bit sorry for her, though. And I wonder if she would have run, had she known she was pregnant."

"Why?"

"In the labs, they keep them sedated—heavily—for the procedure." Tristan shook his head. "She feels every step of this process. Even the drugged-up women would cry durin' labor and delivery." He turned to Casey. "Be prepared for a lot of screamin'. Your balls are gonna retreat in sympathy."

Casey kept his expression neutral. "Explain."

"Think about it. If they cried, whimpered, and occasionally screamed while high on the pain meds that the surgeons' have access too, how bad is she"—Tristan said with a wave of his hand toward Bean—"gonna scream and cry without a damn thin' to soften the blow? Just hearin' them in the labs made my nuts run for cover."

Casey snorted, both doubtful and bemused at the image Tristan conjured. "How long were you there again? In FAP?"

"Two years," Tristan replied. "Enough to know that what I say about her pain is true."

Casey's amusement died. _This is going to suck,_ he thought and then shrugged. "It cannot be prevented at this point."

"True."

They turned at the sound of shifting gravel behind them. Jaesen turned the corner of the path. His arms were full of the supplies Casey requested. Both Tristan and Casey stepped forward and took the gear from Jaesen's hands.

"Thank you," Casey said.

"Can you set up a pit while I go get coals from the cooking fire?" Jaesen requested.

"Yes. We will take care of that," Casey replied. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. It was time to reveal his presence.

But Tristan stopped him, his voice holding an edge of amusement. "You're scared shitless, aren't you?"

"Damn right. I'm not a medic." The admission made his stomach churn. Casey didn't like to admit his weakness. "I wasn't trained for this."

"Yet, you're goin' to do it?"

"I can't let her do this alone," Casey snapped.

"You could. But it'd be damn cowardly of you. We have enough cowards in the squad right now as it is."

Casey huffed and took a step forward. He put the kit and the clothes on the ground while Tristan did the same with the blankets. "Will you start a fire ring and collect some deadfall?" Casey asked as he removed his shirt and his gun holster. He put it next to the pile of dry clothes. "I'm going to rinse off quick, before relieving Jules."

"He already knows you are here. Looks like Momma does too. She is watchin' you and has a death grip on Jules's arm. I think he's wincin'."

"Am I that scary?"

Tristan snorted. "Yep, pup, you make me want to run for safety."

Casey shook his head. "You're so full of shit."

Tristan laughed.

With a growl of exasperation, Casey said, "Go. I am going to need that fire. And when Jaesen gets back, ask him to bring Bean's bedroll. I don't think these blankets are going to be enough to soften the ground." Casey looked around him. "Ask him to bring mine too."

"Will do," Tristan replied.

With a sigh, Casey turned and walked to the edge of the river. The look of relief Jules's sent his way was priceless, and Casey struggled to keep from snickering, but one look at Bean cooled his amusement. She was petrified. He needed to keep her calm. Casey didn't know how to do it.

_Damn!_ He ran a hand through his hair. Catching Jules's eyes, he said, "I'll spell you in a second."

He heard Jules grumble, "'Bout damn time you got here."

Casey glared at him but otherwise ignored his comment. Jules didn't look too calm, and Casey was willing to give him some leeway. Besides, he cradled Bean in his arms so he couldn't have been that upset, or he would have left the moment Casey arrived.

Casey kicked off his boots and socks, prepared to brave the sharp river gravel, and as he dropped down into the water, he sucked in a breath. Only the determination to be free of sweat made Casey willing to dunk under the surface and run his hands through his hair. He came up for air and had to stifle his swearing.

The water was fucking cold.

Jules chuckled, and Casey turned to glower at him.

"You ready to take over?" Jules asked. "I have to take a leak—she probably has to, too. I told her to piss in the river if she needed to, but she turned beat red and ignored me." He laughed again. "I would have, but she was on my lap. Didn't seem right."

"Go," Casey told him with a shake of his head. "I've got it from here."

Jules flashed him a grin. Scooting backward, he eased Bean off his lap and stood.

Casey eyed the water dripping from Jules's shirt and shorts. "I didn't see your firearm on the bank."

Jules rolled his eyes. "Yeah, gave it to Ty. Said he'd put it in my field box in my tent."

Casey grunted and turned his attention to Bean. He reached for her arm and tugged her into his lap. Her skin was cold, and he could feel her shaking. "You cold, or is it me?" He assumed it was both, but hoped it was the chill.

Bean squeaked and failed to give him a response.

"Was that an 'I'm cold?'"

She nodded.

Casey put his arms around her and tucked her under his chin as Jules had done. The position let him feel every nuance of the tension in her back and shoulders. It also allowed him to feel the movement of her stomach muscles. They were tightening rapidly. "Is that a contraction?"

She shook her head, but with it pressed under his chin, he wasn't sure of her answer. "Out loud, please?"

"No. Not a contraction."

"Is that"—he paused. He never felt a baby move before, and a sense of awe came over him—"the baby?"

"Yes," she answered and then added, "It's been quiet all day, and I thought..." Her voice turned raw. "I thought maybe it was dying."

Casey ran his hand up and down her back and made shushing noises. Her shoulders shook from—he pushed her back enough to look at her—tears. He pulled her close and rocked her. "Having this baby means that much to you?" He was a bit surprised. "Is that why you ran?" When she didn't answer, he assumed that keeping the child was why she fled Fort St. Louis. Did any of the other women pressed into service feel the same way?

If so, then this whole experience was going to cause a problem for her. Once Casey took her back, the baby would be removed from her care and placed in a communal home, its growth and development attended to by the home directors and staff.

But, Casey could give her a few weeks with it, though, passage 8.954DX of the field manual said, "In the unlikely event of a successful non-surgical extraction in the field, the infant and asset are permitted eight weeks before mandatory transport. After time concession is expired, the infant and asset are to return to the closest Fort for redeployment. All parties must arrive within acceptable travel parameters. Consult distance table for allotted travel time." Casey had checked. He could give her ten weeks with the infant.

He sighed and placed his hand more firmly on her stomach. "I was counting the minutes earlier, and you're due for another contraction. The second it passes, I'll help you out of the river. Then you need to get dry, and I," Casey trailed off and cleared his throat. He could feel his cheeks warm from embarrassment. "I need to see how, um," Casey stalled, "dilated, uh," Casey cleared his throat again. His cheeks felt on fire, and he was glad he faced away from Tristan, Jules, and Jaesen on the bank. "How far along you have progressed."

She froze in his arms. He was surprised at the ache he felt at her distress.

"I... uh... You do realize you have to be naked to deliver. Right?" Casey couldn't believe how hot his face felt, and he mentally chastised himself. He sounded like an incompetent fool.

Bean nodded. "I know," she answered. She rested her hand against his bare chest. The chill from her fingers shocked him.

"I can send Tristan and Jules away," Casey told her, but hastily added, "I'd rather not, though."

When she didn't respond, he continued, "In case something goes wrong, I'd like to have a backup." After a pause, he said, "And you seem to trust them... some." He looked skyward for help. Casey would have been sweating from nerves if not for the fact they sat in a cold river. _Smooth, Case. Real smooth._

A contraction prevented him from conducting an additional tongue-tied conversation with Bean. Casey looked down, convinced that any muscle straining that hard would be visible to the naked eye, but her shirt and the water obscured his vision. The contraction felt intense, and he was not surprised when Bean whimpered. He could feel her gritting her teeth, and she hissed through the pain.

Casey rubbed his hand over her belly. He was utterly lost, totally unsure how to help her. At the peak of the contraction, her hands dropped to his forearm and squeezed tightly. Her knuckles whitened from the tension, and her fingers only loosened their hold as her pain receded.

"Time to go, Bean," Casey told her and lifted her off his lap. "Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"Come help." He wasn't sure he could hold her steady and stand at the same time. The stones were loose enough that they shifted under their weight continuously.

"Be right there," Tristan replied. "Just have to put this down."

Casey heard him moving around on the bank and then a splash of water as he waded toward where they sat.

"Take my hand, Momma," Tristan said with his hand extended. "I'll help you up."

Bean nodded, and with Tristan's assistance, she stood. Casey followed her up and took her other arm to help her out of the water. He looked to the fire pit and saw a bedroll set next to the fire ring, and the other bedroll was rolled up and set to one end.

"Thought you'd need a backrest," Tristan answered his unspoken question.

"Good idea," Casey acknowledged. He turned to Bean and coaxed her to move. "Come on, let us get you comfortable up there." Her eyes held such fear in their depths. It couldn't all be from her impending delivery.

Casey and Tristan helped her up the bank and to the bedrolls. How could he ease her discomfort? There was one thing he could do. "Tristan? Can you make sure the area is clear and then stay back for a bit until I get Bean settled?" He knew she would want as much privacy as he could orchestrate. After she disrobed, he could cover her with a blanket. That way, he could hide Bean from casual glances. His included.

Tristan answered in the affirmative and left to do Casey's bidding.

"Bean?" Casey asked and turned to look at her.

She returned his gaze, her arms around her belly.

_So defensive._ Casey cupped her cheek in his hand and stepped close to speak to her quietly. "I know you are uncomfortable with me close. This isn't going to be fun for either of us. If you talked to me, I might be able to help make you more relaxed, but as it stands, all I can do is guess."

She nodded.

"I need to get you out of these wet clothes," Casey told her, and the skin around her eyes tightened. He glanced around the clearing. Jules was in camp, and Tristan was out of sight. "It's only us right now. Do you need help?"

Bean shook her head. Casey wished she'd talk instead of answering with head nods.

She grasped the hem and tried to pull her shirt up and over her head, but the water-logged garment became stuck, leaving only her mouth and nose showing. Casey tried not to laugh as he reached forward and helped ease the t-shirt over her elbows and off her arms. As Casey gave it a final tug, her eyes cleared from under the neckline. To his amazement, her big brown eyes conveyed amusement, and he could see slight humor lines around her eyes.

So there was a sense of humor inside that fearful persona.

Casey dropped the shirt, and his hands traveled down her ribs to her waist. "Put your hands up," he told her. Casey cleared his throat, embarrassed at how husky he'd sounded. Grasping the hem of her tank top, Casey tugged it up and over her head, letting his hand skim down her back. Her skin was chilled and silky smooth under his fingertips. She shivered and took a step back.

He mentally cursed when he saw the fear return to her expression.

Dropping the shirt, Casey grabbed her hip. "Stop," he ordered. "Look at me."

Bean's eyes widened, but she did not take another step back.

"I am here to help you have a baby. Nothing more. Understood?"

"Yes," she said. Her arm went up to cover her breasts.

Casey smiled, trying to reassure her. "Nothing but business, right?"

She nodded and stood straighter.

"If I timed the contractions right, then you are almost due for another one. I would prefer to have you comfortable on the bedroll before it hits." Casey put his other hand on her waist. "I'm going to help you out of your wet shorts and then get you settled, okay?"

Her voice held a tinge of resentment when she said, "I can do it."

"I'm sure you can. But I'd prefer to help," Casey replied. "You are unstable on your feet, and I don't want you to fall." Casey's hand trailed along her waistband under her belly. He stopped when he encountered the rope, swollen with water. "Can you even see the knot well enough to untie it?"

Her fingers brushed his as she rested them on the belt. "I've been doing it by touch," she said, her voice a bit stronger and more forceful than her prior statement.

Casey gently pushed her hands away and dropped to one knee to look at the knot. He could feel his cheeks redden again. The whole situation between them made him feel awkward. It was intimate.

He forced himself to concentrate on the rope.

While working on the knot, Casey wished there was an ARA field manual one hundred percent dedicated to handling labor and delivery. The books he had only detailed the basics. It left out a lot. For example, it left out the things that happened between when the asset got naked, and when she was ready to push. The implication was the asset did all the rest of this on their own. He _knew_ that wasn't true, but there were no chapters that matched his situation. Casey felt this was a disservice to him and his other staff sergeants. Maybe, when this was over, he would draft a formal request, stating all staff sergeants in the field be issued the same manuals given to the medics. Casey was sure _they_ knew how to strip a woman without becoming embarrassed.

He snorted. Like the Brass would dedicate the resources needed to printing new field manuals.

Casey tugged the rope lose, and Bean's shorts gaped open. Casey had hoped they would fall immediately, but the waterlogged garments stuck to her hips. He had to tug the shorts and her panties down to get them off. As he pulled them off, he kept his gaze averted. It was way too tempting to stare at her naked body. He stood quickly and grabbed a blanket and tossed it around her shoulders.

"I... ah..." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "You can use it to cover up," he said and took her hand to help her to the bedding. Once there, he eased her onto the padding, and then covered her up. After he settled her, Casey sat and met her gaze. Her eyes were wide, and some of her tension was missing from her expression.

"See Momma, I _told_ you he blushed when touchin' a woman," Tristan said, his laughter bubbled under the surface, barely controlled. "You need anythin', Case?"

"Yeah, for you to shut up," Casey replied, looking skyward again. No divine presence granted his silent request to strike Tristan dead for embarrassing him further, not that he expected it. The ever-absent God had abandoned them if he was ever there in the first place.

"No can do. You wanted me here, remember?"

"I changed my mind."

Tristan dropped down to sit on the ground next to him, and he took Bean's hand. "You squeeze my hand, Momma, whenever the pain gets to be too much. We'll see you through this," Tristan told her. Casey watched as more of her tension roll away, reaffirming his decision to have Tristan present, regardless of Casey's personal feelings on the matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tristan look at him. "Should she be lying down?"

"Not according to the manuals, but I need to see how far along she is. I need her to recline for that. She needs to lift her hips some too," Casey answered and cursed in his head as he felt his blush get darker. He tried to suppress the feeling that was causing the color to creep up his cheeks. It wasn't proper for a staff sergeant to blush.

He stood and went to grab another blanket. He took extra time to fold it. By the time he finished, he felt the heat dissipating from his face. He took another fortifying breath, unable to tear his eyes off of the makeshift pillow in his hands. It wouldn't do to start blushing again at his next statement. "Lift your hips," Casey requested. "And then spread your knees."

When he finally looked at Bean, her eyes were wary, but the fear he expected to see was absent. Tristan, on the other hand, was trying hard not to choke on his tongue as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with the thumb of his free hand.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," Casey snapped at him. "We, on the other hand,"—Casey said and flicked his gaze to Bean—"find this incredibly awkward."

"I know, Case," Tristan said between chortles. "That's why it is so amusin'." Tristan tried to control his laugh again before he said, "First pretty woman in over six months, and you have to touch her _there._ "

Casey could feel his cheeks redden again. _Dammit!_

"'Course the whole about-to-deliver-a-kid really puts a damper on the party, don't it?" Tristan asked, snorting the whole time.

With effort, Casey ignored Tristan and turned to Bean. "I'm going to place this under you to help with the positioning. Can you lift your ah—bottom for me?" Case waited while Bean lifted her hips off the ground. Blindly he shoved the pseudo pillow under her and then told her she could relax. The cooling look on Tristan's face told him something was up.

Due to the amount of time that had passed, Casey guessed, "Another contraction?"

"Yes," Bean hissed through clenched teeth.

Casey tried to remember any of the breathing techniques listed in the field manuals. He could only think of one. "Take a deep breath," he told her and waited for her to comply. "Good. Now, Bean, let it out slowly." Again he waited. "Excellent. Now inhale again and let the air out in two pulses." He demonstrated what he wanted her to do. When she did it, he told her to repeat, but this time to let the air out in three pulses. "Is it passed?" he asked afterward.

She nodded and said, "Yes."

"Good." Casey shot Tristan a warning glance before turning back on Bean. "I need to do an internal exam." _That's right, keep it impersonal,_ he told himself, pleased to hear his voice didn't waver. "I need to move the blanket back, and you need to open your legs for me to," Casey trailed off. _Don't look at Tristan!_ He could feel his blush growing. "I need access to..." _Oh, fucking hell!_ "Please, just do it," he asked, hoping she would comply without complete instructions.

To Casey's relief, Tristan didn't laugh. Instead, he reassured Bean. "It's goin' to be all right, Momma. You have different equipment than ours, but we've both seen what you can offer—whether it was in person durin' your bath time, or, for a lucky few of us, while with someone else. We're not here for that part of you. So please do what he needs before your next contraction hits."

Casey retracted his wish for Tristan to be struck dead from divine intervention. When it mattered, he was calm and collected, and Casey could see the immediate effect he had on Bean.

He moved to her side and pulled the blanket up around her hips. It bunched under her large belly. As she shifted into position for him to check her dilation, Casey mentally ran through everything he could remember from the field manuals.

Casey looked at Tristan, and he nodded back. Casey took a deep breath. _Here it goes,_ he thought. Casey pulled the extraction kit closer and took out a tube of gel, and some liquid sanitizer. He lathered his hands with the sanitizer until the mixture evaporated. Then Casey squirted some lubrication gel on his finger. He swallowed hard. Casey braced his free hand on her knee and positioned his fingers at her vagina.

"You ready?" he asked as a way to stall for a moment longer. He did _not_ want to do this. None of his daydreams about being between a woman's thighs ever involved a pelvic exam.

Bean's eyes were wide, and she said, "Yes."

Casey could feel the tension in her legs. There was nothing he could do about that. Before Casey lost his nerve, he pushed inside her body. Her skin contracted around his finger, and Casey looked at her to see if she was hurting. Bean looked tense but not in pain.

He pushed farther, and she winced.

"Sorry," he apologized.

With a little more effort, he encountered something soft and stringy. It bounced against his finger when he pressed against it. As it moved, he felt liquid seep past his fingers. It took him a moment to realize what he felt. _Oh, Ever-Absent, God! That's the baby's head!_ Worry about hurting the infant was his first concern, and Casey nearly yanked his hand back without completing his test. With effort, he forced himself to feel around its head. He could put all three fingers side by side, and his pinky rested almost flush against the others. Casey glanced at the chart etched into the kit lid. If he read it right, she was around five—maybe six—centimeters dilated.

"You're half the way there, Bean," Casey told her and removed his hand from her body. "With luck, we won't have to do that again," he said in relief.

Bean relaxed.

"Let me wash up. Then I'll remove the blanket from under your hips," Casey told her. Now that the test was over, he felt businesslike and in control. "It isn't good for you to recline. You can lean against me," he volunteered.

Leaving her with Tristan, he went back to the river to rinse off his hands. It was then he noticed his shorts were dripping water.

Returning to her side, he saw Tristan had flipped the covers down over her knees again. He nodded his thanks and reached under it to slide the blanket out from under her hips.

"I need to change out of these," he said, indicating his wet shorts. "You able to coach Bean through another contraction?"

"Sure, Case," Tristan replied.

Casey turned, dropped the blanket that had lifted Bean's hips, and grabbed his shorts off the pile of clothes next to the fire. Quickly, he undid the wet ones and slipped them off. Casey debated about removing his boxers. They were wet too, but in the end, he decided to leave them on. Casey yanked up the dry shorts and rejoined Tristan and Bean on their side of the fire. Bean's eyes never left him, and he had the irrational thought that maybe he should have stripped completely. Casey shoved the idea aside.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Yes."

Casey offered her his hand and helped her sit up. While she was sitting, he positioned himself behind her and let her settle against his chest. She didn't shiver this time, and he was glad to feel her skin had warmed. Part of him liked the feel of her resting in his arms, and he struggled with how soft her bare skin felt pressed against his chest. Now was not the time to think of sexual thoughts.

"You comfortable?" he inquired.

She nodded.

Casey wrapped his arms around her stomach. After a moment, she rested her hands on his. Casey relished her touch.

Tristan and Casey coached Bean through several contractions before she spoke. "Tristan, did you visit one of the State-run facilities?" After a pause, she added, "A brothel?"

Casey had to admit he was also curious. Most of his men would be as ignorant about sex as himself, but Casey knew a few had experienced it, and it made sense for Tristan not to be a virgin. He was thirty after all, and only recently reintroduced into his squad.

"Didn't need to," Tristan answered. "I was on leave earlier this year—a few days between the conclusion of my mandatory draft enlistment and my voluntary reenlistment—when I met a willin' participant." Tristan paused. While they waited for him to continue, Casey ran his hands over Bean's belly. He could feel the contractions when they built, and occasionally, a baby hand or foot pushed against him. "She was off her enlistment, and we were at a decoration ceremony for our service. One thin' led to another, and I ended up in her temporary housin' for the night. It was"—Tristan smiled, and reading the interest in Casey's eyes, he stopped speaking—"None of your business, pup."

Casey had to chuckle at that.

"Anyway, I decided I would do better stayin' in the field than tryin' to find a new profession. Not much to do unless you stay enlisted, so I came back to Case, here." After a moment, Tristan continued, "At least I avoided Basic. Do they have that ceremony?"

Casey could feel his cheeks warm again. This blushing bullshit was getting old. "Yes," he snapped.

"Ceremony?" Bean asked.

"Yeah. When the pups graduate from Basic, they hold a 'transfer of ownership' ceremony for the barrack porn mags." Tristan joked, "And when a new mag circulated? It was as if God himself visited the barracks to bestow manna amongst the pups."

Bean snickered. At least that's what Casey thought she was doing. Her shoulders were shaking as if she were laughing.

"I traded a few for survival manuals," she volunteered in her quiet voice. Compared to the bluster and volume of Casey's soldiers, her soft tone was pleasing.

"Oh?" Tristan prodded. Casey and Tristan shared a glance. Was she finally opening up to them? Casey was eager to learn more about their little enigma.

"My Basic training involved working at the labs and in the communal homes. Nothing of high security, but I did have access to things like the _donation_ magazines. They came in handy when I needed information."

She learned some of her survival from the same manuals he studied in Basic. Interesting.

"Donation mags?" Tristan laughed. "I like how you phrased that. Better than 'jack off' material. You supply anythin' else to our impressionable pups?"

"There was this one time when I stole cigarettes from a donor. Cigs are harder to get, and I could demand more in trade for them. There was this book I needed. A plant identification manual. I traded those cigarettes for it." She shrugged. "I think he got in trouble for giving me that book. He refused to trade with me after that. It worked out. I didn't need much more information after that anyway."

Case wondered how long she was on the run. The way she was talking made it sound like she'd been on her own for more than eight or nine months. But that was impossible, right? She had to have had an in-vitro or artificial insemination treatment before running, right?

He shook his head. "How old are you?"

She seemed to think a moment, then sighed and answered, "I turn twenty-one this fall."

_Twenty-one?_ If she'd planned for close to two years before running, that would explain why she was so adept at taking care of herself.

When she didn't volunteer anymore, Tristan changed the subject, "Do the girls ever try to supervise the boys durin' shower time?"

"I don't think so. If they did it, I didn't participate in it. I had other things to do," Bean answered.

Tristan and Casey shared another look. They both figured the 'other things' were her trying to study up before her escape.

_Must have taken a while to work up the nerve to run,_ Casey thought to himself. "Did you work in the labs after being enlisted?" Casey asked.

"No, I left," she started to answer and then trailed off. Her shoulders tensed.

"Left?" Casey prodded, hoping she would share more, but she refused to answer. Just as well, he could feel her stomach tensing under his hand. She was about to have another contraction.

Tristan continued as if she hadn't stopped. "Well, my communal home wasn't as careful about keepin' the boys in line. I know of a hole that looked in on the girls' shower. Someone drilled through the cinderblock and grout. Many an hour was spent by my brethren trying to see skin." Tristan winked at her. "I, of course, was an angel and never used the peephole."

Bean laughed out loud. "I don't believe you."

Tristan acted wounded. "Me? Do somethin' as heinous as spyin' on naked girls? Never, and I resemble that accusation."

Casey was sure she would have snickered in response to Tristan's confession, but the peek of her contraction stole her focus. He helped her breathe through it, and when she came down, he volunteered, "One time, my class got a hold of some moonshine. Ever-absent, God, it was nasty stuff. But there we were, trying to act normal during one of the communal home dances. Damn chaperones knew something was wrong. And once some of the guys started puking? We all had KP duty for a week." Casey smiled and rubbed his nose in Bean's hair, breathing in her scent.

After that first day where he had to force her to bathe, she always smelled cleaner than the guys, which wasn't difficult to achieve.

"Nothing is worse than cooking eggs with a hangover," Casey admitted.

Bean snorted.

When Casey glanced at Tristan, he saw amusement in his expression.

"Well, it's true. It sucked."

"I bet," Tristan replied.

Another voice joined Tristan's. "We telling communal home or barracks stories?" Jules asked as he rejoined them, finding a seat on the other side of Bean near her feet.

"A little of each. I think," Bean replied. When she shifted, Casey leaned in to make sure she was comfortable. Her reply was positive even if she said it through clenched teeth as another contraction stole her breath.

"Do you have any moonshine or spyhole stories?" Tristan asked Jules.

"Na," he replied. "But me and a friend did sneak out to a State-run after our graduation ceremony, but before our deployment."

"Bill?" Bean asked.

"Yeah," Jules looked at her, eyes wide. "I forgot I told you about him some already. Anyway, we managed to elude our drill sergeant and made our way into Fort St. Louis. We were lucky we weren't picked up by CPS." Jules stopped and shook his head. "With our draft bonus and our saved money in hand, we made our way to the closest State-run facility. No way were we deploying without knowing what _that_ felt like."

Casey supposed he shouldn't be so surprised. Jules did seem the type to pursue sex—even if he had to pay for it. All it meant was that this story was only a few weeks old.

"The poor woman didn't quite know what to make of us, though. All of eighteen and a bit too eager. In the end, she laughed, took our money, and showed us a good time." Jules grinned. "I must admit it might have been a bad idea. I have a twelve-year dry spell coming up. And now that I know what I'll be missing? Yeah, gonna be a tough few years." Jules shrugged. "Well, unless I can convince a pretty lady to help me out?" Jules waggled his eyebrows at Bean.

The instant tension in Bean was unmistakable, and Casey felt for a contraction. Her belly wasn't tight unless you counted the press of skin as the baby inside flexed.

Jules looked away, mildly embarrassed.

Casey was relieved it wasn't Jules's embarrassment this time, but it was curious how relaxed Bean had been until Jules mentioned sex with her. Casey wondered if she was shy or if there was more to it. After this was all over, he would ask her.

***

The sun was setting and had dipped behind the bluffs when Bean started to wail with each contraction. It was a gut-wrenching sound that had Tristan, Jules, and Casey flinching in sympathy.

Casey looked at Tristan, who was actively serving as Bean's backrest. He couldn't remember the last time one of them spoke. It had to have been when they traded places. They kept rotating as her backrest. The position was awkward, and they needed to move. He'd even sent them both off—separately, of course—for dinner, but that was hours ago.

A new cry escaped Bean's control, and Casey patted her knee comfortingly. Jules grimaced as she clutched his hand, and Tristan whispered in her ear, trying to keep her calm.

Her head collapsed back on Tristan's shoulder as the contraction passed, fatigue etched on her face. They were so close together that Bean barely had time to take a breath before the next one hit. And after at least an hour of watching her writhe, Casey was impressed. He'd never witnessed such suffering, and if this is what each woman at the labs had to do, then Casey didn't blame the few for running. Hell, he might have run. Of course, anyone of the enlisted that braved this much pain to help the United States cure the infertility crisis was commendable.

"I told you. Your nuts would run for cover. Mine did over an hour ago," Tristan said jokingly.

Casey gave a tight nod.

Another whimper from Bean drew all their attention.

"You can do this, Momma," Tristan crooned to her.

"It feels like I have to go to the bathroom," Bean panted to them.

"Shit or piss?" Jules asked before Casey had a chance.

She bit back a moan. "The first one." Her voice trailed off into a loud cry.

The manual described the urge to defecate as the feeling right before active delivery. Casey had to confirm her dilation before he could let her push. He suppressed his shudder. It had been disconcerting the first time when he felt the baby's head, and this time it would be more prominent.

As her contraction passed, she again rested her head on Tristan. "I'm so tired," she whispered.

"I need to check you one more time," Casey told her. "To make sure you can push on the next set of contractions."

Bean nodded.

"Jules, help me get her in a reclining position. Tristan, stay there and hold her." Casey moved to help Bean lower to the ground, already flinching from the pain of another contraction.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

Casey's heart broke for her. There was nothing he could do. "Hold on, Bean. It's almost over," he tried to reassure her. Her eyes were glazed, and he wasn't sure she heard him.

"Bring her through this one. I'll be ready to test the second she's done," Casey told both Jules and Tristan.

Casey stood and rinsed his hands in the river and then slathered them with the liquid sanitizer. Once dry, he again lubed up his fingers. As her contraction eased, Casey quickly checked her. He could feel the soft skin of the baby's head, but as far as he could tell, none of Bean's body was in the way. She wouldn't injure herself if she pushed. _Good._

"With your next contraction, you're going to need to push. Don't push in between, okay? You'll need to rest then," Casey instructed. Then to Jules and Tristan, he said, "Help her up a little while I wash my hands quick."

Casey stood and rinsed his hands in the river. As he slathered on more hand sanitizer, he noticed his fingers were shaking. He took a deep breath. When that didn't work, Casey took a few more, yet the shakes wouldn't go away. Casey resigned himself to it and turned back to Bean. Her face was red.

He hustled back to her side.

"You ready, Bean?" he asked her.

She barely nodded her acquiescence.

"Is a contraction starting?" he asked Tristan.

Tristan nodded grimly.

Casey bent her knees and spread them apart. He barely acknowledged the fact he was looking at her vagina. Casey was too focused on the impending birth. "Okay, Bean, now push," he coaxed her.

She grunted, but it quickly morphed into a scream.

"Case, the contraction's dying down," Tristan informed him.

"Bean? Stop."

In a breathless voice, she said, "Okay."

She'd barely taken a breath before Tristan told him another was growing.

"Ready?" Casey asked her.

She nodded.

"Again, Bean. Push."

Bean gritted her teeth and bore down, her face glowing bright red from the effort. Her moan ended in a high-pitched cry.

Casey could see the skin at her vaginal opening stretching. Another push like that and the baby would be crowning. "Stop pushing," he coached. If she pushed when she should rest, she'd wear herself out.

"I want it out!" she wailed.

He had to suppress his chuckle. Casey couldn't agree more. The whole process had been excruciating, and he was only a witness.

"Here comes another one, Case," Tristan told him.

"Thanks," Casey acknowledged. "Come on, Bean. Push again."

She tucked her chin to her chest and strained.

The baby's head breached her entrance.

"I see its head," Casey told her. "It has dark black hair, and it's super curly."

Bean smiled and reached down to touch the top of its head. "So soft," she marveled. "And slimy."

"Another push and its head should be clear. Can you give me a few more pushes, Bean?" Casey asked her.

She nodded and retracted her hand.

"Okay, only push on the next contraction."

"Yes," she breathed.

When her next contraction built, she pushed again, and the baby's whole head was resting in Casey's hand.

Oh no...

It looked ashen and had the cord wrapped around its neck multiple times. Fear made Casey begged silently, _All that work. Don't be dead._ He pulled the umbilical cord from the baby's neck. His fingers were shaking so hard he was afraid he would injure the infant further. As the last of the cord unwound from its neck, it opened its eyes.

Casey felt his heart skip a beat.

"Holy shit!" Jules exclaimed.

Miraculous!

"What?" Bean asked, her eyes wide and tears forming in her eyes. "Is it all right? What is it?"

"The baby isn't all out yet. Just its head," Casey answered her.

"Then what's wrong?" she asked breathlessly.

"Nothing. It opened its eyes," Casey reassured her. "And it is the most amazing thing I have ever seen."

Bean collapsed back onto Tristan's shoulder. "I want to hold it."

"You have to finish pushing first!" Casey joked.

Bean nodded. "Can I push now?"

"As soon as you have another contraction," Casey told her.

She ground her teeth together.

"Here comes that contraction," Tristan answered for her.

"One more push, and it should be clear of you," Casey urged.

Bean struggled, a strangled cry torn from her lips, but all that effort pushed the baby out the rest of the way. The infant was so slippery that Casey feared he would drop it. Instinctually he cradled the baby's neck and looked down in pride. Casey felt as if this was his child.

Smiling, he announced, "Bean, you have a son."

# Chapter 6

Lottie was exhausted, and her whole body shook. But it was done. The umbilical cord was cut and tied off, and her son had taken his first wailing breaths, confirming he lived. And Casey was beaming at her like the baby was his own creation. He looked adorable despite the delivery gore covering his chest and shorts. Lottie grimaced. There was a lot of blood. She didn't want to admit it, but all that blood scared her. She'd read but never concentrated on any of the documentation about labor and delivery. She hadn't expected to need it.

"May I hold him?" she asked. The need to press him against her skin was overpowering.

Casey hesitated for a second, but then dropped to his knees, wincing as he landed, and handed her the baby with a self-deprecating smile. She never noticed it before, but Casey had a slight dimple. He tore his gaze away from hers, and she pressed her cheek to the top of her infant's head, merely taking a moment to greet her son.

_Hello Greysen,_ she told him silently. He looked back at her with wide, dark blue eyes. They were newborn's eyes. Idly she wondered if Greysen would end up with green irises. Lottie hoped not. She would rather Greysen have brown eyes like hers. As it was, Lottie now knew who had that honor of being Greysen's donor. Only one of her attackers had curly black hair and those infamous green eyes.

"Jules? Cut up a blanket into strips. We need to wash the baby off and get Bean clean too," Casey ordered and ran a hand through his hair.

Lottie almost snorted. Did Casey know he just smeared blood and goo through it? A second later, he looked at his hand and frowned. Well, Casey knew it now.

"You're filthy too, Case. Go clean up," Tristan told him. "Momma is fine for a moment. Aren't you, Momma?"

Lottie twitched. She'd forgotten Tristan held her pressed against his chest, and she felt tears threaten. He had been very kind through this whole ordeal. "Yes," she answered.

Casey shook his head. "Not yet. The manual says she hasn't expelled the afterbirth." He met her gaze. "Can you hold the baby and bear down one more time, or do we need to hold him for you?"

Lottie smiled at him. His eager look undisguised. _Since when do guys want to hold babies?_ she wondered. "I've got him."

Casey's expression clouded for a second but then cleared. He again acted brisk and businesslike. Lottie appreciated it. It had been hard enough to be naked and vulnerable in front of them, but he worked hard to set her at ease. They all did.

"As soon as you feel up to it, push again," he ordered.

Lottie pressed the muscles in her abdomen like she was going to have a bowel movement, and she felt a large mass pass from her. The afterbirth must be a sight if the slightly green look on Casey's face was any indication.

"Lift her a little," Casey instructed Tristan. "That blanket is," he paused. "Unfit for use."

"That good, huh?" Tristan laughed and wrapped one arm around her waist. In a move that he made look effortless, Tristan lifted all three of them several inches up off the bedroll.

"Give me a second," he said to Tristan. He then pulled the blanket out from under them, wadding it up as he removed it, and then tossed it to the ground. "One more second," he requested, and grabbed a cleaner blanket from by the fire, and put it under them. "You can rest now."

"Thanks," Tristan said dryly. "Now, go rinse off. You look like you slaughtered a chicken."

Casey chuckled and stripped out of his shorts, and Lottie averted her eyes quickly. "Now would be a good time to see if you have all your fingers and toes!" she cooed to Greysen.

"He's very handsome," Tristan told her as he looked down on Greysen from over her shoulder.

Lottie smiled. She agreed wholeheartedly.

"Can I see him?" Jules asked. "I'll clean him off at the same time."

It was tough to let Greysen go, but Lottie handed him to Jules. With nothing to occupy her gaze, her eyes drifted to where Casey was rinsing off the grime accumulated from Greysen's delivery. Casey's features were indistinct in the fading light. _Fading light?_ She didn't remember when the sun had set. Admittedly, she couldn't remember much of anything since this morning.

She rubbed her eyes, her fatigue growing, along with her desire to get clean before she completely collapsed. It felt like an impossible goal. Looking at the cold water and then Jules acting as babysitter, she thought she would never get a chance like this again. Lottie took a deep breath to fortify her nerves. "Tristan?"

"Yes, Momma."

"Do you think you can help me get to the river to wash?" she asked. She pointed at Jules. "I might not get a chance like this again."

"I'm sure you can convince one of us to help you in the future, but yes, I will help you." Tristan leaned her forward and slid out from behind her. He then helped her gain her feet. When she stood, the blanket fell to the ground, and she didn't have the energy to reach for it. She supposed it didn't matter much at the moment, anyway. They witnessed Greysen's birth. It wasn't like her body was much of a secret.

Besides, the water looked inviting, calling to her more than her modesty did.

Lottie took a step forward. _Oh, that's disgusting._ She was embarrassed to feel blood running down her leg. To Tristan's credit, he ignored both her naked body and the blood as he helped her to the river. Casey didn't say anything either as they joined him, but he did blush when she came near.

When Tristan had first told her the staff sergeant blushed, she'd thought he was pulling her leg. Casey had seemed so intimidating those first few days, and although she didn't know him all that well, Lottie did decide he wasn't as scary as she first thought, especially when he was flush with embarrassment. Looking back on the past week, Lottie couldn't think of a single time when they were together, where Casey would have been in a position to show weakness. It was refreshing to know he did have feelings under that cold and impersonal exterior.

"You want to sit down?" Tristan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"No." She assumed it was a bad idea to submerge in the water. Who knew what kind of bacteria it harbored, so Lottie opted for standing and splashing instead.

"Let me get you a makeshift washcloth," Tristan said and left her standing next to Casey.

Lottie tucked her hair behind her ear and fixed her gaze to the water as a fresh wave of shyness overtook her. When she looked up, Lottie saw a bit of goo under Casey's eye. Reaching up, she wiped it from his face. The rough texture of his beard made her fingertips tingle. Lottie tried to pull her hand back, but Casey caught her wrist and held her hand to his cheek.

After a moment, he released her. "You are exhausted. Do you need anything? Are you all right?" Casey asked.

_So concerned when he doesn't need to be._ Lottie needed—no wanted—to thank him for his care. It was the right thing to do. Lottie opened and closed her mouth a few times before she managed to say anything. "I... Thank you for helping me. For being there when I needed it. I know you were doing your duty, but I appreciate it regardless."

She caught the ghost of a smile as it tugged at his lips. "Like I would trust anyone else to do it," Casey said. No, he wouldn't. He'd already proven that he held himself to a higher standard than the rest of his men.

A splash drew her attention, and she hastily stepped away from Casey.

"Here you go, Momma," Tristan said and handed her the slice of the blanket, his skin around his eyes crinkled from his grin. She felt the start of a blush when he winked at her. Tristan then flicked his gaze to Casey before he looked back at her and waggling his eyebrows. Tristan's implied intimacy with Casey made Lottie feel self-conscious. She _was_ standing nude in the river next to them both.

Casey heaved an exasperated sigh. "Go find your tent, old man. But before you do, grab us some grub. I'm starving and"—Casey looked at her—"I'm sure Bean is too."

"Anythin' else?" Tristan asked.

"Yeah, some more blankets from the supply shed," Casey answered, and then added, "Jaesen should have the key."

"You got it," Tristan said and walked away.

"That leaves Jules," Casey mumbled. Lottie assumed that statement was to himself since he didn't appear to be talking to her.

She scrubbed while he contemplated—whatever it was he was considering. As she washed the blood from her legs, she wondered how she should deal with it for the next few weeks. She had ways of handling her period, but this was so much more than that. At the labs, they issued reusable cotton pads. Lottie suppressed a sigh of regret.

When Casey spoke, she wondered if he had read her mind. "You can use some of the cut-up blankets for that"—he indicated the fresh trail of blood—"until we think of a better solution. For tonight, it doesn't matter to me what you do, but I think you would feel more comfortable with something to catch it."

Lottie looked at him in surprise. He was so calm, not even blushing. Earlier, anything related to her gender or the birth caused him to turn redder than her worst sunburn. What was different this time? When he raised his eyebrow in silent question, she realized he waited for her response. "More comfortable, yes. Thank you," she replied. Lottie could feel a flush creep up her neck.

"We'll have to do the same for the baby," Casey said, his gaze losing focus as he thought. Lottie barely suppressed a flinch when he refocused on her again. "You finished?" It was disconcerting when he turned his full attention on her. Lottie was sure his hazel eyes missed nothing. She nodded. Casey's lids narrowed infinitesimally, and Lottie forced herself not to cringe. She'd forgotten he was tired of her head bobbing, but it was hard to articulate a response when he looked at her like he could see her soul and all her secrets. "Yes. I'm ready to get out and hold my son."

Casey's smile softened his whole face. "I would like to hold him again."

How could she refuse him when he looked so eager?

He took hold of her elbow and helped her navigate the shifting river stones. He even kept her from falling once. Lottie marveled at how he could keep his balance so easily. She could do that too, before the pregnancy. She hoped now that Greysen was born, she would regain her equilibrium.

Once out of the water, Casey dropped her arm and strode forward to scoop up a discarded blanket. He returned and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Don't want you to get chilled," he said in explanation. "I suppose you could get dressed, but I suggest—until your... wound... is healed—that you forgo constrictive clothing."

_Wound? Oh, the delivery discharge,_ Lottie thought to herself. _So that's why he can discuss it without blushing. It's a battle wound. Huh._ "Probably best, for tonight at least," she conceded and made her way to the bedroll spread on the ground. Casey helped her down and then went to retrieve some blankets and some fabric strips. He handed her the cut pieces and then made her a pillow out of the covers. Lottie took it from him and reclined while Casey spread out the other bedroll. It looked like he planned to stay next to her all night. Making sure she wouldn't run again? Lottie assumed so, although running wasn't in her immediate future. She could hardly walk, and she wanted to sleep. Blissful sleep. But first, she needed to hold Greysen. Maybe see if he would nurse.

"Jules?"

"Yeah, Chica," he answered. He had the same half-smile Casey had when holding her son. Who knew the big, tough soldiers would be giant softies with an infant in their arms.

"Can you hand me Greysen?" she asked.

Lottie wasn't paying any attention to either of the men. She only had eyes for the bundle in Jules's arms.

"Greysen?" Casey asked, his voice soft.

The release of stress, her fatigue after her labor, and the comfort she now felt with these men relaxed her inhibitions, and without thinking about her answer first, Lottie replied, "Yes. Greysen. After my biological mother." She watched Greysen in Jules's arms and waited for him to come closer.

When Jules didn't move, Lottie looked up. He was staring at Casey. Jules's eyes were wide. Slowly, as if she would scare a wild animal away, Lottie turned to look at Casey. He was studying her, his expression almost cold, and reminiscent of that first night in the abandoned shelter.

With startling clarity, she realized what she had done. Lottie had given Casey a name, a name directly related to her past. All he had to do now was look up her mother's file. He would have unfettered access, being a part of ARA. And honestly, how many female Greysen's could there be? It wouldn't be hard to deduce Lottie's name, or how long she'd been on the run, or any fact about her life, for that matter.

She _was_ Greysen's only daughter.

Lottie swallowed hard and turned back to Jules. She should have said it was a donor's name, or that she read it somewhere, or it came up on the random name generator program she played with while on duty at the labs. Anything would have been better than blurting out the truth. Lottie could feel the plea for help in her eyes.

"Jules?" Casey called.

"Yes, Case?"

"Give _Bean_ her son, and then make yourself scarce. Have Tristan drop the supplies by the runner. I'll retrieve them in a bit. _Bean_ and I have some things we need to discuss."

"Sure, Case," Jules replied and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He brought her son to her, and laid him in her arms, before making a hasty retreat.

Lottie took a deep breath and resigned herself to the upcoming interrogation. Maybe if she confessed what she knew, he would help her, maybe let her stay out here in the wilderness instead of marching her back to Fort St. Louis. At least in the country, the only thing Lottie needed to do to prevent pregnancy was to avoid men. Lottie would have no such luck in Fort St. Louis. Not with their fancy labs and the mandatory artificial insemination treatments.

"Please don't send me back," she pleaded and hugged Greysen to her chest. She studied her son's face and blinked back tears. She had to be strong for Greysen and herself.

After a minute, Casey spoke. His voice was quiet and almost hesitant. "Why did you run?"

Lottie took a chance and glanced at him. His expression conveyed anger and sadness, but mostly, the emotion she saw was curiosity.

"Why did you leave the security of the labs?" Casey pressed.

Lottie took a deep breath, and fidgeted with Greysen, stalling for time and ordering her thoughts. How could she explain her complex reasons to flee? "Do you know your mother? Not the communal home director, but your actual biological mother?"

"No, and neither do you."

"True," Lottie responded.

She kept her voice low, and Casey had to step forward to hear her. "They keep us apart for a reason. They don't want the mothers of the children to form attachments to each other. But I think it's more for the moms. Easier to disassociate yourself from your baby when you never see them. Never hold them." Lottie brushed her finger over Greysen's cheek. His eyelids drooped, and he would soon be asleep in her arms.

Casey made a noise encouraging her to continue.

"I knew my mom. Well 'knew' is a bit strong. I saw my mom before she died."

"How can you be sure the woman you saw was your mother?" Casey asked and sat down next to her.

Lottie looked him in the eye. "I looked up her file, and there were pictures." She sighed. "You could look up your biological parents if you wanted too. Most don't."

"It's discouraged," Casey agreed.

"Yes. If you don't know who they are, then you don't miss them or look for them. You don't attribute their image to the hollow expressions of others as they gaze into the nurseries or the commons rooms. I should have been less curious." Lottie paused. "Of course, most of us get moved around while we're infants. It helps remove the temptation to look at your babies. I guess you could say I am lucky. I lived in the same Fort as my mother."

"How did she die?" Casey asked.

It was a logical question. One Lottie knew Casey would ask. Lottie took a fortifying breath, then answered, "She died giving birth to my youngest brother."

Casey's eyes widened a bit, his only indication of surprise.

"Skylar Reece Engle," she volunteered. "He should be about six years old now. I miss him."

She watched as Casey deduced a few answers to his questions. "You volunteered in his wing, didn't you?"

She nodded. "I did it during my training. Skylar was fun to play with," Lottie's voice trailed off, and she focused inward, remembering. At two years old, he'd had a bright smile and an infectious laugh. He loved toy cars. "Out of all of my biological siblings, he looks the most like me: pale blond hair, brown eyes, some freckles." She could feel tears building behind her eyes again.

"How many?"

Lottie twitched, and her focus snapped back to Casey. "How many what?"

"How many siblings?"

She ran her hand through her hair and twirled the end of it. This part was harder than she expected. "I'm the oldest of eight. And the only girl."

"Eight?!"

She nodded.

"That's unheard of," Casey told her.

"I know. Greysen was an abnormality," Lottie agreed. "What if my body is like hers? What if I had eight babies that I had to give up? I didn't have the strength to face it. So I ran."

"What if you hold the key to solving the crisis?" Casey demanded. "You should have been eager to serve."

Lottie flinched, riddled with guilt. It was not a new emotion, but an unwelcome one nonetheless.

"I know. I struggle with that every day. Especially once I knew I was pregnant," Lottie's voice trailed off. She shook her head, trying to forget.

He snorted in reply, and when she met his gaze, he looked angry again.

Lottie glared at him. "Could you face twelve years of being poked, prodded, and pregnant? It seemed like a lifetime of torture. And because of my mother, I was already targeted for intense study by the FAR and FCO," Lottie defended. "Stop looking at me like I'm scum. I couldn't do it, okay?"

She watched as he tried to soften his expression, and he shifted on the blanket, wrapping his hands around his knees. His anger was a palpable presence between them.

Lottie hunched her shoulders and tried to ignore how her hands shook in reaction. It hurt that he thought less of her, but she had to keep going. She had to finish what she had started.

"I think the worst part of it is, Skylar was conceived with her husband and not in the labs. She'd already been out of service for two years. And yet, if she hadn't died, she would have had to give him up anyway. Can't let any baby grow up with its mother or father—even one conceived outside of the labs. Then everyone would want to keep their children," Lottie's voice hitched. _Just like I do._ "I think it killed her to know that, and she gave up."

They were silent for a few moments—Casey deep in thought about what she had said. Lottie gazed at her sleeping son, remembering her mother's file. Her image had morphed from a bright-eyed eighteen-year-old, freshly enlisted, to a hollowed-out shell right before she passed away. One picture for each confirmed pregnancy, plus her enlistment image. Nine photos. That's all Lottie had to connect her to her mother. It hadn't been enough.

"There is one thing I don't understand," Casey said, interrupting her thoughts. "The way you phrase things makes it sound like you ran before you enlisted. It doesn't fit."

_Doesn't fit?_ No, she supposed it wouldn't. How could she answer this without bringing up memories she'd rather forget?

She could go on, letting him think she had a successful artificial insemination treatment. That would work until he read her file. So he'd be pacified for how long, a couple of hours? Maybe a day. Not long enough. Then he would be back—angrier than before—and demanding answers she didn't want to give.

Her throat tightened, and tears spilled down her cheeks. Soon Casey would read how she never arrived at check-in for her enlistment. Casey was smart. It wouldn't take him long to do the math. She'd already admitted her age. If she ran before she turned eighteen and she was now almost twenty-one, there was no way Greysen was an artificial insemination baby.

Lottie struggled to hold back her memories, but they flooded her anyway: rough hands holding her down, voices laughing and cheering each other on, choking when they used her mouth, the constant drip of their fluids from her body. She shuddered. Lottie had retreated into herself. And after the first few days, she'd become nearly catatonic, barely able to take care of her basic needs. It wasn't until her period was late and Lottie was vomiting in the afternoons that she had realized what had happened.

Her terror had been all-consuming. Not even the repeated rapes by those men had compared to the fear of a natural pregnancy. Skylar had been a natural pregnancy, and it had killed her mother. The realization forced her hand. Lottie had to get away before her attackers realized what was wrong. She had to flee before they tried to keep Lottie forever. And what if the baby was a girl? Would they rape their daughter?

Lottie couldn't risk it.

Her escape had taken weeks to succeed, but she managed to elude them, never staying in any one spot for longer than a day. Lottie had no idea how many kilometers she'd covered in her wandering. There was a security in moving, a safety in avoiding others, even if it meant she had to wallow in her own filth. In her travels, she'd been as far south as the bootheel before turning back north.

As the memories wound down, she realized she was in Casey's arms, and he was cooing and hushing her, trying to get her to stop sobbing. She had no idea when he'd collected her in his arms.

"Bean? What the hell happened to you?" Casey asked as she gained control of herself.

"Lottie," she told him.

"Lottie?"

"My name is Lottie," she answered. She might as well tell him now. He'd know it as soon as he read her file.

"Lottie, can you tell me what happened?"

She shook her head. It was too raw.

Thankfully, Casey didn't press for her answer, and Greysen chose that moment to wake up. He whimpered. Lottie had no idea what he needed?

"Why don't you try to feed him?" Casey volunteered and released her. "Here. I'll be your backrest."

She nodded again, unable to answer, her throat felt too raw.

Casey slipped behind her and rested her back against his chest, and she dropped the blanket down, revealing her breast. She felt embarrassed at both the exposure and how she didn't know what to do to breastfeed her son. Lottie, again, wished she'd taken a few of the field manuals on caring for a newborn from the labs.

Well, Greysen. We'll just have to figure this out together.

As she rested against Casey and held Greysen to her breast, she felt completely drained. Everything would be different in the morning, but for right now, she could pretend it would be fine.

***

Lottie.

Casey wrapped his arms around her tighter. She was sound asleep, her head thrown back against his shoulder, and her arm braced against him, helping her secure Greysen to her body. Her gentle breathing tickled his neck on each exhalation. She felt good against him. Too good.

He sighed. He didn't know what had caused Lottie's outburst earlier, but he had a sinking suspicion. Casey examined the facts as he knew them: intense fear of men, extreme aversion of being touched, retreating into herself during high emotion, and her shoulder tension when Jules implied sexual contact. The most logical conclusion he could draw was rape. _And while pregnant too._ He shook his head. He didn't have it in his heart to be angry with her.

Yes, she ran. Yes, she wasn't doing what she should for her country. But if Casey reversed their roles, would he put up with the constant tests? The never-ending attempts to find the cure at the expense of his body. Casey wasn't sure. Not after seeing what she had to live through with one successful delivery. The experience had shaken him thoroughly.

He ran his finger down her arm until he reached Greysen's cheek. The baby mewled at the touch. How could something so tiny command his heart so completely? Casey was pretty sure the emotion wasn't purely from the delivery experience. He felt at peace when he held the baby. Casey had no idea what to do when Greysen cried, but that didn't bother him—even though it should. He already regretted the fact he would have to send them back to Fort St. Louis. It would break Lottie's heart to lose her son.

_Oldest of eight children_.

The medics would turn her into a baby factory in their attempt to test new cures. They would continue to try to find out why she could conceive when no one else seemed able. At least in Fort St. Louis, she'd have drugs to help with delivery. But would it kill her spirit if she had to keep giving up her babies? Did all the women feel that way?

Casey tried to shake away the feeling of pity. It was his duty to his country to return her. He had to do it, didn't he? _Dammit!_ Why did she have to be found in his territory?

He hugged her closer. An irrational desire to keep them grew in his chest. He should stop it—needed to stop it—but he couldn't. It was already too late.

***

Casey woke with something warm and substantial pressed against his chest. He lifted his arm to shove it aside, but a sleepy voice stopped him. The voice asked, "What? Is something wrong?"

He tightened his arms around Lottie and Greysen and swallowed back a curse. Casey couldn't believe it. He'd almost hurt them. He took a shaky breath and said, "Go back to sleep. It's early."

Lottie shifted, arching her back in a little stretch. "I need to get up. I think Greysen peed on me again."

He had to suppress a chuckle. The first time the baby had wet through his makeshift diaper, Lottie had squealed in dismay and then grumbled about needing another bath. He'd helped her stand and supported her on her slow shuffle down to the river. There he'd held Greysen while she rinsed and then assisted in a quick bath for the infant. They'd both returned to the bedroll and had slept some more. But now the sky was getting lighter, and dawn was approaching. He would take a few minutes to make sure Lottie didn't need anything, and then he had to get back to work by investigating yesterday's fight.

"Can you sit forward?" Casey asked her.

When she complied, he extracted himself. Standing, he offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

"Put Greysen down," Casey ordered her. She needed to scrub herself clean, dress, and eat. It would be smoother without shuffling an infant back and forth between them. When she squeezed Greysen tighter to her breast, Casey added, "He won't be hurt resting on the bedroll, and we're only going to the river. He won't leave your line of sight or mine."

"You're right. I," Lottie trailed off. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with tears. "They said after he was born, they would take him and kill him."

Casey felt anger so fierce it made the light dance behind his eyes. Through gritted teeth, he forced out, "Who said this?"

She took a step back, eyes widening, and she shook.

"Who?" Casey growled, trying to regain control. Lottie was scared of him again. He didn't like that fact at all.

"Ethan and Teo," she whispered.

_Fuck!_ Casey ran a hand through his hair. He needed to debrief, learn about what Lottie had experienced all week in addition to the fight. _Dammit._ But first, he needed her calm. Her limbs quivered so hard he was afraid she would drop Greysen.

Casey reached forward, and Lottie flinched, his heart constricting at her reaction. "Let me hold him before you drop him. I'm going to set him on the ground. He can't get hurt there. Okay?"

She nodded, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

He cussed to himself again, and gently took Greysen, who also started to cry. Regretfully, there wasn't much Casey could for the infant. Setting Greysen down, Casey collected Lottie into his arms, and said, "What they did is unacceptable, and unbefitting of an ARA soldier. Our job—our oath—is to protect women like you.". _Protect?_ Was that right? Or was he selling her—and himself—army propaganda?

Her arms wrapped around his waist, and his fingers ran through her hair over and over again. "I will deal with their insubordination. I'll deal with anyone else who threatens you or Greysen." He pulled her back from his chest and tilted her chin up with his finger. He wanted to look her in the eyes so that he could judge the reaction. "I will determine the truth of their other threat."

The way her eyes darted away from his and the tension holding her ridged answered that question. Javier hadn't lied to him. They had threatened to rape her. He pulled her into his arms again. _Poor little Bean to suffer so much already._ "From now on, only the soldiers I trust to have your best interests in mind will guard you. Can you accept that?"

She told him yes in a voice husky with her tears.

"After you are clean, eat something, and get dressed. We will need to discuss what happened yesterday. Understood?"

Again, she answered with a breathy, "Yes." She gazed at Greysen. His face was red, and his wailing was getting more insistent.

It pained Casey to let him cry, but she'd not do either of them any favors if she didn't take care of herself first. "Can you wash and dress without assistance? I will go and grab the rations brought to us last night."

She nodded and extracted herself from his arms. When Lottie walked to the river, Casey walked to where the supplies rested, and to the hidden guard.

"Morning Case," Ty greeted him.

Casey stooped and grabbed his revolver off the top of the pile and buckled the holster to his hip. Then he picked up the blankets and rations from the ground. Turning to Ty, he said, "Let Lincoln know that when I am through here, I will be reading his report on the fight yesterday. Also, get Jules. You both will guard Lottie. I want her to stay here a while longer."

"Lottie, Case?"

"Her name," Casey answered.

Ty chuckled. "I was afraid you were making up names after exhausting your list of foreign words for 'woman'."

"No. She fessed up and told me."

"Guess that's good. Some of her nicknames were a bit crude."

Casey agreed. "If I remember correctly, yours wasn't too derogatory."

"No. I may not like her, but that doesn't mean she should be insulted or made fun of." Ty thrust his chin in Lottie's direction. "I don't agree that she ran. We all have a duty to our country, but she doesn't deserve to be threatened repeatedly."

"Threatened repeatedly?"

"Honestly, Case, I thought you paid better attention to your men than this. You slipping? Too distracted by a naked body?"

Casey gritted his teeth. He'd heard snide remarks and coarse language directed towards her, but it hadn't registered as anything more sinister than the idle threats tossed around the barracks during Basic. Sentiments born from the usual resentment toward how pampered women were in the Forts. Hell, he'd even ignored the denial of food and water by Ethan and Teo that first day. Lincoln had discounted it, and Casey had taken his advice and let it slide. Now, he wondered if he should have investigated the incident more closely.

Ty interrupted his thoughts. "How many women do we have in camp usually? One a year, maybe? How long do you—or when Kerner was in charge—keep them here? A day? Two tops. Not enough time for the guys to daydream about how the history books said things used to be."

Casey remembered those lessons on how things were before the crisis, where the ratio of men to women was equal. Where you had a choice to be single your whole life or not, but now each year was worse than the one before it, and soon, if their scientist didn't find a solution, no female children would be born at all. Depressing.

The inability to find a partner had caused a ripple of discord through society. Get enough testosterone in one location, and things tended to combust. Squabbles and fistfights weren't unheard of out in the field, but closer to Fort St. Louis—where competition for State-workers was stiffer—fights were more abundant. CPS units were the busiest when patrolling the streets outside of the State-runs and the illegal bars.

"She's been here a week. I've read the manuals. She'll be here for longer now that she's recovering from birth. Resentment and threats will get worse. I don't think there is much you can do to resolve it except remove her from camp."

But by then, there might be more damage to his squad than his policies could repair. How much team building can you do when there are two separate factions? She needed to be gone—as in yesterday—but he couldn't do that to her. Not yet. She required days to recover, or she may not survive the trek. The manuals stressed how easy it would be for a female body to bleed out after delivery. Death would be quick and messy.

His camp was far enough away from Fort St. Louis that if it happened, Greysen would die before he could get him back to Fort St. Louis.

_What a fucking mess,_ Casey thought. "What side of the equation do you fall on?" Casey asked. No reason to mince his words.

"Don't know, Case," Ty answered. "Part of me hates her. The other part wants to keep her safe. And then part of me thinks she needs punishment," Ty griped. "But then there's another part that thinks she deserves a level of respect due to all humankind." He paused. "Hong's the same. I guess if it came down to it, we'd both be on the side that keeps us in good standing with the Brass."

_Protecting your ass,_ Casey thought. He couldn't fault him for that logic. "Which is?"

"I'd want her to be shipped back to Fort St. Louis as soon as possible. Bring balance back to Base."

Casey nodded. "And if the Brass didn't know?"

"I'd want to ignore her. Not go out of my way to help keep safe. Only do the minimum required of me. I wouldn't treat her like complete shit, but..." Ty sighed. "I wouldn't be all that nice either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Casey asked.

Ty ran a hand through his short hair. "I'm afraid to examine that too closely."

"Why?"

"Gut reaction?" Ty questioned.

"Yes. With no fear of reprisal for what you say right now," Casey confirmed. He needed honesty more than platitudes.

"I wouldn't harm her, but if others wanted to—or tried—I would look the other way."

The answer angered him, but he held the emotion in check. Barely. "Even though that goes against commanding officers' wishes?" Casey asked.

"Yes. As I said, I can't explain it," Ty said and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Case. I guess I just don't have your ideals."

"And Hong?"

"The same."

"Good to know. Thank you," Casey acknowledged and turned away from Ty. Casey's gait was stiff as he knelt by Greysen squalling on the blankets, and he scooped up the infant. Greysen quieted almost immediately.

"Miss your Mommy, do you? Or do you just like being held?" he asked Greysen. The baby blinked at him and hiccupped. "Silent treatment, huh? Taking after your mom?" he jokingly said.

"I wasn't silent because I wanted to be," Lottie answered.

Casey looked up when she spoke. He'd been too engrossed in the baby to pay attention to her movements. He cursed himself for his inattention. What if she'd run? Casey laughed at himself. Like she would run, naked, and without Greysen. She'd already told him she wouldn't give her son up.

"It wouldn't keep you from being sent back," Casey responded.

"True," Lottie replied. "It wasn't like I had many choices." She turned from him and donned her clothes. Casey turned back to Greysen to avoid staring at her as she dressed. When she finished, she asked for Greysen again.

"Eat first," Casey ordered. "You can't feed him if you don't eat too."

She nodded and sat on the bedroll, grabbed a ration, and took a big bite.

"He feels a bit soggy," Casey told her as his stomach growled. Promising himself he'd eat as soon as he got them both settled, he added, "I'll change his diaper. Take your time. I'll be right back."

Lottie nodded as she stuffed more food into her mouth.

Kneeling, Casey grabbed a few fabric strips and went to the river with Greysen. After some creative juggling, he stripped the infant of the wool blanket tied as a diaper, and without a better way to clean Greysen, Casey dunked the lower half of the baby in the water and used some of the blanket strips to wipe the shit off Greysen's behind. Casey grimaced. He admitted it wasn't the most pleasant chore he'd ever done, and Greysen cried harder at the cold water but calmed quickly once removed from it.

"I agree with you, young man. Makes the boys burrow inside, doesn't it," Casey conversed with Greysen. "You are so small," Casey said and cuddled the baby to his chest, his fingers touching Greysen's tiny head and smoothed back his hair. Casey marveled at how soft it felt.

"I wonder if I know your donor. Guess he could be from anywhere. What if you have a fancy scientist from New York as your biological father? Hope he isn't some knuckle-dragging Waste Disposal Engineer." Greysen mewed at him. "I never really thought about it, but now I wonder who my biological parents are. Not that it matters. I don't plan to seek them out." Casey frowned. He'd never wanted to know that before Lottie. "You know, young man, I kind of wish I was your donor. Who knows if I'll ever get chosen for that honor. I don't do anything that impressive to warrant that reward. But maybe in a few years." He sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd thought about fathering a child, even if he had no say in who the mother was or whether it was a success.

"Let's get you dressed and back to Mommy. You're probably as hungry as I am." As if in answer to that statement, Greysen screwed up his face and started to wail. "Okay, young man. Give me a second to get you wrapped up."

Casey set Greysen on the bedding near the fire and wound some strips of the blanket around Greysen's rear. "There you go," he told Greysen and picked him up again. "Next stop. Mommy's milk." He smiled at the baby as the infant screamed in his arms and then to Lottie, sitting a few feet away. She sported an amused expression, and Casey could feel his cheeks redden. How much of that had she heard?

"Um," he sputtered and handed Greysen to her. "Do you need a backrest?" Casey's belly growled again. He shoved the thought of food aside, reminding himself to attend to Lottie and Greysen first.

"It would help," Lottie confirmed. "Can you eat a ration if I lean against you?"

"Yes."

"Then let's do that."

Casey grabbed a travel cake and slid behind her. He took a bite as she settled against him. Lottie then set Greysen against her raised knees, resting his bottom against her stomach and his torso in the crease between her thighs. Greysen's head came almost to her knees.

When he was secured, she pulled her arms out of her shirt. She had to lean forward a bit to tug it free from between Casey and her body then put the garment to the side.

"I haven't figured out how to do this yet, and the shirt gets in the way," she said.

He didn't mind. Lottie being shirtless gave him a better view of the whole feeding process. Even the clumsy attempts to get Greysen to eat didn't detract from the natural beauty of Lottie breastfeeding her son. He couldn't express how thankful he was that she trusted him enough to be here with her in such a vulnerable state.

"Can you... I mean... I know my milk is a few days away, but I read that it helps with letdown and production if you..." Lottie stumbled through her sentence. "Oh, hell! Now I know how you felt earlier."

Casey felt her embarrassment almost as a physical presence between them. "What do you need help with?" Casey asked her.

"I read one of the manuals in the labs, and it said to encourage milk production, you should massage the breasts gently." She paused. "I feel pretty stupid for asking this, but can you... um... touch me while I try to feed him? I don't know if it will help, but I can't do it and feed him at the same time. I'm not that coordinated yet."

"You think it is necessary?" Casey was uncomfortable with the request. How could he keep _that_ impersonal?

Lottie tensed in his arms. He wondered if it was a reaction to his question or a throwback to her unease regarding sexual contact.

"If you would rather not, I understand," she replied, her voice thick. "It probably isn't even needed. Thanks anyway."

Was she about to cry again?

"It's not that. I'll do it," Casey told her. He took a deep breath and shoved the very male desire to caress her to the back of his mind. He had to make it a mission objective, or one part of him would react when he least wanted it.

Casey stroked the back of his fingers down her skin and then ran his fingers along the top of Greysen's head. That was when he realized the key to keeping the process from becoming sexual. If Casey focused on Greysen, he could ignore the fact that he was intimately rubbing her skin. So Casey focused his attention on Greysen.

"What day was yesterday?" Lottie asked him after several minutes of silence.

He had to think about it. "August twentieth."

"August twentieth," Lottie repeated as if trying to commit it to memory, and she relaxed into him.

They sat in companionable silence while both Casey and Greysen ate. When Casey finished, and his belly no longer tried to eat its way through his body, Casey tilted his head back and watched as the day lightened around them, but a new worry wormed its way into his thoughts. The trio couldn't stay in this clearing all day. There was no shade, and it would get way too hot. Before he could voice his concern, Lottie scooted forward and handed Greysen to him. She put on her shirt while Casey cuddled the baby.

"I think I'm supposed to try to burp him," she said.

"How do you do that?"

"Tap his back."

Casey held Greysen up to his shoulder and patted him gently. "After you are done in the clearing this morning, please stay near our tent. You're going to need the shade."

Lottie nodded.

It was time to talk about the past week. "How many threats have you received?"

The smile dropped from her face, and she started to fidget with the blanket.

"Lottie?"

"A few."

"Who," Casey pressed.

"Usually, just Ethan and Teo, and only when you weren't around," she answered. "None of the other soldiers said anything I hadn't heard before while in the communal homes. Mostly it was the touching I didn't like."

"Touching?"

"Arm touches. Back touches. Personal space issues. You did it too."

I did?

"I tried to ignore most of it," she added.

He could easily see how she would pretend nothing bothered her. What had Tristan called her? A scared rabbit with a spine of steel. Yes, she was precisely that in the camp. Would he have done something to ease her discomfort had he known? He shifted uncomfortably. No, he wouldn't have then. But now? She'd spent the whole week quietly facing so many hostilities. He wanted to know if that first altercation between Tristan and Ethan had more at stake for her than Lincoln had let on.

"That first day," Casey paused. "Were you legitimately sick?"

Lottie stared at her crossed feet. "Depends on your definition of sick."

"Explain," Casey prompted.

She swallowed. "Ethan and Teo said you'd want payment for room and board."

Casey felt his anger growing again. He may daydream about sex—every soldier did—but that didn't mean he'd force a woman to pay for room and board with her body. The evidence mounted against Ethan and Teo. Too many more negative reports and Casey would have to file a formal complaint with his commanding officers. That would mean he'd have to admit Lottie was in his camp. It was one more reason why he needed her gone before things got worse.

When Greysen started to slip down Casey's chest, he shifted the baby into his arms. The infant was sound asleep and making sucking motions with his lips. Casey's heart constricted painfully; he didn't want to let the infant go.

Casey looked up to find Lottie playing with the blanket burrs. Her posture conveyed her misery. She must have felt his stare since she lifted her eyes to his. Casey hadn't realized she'd paused in her recantation until she resumed. "Ethan hoped you would choose him for the escort detail back to Fort St. Louis."

"He did, did he?" Casey swallowed his anger. "Why?"

"He said the whole reason he joined ARA was so he could 'have fun with the evaders' when no one was watching."

Casey growled, waking the baby, and Greysen cried.

"Can I have him?" Lottie asked. She looked like she needed comfort as much as Greysen did.

Casey nodded and handed the baby to her. Besides, Casey couldn't sit still anymore anyway, so he stood and started pacing.

"What prompted the fight? Paul said Ethan was baiting Tristan about you," Casey said. "I already know they've threatened to rape you, and you said they threatened to kill Greysen."

"That was it," she answered. "Tristan pressed and pressed until they admitted it."

"I've seen the evidence of Paul and Jaesen involved in the fight. Anyone other than Ethan, Teo, and Tristan?"

"Everyone but Lincoln," she answered. "And I don't know if he joined after I fled."

_So the whole squad but the ones on patrol,_ Casey thought to himself. He was surprised that many would allow themselves to join the altercation, but he guessed he was due for it. Casey needed to decide how to punish them and get the honesty required to purge the squad of this abscess.

He stopped pacing and faced Lottie. "Anything else?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"Wu and Adan agreed with Ethan and Teo's plans once Greysen was born."

_Four on one._ "I won't let that happen," Casey vowed.

# Chapter 7

Casey slid his key into the padlock and locked the door to his command center. He'd been relieved to find Jaesen had left the key in Casey's shorts' pocket after getting the supplies for them yesterday. Having the key already meant one less step Casey had to complete in an otherwise unpleasant day.

"Maybe it won't be that bad," he told himself with a rueful laugh. "Yeah, right. As they say, pigs may fly."

He pulled open the door and stepped into the darkened room. It was only a couple of hours after dawn, but it was already swelteringly hot inside.

Casey cursed under his breath and flipped the light switch on.

The small bulb cast a faint glow in the room, and Casey gave the offending light a cursory glance. He'd have to figure out how to make candles if the army stopped supplying him with replacement bulbs. It was just one more skill Casey genuinely didn't want to learn. He shook his head. No use worrying about that at the moment. There was nothing he could do about it.

With a shrug, Casey approached the communications device and powered it on. Now that he had Lottie's name for the search program, he could look for her record. Sitting in his chair, Casey kicked his feet up onto the desk and resigned himself to the wait. Logging in always took forever. In the meantime, Casey opened Lincoln's report. While he read, Casey periodically checked the machine, waiting for it to finish.

Once the device loaded and the search program launched, Casey paused in his reading to type in Lottie's name. He returned to Lincoln's report, but before he could start reading, the screen flashed a 'No results' message. "Damn." Casey assumed the name Lottie was short for something else, but he wasn't sure what. Instead of guessing, Casey tried something different and typed in Greysen. He hit submit and waited. The search took longer this time, so Casey returned his attention to the report. It was not encouraging.

After a few minutes, Casey glanced at the screen. There was one result: Greysen Madison Townsend - Priority RED.

_Red? That has to be a mistake,_ Casey thought, most assets were green. He clicked Greysen's file open and read.

"Natural conception abilities confirmed." Casey knew that. It wasn't a surprise after what Lottie told him yesterday, but seeing the text under Greysen's name was sobering.

He kept reading.

Greysen was listed as living and currently housed at Horton and Sandra Gates Research Hospital. Casey wiped his hand over his eyes and then the text again. He got to the end and read it a third time.

Alive?

In shock, Casey's gaze drifted lower, and he stared at the list of children attributed to her. At the top of the list was Charlotte Lindbergh Forrester - Priority WHITE.

"White," he muttered to himself.

_That isn't good._

His finger tapped each name underneath Lottie's. Lottie wasn't the oldest of eight. She was the oldest of eleven. Greysen had three more live births since her transport from Fort St. Louis. Three more babies after Skylar, Lottie's last known little brother. Each one male. Each one shipped to a communal home after the minimum required maternity leave. His heart bled for the woman.

Casey closed the file for Greysen and typed in Charlotte Forrester and waited. After the results loaded, Casey clicked her file open, eager to read the details.

"Not enlisted?" Casey said to himself. "Never reported to check-in, and presumed dead." She'd been on the run for _three_ years. After that long, he could see why her file listed her as dead. "Wanted regardless of age. Natural conception abilities confirmed for biological mother. Subject's priority raised to WHITE for confirmation of the same trait. Immediate transport granted."

Well, that is... upsetting.

Casey steepled his fingers in front of his chest and leaned back. _Now, what?_

If he believed her file, then she never made it to the labs, and that meant Greysen _was_ a natural conception. Did Lottie love the father? Why wasn't he with her now? Did he die? Casey's eyes narrowed. Maybe the father was this mysterious Noah character, and he was planning a rescue.

Casey shoved the twinge of jealousy aside.

Turning back to her file, he closed it, clicked off the monitor, and sat back.

It was too much new information, and he couldn't process it all. He needed a breather. Casey stood, intending to go outside for some fresh air and some water, but when he opened the door, Lincoln was on the other side, and Casey had to suppress his jerk of surprise.

"Have you read my report yet?" Lincoln asked, pushing past Casey, and walking toward his desk.

Casey quirked his eyebrow at Lincoln. "Yes."

Lincoln stopped and fingered it where it rested on Casey's desk, then glanced at the communications device. "You send it yet?"

"No."

"Why not? Afraid to admit that the girl is here?" Lincoln asked, staring at the blank monitor.

Casey closed the door to his command center. He would have to wait for that drink of water after all. "No. She's permitted eight weeks of maternity leave no matter where she gives birth. She will stay here for at least some of that time before I ship her back. Her health depends on it." _And 'til I figure out if she_ should _go back._

"Her health? More like your," Lincoln trailed off.

"My what, Lincoln?"

"Never mind," he replied.

Casey sighed. "Speak freely."

"You coddle her too much. Make her work KP. Maybe if she works, the guys will let up a bit," Lincoln answered and turned to look at him.

"You think some Mess duty will solve this?"

"Not completely, but it will go a long way," Lincoln answered.

"That makes no sense," Casey argued and shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest. "How in the world will cooking some meals make the guys drop their threats?"

"You read the report. The biggest issue highlighted during the argument leading up to the fight was how the evader sat around all day. Now that she's had the kid, she can work."

Casey's gaze narrowed. "So you're saying that if she cooks dinner, then Ethan and Teo, and, the ever-absent God knows who else, will miraculously not want to carry through with their threats?" Casey asked. "I find that hard to believe. And if that were true, then I wouldn't have had a fight in my camp about whether or not it was okay to leave an American citizen in the woods to die and whether or not they would rape the mother. Who—do I need to remind you—is also an American citizen?" Casey took a calming breath. He had to stay in control. "Why didn't you stop the fight or report the threats? Usually, you are a stickler for the rules."

Lincoln stiffened. "I _was_ observing the rules. Until the fight, no one had done anything wrong."

_Not done anything wrong? By whose account?_ "I think we need to start over. Sit down," Casey ordered.

"And leave you standing?" Lincoln balked. "I don't think so. We're virtually equals."

Casey interrupted before Lincoln could say more, "This isn't a power play. Do you see two fucking chairs in here?" Lincoln's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. "Just sit down, Lincoln. I don't have the energy to fuck around with who sits or doesn't sit right now."

He walked toward his desk and leaned against it. Casey waited until Lincoln took a seat before continuing. "What are your reasons for not stopping the fight?"

Lincoln sat back and crossed one foot over the other. "I needed to see how it would play out, _sir_."

"Playout?" Casey tried to keep the weariness out of his voice. He hadn't missed the subtle dig at his authority.

"Yes. Determining who would assist the evader in her next escape attempt. I figured you'd want to know that," Lincoln answered. "I'd watch Tristan and Jules. They are dangerously close to being mutinous."

With difficulty, Casey kept his mouth from dropping open. "You've gone from absolving all guilt for men who threaten one small woman and her baby to claiming mutiny for the two who support her basic human rights?"

"Evaders forfeit those rights," Lincoln interjected.

_Of course._ Lincoln's anger made more sense now. Tristan, Jules, and himself would be breaking the rules by providing those rights. "If they'd threatened a new soldier, would you have felt differently?" Casey asked.

"Yes," Lincoln agreed.

"How so?"

"A recruit is doing his job and doesn't need hassling," lincoln answered. "The dodger should be proud to serve her country. She needs to be encouraged to do her duty."

"And if the threats were real, would you look the other way or step in?" Casey queried.

"I would step in." Lincoln stopped and stared at the corner of the command shed as he fidgeted. "Eventually," Lincoln added almost as an afterthought.

"Eventually," Casey grounded out. Why did it seem like everyone wanted to harm Lottie?

"Before it went too far, of course, sir," Lincoln continued. "Rules are rules, after all."

This conversation was going from bad to worse. "I see. Threats are overlooked as long as they don't escalate into action?" Casey questioned.

"Yes," Lincoln confirmed.

"And is that why you didn't make any mention of them in the report?"

"Why harm soldiers' careers? It's not like they were serious."

"You think the threats were empty? Designed only to scare, with no intent on following through?" Casey asked.

"Precisely. Why commit career suicide?"

Casey didn't share that opinion, but he knew enough of Lottie's history to want to protect her from that chance. Ever-absent, God knows what would happen to her psyche if she suffered again at the hands of his soldiers? Casey looked at Lincoln with regret. Too many of his Second's answers highlighted the divide in their opinions. Casey had counted on having Lincoln available to help with Lottie's protection, but now he knew he couldn't trust Lincoln. Not at this moment and maybe not ever.

Would it be the same with other acquisitions? He'd hate to have to report Lincoln to his commanding officer. Apart from his attitude with runners like Lottie, Lincoln was an exceptional, conscientious officer. Casey brushed the concern aside. He would reevaluate Lincoln's opinion—if and when—they picked up another evader, but in the meantime, Casey could remove the temptation of looking the other away.

"Fine," Casey said and scooted backward on the desk so he could sit more comfortably. "You—and whomever else I determine—are removed from guarding our asset. Effective immediately."

Lincoln's eyes narrowed.

"What? You wanted that honor?" Casey asked. "Too bad." _You've proven yourself untrustworthy._

Anger flashed in Lincoln's gaze.

Casey chose to ignore the reaction. "As of today, I am removing myself from daily Base chores. I will supervise our draft dodger. As for everyone else, they will take on more of the usual camp duties."

"That will only create more resentment. Especially if the evader doesn't work around the camp," Lincoln replied.

"Understood. But you can't sit there and tell me Ethan or Teo are trustworthy when it comes to her welfare," Casey argued. When Lincoln didn't reply, Casey added, "As for camp resentment, I expect it and will deal with it as needed."

"I hope you know what you are doing."

_So do I,_ Casey thought. "I do. Are Paul and Javier back from patrol?"

"Yes," Lincoln replied.

"Good." Then he didn't have to wait for them. "I want you to collect everyone except Ty, Jules, and Javier. They were not involved and need not be here for the investigation." Casey kept his expression neutral and leaned back on his hands. "I want everyone else out front of the command shed. They can sit or stand, I don't care which, as long as they are in the sun and spaced far enough apart they cannot talk to each other." Casey looked at Lincoln pointedly. "You will make sure they don't chat. Understood?"

"Yes," Lincoln snapped.

"Good."

Earlier, Casey had come up with the idea to keep the men in the sun. He needed brutal honesty today instead of appeasements. Casey figured, if he made his men uncomfortable enough, he would incentivize them into telling the truth. It was the same tactic Javier used, except Casey planned to engage in fewer fistfights. Knowing it would be a typical hot Midwest day, he decided to let the sun do his dirty work.

As a further explanation, Casey said, "None of the interviewed can leave after their time in here. Everyone stays in the clearing 'til I dismiss them. If someone gets heat sick, give them some water and let them sit in the shade 'til they are well. Then, get them back out into the sun. Clear?"

"As crystal," Lincoln ground out.

"Dismissed."

Lincoln's eyes narrowed further in response, but he stood and stalked to the door. He turned and presented Casey with a mocking salute, then left with a slamming of the door.

Casey sighed and covered his eyes with his hand, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. He hopped off the desk and grabbed a notepad. He would plan some of his questions while he waited for Lincoln to assemble his squad.

He was deep in thought when a knock at his door interrupted his musings. "Come in," Casey called out.

"Assembly completed, _sir_ ," Lincoln said after cracking the door open.

"Send in Hong," Casey replied, without turning to Lincoln. Instead, he put down his notes and hopped back on the desk. It was time for some heart to heart talks with his men.

***

The sound of the door slamming behind Ethan reverberated in the room, and Casey closed his eyes. The loud noise pounded against his eardrums and magnified his already splitting headache.

"One more," he said. Not sure if it was in congratulation, or trying to convince himself he could do it. At least the last interview would be with Tristan. Casey had saved him for last for a reason. With regret, he admitted that out of all of his men, he trusted Tristan the most. Casey hoped that trust stayed strong, unlike with Lincoln.

A knock at the door alerted him to Tristan's arrival. Casey waited for the door to open and click shut before looking up. Tristan leaned against the wall with one ankle crossed over the other. His smile was relaxed.

Deciding to skip the details about the fight, Casey asked, "You're not hiding some ulterior motive behind your reenlistment, are you?"

"Not that I'm aware of, Case."

Casey leaned back to rest on his hands and studied Tristan. "Good." _I'm not sure I could handle more secret motives._ At that moment, Casey chose to trust him implicitly, to trust Tristan the way Jaesen had said he believed in Casey during his interview. Besides, Casey knew all the answers Tristan would give about the fight and Lottie, so instead, he chose to delve into Tristan's knowledge of the labs back in Fort St. Louis. "What happens to the assets that conceive naturally in the lab?"

Tristan's eyes darkened in—was it anger? "There is no _conceive naturally_. There is in-vitro and artificial insemination. Those are the only options."

Something deep inside Casey felt injured at the clinical aspect of the whole process. His skin tingled, remembering how Lottie's skin felt against his hand and chest when they touched. Comforting. Relaxing. "All right, out of those options, what happens to them?"

"Hopefully, pregnancy," came Tristan's clipped response.

Curious, Casey pressed, "That's the obvious answer. You know more. You have to. You were there for two years." Casey paused to study him. Tristan was getting more and more agitated. "Explain the process."

"Can't. I was just a glorified guard."

Was that a note of bitterness? Casey sensed a story. "Bullshit." Tristan was never _just_ a guard.

Tristan glared at him and started pacing. _Definitely a story._

After several passes through the small room, Tristan sighed and spoke, "At eighteen, all the women look fresh and healthy. By the time they leave the service at thirty, they look exhausted and used up."

"What do you mean?" Casey asked. He had an idea of what Tristan implied. He'd seen Greysen's pictures from her file. She was thirty-eight but looked fifty.

"The drugs wear them down. It forces their bodies to do thin's they shouldn't. Then the constant attempts for pregnancy degrade their will to live, which makes the medics use more drugs."

Tristan paced faster. "They start with artificial insemination, and if that fails, they try in-vitro. Many of the attempts, nothin' happens. Their bodies reject the procedure. Other times a pregnancy results. The unlucky ones go through severe allergic reactions—an anaphylactic shock of sorts. The medics use sedation to keep the women calm when it happens." Tristan stopped and looked at him, pain in his eyes.

"All of the reactions end in miscarriage. They can carry the whole nine months, and, in the last minute, seize and deliver a stillborn baby. It's sickenin'. And then the medics make them try to get pregnant again. Over and over. Regardless of if it hurts them. There's no rest in between, either. Nothin' makes you want to whisk a woman out of those labs faster than her gaspin' for air and screamin' for help." Tristan looked away.

Casey could see it as if he was there. Tristan's generous nature would get in the way. He would step in and try to change things. According to his file, Tristan voluntarily transferred out after two years, but maybe that wasn't the case.

Tristan sighed. "Too many allergic reactions and they are relegated to egg donors for the in-vitro. Which, of course, means more drugs. And then there are the ones who don't have negative reactions. Like, Momma. They end up with double-duty—egg donations and more pregnancy attempts. Always drugged. Forcin' their bodies into producin' babies." Tristan paced again. "And don't get me started on when it succeeds."

"What happens?" Casey encouraged him to continue. He needed to know.

"They are given no choice, Case. No choice. If they balk at all about bein' pregnant? Drugs to guarantee submission. Their eyes dull and grow lifeless. If they don't balk, they are still drugged. I guess the medics dope them so that they don't reject the process, or get attached to the baby in their belly. And then, every once in a while," Tristan trailed off.

Casey waited, but it didn't look like Tristan would finish what he was going to say. "What happens every once in a while?"

Tristan grabbed the chair and collapsed into it. He rested his head in his hands. His voice so quiet Casey strained to hear it from where he sat on the desk. "They die in childbirth."

A warning flared in Casey's mind. "They die?"

Tristan looked up, and Casey was amazed to see so much sadness in Tristan's expression. In a flash of insight, Casey understood. "You loved one of them, didn't you?"

Tristan looked away but not before he saw a single tear fall. So out of character with the you-can't-bring-me-down Tristan. Empathy flared in Casey's chest. "And she died, didn't she."

Casey saw the barest of nods.

_A few get pregnant the natural way after their enlistment is over. They get shipped off to medical labs upstate._ The thought made Casey pause. Greysen—Lottie's mother—was declared dead but wasn't. Could Tristan's woman be in the same medical facility?

"Move over," Casey ordered.

Tristan relinquished his seat and walked to the corner of the room. Casey presumed it was to collect his thoughts and regain control of his emotions. Casey sat in the chair and turned the monitor back on.

As soon as the prompt displayed, he typed in Greysen Townsend again. He needed to show Tristan what he found. Casey clicked on the file, and Greysen's picture came into focus.

"Who's that?" Tristan asked, his voice calm and collected.

"Lottie's mother."

"Lottie?"

"Our evader," Casey said.

"Ah, Momma told you her name," Tristan said. "Why are you lookin' up her mother?"

"She married a retiree eight years ago and became pregnant." Casey paused. "Pregnant two years after her honorable discharge. She died in childbirth." Casey glanced at Tristan as he read over Casey's shoulder. "Sound familiar?" Casey pointed to the text on the screen that showed the woman was alive. "For a dead woman, she still manages to produce babies."

Tristan looked at him.

"What was your girl's name?" Casey asked.

"She... She wasn't my girl. Not really. Not officially." Tristan sighed.

"Did she want you?" Casey inquired.

"I thought so."

"Tell me her name," Casey ordered and turned back to the screen. He backed out of Greysen's record and returned to the name prompt.

"Zoe."

"Zoe, what?" Casey asked and tried not to snicker at how that sounded.

Tristan huffed a chuckle. "Zoe Woodson."

Casey typed in the name. The results returned with Zoe Phillips Woodson.

"That her?"

"Yeah," Tristan replied.

Casey clicked her record. It didn't take long to prove what Casey suspected. "Alive and living at Horton and Sandra Gates Research Hospital. The same one as Lottie's mother." He waited for Tristan to say something—anything. "Three kids. Had two of 'em since being moved to that facility."

Tristan didn't respond.

It was then that Casey decided Tristan needed to know all that he had learned about Lottie. Casey took a deep breath. "Lottie ran three years ago. Right before enlisting," Casey told him, glancing back at Tristan. It took a moment before Casey's pronouncement registered. But when it did, Tristan looked shell shocked. "The baby isn't by artificial insemination?" he asked, slightly breathless.

"Nope. Greysen's a natural conception," Casey affirmed.

"She named him?"

"Yes. After her dead mother," Casey trailed off. Now they both knew the fallacy of that statement.

"You can't let her go back to Fort St. Louis," Tristan pleaded, his face horror-struck. "They will 'kill her' and send her to this facility." He met Casey's eyes. "If they destroy the women who are in the labs? What happens to the ones at this hospital?"

He agreed with Tristan's assessment. Casey worried that, by taking Lottie back to Fort St. Louis, he would doom her to the same fate. He no longer thought returning her was the right answer. Not anymore. Not even if her body held the secret to curing the infertility crisis.

"I don't know, but Lottie's pegged as _white_ on her file," Casey told him.

The remaining color drained from Tristan's face, and he sat on the floor and tucked his head between his knees, breathing heavily. After a bit, he looked at Casey. "You never told command that you have her. You couldn't have. Not if she's _white_."

Casey knew Tristan would figure that out quickly enough.

"Why didn't you?" Tristan asked.

Running a hand through his hair, Casey thought about his answer. "It seemed like the right decision at the time. You saw her that first night."

"Yeah."

Casey continued, "I didn't think she would make it to Fort St. Louis in one piece. I didn't want the hassle of watching her and praying she didn't deliver out in the woods." He paused and took a breath. "She would have."

Tristan studied him. Casey felt like squirming from the intensity.

"Of course I didn't know her name then, but I could have contacted HQ. If I had told them what she looked like," Casey trailed off. "They have better software for searching. They could look her up by physical description and age. It would have told them everything." Casey took another deep breath. "I stalled," he admitted. "Now, I know they would have moved her to this hospital facility regardless of how close she was to delivery."

"Where is— What was it called again?"

"Horton and Sandra Gates Research Hospital. And I don't know," Casey told him. "I had other _pressing_ business earlier and haven't had a chance to check the map." As he spoke, Casey pulled a worn document out of a drawer and opened it.

Tristan stood as Casey set it up on his desk. They couldn't find anything in the legend about the hospital.

Casey moved his finger to the upper section of the map. "Javier mentioned a lab upstate. I don't know if he's been there, but he seemed to know something about it."

"Do you trust him?"

"Honestly?" Casey asked, shaking his head. "Not yet."

Tristan nodded. "I'll see what I can learn without bein' blatant about it."

"Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"If you lost your girl to the labs, why did you join ARA?" Casey was curious.

"I thought about a few options. But I couldn't go back to AHC, and LPD seemed too tedious, and... I guess I hoped that I could offer some solace to the women returnin' to Fort St. Louis. Comfort them out here, when I couldn't comfort them in there."

Casey understood completely, and the answer fit with what Casey knew of Tristan's personality. "Thanks," Casey told him.

"No problem," Tristan replied. He straightened and looked around, appearing to shake off his melancholy. "How can you stay here? It's hot as Hades."

Casey chuckled. "With difficulty."

"Dismiss your men and go cool off," Tristan playfully ordered him.

Casey gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

Tristan smiled and punched his arm. "Watch it, pup. I can take you."

It felt good to have Tristan's camaraderie and support.

***

Lottie tossed the last of the wool blankets over the makeshift clothesline Tristan had erected for her. They were side by side with her only change of clothes and the few items she found in the tent that belonged to Casey. Lottie cast a worried glance at the shorts and t-shirt attempting to dry. It was August, but winter was coming, and she wasn't sure what she would do without warmer clothes. Greysen would need things too.

She chewed on her lower lip.

"You need anythin' else, Momma?"

"I don't think so," she replied and looked to the sky. Clouds were building, and she thought she heard thunder in the distance. "You think they will dry before it rains?"

"In this humidity? Not a chance," Tristan said, grinning.

Lottie sighed. He was probably right.

"If you need me, yell. I'll be down helpin' with Mess."

She nodded. Tristan seemed subdued, and Lottie wondered what had happened during his meeting with Casey earlier that day. With a final wave, he left her standing next to the dripping laundry. She sighed again and eyed the blankets. If Greysen kept wetting them, she'd need to empty Casey's supply shed of extra blankets to keep up with the laundry.

With a shrug, she turned from the line and made her way to the tent she shared with Casey. She could hear Greysen inside, making mewling noises. She was sure he was about to cry. Again.

Lottie entered the tent and zipped the flap shut. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Greysen, nestled on her bedroll. She didn't know what he would need but figured he was either wet or hungry. If he was hungry, feeding him was easier done shirtless. She tugged the hem of her shirt from her shorts and pulled it up and over her head. Dropping it at the foot of her bed, Lottie flicked her gaze to Casey's side of the tent. His bedding was rolled and sitting next to her makeshift pillow.

Would he want her to set it up where he used to sleep, or would he want to be close, like last night? Her skin twitched. Bad memories swirled under the surface of her thoughts, but the idea of him at her back wasn't as distressing as it would have been a week ago.

Curious, she examined why. Was it the confidence Casey extruded even when he blushed and stuttered through his instructions? Or was it because last night was the first night she'd slept without waking at every little sound. Lottie didn't know, but she didn't want him to be too far from her.

Before she lost her nerve, she rolled out his bedding so that it fit next to hers. Once done, she turned to Greysen. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, and his face was red as he began to cry in earnest.

She dropped down to the ground, wincing at her hard landing. Greysen stopped wailing when she got close enough for him to see her. He gave a little hiccup, and then his face bunched up again in preparation for another cry.

"Really?" she asked him. "Dinner isn't that late yet." She rested next to him and turned him on his side. Lottie held him close and helped him latch onto her breast. While he dozed and sucked, she drifted off to sleep.

***

Lottie awoke abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest. She identified the echo of thunder as it faded, but that wasn't what scared her. She held herself perfectly still. Someone besides Greysen was in the tent with them.

"You are the lightest sleeper I have ever met."

_Casey!_ Lottie's shoulders slumped in relief. "You scared me."

"Clearly," he paused. "You sleep lighter than I do, and I didn't think that was possible."

It took being held captive by five men who wanted sex at all hours of the day to perfect the skill of sleeping lightly. Not that the ability helped her much. She wrapped her arms around Greysen. Lightning flashed, brightening the interior of the tent momentarily.

"You okay?" Casey asked.

She nodded but didn't answer him. Instead, she watched him from the corner of her eye. He stood hunched over at her feet right by the door and silently appraised her. Seeming to find what he needed, he dropped to his knees and shuffled over to his side of the tent, where he kicked off his boots and stripped out of his clothes.

"Should I assume from the fact my bed is next to yours, that you want me near you?" he asked.

Her heart resumed its heavy staccato in her chest, but she forced herself to answer instead of nod. "Yes."

Casey didn't respond right away. When he did, it was with another question. "Will it bother you if I," he trailed off.

She smiled to herself, thankful he couldn't see it in the fading light. She could tell he was blushing again. After spending a week with him, Lottie knew he preferred to sleep in only his boxers and probably less if she were honest with herself.

"It won't bother me." _Much._ Lottie said, even if the idea of his near-nudity suffused her with anxiety.

"Won't Noah be upset if you are sleeping with another man?"

"Noah?" Lottie asked and rolled over to look at him. Who was Noah?

His eyes snapped up to her eyes from her exposed breasts, and she felt a flush start at her neck. She'd forgotten she wasn't wearing a shirt. She pulled the blanket up and answered his question, "I don't know any Noahs."

He looked at her in confusion, and Lottie rolled back to her side to snuggle Greysen closer.

Casey laid down behind her, resting his chin on her crown and draped an arm over her waist.

"If Noah isn't the father of Greysen, then who is? Why isn't he taking care of you?"

Her shoulders tensed, and she felt hot tears spill from her eyes. "I don't know who Greysen's father is. I mean, I know which _one_ he was, but I don't _know_ him. And if I see him again, I'll kill him," she vowed.

Casey made soothing sounds and shifted her weight so that she rolled to her back to look up at him. "Which _one_ he was?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. "Did you go to this man willingly?"

Lottie closed her eyes. Why did he have to ask her this?

When she didn't answer, Casey returned her to her side and hugged her. "I'm so sorry, Lottie. I'll make sure that doesn't happen while you stay in my camp."

She nodded. Surprisingly, she trusted Casey to keep his word, no matter how uncomfortable his touch felt on her skin.

"Do me a favor?" Casey asked.

"If I can," she replied. Her voice wavered from her tears.

"If I'm not around, stay close to Jaesen or Tristan. Or if they aren't nearby, find Jules, Paul, or even Matt," he told her. In a whisper, he added, "Avoid Adan at all costs. Even Ethan and Teo are preferable to him."

She nodded and gulped. _Adan and not Ethan or Teo?_ What had Casey learned today in Adan's interview that made him more of a threat than Ethan or Teo? Before the fight, Adan had ignored her or, when he had to speak to her, he had been polite. "I will," she agreed.

They were silent for a few minutes before Casey ran a hand down her bare arm. "Sleep, Bean. I'm right here."

Lottie tried to sleep, but her mind kept circling back to his pronouncement about Adan and his assurance that while she was at his camp, no one would harm her. It reinforced her concern. She needed to plan her escape with Greysen. She wouldn't give him up. But how would she avoid Casey's careful control? Sleep claimed her before she had an answer.

***

Lottie woke to a hushed hum. She was on her back, her arm thrown out to the side, and a blanket pulled to her waist. Her head rested on her other arm, and it felt sore from how deeply Lottie had slept. She patted the bedding at her side, searching for her son. She sat up abruptly when her hand didn't encounter Greysen.

"It's all right, Lottie. I have him." She could hear him cooing to the baby under his breath.

"What happened?" Lottie asked. Her voice gravely from sleep.

"He had a dirty diaper. I changed him."

"That was considerate. Thank you," Lottie said and rubbed a hand over her eyes. She felt grit in the corners, and she wiped it away, yawning.

"It's the least I can do since I can't feed him." She heard the smile in his voice.

"You did it in the dark?"

"No, I used a wind-up flashlight," Casey responded. "I figured we'd need it more than the supply shed would."

She chuckled. "Is he hungry? Does he need me?"

"Not yet."

"Good. I need to use the restroom."

"Wait," Casey stopped her. "I'll come with you."

"Don't leave him." Panic at the thought of someone stealing Greysen while they were away from the tent nearly paralyzed her.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Casey shifted his weight. The movement helped Lottie see where he was sitting. "Go ahead, and I'll follow behind."

She nodded and then chastised herself. Casey couldn't see her head move in the dark. "Thank you. I'll wait right outside." Getting dressed was quick since she wore her shorts and shoes. Once appropriately attired, she unzipped the tent and crawled out.

"You clear?" Casey asked her.

"Yes," she whispered back. The silence of the night instilling the wish to keep quiet.

"I'll hand him to you."

"Okay," she said and reached down to take Greysen from Casey's outstretched hands. Lottie backed up quickly so Casey could come out of the tent. "That is a lot easier with your help than fumbling on my own."

She heard his quiet huff of a laugh. Casey said, "Let me take him while we walk."

Lottie clutched Greysen closer. "Why?" she asked cautiously.

"You are unsteady on your feet. I don't want you to drop him while we walk in the dark."

The answer seemed legitimate, and Lottie dismissed her irrational fear that Casey would take her baby from her. Fort St. Louis would do that, not him. She knew her panic was unfounded. Looking at how Casey held Greysen was proof enough that he cared for the baby. His expression, when he gazed at the infant, continued to hold awe and pride. And after only one day, Casey cradled Greysen in his arms with ease. A change from those first few hours when they all held the baby awkwardly.

Casey started down the incline toward the outhouse on the far edge of the camp. Lottie followed after him. She tipped her chin up to look at the sky, confirming that the storms were gone. She felt some relief that the weather had moved off without raining on them. Lottie was tired of mud. She couldn't get rid of it, and nothing ever came completely clean. Turning her attention back to Casey, she hustled after him.

"You go first," his voice pitched to not carry past her. "I'll hold Greysen."

Lottie didn't answer and instead slipped inside.

When she emerged, Casey whispered, "Wash up. Then come get him for me."

She washed her hands quickly and then retrieved Greysen from Casey so that he could also use the facilities. While he was inside, she moved off to the cistern to wait.

Casey's body heat at her back warned her he was near before he spoke. "You ready?" he asked. Lottie handed Greysen back to Casey in answer. As they walked back, Greysen's whimpers started to grow. Soon he would be crying in earnest.

"How long before they sleep through the night?" Casey asked.

"I don't know." Skylar was the reason she'd done her mandatory communal home volunteering with toddlers, not the infants.

"I don't think I have any field manuals on babies in my command center," Casey whispered.

Lottie shrugged.

"But I'll look in the morning," he added.

They reached Casey's tent and situated themselves inside. Lottie put Greysen in the middle of her bedding, removed her shirt, and laid on her side. Casey settled with Greysen between them and rested his forehead against hers. Casey rubbed the baby's head while Greysen nursed.

She felt herself drifting off to sleep when Casey spoke. "You feeding him is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen." He shifted his hand from petting Greysen to brush the hair from her face. "You were cute with the pixie cut, but I think I like the long hair better."

Her heart skipped a beat. "You've read my file," she said.

He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes."

Casey was silent so long, Lottie felt compelled to ask, "And?"

"You are presumed dead."

She exhaled the breath she was holding. That was not what she expected. "All right." Lottie looked him in the eyes, trying to understand the guarded expression. "Anything else?"

His answer was clipped and reserved, "No."

She had a sinking feeling he learned something in her file that she didn't know and probably wouldn't like.

"Sleep," he commanded.

Lottie nodded. She'd need to rest as much as she could before she ran away because afterward, Lottie would be on her own with Greysen.

# Chapter 8

Casey ran a hand through his hair and looked down at Greysen in his lap. The baby was sleeping peacefully, which was a far cry from how he'd awoken them at dawn. Wishing he had a cup of Tristan's coffee, Casey rubbed his eyes and glanced at Lottie. She was eating quickly, and when she noticed him watching, she said in her light, quiet voice, "I'll take him in a second."

"Take your time. I'm not in any hurry," Casey reassured her, and he wasn't, not really, but he did want to get back to work.

Casey had a couple of ideas on how to rebuild his team's splintering loyalty, and, at the same time, strengthen his core support for Lottie. The simple plans had grown while he watched the two sleeping after their predawn bathroom break.

For one, Casey decided to split the patrol pairs yet again, giving each team one person of opposing viewpoints. It would cause friction, but hopefully, it would nullify the growing divide and foster a need to work together.

For two, he would apply a more whimsical approach. The stress of Lottie's presence needed purging. He snorted to himself. With everyone on edge, a training competition would be an excellent way to burn through some of the remaining tension.

"Lincoln," Casey called.

His second in command looked over from where he sat. "'Sup," Lincoln answered, his voice contained irritation, which Casey chose to ignore.

"When finished eating, will you get two camouflage bandanas from the shed?" Casey requested, and was amused to see a flash of interest cross Lincoln's features.

"Training?"

"Yes," Casey replied.

"You planning what I think you're planning?" Jaesen asked.

The question made Lottie look up from her plate, curious.

"We haven't done that in years," Hong added.

Casey agreed.

"What's he planning," Casey heard Paul ask.

He didn't hear the reply because Ty asked him a question at the same time. "Are you and Lincoln the captains like last time?"

"No. Lincoln and I will sit out," Casey answered. When Lincoln raised an eyebrow questioningly, Casey added, "I have to guard Bean—"

"And the teams would be uneven," Ty finished for him.

"Yes," Casey affirmed.

"You picking the teams?" Jaesen asked.

"No, just the captains."

"Who?" someone asked. Casey didn't see who, but it sounded like Hong.

He turned toward him and answered, "Javier and Matt."

"Someone tell me what we are doing," Paul asked again, frustration evident in his tone.

Ty turned toward him and replied, "A stealthy game of capture the flag."

"Really? Like what kids play?" Paul asked, surprised.

"Not quite. I'll explain once everyone gets here." He turned to Lottie next to him and handed her the baby. "Take Greysen over there,"—Casey pointed to a spot several feet away—"I'm going to whistle, and I don't want to hurt his ears."

She nodded and set her dishes down before taking her son into her arms, then stood and made her way away across the clearing. Casey was pleased to see her balance improving.

Dragging his gaze away from her retreating form, he gained his feet and climbed up on the stump he used to address the team. Casey placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled loud and long, giving it a small pulse so the men farther away would know it wasn't an emergency. Several of the men in the Mess clearing winced, and he had to suppress his smile. After his whistle, Lottie returned, took a seat on the log she always used, and rocked Greysen while she waited to hear his explanation. Her curious eyes turned toward him.

He ignored her. There were others on his team that didn't know the rules of this particular exercise. They could all learn together. "Lincoln, you know what to do?"

His second nodded and left.

It didn't take long for the remaining men to arrive. Jules, of course, sat next to Lottie and took Greysen from her. And with Casey's attention diverted, he didn't notice Tristan until he clapped him on the shoulder. "What did you call us in for?" Tristan asked.

"I'll tell you in a minute. We're waiting on Teo," Casey replied.

Tristan acknowledged his answer and then moved toward Lottie. Casey had to suppress his snort of amusement at the aggrieved expression on Jules's face as Tristan squeezed in between them and took the baby from his arms. Those two never let a chance to hold Greysen or talk to Lottie slip past. She was quiet by nature, but now that they knew her name, she did speak to them more.

When Teo arrived, Casey pursed his lips and whistled again to get the soldiers' attention. The men hushed and waited, turning expectant faces his way. Casey made sure to meet everyone's eyes—even Teo's in the back—as he looked over the group. "As some of you are aware, I am enacting a training mission," he told them.

"A useful one," Jaesen agreed.

"I'm sure all of you have played the game capture the flag in the communal homes. This is similar." Casey paused to look around the clearing again. "The objective is to capture the opposing team's flag. When Lincoln gets back, he'll give the team captains—Matt and Javier—their flags. They will choose their teams."

"How much time do we have to hide them this time?" Ty queried.

"Each team has eight hours to hide their flag before you can infiltrate the enemy's territory," Casey replied. "The teams need to be assembled and at Mess by twelve hundred. Your captains will take you out into your territory to hide your flags." He paused and looked around the assembled. "Then, you go on the hunt."

Hong interjected, "Can we take prisoners of war?"

Ty added before Casey could answer, "What about a guard for the flag?"

Casey chuckled. "Yes. You can do both, but it is up to your captains." Sweeping his gaze across the assembled, he continued, "To add challenge to the exercise, you can leave a guard or capture the opposing team's men, but you can't suborn them. If captured, they need to either stay with your team or come back to camp. We don't use restraints. You're on your honor when it comes to your capture. I don't want any rogue soldiers." He smiled. "No firearms for this exercise. I don't want reports of friendly fire. Remember, we don't have a medic on staff."

Several men laughed in response.

"How much time do we have?" Tristan called.

"The mission will continue until either your team runs out of men, your flag is captured and returned to me, or 72 hours have passed. Understood?" Casey asked the group.

There was a chorus of yeses and other affirmatives.

"Lincoln is ghosting. He can't pick sides, but if you need information or status on the mission, ask him," Casey said. "He'll also announce when the game finishes."

"What's the range?" Hong asked.

"Stay on the inner radius of the shelters," Casey answered. "Matt, you take the territory north: Shelters Five, Two, Seven, and Four." Matt nodded in acknowledgment. Casey turned to Javier. "You are south. Your Shelters are One, Three, and Six."

"Understood."

"How long does the mission usually take?" Paul asked.

"We had one mission run out of time," Tristan answered for Casey.

Casey looked at Tristan pointedly, and with a smirk, Tristan waved his arm, indicating Casey could continue. "It takes as long as it takes or until the mission expires. Again, Lincoln will let you know the relevant details," Casey said. Addressing the group again, he added, "Lincoln will unlock the shed, and I want everyone to get their backpacking tents. Make sure to pack enough rations to last for several days."

"And what will you do," Casey heard Ethan sneer.

"All the jobs _you_ are unable to do while absent from camp," Casey replied. "Patrols are required, along with general camp duties."

"Am I helping with that?" Lincoln asked as he walked up.

"No," Casey answered. "I have this. I need you to act as Ghost to make sure the teams complete their mission and return."

"Understood," Lincoln replied, eyes glinting with excitement.

Casey vowed to implement more of the training games going forward. "Any other questions?" Casey asked the group.

"Yeah," Adan spoke up from where he sat near Wu. "What do we get if we win?"

Casey smiled. "How about the team that wins gets out of KP for a week?" The younger men cheered at the prospect. Confirming, Casey inquired, "Fair?"

He heard several yeses.

This would work well. Already the men were banding together more than they had in months. "You are all dismissed to get ready." As some of the soldiers stood and made ready to leave, he turned to his second and said, "Lincoln? I volunteered you to open the shed for the personal tents. Go do that now?"

"Sure, Case."

_Back to Case,_ Casey thought with a chuckle, amused at the prospect that one training mission would alter Lincoln's mood so drastically. "Matt? Javier? A word," he called.

"Pecker," Javier replied with a smirk. His response earned a laugh from the men in the clearing eating.

_Smartass,_ Casey thought and struggling to not snort in amusement. Hopping off the stump, he retorted, "Come here." He glanced at Lottie, where she sat on the log, bouncing and patting Greysen on her shoulder.

"Yes sir," Matt said as they came to a stop in front of Casey.

"I want you to choose Jaesen as your second. He has done this before and knows the rules. Listen to his advice, but don't let him make the decisions for you."

"Yes sir—Case," Matt amended at Casey's glare.

"You remember what we talked about during your interview, correct?" Casey asked him.

Matt nodded.

"Do well in this exercise, and that transfer to CPS will be easier to accomplish."

Again Matt nodded, but this time, he also smiled.

Turning to Javier, Casey said, "I want you to take Tristan is your second in this exercise."

"Will do, Sarge."

Casey looked at him, pointedly. "I gave you south for a reason."

Javier's smirk smoothed away. "I'll keep an eye out while in the northern territory."

"Excellent," Casey replied. He trusted Javier would watch for signs of Noah without being overt. He thrust his hand out to shake on the agreement. "Have fun, gentleman. Assemble your teams and meet back here at eleven-thirty. May the best captain win. Dismissed."

Matt smiled, and Javier smirked under his salute. Casey barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. "Go, jackasses."

Casey watched them leave before rejoining Lottie on her log. He felt more than saw her flinch but forgave her the reaction now that he knew why. "I have some work to do this morning. Can you stick close until the mission starts? After that, as long as I know where you are, you can roam to your heart's content."

Lottie nodded, sighed, and then said, "Yes."

He was pleased she answered, and he bumped her knee in acknowledgment. "Do you know what you want to do today?"

"I thought I could work in the garden. You have some ripe peppers and tomatoes."

"Can you do that and take care of Greysen?"

"I think so," Lottie replied. "I made a little sling for him."

"Sounds good." Secretly, he was glad to cross one chore off his long list, having her take care of the vegetable garden would free him up to do some of the more demanding tasks. The handwashing cistern needed to be cleaned, among other things. Then, with another bump to her knee, he stood and left to work on the roster changes while it was cool enough to sit in his command building without dying of heat exhaustion.

***

Casey stood in the tree line out of sight and watched Lottie for a moment. She had a surveillance routine in place. Every few seconds, she would scan her surroundings and then glance at Greysen, sleeping on a wool blanket in the shade before resuming her gardening.

Curious as to what Lottie would do, Casey left the trees and took a seat next to the sleeping baby and waited for Lottie to discover his presence. It took a minute, but after a backstretch, she turned and spotted him. She stopped collecting vegetables, and with a half-smile, Lottie made her way toward him. He liked that lopsided smile of hers. It was genuine where all her other smiles seemed forced.

As she came closer, he couldn't help but notice how her tank top clung to her breasts, and that the loose tendrils of hair that fell from her messy bun. Those loose hairs framed her face, calling attention to her light freckles and pretty brown eyes. Lottie was too lean, but her post-baby body lent her an appealing softness. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she dropped to the blanket beside him. It wasn't until Lottie sat, that Casey noticed it was her t-shirt that acted as a makeshift basket for her food collection.

"You good for the day, or do you have chores to do up here?" she asked in her usual soft tones. He was beginning to think he'd never tire of hearing her voice, so different from the more gruff tones of his soldiers.

"Taking a break," he replied. "You know we had baskets, right?"

She blushed. "No."

"Do you ever ask for what you need?" Casey asked, only half-joking.

Her gaze shuttered, and she looked away.

What had he said?

"I can provide for myself," she whispered.

"I don't doubt it. But while you are here, you don't have to."

She nodded, and her arms wrapped around her stomach.

_Damn. Defensive again._ _Past ghosts?_ "Hey?" he asked and touched her shoulder. "You okay?"

Shrugging his hand off, she forced a smile to her face. "I'm fine," she replied with false cheer. "I fed the chickens while I was up here."

"Thank you."

"One less thing, right?" She asked with a more genuine smile.

She turned away from him and looked at the Base's small farm, and Casey's thoughts drifted through his memories. Had she'd voluntarily asked for any of the things she needed? He couldn't remember a single time. Was she even eating when someone wasn't forcing her too? He wasn't sure why it stung his pride that she wouldn't take what he could provide. But it did.

"I wish you had a dairy cow. You think you will ever get one?" Lottie queried.

The question was unexpected, and it dragged Casey from his thoughts about whether or not she ate regularly. "Why?"

With a sigh and that same lopsided grin, she answered, "Out of everything Fort St. Louis can provide, I miss cheese the most."

"Cheese?"

"Yeah, cheese. I miss it more than the library or even in-room heaters—but don't ask me that in February. I'll lie and say the heat is all I miss." She smiled a full grin, and it was like the sun came out from behind the clouds. Lottie looked adorable when happy. "I could go for some cheddar—my all-time favorite—or even mozzarella. I remember what it tastes like: salty, thick, and creamy, and how it sticks to the roof of your mouth."

Casey's mouth watered as she described it.

She sighed. "Delicious." After a few moments, she asked, "What do you guys do for oil and fats in the winter?"

"Nothing. We make do with the smoked meat and dried vegetables in our stews. It gets pretty lean, and we do have to dip into the stores the army provides."

"Too bad, you can't use butter." She quieted for a moment, and then asked, "Why don't you make your oil?"

"Never really thought about it. Besides, we're not AHC."

"Does that matter?"

"Sure," Casey answered. "No one's trained to do it, and I'm not running a farm. I can't dedicate that many resources to making us one hundred percent self-sufficient. And doing more? Yeah, that would take away from my primary mission."

"ARA," Lottie and Casey said at the same time.

The silence grew thick and awkward between them, and Casey glanced at Greysen. Casey's lungs tightened at the thought of sending them back. The baby was noisy and messy, but Casey didn't want to miss out on a moment with him. And Lottie? She was easy to listen to—when she did speak—and even easier on the eye. Not to mention, when she wasn't near him, he missed her. There was also the question about what would happen to her when he inserted her into the system.

"I'm not an asset, and I'm not going back," Lottie whispered.

He had no answer for her. Casey wanted to reassure her that she didn't have to go, but it would be a lie, and he couldn't do that. Instead, Casey asked, "Is making our oil hard to do? What do would we use?"

She seemed relieved to have the subject changed. "With sunflower seeds. You need a press and some way to store it, but other than that, it isn't hard. You're missing out on a good food source by not growing them."

"How so?"

The smile returned. "Haven't you ever eaten the seeds?"

"Sure." He had, he thought, but never considered growing it for food.

"I read in that field manual that sunflower oil is one of the best foods, nutrition-wise," she added. "I would grab handfuls of seeds anytime I ran across a flower. I don't think I have any left in my pack, or I'd plant some for you. It doesn't take many seeds to make the oil or to eat. And you wouldn't have to use garden space. They'd grow quite happily around the camp."

"Did you always like gardening?"

Her smile slipped, and she turned away from him. "No. I only began to care about it once I left." Her hand strayed to the blanket where she played with the edge.

Casey tried to come up with a new topic to keep her talking but couldn't think of anything that didn't sound contrived. Lottie relieved him of that pressure when she resumed their discussion about plants. "You could grow mint. It's great in the winter with some hot water. It soothes sore throats. Or you could use ground coriander on your eggs and grits as a substitute for pepper." She looked off into the distance. "You could try to grow black pepper, but I don't think it will work. You'd have to protect it in winter. It doesn't like cold." Lottie focused on him again. "You should think about having a beehive too."

He raised his eyebrow in question.

"The honey is great for coughs," she replied. "Better than some of the syrups offered in Fort St. Louis. We gave it to the toddlers when they were too small to have the medicines." Her eyes grew distant again, and Casey wondered if she was remembering Skylar. Dragging her attention back to him, she added with a sheepish smile, "Anyway, you could plant some herbs and make your food taste better."

"What's wrong with our food?" he asked, slightly offended at her statement. Their food was better than the supplies the army sent.

"It's so bland!" Lottie giggled. It made her sound years younger.

Casey frowned. "What would you suggest?" he inquired more to keep her talking than due to any real interest.

"Dill, rosemary, basil, cilantro," she took a deep breath. "Lots of different things."

As she spoke, a solution presented itself to Casey. Here was something she could do that would also help alleviate the complaint that she didn't contribute. He was pleased that she made the suggestions. "Would you like to expand our garden? We could work on it together," Casey trailed off, feeling a bit tongue-tied. The question had come out a bit more eager than he intended. He tried to settle his voice. "While the squad is busy, that is."

"Sure," she agreed readily. "Herbs are practically weeds. Plant one or two and let them go to seed. They'll shoot up volunteers every year." She plucked at the edge of the blanket. "You know what the difference is between a weed and a plant, right?"

"No. What?"

A smile tugged at the edge of her lip. "You want a plant."

Casey chuckled. The statement was true enough. "What do you need from me for this herb garden?"

She sat quietly thinking, before answering, "Although the plants are like weeds, they don't grow in the woods easily. Finding an abandoned garden would be the best bet, or you could ask Fort St. Louis for seeds if you think they will give them to you."

"Not likely," Casey responded. "Not AHC, remember?"

She mumbled something under her breath that Casey didn't quite catch. Letting go of the blanket edge, she looked up at him. "Do you know of any old homes nearby? Maybe they have abandoned herb gardens we can steal from."

"There are some ruins near Shelter One—southwest of here." He could see excitement dancing in her eyes. "When the training exercise finishes, we can check it out."

"Great," she said enthusiastically. As the word settled between them, her smile faltered, and Lottie bit her lip. Casey didn't know what to say, and the silence grew between them, Lottie returned to fidgeting with the blanket's edge.

While they sat, he watched the chickens scratch and peck at the ground, eating their way through different rows of the garden. Occasionally, they scratched up a garden plant, but usually, they were surprisingly careful in their maneuverings.

As Casey watched, a white hen with black speckles came toward them chased by one of the recently matured roosters. "Should we have that one for dinner?" Casey asked, pointing to the offending cockerel.

"The white one?" she asked detachedly.

"No. The one looking to get laid."

"What?" she asked, and her gaze sought the bird Casey indicated. Lottie chuckled at the chicken's courtship antics. "I guess," she said and then paused. "How many birds do you have?"

"We keep the laying hens to about thirty birds and twenty or so for eating and producing chicks. We eat most of the roosters," Casey explained. "No more than two or three cockerels in our flock at any one time. We keep the recently matured males and butcher the older ones. It makes for gamey meat, but it's better for the flock."

She sighed. "I haven't had chicken in a long time. Squirrel and rabbit get old quickly."

"I bet," Casey agreed. "Venison gets tiresome too."

"Yeah. They're harder to butcher and transport than the smaller game. I didn't get deer often for that reason."

They sat quietly some more, but this time, it was companionable. "Are you sure all the squad left the camp?"Lottie asked.

Casey grumbled a "Yes." The question piqued his curiosity. "Why?"

"No real reason," she replied.

Why was she evading? "No one asks a question without reason." He let his voice color with a note of command. "Why did you ask?"

Her hand stilled, the blanket pinched between her fingers a moment before she resumed her fidgeting. "I feel like someone's watching us is all."

Now that she mentioned it, Casey felt that sensation also. His first thought was to investigate—maybe it was this mysterious Noah character—but he didn't want to leave Lottie and Greysen alone. His choice was made for him when Greysen awoke and started crying.

Casey checked him. Sure enough, he was wet and needed a diaper change. "Did you bring spare strips?"

"Yes," Lottie indicated her pack. "Front pocket."

Casey grabbed it, and as he unzipped the front pouch, Lottie added, "I'll need to do wash again. I had no idea how much laundry I would have with a baby."

He didn't feel the statement required an answer, so he didn't, and instead, Casey unwound the soiled blanket pieces and changed them for clean ones from Lottie's bag. Once done, he handed Greysen to Lottie. "I think he's hungry. You need a backrest?"

She nodded, and Casey shifted so she could lean her back against his. He heard her rustling and moving before settling against him. Lottie dropped her head back onto his shoulder and let out a deep breath. "Thanks," she whispered.

"No problem," he replied, falling silent and enjoying the sounds of the woods around them and the contented sounds of Greysen as he nursed.

***

Lottie sat in front of the small crackling fire with Greysen resting against her bare chest. She was wrapped in several blankets both to cover up and to keep them warm while they waited for Casey. Occasionally she would bump the cookpot with her foot to keep the soup from scorching. She hoped Casey liked venison soup. It was the first time she'd cooked since coming to his Base, and she felt a bit rusty on her food preparation skills.

When Greysen stretched in her arms, Lottie checked on him and was relieved to see he settled back down again. She felt drained. Working in the garden and doing all the laundry wore her out, and Lottie wondered if she'd overdone it. Maybe Lottie would nap tomorrow while Casey was busy.

Where was he anyway? Now that she thought about him, she had no idea where Casey had gone. It was dusk, and he'd said he wouldn't be gone long, but that was at least an hour ago. Lottie looked around the empty camp. It was eerily quiet with everyone out on the training game.

Nighttime was always the worst. Lottie hadn't been afraid of the dark before her ordeal, but now every snapping twig made her heart thunder in her chest. When she ran again, she would have to figure out how to climb and sleep in trees holding a baby.

I'll need some rope.

Letting her mind drift, she daydreamed about the things she would need to steal to survive while on her own with Greysen. At least she didn't need to take another knife, Lottie had already procured one.

First and foremost, she needed winter clothes for them. They wouldn't make it a day in winter if Lottie didn't have a coat and warm pants for herself. She guessed she could make an all-in-one outfit for Greysen out of some of the wool blankets that Casey let her use.

Lottie pursed her lips in thought. Casey didn't seem to notice how many blankets she had, so squirreling a few more away for her use should be easy enough. Besides, at worst, she could tuck Greysen against her skin and under her coat to help keep him warm.

Where would she hide these blankets, Lottie thought as Casey materialized in front of the fire. Lottie squeezed Greysen in surprise, and he mewled in protest but did not wake.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Casey said and sat next to her on the log. He bumped her knee with his in greeting, and Lottie was able to suppress her usual shudder. Surprisingly, his touch wasn't as unwelcome as she expected, and Lottie tried to smile. It felt flat and crooked, but Casey seemed to accept it.

She realized she was staring at his freshly shaved face and dropped her gaze. The faint scent of soap hung in the air, and his prolonged absence made sense. He'd been washing up. Lottie instantly felt self-conscious. She'd skipped her usual bath in favor of making dinner with the fresh food she'd collected, and Lottie hoped she didn't smell too bad.

"What smells so good?" Casey asked her as he tugged the cooking pot closer.

"Weed soup."

He looked back at her over his shoulder. One eyebrow cocked in question.

"Dandelion greens, red and yellow peppers, tomatoes, carrots, and some venison sausage I found in the food locker," she answered. "I brought mugs." When he didn't respond right away, she added, "I waited for you... in case you were hungry too."

Lottie wasn't sure what emotion she saw in his expression before he suppressed it, but she hoped it wasn't negative toward her.

_Doesn't matter,_ Lottie thought. She wouldn't be in his camp much longer if she could help it.

"Where are the mugs?" he asked.

She indicated their location with her chin so that the blanket stayed in place. "Over there."

Casey looked where she indicated and went to get them. Coming back, he dipped each mug into the soup and set them on the ground next to him to cool. Sitting back, he focused on her shoulder. "Don't move."

"What is it?" she asked.

"There," he said as his hand brushed along her shoulder. "Spider."

She exhaled, blowing hair off her face. "A spider?"

His answering smile looked a bit sheepish. "I didn't want you to scream and jump up."

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. "I'm not _that_ afraid of spiders," she trailed off. "At least not anymore."

"Not anymore?"

"Had to get used to them," she replied. She dropped her head back to look at the stars and hoped Casey wouldn't bring up her draft evasion again.

"Me too," he volunteered. His admission was unexpected.

They sat looking at the stars, lost in thought for a few minutes. But then Casey's stomach growled loudly, and he reached for the mugs. "Here," he said and handed her one.

Lottie carefully maneuvered her hand out from under the blankets and took the proffered soup and brought it to her lips.

"Cold?" Casey asked and indicated the bundled blankets around her shoulders and across her lap.

"A little," she answered and sipped the soup. _Mostly it is because Greysen seems to only quiet when he is laying skin to skin against me, and I didn't want to sit with my boobs exposed._

Casey turned back to the fire and didn't question her further, and for that, she was extremely grateful. After three years on her own with no one to talk to, Lottie had grown used to solitude. Without the noise of Casey's men, she was free to enjoy the silence she found in their absence.

Lottie glanced at him occasionally out of the corner of her eye. Did he enjoy the quiet too? With the soldiers gone, Casey seemed to have time to relax now, and Lottie wondered if the forced downtime bothered him. Truthfully, Lottie hadn't kept still for so many days in a row, and the inactivity was boredom in and of itself.

Setting her empty cup on the ground next to her, Lottie turned to Casey. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. "Do you ever get bored out here?"

He blinked and focused on her. Again she was rattled by him. His gaze seemed to pierce right through all her carefully applied layers and directly to her heart. "Not usually."

Lottie tore her eyes from his and looked down to her lap. He seemed to see too much.

"You?" he asked.

"I was always moving, always trying to survive. So, yes," Lottie answered honestly.

"Well, the herb garden will keep us busy," he replied, turning back to face the fire. "And I doubt we'll be getting much sleep in the next few weeks. Pure exhaustion should help keep you from feeling bored."

For some reason, that statement struck her as funny, and she barked a laugh. "Yeah. There is that."

He turned to look at her. His shrewd gaze pinning her in place until she squirmed under the weight of it. "What did I say?" Casey asked curiously.

Lottie kept her eyebrows from shooting to her hairline, but barely. Didn't he realize what he'd said? He was her captor. Casey's casual inclusion of Lottie and Greysen in his life was in direct conflict with his ARA mission, and she had to wonder at that. Lottie assumed everything he did was to get others to comply with his wishes, but maybe it wasn't that simple? Lottie swallowed her laugh and schooled her expression. She needed to remember he wasn't her friend, and Casey had no reason to help her.

"I never expected sleep deprivation to act as a way to alleviate boredom," she replied.

"If you can't keep your eyes open, you're not bored," he responded, then went back to studying the flames and took another sip of the soup she'd made. "This is good. Thanks for making it." Casey smiled at her over his shoulder. "I dreaded coming up here and fixing something to eat, and the thought of dry rations didn't appeal either. This meal was a nice surprise."

Lottie opened her mouth to reply, but Greysen whimpered, diverting her focus.

"I thought he was in the tent sleeping," Casey told her as he sat back.

"He wouldn't settle, but now I think he's hungry."

She fumbled with moving the blankets and Greysen enough to get him in position. The task made more difficult without back support. Finally, he nursed, and she focused on Casey. "Would it kill you to get some chairs?" she groused. If she hadn't been looking at his face, she would have missed the widening of his eyes in surprise before the cool, in control, facade came back.

"Can't have canvas chairs—don't last more than a season without proper storage, which we don't have—and wood lounge chairs take too long to build," Casey answered. His tone sounded annoyed.

She hadn't meant to irritate him, and explaining would probably make it worse. Instead, Lottie focused on keeping her back loose so it would not hurt. When she next glanced at Casey, he was gazing at her with understanding. She felt a stubborn desire to prove she was okay, so Lottie forestalled his offer of assistance. "Is there any more soup?"

Casey nodded, successfully diverted from being her backrest. "You want some? I'll get it for you."

When he handed it to her, she expressed her thanks and blew on the hot liquid before taking a sip. "As a kid, I hear rumors that the boys were taken out to the woods some weekends. Did they take you camping in Basic?"

"You only went once or twice unless your future deployment required additional training. For example, I spent more time outside than say someone who was planning on WCD."

"WCD?"

"Waste Collection and Disposal," Casey responded.

Lottie dipped her head in recognition of his answer. "Did you like it?"

"Enough that I kept on my path, but living outside is quite different than doing it on the weekends," Casey said as he refilled his soup mug. "Although you do get used to it." After a pause, Casey asked, "I don't suppose they take you camping during your Basic training."

She smiled ruefully. "Not unless cleaning up toddler puke is considered camping." When Casey grimaced, Lottie felt some chagrin. "Sorry," she whispered, indicating the cup near his lips.

He shrugged. "S'okay. Surprised me is all," he said and resumed eating. "Do you like roughing it now that you're out here?"

Lottie had to think about it. Did she? She did get a sense of accomplishment, providing for her basic needs, and moving through the woods no longer scared her like it had those first few weeks after Lottie left Fort St. Louis, learning the sling helped.

"Aside from always being dirty? Yeah, I like it," Lottie answered.

They sat quietly for a few minutes. The only sound was the crackling fire, their sips from their mugs, and Greysen's sucking noises. When he popped off, Lottie handed Casey her mug and switched Greysen to the other breast. Asking for her cup back, she took another drink and queried, "Why don't you have more permanent structures here? Like cabins or something?"

"Fort Sutton's never had anything like it," he replied.

"You ever think about building some?"

"No. Never really thought about it. The tents seem to work fine." He put his empty mug down. "Is he done eating?" Casey asked.

"Almost. Why?"

"You look dead on your feet, and I like holding him."

"I'll give him to you in a second. He's not done."

"Fair enough," Casey replied and let the conversation lull by staring into the fire.

When Greysen finished, Lottie burped him and handed him to Casey, where he cradled him in his arms. She marveled at how content Casey looked as he gazed at Greysen.

"He doesn't look drowsy. You, on the other hand, do. Why don't you go ahead and sleep? I'll bring him in when he's tired," Casey told her.

Lottie felt a huge yawn escape her control. Thanking Casey, she stood and handed him one of her blankets and made her way to their shared tent. It took only moments for her to fall asleep, knowing he had everything under control.

***

Lottie woke to faint voices, and her arm curled around Greysen's small body. She was surprised to find Casey already gone and sat up slowly. When had she become so comfortable with him that she didn't notice his comings or goings from the tent? The notion was a bit disconcerting but also gave her a smidgen of hope.

Maybe if she was growing that accustomed to his movements, Casey was experiencing the same. It was too early for her to try to slip away, but maybe—just maybe—he would be easier to escape toward the end of her stay.

Shuffling forward on her hands and knees, she made her way to the edge of the tent where she could look out the small screen. Down in the clearing near the command shed, she could see three men. One was Casey, and one looked like Lincoln. From this distance, she wasn't sure who the third man was, but she guessed either Ty or Jaesen.

With no reason to dawdle in the tent, Lottie scooped up Greysen and shimmied her way out of the space. Standing, she shoved her feet into her worn shoes with a grimace and trudged her way down to see what the soldiers were doing.

She stopped several feet away and watched as both Casey and Lincoln began an exercise routine that involved squats and pushups. The activity looked draining, but they kept up a steady pace while Ty shouted out a count. After thirty-five, Lottie could see their arms visibly shaking. They both stood and shook out their arms at fifty repetitions. Without a pause in the action, they began some lunges. Ty again counted them off. The two men kept at them for fifty repetitions and then stopped to shake out their legs.

"I can do another fifty. But I bet your arms are jelly," Casey said to Lincoln.

"I can do whatever you do," Lincoln snapped back. "Name it."

Ty answered the challenge. "One-handed pushups."

"Done," Lincoln readily agreed and dropped to the ground, ready for the count off.

Casey took his place next to him.

"Left-arm first. Put your right behind your back, and go," Ty instructed and counted off more sets. At fifty, they switched sides and did fifty more.

After counting off that last one, both men collapsed to the ground breathing hard.

"I'm impressed, old man," Casey said with a laugh. "You think you can do a hundred sit-ups?"

"Na, but I bet I can run three klicks before you give up."

"You're on," Casey replied and stood.

Lottie shook her head, marveling at how they could keep going even though they were both tired.

It took a moment, but when Ty acknowledged her presence with a nod of his head, Casey turned and jogged toward her. As he came near, she noted the smug expression on his sweaty and his slightly flushed face.

She raised her eyebrow in question. "What's this all about?"

"A friendly competition between me and my second. You okay with Ty if we go on a run?"

Ty was one of those who seemed indifferent to her presence. "Yeah, I'm good with him."

"Excellent," Casey replied. "I'll be back in about an hour." Glancing down to Greysen in her arms, he bopped him on the nose gently. "You be good for your Momma, you hear?" Casey looked up at her and smiled. "Have Ty whistle for me if there is an emergency."

"I will," she murmured.

Casey turned and jogged back to Lincoln. Smacking him on the shoulder, they set off at a run.

Lottie hugged Greysen closer. It looked like they would have the morning to themselves.

# Chapter 9

Shade from the towering pin oak kept the sun from creating a glare on the book Casey was reading. He sat cross-legged on the ground near his command room, thumbing through the pages, and cursing under his breath. Habit kept him aware of his surroundings, and when he noticed movement in his peripheral vision, he stopped reading to investigate. It was Tristan with Greysen in his arms while he made his way down the hill toward Casey.

_Where's Lottie?_ Tristan was supposed to be guarding her, but she wasn't with him. Casey frowned.

Tristan stopped at Casey's side, where he sat on the grass under the tree. "Here," Tristan said as he handed Casey the wool blanket. "Spread it out for me."

With a practiced flip of Casey's wrist, the ground protection was ready, and Tristan placed Greysen on his back so that the baby could watch the leaves flutter above him.

"Bean—" Casey began.

"Relax pup," Tristan interrupted. "Jules and Matt took her to do laundry. Little Prince here wet through everythin'.

_Oh,_ Casey thought and tried to school his expression. Bean was with Jules and Matt, and although they were junior soldiers, they would be more than capable of keeping her out of trouble while she did laundry. Besides, the soldier he was most worried about—Adan—was on patrol with Lincoln. Tension drained from his shoulders, and he smiled down at the baby, who was waving his arms in the air and kicking his feet.

Watching Greysen's development in his first month of life, fascinated Casey, and he spent every available minute with the baby. He couldn't believe how big Greysen was getting. Already his cheeks were chubby, and his little fingers and toes were so plump they had little dimples. His black hair was a riot of curls, and his dark smoky blue eyes were turning the most vibrant shade of green.

"What's up, little man?" he asked. Greysen's eyes crossed as he followed Casey's finger toward his nose. The bop earned Casey a few more hand and arm waves. "You miss me?" Casey asked. Greysen answered with a spit bubble. Finally, Casey noticed Tristan's smirk. "What?" Casey asked a bit defensive. "It isn't like you don't talk to him."

"Not like you do."

Casey shrugged. He couldn't help it. Greysen was a fixture of his life during the past few weeks. He'd helped with all the late-night diaper changes, and the frantic scrambles for new blankets when Greysen soaked their bedding, and sometimes he shared the warmth of his little body pressed to his side when Greysen slept between him and Lottie.

_Lottie._

Greysen wasn't sleeping through the night yet, and she was exhausted all the time. He was sympathetic, yes, but what could he do? So aside from only getting five hours of sleep at a stretch, life with Greysen was downright comfortable.

Indicating the book in Casey's lap, Tristan asked, "Whatcha readin'?"

"Trying to figure out if I can burn sunflower oil or if I'm stuck using tallow to make candles."

"Candles?"

"Yes," Casey grumbled and ran a hand through his hair. His momentary good mood at seeing Greysen wiped away by his irritation at this new-ish problem his Base was facing. "That's how I found this book." He closed it with a snap and set it aside. "The last bulb burned out in the command shed, and I went rooting around in storage to try to find any remaining replacements. Typical of my luck. The one box I do find, all the bulbs were broke."

"When's our next supply shipment?"

"Few weeks, sometime in October."

Tristan nodded. "You can't let them see her. Or they'll run right back to command and tattle."

Casey's mood fell even lower. Why did Tristan have to remind him of that fact? "She has to go back anyway," Casey muttered. "Her leave is almost up. Another four weeks."

Tristan's mouth press into a thin line and Casey held up his hand to stall him. They kept having the same argument. Tristan was adamant. Lottie had to stay free of that specialty lab, and Casey stubbornly clung to his duty. It was wearing thin on both of them.

"We're going to need to start rendering the fat from our kills," Casey said to change the subject. "There is no guarantee that the army will send us what we need with the next shipment."

"Understood. I'll spread the word."

"Thanks." Casey took a deep breath and exhaled the tension in his shoulders. "This book has a few ideas on making a press. You up for the challenge?"

"Sure," Tristan replied.

They sat, watching men move about their daily chores until a muffled baby cry made them both look down between them.

Greysen was flailing his arms and legs with his face smashed into the blanket. "Did you know he could roll over?" Tristan asked in amusement.

Casey shook his head and returned Greysen to his back. "Let's see if he does it again."

"Gotcha."

They watched, but it seemed Greysen had worn himself out with the first attempt. His eyes drifted shut, and his mouth went slack as he fell asleep.

"Must have been a fluke," Tristan muttered with a shrug and looked up.

Tristan's eyes widen and then narrow as someone approached Casey's six, but before Casey could turn, the newcomer spoke with a sneer in his voice, "Look at you and your ready-made family."

Ethan.

Casey rolled his eyes. Ethan huffed, undoubtedly ready to unleash his typical teenage asshole behavior. With a sigh, Casey faced the recruit, opening his mouth to speak, but Tristan beat him to it.

"You could have one too," Tristan joked. "All you have to do is prove you aren't a douche, get promoted to Staff Sergeant, and then be the lucky enough bastard to find a nine-month pregnant draft dodger and deliver her baby. You'll be home free on that family in no time."

Reaching out a hand, Casey stopped him from antagonizing Ethan further. "I don't have a ready-made family, Ethan." _...But I could._

"Could have fooled me."

"What are you angrier at?" Casey asked. "The fact a mother and child are at Base, or that I don't trust you with their care?"

The answering scowl gave Casey his answer. "Earning trust takes time." _A long time... A 'maternity leave' long time._ "I suggest you do your duties flawlessly, and we will see if you can't get back to where we were before you threatened our Asset."

"Fuck her and her brat too," Ethan snapped. "He should be dead."

"Ethan!" Casey growled, startling Greysen into crying. "Forty mountain climbers. Now!"

Ethan gave him a frosty glare, but dropped to the ground and counted off. At twenty-one repetitions, Casey's attention drifted to Lottie—flanked by Matt and Jules—coming up the path. She looked panic-stricken. Her eyes darted to the blanket between him and Tristan and then back to Ethan.

It took a moment before Casey realized it was Ethan who caused her distress, but Ethan wouldn't try anything. Not anymore, and especially not with both Tristan and Casey there.

She inched closer, anxiety evident in her expression. Casey caught the eyes of Matt and Jules and, with a small shake of his head, told them not to approach. Jules put a restraining hand on Lottie's arm.

Returning his attention to Ethan, Casey watched as he continued to count out the climbers. "Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty." Ethan was barely winded.

"Stand up," Casey barked. "Jaesen's expecting you on watch."

"Yeah, I know," Ethan snapped.

Casey raised his eyebrows at the snippy response. "You want to run five klicks too?"

Ethan softened his tone and repeated, "Sir. No, sir."

"Go," Casey acknowledged and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The moment Ethan moved off, Lottie made her way toward him and scooped up the screaming baby. Holding him to her chest, she shushed and cooed to him, until he hiccuped and quieted.

"He was fine," Casey told her, trying to alleviate her concern. "There was nothing Ethan could do with us both here."

"I know," she whispered. In what looked to be a monumental effort to control her emotions, Lottie asked, "Was Greysen good? Did he fuss?"

Casey smiled, prepared to tell her about Greysen rolling over, but Tristan interrupted, "Momma, you will not believe what your Prince did."

Her eyebrows raised in question, and Casey could see the tension drain from her shoulders. He had to hand it to Tristan. Tristan always seemed to know what to say to make her relax.

"What did he do? Wet through his diaper and soak your shorts?"

Tristan laughed, and Casey chuckled. "No. He rolled over," Tristan said.

"Really?" she asked.

"Sure as shit," Tristan replied. "He was on his back, wavin' his arms and legs, lookin' as cute as ever. And the next thin' we know, he's on his stomach tellin' his woes to the blanket under him."

Lottie broke into a grin. "Too bad I missed it!"

"It might have been an accident since he didn't do it again. Sun. Moon. Stars. You know. But he did it once. Means he's gettin' stronger."

"I know," Lottie agreed. "He's started to hold his head up when you have him against your chest."

Casey noticed that too. "Did you get everything cleaned up?"

The smile slipped from her face. "He had a blowout and made a mess over everything." Lottie grimaced. "It was gross, but yes, the blankets are clean and hanging on the line to dry."

"Good," Casey replied. "It's getting colder at night, and I don't want to do without."

She shifted her gaze away from him and toward the treeline. Casey narrowed his eyes in speculation.

_Interesting._

She'd reacted to the statement about the evenings getting chillier with a glance away as if she was hiding something, or was she uncomfortable with their proximity in the tent while they slept? Not that _he_ minded cuddling close to her warm body. Casey liked having Lottie's back pressed against his bare chest, or to have her nestled under his arm with her head resting on the hollow of his shoulder, and Casey loved having Greysen at his side.

It was a feeling he didn't want to let go.

_A ready-made family._ All he had to do was _not_ send her back.

"We've been lucky September's been warm. Greysen hasn't needed anything more than swaddling," she answered, returning her focus to Casey and Tristan. "Do you think I can cut up a blanket and make some clothes for him? I don't want him to get cold. You know, if he becomes unswaddled for some reason.

Casey sagged in relief. She wasn't hiding something from him. Lottie was afraid to ask for what she needed, and her glance away was to marshall her courage. "I think that is a good idea," he told her, and Lottie gave him that lopsided smile he liked so much. "I might even have an extra sewing repair kit in the shed."

"Oh, no need for that," she said. "I plan to make the seams with ties. That way, the all-in-one can grow with him." She dropped her gaze to Greysen in her arms and tucked some hair behind her ear. "I will need a knife, though. To cut the blanket up."

"I'll get you one in a little bit. After I finish here."

She looked at him under her lashes, and he could see her start to blush. "Thanks. I'm going to go back to the tent now.

"Okay," he replied.

Lottie nodded. Tristan tossed her the blanket, and she flipped it over her shoulder. Casey watched her walk away.

Tristan asked, "Do you love her?" __

Casey's smile faded. "No," he replied, keeping his voice devoid of emotion.

"Liar," Tristan said and shook his head. "Do you love Greysen?"

Casey had no answer.

Tristan turned to stare off into the middle distance. "Face it, man. You love her. You love him. And you can't send her back."

"I don't have a choice."

"There are always choices, Case," Tristan said. "Make the right one for her." With that, he stood and left Casey sitting in the shade of the tree.

***

Lottie sat in front of the fire and held Greysen up so that she could inspect her handiwork in the fading sunlight. She was pleased with how the garment turned out, even if the put into practice concept looked ridiculous.

"He's wearin' a dress," Tristan said to her as he dropped off some firewood.

"It's not a dress," Lottie snipped. "It is a long tunic and pants."

Tristan laughed, stepping closer he flicked one of the ties at Greysen's shoulder with his finger. "It looks like a dress."

"See." Lottie repositioned Greysen so that she could point out the bottom of the tunic. "It is long enough I can tie it closed at night, and he will always be in a blanket."

After throwing another log on the fire, Tristan sat next to her on the ground. He kicked his legs out and held out his hands for Greysen. She handed the baby to him and suppressed a shiver. She wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to keep them warm. The fire helped, but sitting in shorts was chilly. She rested her cheek on her knees and eyeballed Tristan's cargo pants with envy.

"And what about you, Momma?" Tristan asked as he settled Greysen on his lap. "What do you do when you are cold?"

Lottie thought that perhaps she hadn't been as subtle as she intended. Affecting nonchalance, she replied, "I'm not cold."

"Sure you aren't," Tristan replied as if he didn't believe her, but let the subject drop in favor of studying Greysen. The baby proceeded to wave his arms and legs in greeting, and Tristan smiled down at Greysen and tickled him. Glancing over at her, he said, "We have extra sweats you could borrow if you need some."

His offer made her feel uncomfortable, torn between wanting to take him up on it and denying that the need existed. She already felt guilty about the rations, rope, knife, and blankets she'd stashed in different hiding places around the camp. She would love to add a change of warm clothes to her growing pile of supplies. Instead, she changed the subject. "I didn't make it up to the garden today. How are the herbs growing?"

"Fine," he answered, teasing lose a tie at Greysen's elbow. He took a moment to retie it before continuing. "Not sure we have enough sunflowers to make oil _and_ supplement our diet."

"Even if you don't for this year, you will next." _Not that I would benefit._ She hoped the sunflowers would go to seed before she made her escape—perfect food for running—but it wasn't looking too likely.

"The cilantro is bloomin' like you said it would."

"Good," Lottie replied with a smile. "I'm glad we planted it in time to get a harvest from it. Save the seeds for next year." Her guilt receded. It felt good to repay some of her debt to Casey via the herb garden.

They sat together quietly, enjoying each other's presence and watching Greysen. He would give his thumb an enthusiastic suck every time it came near his mouth. Her heart throbbed, looking at him. He was easy to love.

"Where's Matt?" Lottie asked. "Isn't he supposed to be on watch right now?"

"Eager to get rid of me?"

Lottie shook her head. "Nothing like that. You've been with me most of the day, and I figured you were bored or had something better to do."

"Nothin' better to do than be up here and helpin' you," Tristan said and made a face at Greysen. "Besides, Case had him off doin' some duty. He'll be here soon enough."

Nodding, she stared at the fire. She was amused to realize she looked forward to talking with Matt. She would never have guessed that Casey would choose him to be a part of her guard. He hadn't appeared to like her much, and then his involvement with the fight had been dubious. But after the revelations Casey imparted the night of the soldiers' interviews, Lottie had made an effort to get to know the men Casey trusted with her care. It was the polite thing to do, regardless of how hard it was to have them near her or how much she wanted to flee.

Yet there were three soldiers she took great pains to avoid: Ethan, Teo, and Adan.

Adan, she studied whenever he was near, but aside from his threatening statements during the infamous fight, he seemed the paradigm of virtue. _Okay, that was a stretch,_ Lottie said to herself and snorted, but after five weeks at Base without the slightest hint of new violence toward her person, she wondered if the warning about him was out of place. When he did talk to her, he was unfailingly polite. He never made her feel less than human—unlike the duo did. Casey wasn't known for his idle warnings. There was a reason why Casey didn't trust Adan over the others, so she heeded him and made sure never to be alone with anyone but her guard.

After a long lull in the conversation, Tristan said, "Don't run. Give him the full eight weeks, all right?"

She gulped and struggled with her reaction, but she felt the blood drain from her face anyway.

"Look, Momma. I know you're plannin' an escape. Got some supplies tucked away. All I'm askin' is for you to wait. Don't leave yet. You'll fail." He stared at her with his intense blue eyes. "Can you do that? Wait? For me?"

Swallowing hard again, she gave him the barest of nods. Horrified that she admitted her plans to the enemy.

"Thank you." His smile was reassuring, but if anything, she felt worse.

Did Casey suspect her too? Lottie worried that the 'him' meant Casey and not Greysen.

Hugging her knees closer, she felt her chest tighten, and her eyes itched as if she were about to cry. Tristan must have seen something in her expression, for his next statement seemed aimed at consoling her. "Don't worry, Momma. Your secret is safe with me." His pronouncement was hardly the comfort he intended, but she gave him a faint smile anyway.

"Matt's almost here. We won't speak of this again unless we have to." Again he gave her that half-smile of a moment ago. The one that said everything-will-work-out.

"Evening, Tristan. Lottie," Matt said in his rough and slightly raspy voice.

They greeted him in return.

"Paul needs you at his tent," Matt said, addressing Tristan.

"How so?" Tristan inquired.

"They're playing cards, and Javier's talking smack to get Ethan all riled up."

"Where's Case?"

Matt shrugged. "Dunno. I didn't look for him."

"Tellin' Case was more import'nt than coming directly here," Tristan huffed. "I'll go find him." He handed Greysen to Lottie and stood.

As he left, Lottie was sure she heard him mutter, "Damn kids."

Feeling the press of uncertainty—an emotion she hadn't felt since before Greysen was born—Lottie hugged the baby closer and tried to will her fears away. A retreat back into silence seemed the best course of action, but Matt didn't have the same notion.

"You're quieter tonight than usual. You need anything?"

She tried to smile, but it fell flat. "I'm fine," she whispered.

"No, you're not. I've seen that look before," Matt contradicted.

"No, really. I'm fine," Lottie tried again.

"You looked that way when you first arrived," Matt pressed. "A look of terror mixed with desperation and a healthy dose of helplessness."

His description of her feelings was so accurate that she had a hard time keeping her head from nodding in agreement.

"I recognize that look. It was the same one I had for months after the fire."

Greysen whimpered when she held him tighter, but the promise of a story made her feel a little better. "Fire?"

He nodded, but the look in his eyes told Lottie he was far away, remembering.

"It was night, and we were all asleep in a pile in one room on our side of the communal home. I remember the directors had us do that to keep warm. Something about the heater broken."

Lottie could picture it easily. The boys all roughhousing and as exhaustion hit, sleeping where they fell. It would be a holiday.

"I assume the girls were on their side in a similar room. Anyway, there weren't very many little kids with us. I don't know if the directors had them in a different room or if they were with the toddlers and babies, but Tony and I were friends and the youngest kids in the room that night, so we stuck together."

When he paused, she wanted to ask what happened, but the expression on his face made her wait. He coughed, and his hand went to his throat.

"The smoke was so thick you couldn't see your hand in front of you. Roger and Darren—they were oldest and considered themselves in charge—pounded on the door begging to be let out," his voice caught. "God, they tried! They smashed things against the door to break it open, but all they succeeded in doing was injuring themselves. There was nothing we could do, so we huddled on the floor and waited."

Lottie's hand covered her mouth in shock.

"You see, CPS rescued the girls first. By the time they reached us, nearly everyone was dead. Smoke inhalation. Three of us survived because our room was closest to the emergency escape door at the end of the hall." Matt looked at her, pain in his eyes. "Darran, Phil, and I were the only ones to make it out of that room and to safety. Everyone else in that wing died."

Tears pricked behind Lottie's eyes, imagining the fear and helplessness of watching your communal siblings and friends die around you. "How could they leave you locked in a room?" She could understand locking the gender wings—her's communal home had done it that way—but each side had direct access to an escape door out into the shared relaxation park.

Matt shrugged. "We weren't a rich communal. We shared a wing with the girls. They were at one end and us the other with the toddlers in between. Being locked in that night wasn't any different than any other night. Didn't want us to mingle after lights out. Roger, Darren, and Gary were due for basic in a few months. All they ever talked about were the girls."

He turned back toward the fire.

"I was so angry. I kept thinking that if we had more CPS, then none of this would have happened. That's why I tried to join the Civilian Protection Services, but there were no openings. Case says he'll petition to get me transferred after my year here is up."

"Is the fire what happened to your voice?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "The smoke damaged my vocal cords. The medics said I would heal, but it's been years, so I don't hold out any hope for that any longer."

"How long has it been?"

With a sigh, Matt answered, "Six years."

Lottie had to agree with his assessment. After that long, he was probably never going to get his voice back. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he replied with a half-smile. "I'm here, and Case is working with me to get me into CPS, so things are going to be fine."

She was impressed. Matt seemed accepting of the whole situation—now—but she supposed it had been a difficult thing to move past.

"Sorry for how I treated you before the fight," Matt said

Waving her hand, Lottie dismissed his words. He didn't need to apologize for anything. He never threatened her after all.

"They approached me, you know."

Lottie blanched.

"Adan, Ethan, and Teo." He glanced at her as if judging her reaction. "At first, it sounded like a good idea—a way to punish those saved girls, even though you weren't one of them. But then I started thinking about it. What if you were like—you know—my biological sister or something. There's no real way to know that, right? And now you're somebody's mother. I know we don't know our mothers, but would you want your mom attacked? I know I don't." Matt looked at the fire again. After a minute, he added, "Besides, would someone in CPS let that happen?"

She shook her head.

"Yeah, I didn't think so either." Matt paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "So... Sorry to have been a dick. It won't happen again."

Opening and closing her mouth, she tried to tell him she forgave him, but no words came out.

"You'll always be a dick, but that's why we like ya," Jules said from right behind her, his hand landing on her shoulder. He whispered in her ear. "Hey, Chica. You all right? Need anything?"

"No. I'm good," she answered.

"There room for one more?" Jules asked.

Matt swept his arm aside in invitation. "Sure."

Jules stepped around her and sat on the ground next to Matt. "I always wondered what happened to your voice."

"I don't like talking about it."

"I don't doubt it," Jules commiserated. "You have any idea what Case is up to?"

"No. Why?" Matt replied.

"I heard him swearing up a storm in the command shed."

"He chewing someone out?" Matt asked.

Jules met Lottie's gaze across him. "I don't think so. I only heard his voice. But I guess if he were yelling at someone, I wouldn't hear anyone else speaking."

A voice in the darkness replied, "He's trying to write his weekly report in the dark."

"Jaesen? That you?" Matt questioned the air behind Lottie.

There was a crunch of boots on the gravel behind her, and then Jaesen materialized by her side.

"Yep."

"What you doing up here, old dog?"

"I got tired of watching the pissing match of a card game. Thought I'd see what the young pups were up to."

Jaesen gave a tug to Lottie's hair. "How you holding up there, Charge?"

"Fine," Lottie replied, but truthfully there were too many people surrounding her at the moment, and she felt her skin tingle at the contact.

"Nothing exciting up here. Just pestering Chica before she passes out from exhaustion," Jules joked. "Greysen letting you sleep all night yet?"

She shook her head, but then forced herself to reply, "No."

"I think I heard Casey say he was getting a whole shift now. So unless he's sleeping through a lot—and frankly, I'm surprised he sleeps at all—the youngin' is snoozing maybe four hours at a stretch," Jaesen answered for her.

It seemed the mention of him made Greysen wake up and start to wail. Lottie snuck him under her shirt to feed him, all the while she could feel the blush bloom on her face, completely embarrassed to be nursing him with half her guard in attendance. It wasn't like any of them hadn't seen the activity before, but it made her uncomfortable. The men were as polite as ever, casually continuing the conversation while Lottie discretely fed her son.

***

Wiping a hand over his eyes, Casey stared at the ground as he made his way up the hill to his tent. It was late—full dark by several hours—but he wasn't sure how late. Casey had stayed up to write his report by the light of his wind-up flashlight and then looked at the files for Zoe, and Greysen's—or Maddy, as Casey casually called her in his head.

He didn't like what he read.

Both Maddy and Zoe had new pictures indicating the confirmation of recent pregnancies. Casey ran his hand through his hair. Why wouldn't they let Maddy rest? The woman was thirty-eight, surely the scientists would stop the treatments soon, yet the appearance of a new picture indicated otherwise. And the poor woman looked haggard—kind of like how he felt at the moment—but it would soon be better for him. He'd check on his little Greysen and then curl up next to Lottie and sleep until morning.

Laughter near his tent made him stop. A quick scan of the assembled told Casey all of Lottie's guards were present around the campfire next to his tent. And surprisingly, Ethan sat in on the circle.

Standing in the shadows, he watched, curious, and slightly amazed. That was a development he had not expected, much like the men congregating near his tent. Most of the time, they gave his space a wide berth. He figured it had to do with his rank, but he never asked.

His eyes widened further when he spotted Lottie sitting next to Jaesen, and what was more astounding to him than her presence at the party was the fact she seemed to be enjoying herself.

While he watched, Jaesen rearranged the blankets around Lottie's shoulders and lap and dropped his arm around her. She shuddered at the contact and shrugged him away. He leaned down to speak in her ear, and she shook her head.

Casey's gaze darted around the circle for Greysen. He didn't see him. Glancing toward the tent, he discarded the idea that Greysen was asleep inside. Lottie didn't trust the men enough that she'd leave her son unattended. He took a few steps closer, and distinct voices coalesced from the chaos of conversations.

"Why the name, Jules? And where was your home?" he heard Lottie's soft voice ask as if she were continuing a topic already in progress.

"It's short for Julian," Jules replied, his weight shifted as he lifted Greysen to his shoulder. "And I hale from Indianapolis. I was in the larger of the two communal buildings in that Fort."

Hale?

Casey snorted. That boy loved the dramatic. Who used the word 'hale' anymore?

No longer listening to the conversation, Casey's eyes drifted back to Lottie. The desire to evict Jaesen from his spot at her side was strong, but Casey suppressed the jealousy and tried to study the scene logically.

Lottie avoided contact at almost any cost. Greysen was the only person she touched without flinching. It made sense. He was her son, but even after four weeks of her pressed to Casey's side at night, her skin still twitched under his hand. Why did she let Jaesen sit so close?

Then Jules stood, obstructing Casey's view, and forcing his attention back to the conversation Jules had been having. "'Night everybody," he said, and handed Greysen to Lottie. When he stepped away, Jaesen replaced the blanket around Lottie's shoulders.

"You're right. Little kids shouldn't stay up past their bedtime," Jaesen said, chuckling.

"Oh, hardy-har-har. You don't have a dawn watch to get up for," Jules retorted. "You crashing now too, Javier?"

Javier?

"Sure," Javier replied. Casey squinted and could barely make out his form in the darkness past the fire. "I heard turkey in the woods yesterday. I could go for a good _bird_ —or two."

"Sounds good," Jules made his way toward his partner on the edge of the group.

"Stay warm, Huxley girl," Javier said with a smirk.

Irritation rolled through him, and Casey had to stop himself from taking a step toward his men's retreating forms. He hadn't forgotten Javier's earlier comment about assets in the camp being used to form a brothel, and his statements made Casey want to knock some sense into him. But no one else seemed affected by the remarks, and aside from Lottie's cheeks flushing, she hadn't reacted to the teasing at all. He growled. _Maybe he said Huxley's girl, not Huxley girl._ Still unacceptable, but more tolerable than implying she should be a worker in a State-run facility out here in the woods—a facility Javier named after him for the sole purpose of baiting him.

As Jules and Javier moved off, the group of men around his campfire adjusted for their absence by shifting closer to each other. Using the movement of his men to cover the noise of his steps, Casey angled around the group to stand behind Jaesen. He waited out of the range of the light, positioning himself to study Ethan's reactions. That man's presence with Lottie was a concern. Ethan's attitude toward her couldn't have changed that drastically since his interview, at least, not enough to now be a friend.

Sure enough, there was a sneer of hatred across his features. Casey couldn't remember a single ARA soldier straight from Basic so openly hostile toward assets. How had he fooled the placement officers into letting him join ARA? The only one worse than him was Adan.

Adan was his own brand of trouble. What was Casey going to do with the information he'd learned? Casey had promised that everything said during the interviews were off the record, and unless Adan screwed up royally while deployed, Casey's hands were tied.

The man had no business being ARA. He wasn't even fit for waste disposal—not unless Adan was the one thrown out. Did Adan notice his pairing with a pro-Asset or pro-Brass soldier on every patrol? Casey shook his head to dispel the worry. All he could do is wait for Adan to make a mistake. Then he'd be out faster than Casey could write the report requesting his transfer.

"All right, we know where everyone here comes from except for you and Case," Matt said.

Ethan turned to him, answering Casey's curiosity about who Matt was addressing. "Chicago, Lake Shore commune."

"A rich boy," Matt said quietly.

Casey shifted his gaze to Matt. Did Casey hear some envy in Matt's tone? If so, then Casey might have a new problem on his hands.

"Rich boy, my ass," Ethan growled. "None of the boys were rich. Just the girls." He turned toward Lottie and gave her a dirty look. She flinched.

It was time for Casey to show himself.

He enjoyed the wide-eyed expression on Ethan and Matt's faces when he stepped into the light and dropped his hand to Jaesen and Lottie's shoulders. She twitched, but Jaesen didn't react at all. "You're in my spot," Casey told Jaesen and squeezed his shoulder.

"Keeping it warm for you 's all," Jaesen replied. He stood and moved over next to Tristan, and Casey settled by Lottie. He dropped his arm around her, and he felt her shiver in his embrace, but she didn't shake him off like she had Jaesen. He felt relieved that she accepted his contact, but saddened by her reaction. _It's not you. It's her history. Remember that,_ he chided himself, shoving the disappointment aside.

"How many communes are in Chicago," Matt asked Ethan.

"Three. And two research facilities."

"Busy place," Casey responded.

Ethan shrugged and averted his eyes.

"So sir—Case—Where was your commune?" Matt asked, trying to break the tension.

Tristan snickered, and Casey gave him a dirty look.

"Fort Kansas City," Casey replied. "Missouri side. But it is a poor district. When I left, it was already shifting to Fort Kansas. Similar to what happened to Fort East St. Louis a few years back."

Lottie leaned over and whispered, "Why is Tristan snickering?"

Casey smiled down at her. "KC... Casey... He finds the similarity amusing." The edge of her lip tipped up into his favorite smile, and Casey shook his head. "He isn't the only one, but the joke's old."

"I bet," she whispered and returned her attention to the group.

"When I was moving into the mid-grade wing of our commune, Fort Kansas City was closing down the research hospital, and they were phasing out the communal housing," Casey told the group. "The youngest in our home was five, and she was pretty lonely. I remember she used to cling to the older girls."

He felt Lottie shiver, and he squeezed her.

"Fort Kansas City may not have had a working research hospital, but there were plenty of State-run brothels. And a few illegal ones," Casey added. "CPS was stationed on the Kansas side and didn't bother with the Missouri side all that much. It was a violent place, and I couldn't wait to leave."

Casey removed his arm from Lottie's shoulders and took Greysen from her. Talking about his hometown was depressing, and holding the baby calmed him. He patted Greysen on the back and continued his story. "I had a choice of Basic in Fort StL or Fort Kansas. I chose here."

"You had a choice of where to train?" Matt inquired.

Casey understood the confusion. "Most of the time, there is no choice until after you graduate the program, then you move to your post. But, as I said, our commune was closing," Casey answered. "I didn't want to leave Missouri, so I moved east instead of west."

"How do they determine where your post will be?" Lottie asked.

"There are a few like myself and Jaesen who never step foot outside their commune state," Casey explained. "But then there are others—like Ethan—where their Forts have an overly large populous. Those states simply do not have enough posts for all the soldiers graduating from basic. The Army assigns them to poorer districts or where ever there is a need."

Tristan volunteered, "Like Texas."

"Yes, they have a large number of PCE—Perimeter Control Enforcement," Casey said, explaining. "Matt came here since his district didn't offer CPS placement. Although I am surprised, they didn't let you join and move you to a different district as they did for your ARA placement." He shrugged. "I'm not part of that council, so I don't know their reasoning."

Matt gave him a tight smile.

"I'll do what I can, though," Casey added.

"I know."

"Do all the states only have one major Fort?" Paul questioned.

"Mostly," Jaesen answered.

"It wasn't always that way," Casey continued. "But yes, most states only have one major Fort now. The exceptions are for the bigger states, the desert ones, or the tiny ones. Pennsylvania has two, but New Jersey and Delaware have none. Philadelphia supplies those states their soldiers."

"How do you know all this?" Paul asked him.

"It was part of my training to become Staff Sergeant, and I deduced some of it from reports." Casey shifted Greysen in his arms and then added, "We're unique here at Fort Sutton. I have a lot of leeway and more information than my predecessors." Casey glanced down at Greysen. The baby was alert but quiet, and Casey smiled at him.

"Well, I, for one, like you a hell of a lot better than Kerner," Tristan said with a smile.

Casey lifted his eyes from gazing at Greysen and caught Ethan's snort. Whether it was a snort of disapproval for Casey or Kerner, he wasn't sure.

"Amen to that, brother," Jaesen agreed. "That man was a total jackass."

"I keep hearing stories about him," Paul interrupted. "Aside from the fact he broke the showers and water heater, what did he do?" Paul chuckled and added, "Granted, I hate the guy on that principle alone, but that's my problem."

"It was a total clusterfuck before Case," Tristan replied. "No teamwork. Fistfights. Backstabbin'. The works."

"Fort Sutton had the highest turnover rate of all the ARA before Kerner left. Everyone hated it here. Hell, _I_ hated it here," Casey admitted.

"Then First Lieutenant Green arrived," Jaesen said.

"Pulled us all into the command room for private interviews," Tristan added.

"I met him," Lottie volunteered. "He was petitioning for a spot on the donor list. He has dark blue eyes, and scared the crap out of me."

"That's him," Tristan joked with a smile.

"Well, he was at Fort Sutton to investigate Kerner. When our interviews wrapped up, he gave us a chance to speak freely." Casey snickered. "I don't know what anyone else said, but I offered up several ideas on what I would have done differently. I made an impression."

"That you did, pup," Tristan responded.

Casey shook his head. "Anyway, Green left, and Kerner stayed."

"Obviously, that's not all that happened," Paul argued. "You're in charge now, so what happened?"

"Over a month later, I get called into command by Kerner," Casey said. "Kerner greets me with a smug smile and an envelope on Army letterhead." Casey tickled under Greysen's chin earning him a coo. "Imagine my dismay when he hands it to me and sneers, 'Good luck with your career, pup. You've pissed off the Brass, and they recalled you.' I couldn't believe it. Green had told me to speak freely!"

He sighed and stroked Greysen's cheek. The baby turned toward his finger with an open mouth. Casey gave him his knuckle to suck, knowing in a few minutes he'd be howling for Lottie to feed him again.

"I set out for Fort St. Louis the next day, sick to my stomach with disappointment and worry. Once I arrived, I went directly to First Lieutenant Green. The rat-bastard made me stand in the hall at attention for hours—well, that's how long it felt, anyway—but, eventually, he calls me into this conference room." Casey looked up and stared off into the distance. "There I am. In front of Green and Dorsey. And I barely kept my mouth shut when they handed me my promotion pins and told me I was Staff Sergeant and now in charge of Fort Sutton."

"How old were you," Paul asked.

"Twenty-one. And too young for the job by far. I don't know what I did to warrant the honor." Casey shook his head again. "Anyway, they told me my first assignment was to get Fort Sutton's squad in shape. They said that I free rein and could do whatever I wanted to get it there. There was a catch."

"Always is," Lottie whispered. "What was it?"

"I had one year to turn everything around, or I'd lose my promotion status and face removal from the ARA." Casey turned away. "ARA was all I ever wanted. I couldn't fail. So, when I got back, I sent Kerner packing." Casey's smirked. "Boy, Kerner was pissed."

Paul and Matt nodded in agreement. "I bet."

"I was good. I didn't throw Kerner's words back at him, no matter how much I wanted to. I handed him his new orders and let him bluster about a bit. Once he was gone, I implemented all of my ideas: the shelters, the training games, everything. And as you see, more than a year later, I am still here."

Paul's eyes lit with understanding, "Oh! Like, Capture the Flag?"

"Exactly. Capture the Flag was the first game my squad played. We were all out in the woods, taking prisoners, running from each other, trying to find the other team's flag. Everyone had such a good time letting off steam that we played several more times that first year."

"Why use games," Lottie asked him.

"It's a great way to build teamwork, and it reinforces skills needed on missions. I expanded on that principle." Casey suppressed a sigh. "Games like 'find the object' don't help out here, but the physical games do. How else can I teach walking silently through the underbrush? Or how to communicate in signs? Forcing you to use those lessons here and now with a game? It lets me call upon those skills when on patrol or if we're on an official mission."

"What other games have you used?" Paul inquired.

Tristan spoke before Casey could answer. "Obstacle courses, rescue missions, exercises where someone is a POW and has to escape, or the converse where someone is in enemy territory and has to avoid capture. He even tried a game where you had to spot the traitor smugglin' contraband."

Casey shifted Greysen in his arms. The baby fussed, and Casey was trying to delay handing him over to Lottie. He wasn't quite ready to let Greysen go. "I haven't done any of the games recently, and it shows."

He glanced at Ethan again. Ethan aimed his hostility at Greysen in Casey's arms. With effort, Casey kept himself from calling him on the behavior. Ethan was entitled to his opinions.

Thankfully, Paul asked another question and dragged Casey's attention away from Ethan and his sullen attitude.

"Don't sound so surprised, Paul. His team isn't usually this divided," Jaesen replied. "After Case first took the squad over, he had to make us into a cohesive team."

"The Brass noticed," Tristan added, "They never thought he'd succeed, so when he did, they left him to continue his unorthodox ways."

"And here we are, in one of the most coveted branches of the ARA," Jaesen remarked.

"You're having problems now with me here, aren't you?" Lottie asked, her voice quieting to the point Casey had to strain to hear.

Ethan huffed, but Casey ignored him, opting to deflect her concern. "Na. The split was under the surface before you got here. It always is when I get new Privates. Besides, I was overdue for some team-building exercises."

Greysen chose that moment to start wailing. Reluctantly, Casey gave him a quick hug and handed him to Lottie, and she blushed. "I'm sure he's hungry," he said.

"He is. I'm going to go to the tent and feed him there."

"Do you need assistance?" Casey asked, wanting to be there in case she needed help.

"It's okay. I've got him," Lottie said, and Casey saw her try to force a smile to her lips.

Casey helped her stand and draped the blankets she had been using over her shoulder. She shivered, and he noticed she was wearing shorts and her t-shirt. He turned back to the men sitting around the fire and saw them wearing cold-weather clothing. Suppressing a growl of frustration, he wondered when she would learn to ask him for what she needed?

After she zipped the tent, Casey turned to the men and said, "Excuse me, men. I have some work to attend to, but feel free to be at leisure here for as long as you wish."

He stepped away from the fire before making his way toward the supply shed. Casey would have preferred to give her his newest uniforms, but he had to look respectable should the Brass come to visit. That meant, he would give her some of last year's cargos, longjohns, and his old coat. He would have plenty to keep himself respectable, and she would be taken care of as well.

# Chapter 10

"Pop it from the peg, and I'll pull it through," Casey told Matt.

The tent shook, and a moment later collapsed in on itself as they removed the support pole. Casey tugged it through the guides, unsnapping the pole joints as they came free.

"Unhook the other one," Casey said and surveilled the Base, noting the locations of his men. Everyone not on some other assigned duty was busy disassembling their summer tents and putting up their insulated winter ones. Casey's attention lingered at Wu. His tent was up already, and Wu was helping Teo with Paul's shelter. Farther away, Ethan was working with Ty. That left four more needing assembly today.

As the last part of Matt's summer dwelling deflated, Casey set aside the extendable poles and started yanking the pegs from the ground.

"Is that the baby?" Matt asked him, interrupting Casey's musings.

Casey stopped and listened. Sure enough, Greysen was wailing.

Matt added, "He's been crying for at least half an hour."

Casey looked at the young black man looming over him, and acknowledged him with a grunt, ashamed to realize he was so used to the noise of a baby's cry that Casey hadn't noticed the duration until Matt pointed it out to him.

"Do you want me to go see what's wrong?" Matt asked.

Casey shook his head and stood. Dusting his hands on his cargos, he said, "No. I'll go."—Pointing to the collapsed tent on the ground, Casey said—"Pack it away, and I'll be back to help set up your other one."

Matt nodded. "Will do."

When Matt bent to the task, Casey stepped around him and started up the hill toward his tent and his crying infant. He could see Lottie pacing and bouncing Greysen in her arms. As he came closer, he could tell she was crying almost as hard as the baby.

"What's wrong?" Casey asked her and put his hands out for Greysen.

Lottie hiccuped and handed Greysen to him. "He won't stop crying, and I don't know what's wrong."

Casey put his hand on Greysen's forehead in concern. Other than a little warm, Greysen seemed fine, but Lottie looked a mess. Her blonde hair in disarray around her shoulders, and she had dark circles under her eyes. He knew she wasn't sleeping.

"I've got him. Why don't you take a break," Casey told her. "Take a nap."

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'll keep Greysen with me and bring him back to you when he's hungry."

"He just ate," Lottie responded.

_Did he burp? Might be why he's crying,_ Casey thought, and rocked Greysen in his arms, while rubbing his back. "I'll send Jules to keep watch while you rest."

"Thank you. I'm so tired," Lottie whispered and turned to enter their tent.

Casey watched for a moment, and once she zipped herself in, he headed back down the hill to where he'd left Matt moments before, all the while patting Greysen's back. About halfway down the slope, Greysen released a loud burp and promptly stopped crying.

"Feel better, little guy?" he asked and checked his shoulder for spit-up. Greysen cooed in answer.

"I heard that one all the way down here," Matt said as he laughed. "He all right?"

"I think so," Casey answered. "Hey. Let me borrow your blanket."

"Sure," Matt said, and he went to grab it for Casey. "But if he wets it—"

"I'll get you another from the shed," Casey said, taking it from him, and spread it out on the ground. "Let me get him situated, and I'll be right there to help you out."

Matt nodded and resumed laying out the pieces of his winter tent.

***

It worked!

Lottie's momentary sense of relief displaced by the fear that Casey would hear the rasp of the tent zipper as she reopened it. The sound was harsh to Lottie's ears, and her hands shook. She couldn't let this opportunity slip by, no matter how tired she felt. Not only had Casey taken Greysen, giving her time to be by herself, but he also left her unguarded.

He never did that.

Any of the times she'd successfully slipped away to hide supplies, it had been on the pretense of needing to urinate. The fact that excuse had worked was astounding and a relief. Each time she'd used it, she expected one of her guards to challenge her on it. _Guess all those bathroom breaks before Greysen's birth came in handy after all_ , Lottie thought with a wry twist to her lips.

Slowly, she peeked out from behind the loose door flap. Casey was halfway down the hill, on his way back to Matt's station.

_It's now, or never,_ she thought, bolstering her courage.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and in jerky motions, she exited the tent and zipped it closed again. Lottie took a deep breath to settle her nerves, and after a glance at Casey, she took off running for the woods. She had a lot to do and almost no time to accomplish her tasks.

Once Lottie entered the tree line, she slowed her steps so that she could move more quietly. Upon reaching the first hideaway for her stolen supplies, Lottie knelt and reached her hand into the tree cavity.

_Where is it?_ Her knife was gone. _It has to be here!_ The hole in the tree trunk was small, but Lottie couldn't feel the blade anywhere inside it. Tendrils of fear gripped her. _Maybe an animal moved it,_ she thought desperately and expanded her search by patting around in the undergrowth and leaves for the knife. _It's not here!_ Lottie swallowed hard. How would she ever secure another one?

Standing, she did a quick survey of the area before admitting defeat.

The knife she'd stolen was gone. Her shoulders slumped. She'd counted on having that knife as a weapon and a way to butcher her game.

Brushing the tears from her cheeks, Lottie chastised herself. She couldn't give in to self-pity yet. There were other hiding places to check.

_Check on the blankets and rations,_ she reminded herself and made her way to the next location, pausing every few feet to listen to the activity of Casey's camp. The biggest problem with using bodily functions as an excuse to slip her guards was she couldn't move far enough from the Base for perfect places to hide things. Each of her hoarded supplies was within twenty-five feet of a well-worn path.

She took a step. And another. A branch snapped. She cringed and glanced down. There was nothing around her feet. It hadn't been her. Lottie gulped, and slowly like she'd learned when she escaped before, she lowered herself to the ground and crawled toward some honeysuckle brush. If she kept still, whomever it was would pass by her.

Crouched in the underbrush, she tried to determine who—or what—was in the woods stalking her. She waited. And waited. But other than the sounds of birds and squirrels in the leaf clutter, she didn't hear anything else ominous.

After several minutes, she carefully creeped out from under the 'suckle and moved toward the two boulders that hid her blankets and a few rations from view. She'd found the hiding spot when she worked in the garden and thought it was perfect. The boulders formed a natural indent, and piling rocks on top of the items helped keep the bigger critters from eating the food. She had to contend with mice, but at least raccoons left her stash alone.

It was apparent, though—even from this distance—that something was wrong. The rocks that held down Lottie's stolen items seemed lower than usual. _Please be there. Please be there,_ she chanted, trying to keep herself from panicking. But when she reached the stash, it was clear all of her blankets and food were gone. No animal could move those rocks, and if they had, they would have left the wool alone. _Someone_ had found her things and took them.

She was screwed.

How did it happen? She'd been so careful! Who knew she was planning on running? It couldn't be Casey. There was no way he would let it slide. He would have confronted her about it. So that meant it had to be— _Tristan._ She couldn't believe it. __ Anger replaced her panic. _That double-crossing, lying cheat of a bastard,_ Lottie thought. __ He'd even told her to wait the full eight weeks, and she'd stupidly taken his advice!

It was foolish to trust any of the soldiers—she'd know this—but Tristan seemed so honest, so helpful like he gave a shit about her as a person. _And_ she'd fallen for it! Now he'd sabotaged her chance of escape. _Well, no more jackass._ She couldn't trust any of them, not even Casey, and she needed to remember that.

_Casey._

Lottie didn't want to admit it, but she liked him, trusted him, and wanted him near her. Yet, he thoroughly confused her. She didn't think she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. He didn't hinder her movements, but Lottie couldn't leave Base, so maybe her captivity qualified? _Gah!_ Her guards kept her at Fort Sutton, true, but if she wanted to explore, all she had to do was tell Casey where she wanted to go, and he'd tell her to take a guard and have fun. His controlling behavior only applied to his requirements for keeping her court-martialed due to her status as a dodger, and Lottie didn't begrudge him that. She wondered if they'd met under different circumstances if they could have been more than friends. He even seemed to love Greysen as his own.

She shook her head. Lottie had to keep on task. _Should I check on the rope?_ No, she decided. It wasn't worth it. The blankets and knife were gone. Without them, Lottie would have to start all over on collecting the needed supplies for her and Greysen's survival. Lottie felt new tears well up. _You can't cry now!_ _Think. Where can you get new? Quickly._ The obvious answer was the supply shed.

Did she dare to try it?

It was usually locked, except maybe not today. Earlier that morning, Casey informed her that the base would be busy converting everyone's sleeping arrangements from summer tents to the warmer insulated winter ones. Lottie snorted in dismayed amusement. _How convenient. The day I realize my supplies are gone is the same day I can replenish them,_ she thought with false cheer, suspecting a trap. __ Lottie longed to steal one of the travel tents, but it would be too hard to hide in the woods. Especially now that everything was gone and she'd have to find new hiding spots. And how would Lottie carry a backpacking tent _and_ Greysen? She had to travel as light as possible. The first few days would be critical for putting distance between them and the base.

Resolve firmed her shoulders, and Lottie decided she would try to replenish her missing items from Casey's supply shed. She prayed that he wouldn't notice or do a detailed inventory before she left. Carefully and with the lightest steps Lottie could muster, she turned back toward the lower edge of the Base. Lottie would have to sneak around a majority of the perimeter to get close to the shed.

Just as she reached a thin spot in the woods, she heard someone call out.

"Paul?"

Lottie froze in place. Had someone seen her? The voice had been questioning. But then she heard the gravel crunch on the path a few feet away.

"Yea, Lincoln?"

Lincoln hated her. She was sure of it. If he saw her sneaking about in the woods? Lottie inched her way back against a tree trunk and hoped he would pass by, leaving her unseen.

"How are you feeling?" Lincoln asked Paul. "Your ribs better?"

"Some. They still hurt in the mornings, and by evening, they give me trouble."

"You think you can start up your training again?" Lincoln asked. "It would be good for you to work out the pain that way."

"I think so."

"Tomorrow at seven-hundred, come find me, and we'll do the routine together. Ease you back into it."

"Thanks," Paul replied, and the rest of the conversation faded away as they continued down the path. Lottie breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't spotted her.

With a new sense of urgency, Lottie left her hiding spot. She had to get to that supply shed and replace her items.

***

Casey sat on the blanket with Greysen propped up against his knees. He split his focus between the baby in his lap and the slowly dwindling activity of the camp. By eighteen hundred, everyone's winter tent would be up but his. He would take the time to assemble theirs once Lottie woke up.

He checked on Jules, who sat a discreet distance from his tent. He was close enough to hear Lottie call out if she needed help, but not to the point that he would disturb her rest. And Casey hoped she was sleeping. She'd tossed and turned for several nights in a row and refused to tell him what was worrying her. Casey guessed it was her impending return to Fort St. Louis that disturbed her sleep. There wasn't much he could do about that.

Greysen cooed and gurgled, drawing Casey's attention back to him. When Casey looked down, Greysen was waving his arms and trying to catch his thumb. Tickling Greysen's belly, earned him a slobbery smile, and Casey grinned. _Greysen's first smile!_ He picked up the baby and hugged him close.

_I can't let you go,_ he thought to himself. The pain in his chest grew sharper at the thought of not holding Greysen again. It felt as if his heart was breaking in half.

Could he defy the Brass? It would be his career if they found out. Of course, they didn't know Lottie or the baby were here at his camp; he'd never told them. But willfully disobey his superiors? His orders? Ones he swore to uphold? Casey's thoughts shied away from the idea. Yet how else would he get to keep Lottie and her baby near him? And that facility! Everything about the situation was wrong.

Lincoln's angry voice broke through his reverie. "Case, I did inventory. We're missing a backpacking tent."

Casey's head snapped up at the address, and his brows furrowed. "Adan and Tristan are scheduled for patrol deployment tomorrow. I'm sure one of them has it."

"Adan signed his out per protocol. But that is one tent. There is a second one missing."

"Check with Tristan. He probably forgot to log it."

"I did. He said he didn't have it," Lincoln replied. "I believe the _Asset_ is planning on running. I'm sure she stole the tent."

Casey barked a laugh. "A tent we are already missing? I don't think so, Lincoln. She's not running," he argued. "Bean won't go anywhere without her baby. And there is nowhere she can run that I won't track her and get her back."

Lincoln's expression turned mulish.

"Lincoln, think about it. Where could she hide a tent that we wouldn't find?" Casey asked him. "And for that matter, she's always under guard. When would she have found time to break into the locked shed, steal a tent, run and hide it, and then return to her guard unseen?" Casey's gaze turned hard. "I can assure you. She didn't steal the tent."

"Someone is helping her then," Lincoln responded.

Casey scowled and snapped, "Who?"

Lincoln didn't reply.

"I didn't think so," Casey responded. "There is no one here willing to risk their careers to help an asset escape." _Except maybe Adan_ —but he'd followed protocol, so it wasn't him, this time— _or me_. "So keep your unfounded accusations to yourself."

Lincoln gritted his teeth. "Are you so blinded by her that you don't see it?" Lincoln asked. "She's planning on running. You can see it in her eyes, the way she's always watching the squad, cataloging where the men are in comparison to her location. One morning you're going to wake up, and she's going to be gone." Lincoln growled, "You are so fucking delusional right now." Lincoln paused, thinking, then continued, "Disrupt her plans; send her back to Fort St. Louis. Today."

No!

Setting Greysen down on the blanket next to him, Casey gained his feet. "You have overstepped your bounds, Lincoln." They stood there, glaring at each other, and without breaking eye contact, Casey asked, "Do you doubt me so much that you would become insubordinate?" The question made Lincoln shift his weight. "When have I _ever_ let the squad down?" Casey pressed.

"Never," Lincoln ground out.

"She is allowed eight weeks, and I am giving her eight weeks," Casey replied. "At the end of the allotted time, I will personally escort her back to Fort St. Louis." _Alone..._

Grudgingly, Lincoln dropped his gaze, and Casey felt the tension drain from his shoulders in relief. The accusation that he might disregard his oath and save the woman had been a bit too true.

"Will it be acceptable to know that I hear your concerns and take them seriously?"

Lincoln sighed. "Yes," he replied. "What will you do about them?"

"I will increase her guard—especially while I sleep. And I'll look into the missing tent," Casey answered.

Lincoln nodded, ran a hand through his hair. "Very well, sir."

"It's Case," Casey corrected automatically, and in the spirit of teamwork and good relations, Casey felt the need to add, "Thank you, Lincoln, for bringing these issues to my attention."

Lincoln gave Casey another curt nod and turned to leave. As he walked away, Casey shook his head and sat.

_That was too close for comfort_.

He wondered if there was some truth to Lincoln's worries. Was Lottie planning on running? She seemed resigned to her fate, so Casey had a hard time imagining it, but she did have a history of running, so maybe Casey was too close to her and didn't see the signs. He would ask Tristan or Jaesen if they noticed anything out of character.

If she was going to flee, he needed to know and to put a stop to it. If she went anywhere, it would be to a location of _his_ choosing. Somewhere _he_ deemed safe. Somewhere he could keep watch—a place where he wouldn't lose Greysen. Yes, if she ran, it would be to someplace _he_ chose.

***

At the sound of the shed door slamming shut, Lottie ducked down behind the treated water barrels and hoped whoever just left the supply room also wasn't headed toward her. She sighed in relief when she heard the footsteps going the other way.

Daring a peek around the barrel, Lottie confirmed that Javier was walking up the hill toward the cook fire. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since Casey dragged her down to breakfast.

_No time._ Lottie grimaced. It wasn't the first time she denied herself a meal so that she could take advantage of men's attention elsewhere. Lottie forced herself forward. She needed to replenish what disappeared from her hiding places and get back to the tent before Casey realized she was gone. She'd already spent too much time away.

Lottie stood and skirted around the water collection barrels before pressing against the wall at the corner of the building. One glance around the edge proved no one was near, and she made her way to the door. Once inside, Lottie paused to calm her racing heart and slow her panting breaths. She hated being sneaky, and stealing from Casey felt wrong. She shook her head. What was she supposed to do? Rations didn't appear magically, and even though she had her sling, she wasn't permitted to hunt or keep what she harvested from the garden. It forced her to steal from the one man who went out of his way to make sure she had what she needed while staying with him.

_It's his duty, dumbass. He doesn't do it 'cause he_ likes _you,_ Lottie mentally scolded, ruthlessly shoving aside the pain at thinking Casey didn't like her. She didn't need anyone, Lottie reminded herself and brushed a tear of pity off her cheeks. Especially now.

_Blankets first,_ Lottie ordered and made her way toward where Casey kept bedding. She was thankful he was so organized. It made finding things more straightforward than rooting around aimlessly. Lottie grabbed four blankets, thought better of it, and replaced two on the stack. She had to make sure she could carry everything. "But, I don't have a tent," Lottie grumbled and grabbed the two blankets off the stack again. The first night the temperature dipped into the teens or lower, she'd be glad she had the extra warmth. She shivered at the thought of the upcoming January nights.

Focus.

She turned and walked to the small locker that held the dry travel cakes. Lottie grabbed several and shoved them into her cargo pants pockets. Lottie stopped and touched the fabric thankfully. Two weeks ago—after the fireside chat with the boys—Casey had come back into the tent that they shared with a stack of garments for her. All his cast-offs from years before, but Lottie didn't care.

He'd given her a pair of pants, two shirts, some longjohns, and a thick army issue wool coat. She wouldn't have to worry about frostbite with the things he gave her. Everything would be dirty and stinky by spring, she was sure, but at least she would be warm enough.

Sighing, she went back to her task.

Procuring rope was easy, but she couldn't find a knife. With regret, she admitted to herself she may not be able to replace such a coveted item. She'd lucked into finding the first one. Someone had left it at the food preparation table the day of the training exercise, and she'd hidden it first thing.

_Time to head back._

The creak of the door made her freeze in place.

"What do we have here?" someone tsked.

Lottie flinched, and slowly, she turned to face the newcomer.

Adan.

She felt her face grow hot, and all words fled.

Casey had repeatedly stressed not being alone with Adan. Lottie prayed that today wasn't the day she learned why Casey felt so emphatic about it.

Adan took a measured step toward her, then another. He kept advancing until he backed her against the wall. Once Adan cornered her, he reached out a hand and grasped the edge of the top blanket she held. Adan gave it a rub between his fingers and grinned.

A shudder of revulsion traveled up her spine.

"Did Case send you to get more?" he asked politely, his tone at odds with the expression in his eyes.

Lottie nodded, unable to find her voice.

"Interesting," Adan replied, studying her. After a moment, he continued, "It doesn't look like you are here at his request." He paused. "You know what it looks like to me?"

She shook her head. She feared what he would say, what he would do.

"It looks like you're stocking up. Collecting what you would need to run."

_Shit!_ She gulped.

"Must be scary. Knowing you'll have a screaming baby, spoiling your hunting, alerting predators to your location," he stated casually and let go of the blanket she clutched in her arms. "Out in the woods, all alone, with nothing but the coyotes howling. Fearing the dark, and all the hidden dangers that come with the absence of light. Lynxes. Wolves." He smiled. "Men." The expression softened his face but didn't relax her. His gaze grew more shrewd. Calculated.

Lottie flinched when he raised his hand and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, and he chuckled. "I'm willing to help, you know."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she struggled to school her expression, hoping that he hadn't noticed her reaction to his offer.

"Oh, yes," he said.

She cursed herself mentally.

"I am willing to help you leave without a trace. Hell, I'll even get you a tent. You need one, don't you? For you and your son?"

Lottie's throat felt as dry as river gravel in the August sun, and she licked her lips. His gaze followed the movement, and she kept herself from cringing. Barely.

"I don't need your help," she forced out.

"So, you are running?"

Her heartbeat—which had slowed—raced again. "I didn't say that."

"Ah, but you did," he replied. "Your shifting gaze. Your dry throat, which you have tried to clear several times in the last thirty seconds. Your subtle squeeze of the blankets in your arms when I asked you about it. Your overfull pockets. All of them? Tells."

Adan turned away from her and walked toward the tents stacked in the corner. There he stopped and tapped his fingers on the top of a box next to him. Adan continued to face away from her, but his head was tilted down, so Lottie assumed he was looking at the tents.

"We each get a backpacking tent that we can sign out at any time," Adan mentioned, his tone artfully casual. "It wouldn't be hard to secure one for you. There are extras, after all."

"Why would you do this?" she whispered.

"Call it my need to be a Good Samaritan," he said and looked over his shoulder. His eye traveled up and down her body in a slow perusal that made Lottie feel sick to her stomach.

He was no Samaritan. She'd stake her life on it. He was unquestionably trying to scare her, and memories of her abuse resurfaced.

"I have nothing to say to you. I'm not running," Lottie said, taking a step toward the door. "Nights are chilly, and I'm getting more blankets for my baby."

He stepped to block her exit and turned to face her.

"All I'm asking in return is to go with you. Protect you. Keep you from harm." He grinned at her, and she could see him attempt to hide his lecherous expression behind the offer.

"I'm not running," she asserted. "Let me by. Casey is expecting me."

Adan looked down at his fingernails. "I don't doubt it. It's almost dark, and Jules looked? Let's say, anxious. I think they've discovered your disappearance." He brushed his thumb over his nails. "I'll cover for you. You wouldn't want _Sarge_ to get suspicious, now do you?"

She shook her head, angry that he'd snared her in his maneuvering.

"What do you want, Adan?" Lottie asked, afraid of the answer.

He pushed off the wall by the door and walked toward her. Placing a hand on each shoulder, he leaned down to look in her eyes. "Nothing this time," Adan paused. "This time, helping you is from the goodness of my heart. But next time?"

She licked her lips and tried to swallow. "Next time?"

"Next time I'll want a smile," he said, but his buddy-buddy act was gone. "Come on, let's go before they find us in here."

Lottie nodded, and when he moved toward the door, Lottie followed after obediently.

***

"Case!" Jules called to him.

"Yes," Casey replied as he shifted Greysen to his shoulder. He was on his way up the hill to wake Lottie. She was sleeping too long, and Casey had to set up their winter abode. Frankly, he was surprised she still napped. She must have been exhausted.

"Chica's not here."

Casey frowned. "What do you mean, 'not here'?"

"I mean, she isn't in the tent. Or the outhouse. Or at Mess. And she sure as _fuck_ didn't leave while I was on guard."

No!

"Here," Casey snapped and handed Jules the baby. He would see for himself. Marching toward his tent, he called out, "Bean?"

Jules kept pace next to him. "I'm telling you. She ain't in there."

Casey knelt to unzip the tent and poked his head inside. The blankets were undisturbed.

Well fuck.

"When did you notice she was gone?" Casey asked Jules.

"About twenty minutes ago. I realized I hadn't heard any movement inside your tent the whole time I've been sitting here on duty," Jules answered. "You know how she usually tosses and turns, and how you can hear her whimper in her sleep."

Casey stood, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nightmares often racked her, and he would pull her close and stroke her hair when a dream hit. It would eventually soothe her back into calmer sleep.

"I never heard a single snore or rustle of someone rolling over." Jules paused. "Forgive me, but I was curious. I looked inside."

He waved the apology aside. Casey's tent wasn't off-limits to anyone. "You've checked the outhouse and the clearing," he restated what Jules had told him.

"Yes, sir," Jules said, stress making him use the honorific as Basic training had dictated.

Casey didn't correct him.

"Get Tristan and have him search the south side of camp. I want you to babysit," Casey ordered.

Jules nodded.

Casey added, "She wouldn't leave Greysen behind, so we know she's here, or she's in trouble"— _Noah?_ —"We'll come to you once I find her."

"Understood," Jules replied.

With the outhouse and the Mess hall already searched, Casey didn't have many locations to check before he'd have to widen his search to the surrounding woods. If it came down to tracking, he'd get Javier involved. That man was as good as he was at finding sporadic signs of passage.

Turning, Casey made his way down the hill toward the supply shed. When he rounded the corner, he saw Lottie coming up the slope, her arms full of wool blankets, and Adan following a few steps behind her. Casey felt a moment of relief—she was at Base and appeared fine—before taking note of her pale complexion and the rigid tension in her shoulders. A glance back at Adan showed he followed at a respectful distance—even if Adan's gaze never left Lottie's ass.

Casey's hand twitched to the gun strapped to his thigh, but he stopped himself. Adan wasn't doing anything wrong, and although the open appraisal of Lottie's rear end, angered Casey on a personal level, he couldn't very well pull his firearm on a fellow soldier for it.

"What's going on here?" Casey barked.

Adan looked up and smiled. "Missy here needed some supplies. I assisted her since I was closest at hand."

"For two hours?"

Adan shrugged. "Is that how long it took? I didn't keep track."

Casey shifted his gaze to Lottie. She had her face averted and was gazing at the ground. "Is that true?" he asked her.

She nodded, and he could see the red of a blush creep up her neck.

The admission stung, and he felt anger bloom. He told her— _told her!_ —never to be alone with Adan. And here she was, willingly asking Adan for help when she wouldn't even ask him. He'd been less than a hundred feet away. Casey would have taken her down to the supply shed for the blankets.

"Greysen is hungry," he told her. His voice clipped in his effort to hide his frustration at her decision. "Jules has him."

She whispered an acknowledgment and stepped past him on the trail. When Adan went to follow, Casey put his arm out to block him. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" Casey hissed.

"Guarding an asset," Adan replied. He glanced down at Casey's restraining arm, then back up. Meeting his gaze, Adan raised his eyebrow in question and added in a drawl, "Sir."

"One wrong move, Adan, and you're out," Casey threatened.

Adan smiled, and instead of replying, he shoved Casey's arm aside and stalked off.

Casey sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He'd lost his cool, and that wasn't good. But dammit, he'd been worried when he found her with Adan. Casey would not let that man harm an asset on Casey's watch. Not if he could do anything to stop it.

Then why did Lottie go with him?

The more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. Lottie didn't go against Casey's wishes. Hell, she didn't even eat unless Casey ordered it. The situation didn't make sense. _Why Adan?_ He didn't like the answer he'd drawn.

She didn't want me to know.

If Lottie didn't ask him or one of her approved guards for help, then she must have been trying to hide what she sought. There was no other reason. The stack of blankets seemed innocent enough—at first glance—but they already had half a dozen or so in their tent. Why more? Why would she feel compelled to hide that request unless she was squirreling them away?

Ever-absent, Goddammit, Lincoln was right. She's going to run.

_Shit. How much time do I have before she attempts it?_ Casey's chest constricted. _She can't leave. She can't take Greysen._ He loved that baby as his son. She couldn't take Greysen away. Casey needed to confront her about his suspicions, but before he did, he needed to be calm.

Turning, Casey stalked back up the hill to his tent. He would take a few minutes to relax privately before tracking Lottie down.

Upon reaching his tent, he unzipped the flap and stepped inside, pulling up short. Lottie was sitting on their bedding, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. Her presence in his sanctuary fueled his simmering hurt and anger, and he barked his question. "Are you running?"

Fucking smooth, Casey. Way to start the conversation.

Lottie shook her head, denying the accusation.

"Well, that's what it looks like," he ground out. "There is nowhere you can go that I won't find you and bring you back." Casey stared down at her. Were her shoulders shaking? "Dammit, Lottie! You can't run."

You can't take Greysen from me. You can't leave me.

She turned her tear-streaked face up to him. "How could I?" she asked, her voice catching. "You keep me under constant guard. I owe you everything from food, shelter, to clothes. Everything I have is from your generosity. I provide nothing." She took a shuddering breath. "I didn't even have warm clothes until you decided to give me some." Lottie wiped a tear from her cheek. "Where would I go?" she asked, her tone wholly defeated. "I have no quarter to go to."

Slowly, Casey sat down on the blanket beside her. She was right. Then why did she have Adan take her to the supply shed? How had Adan managed it? She was never alone with the other draft-dodger-turn-enlisted and—although unconfirmed, it was heavily implied—rapist. Casey made sure of Adan was never near her. Yet they had been together. Casey felt a stab of fear.

"If you don't believe me, check my bag," she added quietly.

There was no need. Casey could see it folded at the end of the bedding. Empty.

Her breath hitched in a post cry hiccup. "But, I did lie to you."

Casey's gut twisted. What would she reveal?

"I didn't ask for Adan's help. I went to the shed without your knowledge or permission."

"Why, Bean? I would have gone with you."

She shrugged. "You were busy." Taking another deep breath, she added, "It was foolish of me. I was cold last night and wanted to have more blankets on hand in case Greysen wets through them, and I can't go wash them right away."

Casey sighed. The only time she _did_ ask for things was when she needed something for Greysen.

And now he felt like a jackass. Casey scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his shoulder. He wanted to apologize for yelling, for his insecurities, his hurt feelings at seeing her with someone he didn't trust, but he didn't know how to do that.

One thing was crystal clear, though.

He couldn't send them back to Fort St. Louis.

His heart would not survive it.

***

Lottie squeezed Casey closer and cried harder. Ever-absent God, she hated deceiving people. Well, Lottie hadn't lied, not really. She'd omitted some truths and stretched a few others. Lottie wasn't actively running. It was true that she didn't have anywhere to go. All her survival items came from Casey, whether he knew about them or not.

And then he held her. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm, and making her feel as if nothing could get to her. No one could harm her ever again. His strength banished her demons, letting her feel as free as she did before those dodgers found her. Lottie admitted she honestly didn't want to leave his side. He took care of her and Greysen. But he kept telling her he would take her back to Fort St. Louis.

Lottie couldn't go back.

_What am I going to do?_

Tristan had said—no begged—her to wait the full eight weeks. Had he known something she didn't? Or was it because he was a shitty lying bastard set to keep her here until Casey could do his duty and return her? An asshole of phenomenal proportion, who had taken her supplies, forcing her to collect new? Lottie tried to remember the details of that fireside conversation. She didn't recollect a single instance where Tristan told her not to escape at all.

Only to wait.

What about her recent encounter with Adan?

Lottie couldn't discount the coincidence that he found her in the shed, securing what she needed. Had he manipulated her into it? Had Adan taken her things? Was he waiting for a chance to become a drifter? A defector with a captive sex slave? She wasn't a fool. He looked at her like the man who fathered Greysen, and there was _no way_ she would voluntarily go anywhere with him.

What about any of the other men in camp? Maybe one of her other guards saw the real reason why Lottie went into the woods those few times. She hiccuped, feeling new tears threaten. Who else knew what she was planning, and why hadn't they told Casey?

Lottie would study each soldier with fresh eyes. Someone in the camp had an ulterior motive, and it reinforced the fact she could trust no one.

Not even Casey, no matter how much she longed to.

***

With a flick of his wrist, Casey skipped the stone across the Black River and looked around again.

_It's a decent spot_.

He finally found a campsite that would work for hiding Lottie and Greysen.

The spot had a grassy flat above the floodplain where he could set up their tent, easy-ish access to the water, trees for shade, woods nearby for hunting, and the location was sufficiently outside the Base's perimeter to be missed by his squads' patrols. But the best part, he could get here and back to Base again in a day if he pushed it.

Greysen would be fine.

So would Lottie.

His family.

Now all he had to do was convince Lottie to live here where he could continue to take care of them.

But would she do it? He wasn't sure, but now it was time to find out.

Her eight weeks were up.

# Chapter 11

Two backpacks were ready for tomorrow's departure. Casey's had a tent and other supplies needed for their trek to the campsite he'd picked. Lottie's held food, blankets, and her gut hook knife. He hated the fact she'd need it without him there to supply her provisions.

A soft tapping at the command shed's door shook Casey from his planning. "Come in," he called.

Tristan stepped inside. Casey pursed his lips and put a hand up to forestall his friend's tirade. Lottie's departure was a strain on their friendship, and Casey didn't think they would overcome it. "We have nothing to say to each other, Tristan," Casey said. "Bean leaves tomorrow."

"Dammit, Case! You're making a mistake."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Regardless," Casey replied, "She has to go." _...somewhere I can take care of her._ He wished he could tell Tristan what he planned, but Tristan couldn't know. Casey had to protect his men from recrimination. If none of them knew his plans? Then they couldn't be held accountable for his mutiny. No one else would suffer for his insubordination. He would make sure of it. He would grant them plausible deniability.

Tristan's fingers curled into a fist. "How can you do this to her? They'll treat her like her mother in that God-forsaken hell hole? Doesn't she mean anythin' to you anymore? Doesn't Greysen?"

"Of course, they do," Casey growled. _Too much._

Tristan took a step forward, the challenge clear in his expression. If Casey didn't do something, he'd have a fistfight on his hands. "I can't let her bring the rest of you down." The statement halted Tristan's advance, and he glared at Casey. "What would you have me do, Tristan? Keep her here? Let her walk away?" he asked. "She'd never survive left on her own."

"She did before—"

"Without an infant, sure," Casey interrupted. "But now?"

To be fair, that was one concern Casey had yet to resolve. How would she survive daily without him? The thought of leaving her in the wilderness alone with a two-month-old made his heart pound in fear. Anything could happen. He'd set contingency plans upon contingency plans for her and her son's safety, but without his constant presence, how could he be sure they would be all right?

"Case—"

Casey squared his shoulders. "Enough, Tristan," Casey cut him off. "She goes back tomorrow, and that's final."

An expression of pure hatred crossed Tristan's features, and it took Casey a considerable amount of willpower to not flinch at the reaction.

_Please understand. If you think Bean went back? If you don't know differently? You can't lose your job_ , Casey thought. _And f_ or a career soldier like Tristan, keeping his role was crucial. At one time, it had been essential to Casey too, but now? A lopsided grin and a baby's slobbery smile took its place.

"Fine, _Sir_ ," Tristan said through clenched teeth. "I hope you can live with yourself when you see her file in six months, and she has a fresh picture indicatin' a confirmed pregnancy. I hope you can live with yourself two months after that when the next entry shows her miscarriage. I hope you can live with yourself every damn day until they kill her with their attempts. And their successes!"

Each sentence cut a little deeper and reaffirmed Casey's reasons for keeping her safe.

In a tone that Casey hoped hid all his emotional turmoil, he dismissed Tristan.

Tristan—his gaze cold—acknowledged the order, turned, and slammed the door as he left.

Casey let his shoulders slump, and he rubbed his forehead, discouraged. With another glance at the packs in the corner, he turned and powered on the communications device. Casey now had an obsession with checking in on Maddy and Zoe. He pulled up Zoe's record first, confirming she was still pregnant and about to exit her first trimester. Casey wiped a hand over his eyes, closed out her details, and opened Maddy's. Maddy had been two weeks farther along than Zoe, but now her file showed she miscarried. He wasn't sure if it was a relief that she hadn't carried to term or frustration that she made it so far before her body aborted the fetus.

With a curse, he closed out of the Assets program and turned off the machine.

Casey steepled his fingers and leaned back, letting his thoughts return to the riverbank he'd picked out for Lottie and Greysen. If the three of them didn't make any side trips and kept to a brisk pace, they could make it to the site in six hours. He expected it would take longer, though, since Greysen and Lottie would need breaks. He anticipated a full day of travel before they reached the location.

He glanced at the packs again, satisfied with his decision.

***

Lottie splashed cold water on her face from the hand-washing cistern and looked to Jaesen standing several feet away, holding Greysen and talking to Tristan.

In the two weeks since finding her supplies missing, she'd decided that Adan was the one who'd taken the things from her and not Tristan. Tristan—along with her other guards—didn't treat her any differently than before. Adan, though, watched her with a single-minded focus that made her uncomfortable. She kept herself glued to her guards, trusting them to keep her safe.

Despite that trust, it was difficult to let anyone except Casey hold her son. Lottie's gaze returned to the two men talking. She wanted to rush over and take Greysen back, but she knew Jaesen would keep him safe, even if Jaesen were distracted by a conversation.

Standing, she dried her hands on her pants and went to make her way toward them, but Tristan held up a hand and shook his head. Lottie waited, curious why he would ask her to wait. Tristan finished talking to Jaesen and walked to her side. He placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her farther away.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Instead of answering, Tristan gripped her upper arm and tugged her forward a few more steps. Her heart started to pound. "Let go," she whispered, fear choking the words in her throat.

Tristan turned and grabbed her other arm with his free hand and leaned down to eye level. "You remember four weeks ago when I said give him eight weeks?"

Lottie gulped and felt the blood drain from her face. "Yes."

"I don't expect he'll tell you, but you leave tomorrow," Tristan whispered and glanced over her shoulder. She presumed he was checking on Jaesen's location. "If Huxley goes anywhere— _Anywhere!_ —but northeast, you stay with him. Trust him. Do what he says. _But_ if he doesn't go that way, then you get away from him as soon as you can. Sneak, fight, stab him in the back, whatever you have to do to get clear, and you make your way to Shelter Four." He paused. "You know where that is, right?"

Leaving? Four?

She nodded and bit her lip. One night after the capture the flag exercise, Lottie had felt bold and asked about the different shelter locations. Tristan had given her a funny look but answered them anyway.

"If you head northeast, you can't miss it," he agreed.

Lottie opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head, stalling her. "I hid a backpack, a tent, and all the supplies you'll need—even the knife you'd stashed in that tree. I added a few extras, too."

_He took them?!_ Her mouth dropped open in anger and surprise.

Tristan put a finger to her lips. "Get the pack and head due north for three or four days travel then head due east. Get on the rocks and stay on the rocks for as long as you can. You'll lose him in there." He took a deep breath. "Huxley can track like a motherfucker, but no one can track on hard stone. You understand what I'm tellin' you, Momma?"

She nodded her assent. "You took them," she breathed, stuck on that fact.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. I know you worried. I was afraid Huxley would find out. I'm not due out at Four for another few weeks, and I couldn't pass up that chance." He glanced over her shoulder again. "If the pack is gone when I go back, I'll know he let you go, or you escaped. And if it's still there?"

"Tristan—"

"No," Tristan interrupted her. "No woman should be subjected to those treatments. And I'll be damned if I'll let Huxley take you back to Fort St. Louis without puttin' up a fight first."

"But—"

"I have to go," Tristan said, not letting her finish yet again. He looked around. "Huxley will be up here soon to take you down to Mess for dinner. Don't let on that you know about tomorrow," Tristan told her, his tone pleading. "I don't know what he'd do if he thought for a second you might run tonight. So can you do that? Pretend you don't know?"

Lottie nodded. She felt like her head was going to come untethered with all the head bobbing she was doing.

"Remember. Give him a chance to surprise us both," Tristan said, and then in a move that Lottie didn't expect, he hugged her to him. "Take care, Momma."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and felt tears of anger, sadness, and gratitude prick behind her eyes. For once, she was bothered more by the discussion than the bodily contact.

Leaning back, Tristan looked down at her and said, "He's a damn fool to let you go." He squeezed her. "I'll see you later, Momma."

As she stepped away, she wiped a tear from her cheek.

Tristan smiled at her, and, with a wave goodbye to Jaesen, he took off down the path.

Sighing, Lottie turned and rejoined Jaesen and took Greysen from him. To his credit, Jaesen didn't comment on Tristan's strange behavior, but then again, maybe he already knew she was leaving tomorrow. There was nothing she could do but wait. Tomorrow would be here soon enough.

***

With a stretch and a yawn, Lottie rolled over and draped her arm across Casey's belly. An answering hand landed on her hip, and he tugged her closer, shifting her enough that she wrapped her leg over his to stay comfortable. She opened her eyes and suppressed a sigh.

She wasn't surprised to find herself nestled in the crook of Casey's arm, with Greysen asleep on his chest. This morning wasn't the first where she'd woken up, holding Casey close to her like he was her pillow, but it would be the last.

"Morning," she whispered. Greysen was sleeping, and she didn't want her voice to wake him yet.

Casey squeezed her in a small hug. Then he reached his free hand up and ran his fingers over Greysen's head. She felt a tear leak from her eye. It was apparent Casey felt something for her son, but yet he was sending them away.

How long would it take them to hike back to Fort St. Louis? She didn't know, and she didn't plan to find out. "I know we leave today," she said in a hushed voice. Her statement made Casey tense. "When?"

"After Greysen eats and is ready to go," Casey answered in a low tone. Greysen shifted on Casey's chest as he started to wake up. "About thirty minutes to an hour from now."

Lottie removed herself slowly from Casey's arms. "Who's outside?"

"Paul."

"Restroom. I'll be right back."

Casey nodded and resumed petting Greysen's head.

As quietly as she could, Lottie slipped from the blankets and donned her shoes before exiting the tent. A light fog bathed the camp, and the sky was beginning to lighten with the coming dawn. Lottie stretched and took a moment to enjoy the natural beauty. Before she'd gone more than a few steps, she heard Paul come up behind her.

"I heard," Paul whispered. "We'll all miss you and Greysen."

Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she dashed it away. She would miss Paul and the rest. "Thanks," she murmured, and they began walking toward the outhouses.

On her way back, she took a quick detour at the cook fire. There was a pot of mystery meat soup simmering beside it, and she grabbed two mugs, filling them. With breakfast in hand, she began the small hike up the hill to Casey's tent. She blew on one cup and took a sip. It was better than she'd expected, and she poured a small bite of meat into her mouth.

Not even halfway up the hill yet, and she heard Greysen's 'I'm hungry' wail. The high pitched keen was all it took before her milk let down, and she sucked in a breath at the sharp pain when it did. Paul gave her a small sympathetic smile, and they hurried up the hill. At the tent, Paul unzipped the flap for her, and she entered.

Lottie shuffled forward on her knees for the few feet between the door and where Casey sat. He stopped patting Greysen and took the mug she held out for him. Setting hers down, she slipped the borrowed shirt from her body and took Greysen back. Lottie winced when he latched on, and she picked up her cooling soup and took another sip.

"Will I get to say goodbye?"

Casey gave her a wry smile, "I think I'd have a mutiny on my hands if you didn't."

It was nice to know her guard felt that strongly.

He glanced down at Greysen. A half-smile tugged at his lips. "I'll be back by the time you two finish."

She was curious why he was leaving, but ignored it and turned her attention back to Greysen in her arms. Her son's hand was pressed to her breast and was rhythmically clenching in a kneading motion.

"Will you be all right without me?" Casey asked.

She nodded.

"Good," he said, and with a final stroke down Greysen's head, he made his way toward the door and left the tent.

Lottie took a deep, shuddering breath and forced the tears back. She had to stay clear-headed while she planned her escape for tonight.

***

Casey toed a rock off the edge of the bridge overlooking the pool where Lottie had given birth to Greysen. He was irritated and trying to hide it by turning his back on the goodbyes-taking place behind him.

It wasn't her tears or hugs for the men that bothered him—well, he was envious of her willingness to touch them—but the fact of the matter was Lincoln would be back from patrol soon, and Casey needed them to be gone before he arrived. They should have left camp yesterday, right after Lincoln started his deployment, but Casey didn't want the squad to be without a leader, and so he stalled. But now? Now they needed to move. Yet he was reluctant to hurry any of them for fear of appearing insensitive.

He shifted his stance, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Lottie hugged Tristan, and he whispered something into her ear. She nodded and flicked her glance at Casey. Tristan mimicked her, and when Tristan caught him watching, he gave Casey a grin.

Casey felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift at Tristan's behavior. Casey would bet his role as Staff Sergeant that Tristan was coaching her on how to elude him. Casey stepped toward the group; he needed to get them moving, but before he could interrupt, someone stepped up behind him and spoke.

"What's going on here?"

Casey turned to the speaker. It was as he feared. "I'm taking our asset back to Fort St. Louis."

"So now she's an asset?" Lincoln said, arching an eyebrow.

He chastised himself for overcompensating. "Yes."

Lincoln nodded and looked at the group of soldiers talking to Lottie. They were more subdued and showing signs of being uncomfortable now that Lincoln was there. When Casey came back to Base in two weeks, he'd have to work on that.

"That's funny," Lincoln remarked.

His overly casual tone sent tension straight to Casey's shoulder blades. A headache began to build at the base of his neck. "What is?"

"I never did see the I-Comm dispatch for this deployment. Did the IPD soldier not stay the night as is customary?"

"No," Casey replied carefully. The muscle in his upper back clenched hard. He should have fabricated a deployment notification. "He arrived early enough the other day to start back without difficulty. He declined to stay."

Lincoln acknowledged Casey's lie with a scowl. "I see two packs. Who are you taking with you?"

Tersely, Casey answered, "No one." This exact conversation was the one Casey had hoped to avoid.

Lincoln snapped, "That is against protocol. Do you think it wise to go alone? What if she tries to run?"

"She won't."

"Not to disparage your skills, but even you need to sleep. She can slip away then."

Casey sighed. "I'll track her and bring her back if she tries."

Lincoln harrumphed and looked back at the dwindling cluster of men around Lottie. "If you won't take a full unit with you, at least take one Private—Ty or Hong. They can share the watch duty."

"I appreciate your concern, but I don't trust anyone else with this asset. They"—Casey indicated Tristan and Jules talking to Lottie—"are too close. And the others have been less than honorable these past few weeks."

"Idle threats—"

"Regardless," Casey interjected. He didn't want to get into this argument again. "I don't need help with _this_ asset. I'll see you in about thirteen to fourteen days," Casey said and stepped toward Lottie, Jules, and Tristan. Everyone else had left.

"Sir!?"

"Enough! It isn't your place to question me," Casey barked at Lincoln., then turned to Lottie and snapped, "It's time to go."

Lottie wiped her eyes and nodded.

"Remember what I said, Momma," Tristan added as Casey helped Lottie into the backpack.

"I won't forget," she replied.

Tristan acknowledged Casey with a salute and then stalked off with Jules matching his strides.

Casey sighed, turned toward Lottie, slipped his pack over his shoulders, and said, "Move out."

She looked around, and her expression became confused. "Just us?"

"Yes," he said. "After you," he added.

Lottie adjusted the pack on her shoulders and the sling holding Greysen, then stepped past him. He started up the hill behind her.

***

"I need to stop," Lottie wheezed. Although some of her heavy breathing was for show, she was horrified to realize how weak and fatigued she'd become after only an hour or two of walking, and her back screamed for a break. The backpack she carried weighed less than Casey's, she was sure, plus he carried Greysen, yet he wasn't even winded.

Casey nodded, returning to her side. "You hungry? Thirsty?" he asked and looked down at Greysen, sleeping in the sling Lottie devised.

"No," she panted. "Just tired."

"We'll rest here for a few minutes," Casey said, and shrugged his backpack off, setting it on the ground next to his feet.

"How far are we going today?"

"It's a six-hour hike if we don't stop," Casey answered. "I expect it will take us all day."

She nodded. She would need to conserve her energy for tonight's escape. At first, Lottie had been hopeful. They'd left the fort—without additional soldiers as an escort—and headed almost due south, but about an hour ago, Casey had turned and headed northeast. Her heart panged with emotion, and it felt heavy with fear and regret. He was going to take them back to Fort St. Louis.

_Well, I'm not going to go back,_ she thought and let the backpack slip to the ground. "What's in there anyway?" she inquired and rubbed her sore shoulder.

"Provisions. Blankets."

"And yours?" Lottie was curious. She could see the tent strapped to the back.

"More of the same," Casey replied.

Lottie wishfully eyeballed the tent. _Too bad there's no way to take it tonight,_ she thought regretfully. Can't steal a tent you're sleeping in, but Lottie would take some of the food, and if she found a knife, Lottie would keep it also. She glanced down at the bag at her feet. _Should I leave it behind?_ Before they left, she'd shoved her smaller knapsack on top of the items packed inside. It would be lighter, but then again, having food for several days would be better than trying to hunt and flee. The concept of running scared her, but she refused to give up, and it would be easier to evade Casey since he was only one soldier and not five. _No, I'll keep the army backpack,_ she reaffirmed. It was sturdy, and she could always get rid of it once she used up the supplies stored inside.

"You ready?" Casey asked, his pack on his back.

Lottie rolled her shoulders one more time. "Yes."

"Good," he replied. "Let's go."

She grabbed her backpack and strapped it on. "After you," she said and made a sweeping motion with her hand. Casey finished adjusting his pack straps and the sling and resumed their hike.

***

Lottie wiped the sweat from her forehead and shifted Greysen in her arms. Greysen would not stop crying, and every one of her muscles ached from trying to hike, console him, and keep up with Casey.

"Go ahead and take a break," Casey told Lottie as he dropped his backpack to the ground.

With a scowl for Casey—he didn't even look winded—she grumbled, "About damn time" and shifted Greysen to her shoulder.

Casey gave her a sympathetic smile and took Greysen from her. He cradled him in his arms and rocked him gently. "Too much bouncing, young man?" Casey conversed with him while Lottie dumped her things to the ground and sat next to them. The baby hiccuped and started to calm, and Lottie felt grateful. Her ears were ringing from his squalling.

But as the silence grew, despair tugged at her thoughts. If she was this tired, how was she going to carry the pack and Greysen and flee? What if Greysen cried that hard later tonight when she planned to leave? Lottie rubbed her hand over her eyes. She had to succeed. _Can you gag a baby without harming them?_ Lottie wondered. She'd do it if it meant success.

After her muscles stopped twitching, she sat up straighter, and wrapped her arms around her knees, and looked around the small clearing. The trees were all in full fall color: a riot of reds, yellows, oranges, and rust browns. Lottie had to admit the location was pretty and made more so by the evening's fading light.

The three of them were camping next to the Black on the outer bend of the river. Across from them was the flood plain. The river looked easily fordable here and had a few pools deep enough for bathing.

The thought of getting clean was appealing, but Lottie knew the water was cold. In late October, the days could be warm, but the ground was already cooling, and the water would be frigid. She shivered at the thought, and she felt goosebumps up and down her arms.

Dragging her eyes away from the river with regret, she looked for Casey. She didn't remember when he forded the river, but now he was standing on the rocky bend of the floodplain and chatting to Greysen. Lottie couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was pointing and talking as if Greysen could understand, and she smiled.

Casey happened to look at her at that moment and returned her smile with a grin of his own. His expression conveyed such a sense of contentment that Lottie marveled at it. Casey never smiled that freely at his Base. He returned to explaining something to her son, and her smile faded. Casey's grin had lit up his whole face and made him dangerously handsome.

Lottie shook her head, knowing that she couldn't afford to think that way. They were on their way to Fort St. Louis, and she had to remember that!

She glanced around their rest area and sighed. It was a perfect location for a campsite. It had high ground for the tent, plenty of shade, woods close enough to go hunting but not so close that the critters would pester the tent. She wanted to stay here. Lottie felt hot tears spill down her cheeks. _Why was he taking them back? Why?!_ It wasn't fair.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Casey said and dropped down next to her. She hadn't seen him approach. "Shh," he soothed and collected her in his arms awkwardly with Greysen tucked between them. "It's going to be all right."

He tried to rock her a moment, but when that proved cumbersome, he handed her Greysen. She took her son in her arms, and Casey sat, wrapping himself around her. There she leaned against his shoulder, sobbing, while he cuddled her close. He didn't say anything more, just let her saturate his shirt with her tears. Thankfully Greysen kept quiet. She didn't think she could handle it if he'd started to howl along with her.

After a bit, her tears subsided. She sniffed and pulled away from Casey's embrace. "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed.

He shrugged away her apology, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before telling her he needed to set up their tent. "You gonna be okay?" he asked, and he brushed some hair away from her cheek.

She nodded, relieved to know they were stopping for the day.

"You sure?"

"Yes," she replied. Besides, Greysen would be hungry soon, and she'd need to feed him.

Casey stood and began to set up while Lottie watched. In very little time, he had the small backpacking tent assembled and a small fire crackling near it. Occasionally, Casey returned to her side for things in her pack, and while Greysen ate, Casey began a meal for them.

"Hope a reconstituted vegetable soup is fine with you," he said. "We don't have any better options tonight."

Lottie shrugged. It didn't matter.

Once the soup finished cooking, Casey scooped out a mug full and brought it to her. "Let me hold him while you eat," Casey offered.

"He's asleep."

"Why don't you put him in the tent then," he replied. "He'll be safe there."

Lottie agreed. Standing, she made her way to the tent. Once there, Lottie took a moment to get Greysen situated inside. Afterward, she returned to where Casey sat next to the fire. He'd moved while she was taking care of her son. Lottie lowered herself gingerly, her legs protesting the movement, and took the offered mug from Casey.

"Thanks," she told him.

"De nada," Casey replied and took a sip of his soup. Then he gave her a bemused smile. "Tristan is a better cook. Maybe tomorrow you can show me what I did wrong."

_I'll probably be too tired!_ "I'm sure it's fine."

He chuckled. "It's passable, but your 'weed soup' was better than this. Some meat will help," Casey replied. "I'll see what I can rustle up tomorrow."

It seemed weird to be planning a hunting trip when they also needed to hike all day, but who was she to argue with his plans. Besides, if he left, then maybe she could take that time to escape.

Lottie took a sip of the soup and hid her grimace. It was so bland! It was less like drinking soup, and more like consuming hot water with some plants floating in it. At least it was warm. __ She wrapped her fingers around the cup, enjoying how the heat seemed to spread from her belly to her sore limbs. She continued to hold onto it long after it was empty. Her stomach growled. The water hadn't been all that filling.

"Here," Casey said, taking it from her and refilling it. He sighed when he sat back down and handed it to her.

Lottie studied him out of the corner of her eye.

"What? You thought you were the only one sore?" Casey said and laughed. "You're not the only one who hiked all day."

Lottie felt her lips twitch in amusement.

"So, can I ask you something?" Casey inquired.

"Yes."

His expression turned thoughtful, and he was silent so long, Lottie started to worry about what he planned to ask.

"How did you avoid the draft?"

She blew a strand of hair from her face, and thought about her answer, leaving Fort St. Louis had been as easy as it was complicated. "I walked away."

"You couldn't have. CPS has regular patrols. Every time I've gone in, they've checked my credentials. They would have caught you," Casey argued. "How did you get past them?"

How could she explain? "The hardest part—aside from needing courage—isn't the leaving, it's the surviving."

"Explain."

"You've lived in the woods. You know how hard it is," She paused and took a deep breath. "I never knew how difficult it would be to secure my supplies while on the run. I guess the training manuals made it sound so easy." She paused, remembering. "It was a lean and hungry time between when my provisions were gone, and when I successfully learned how to kill and collect enough of my food to prevent starvation. Avoiding CPS seems easy in comparison to finding something—anything—to eat." Lottie sighed and tugged at her hair. "Girls aren't trained to hunt or fight or track or any of the other things you guys learn in Basic. Our basic training involves cleaning toilets or wiping baby butts. Or, in my case, filing. Lots of filing."

"How did you do it?"

"Filing?"

He chuckled and replied, "No. The leaving."

"I told you. I walked away." When she looked at him, his expression held disbelief. "I was already living in the barracks for the enlisted even though I had a few weeks of training left. One night, after my shift, I didn't go home."

Casey lifted an eyebrow in question.

"CPS doesn't prevent anyone from walking around town. For all they know, I was on leave or fulfilling my Basic duties by checking on some crops," she answered. "I waited until it was dark enough to cover my movements and snuck through the streets." After a moment, she added, "I had more trouble avoiding the soldiers out on leave, having a good time at the State-run facilities, than I did from CPS on their patrols." Lottie turned her attention back to the mug in her hands. The liquid had cooled, and she tossed it into the fire, causing the flames to sputter and throw sparks.

"Just one day's walk from the labs, and you come to decaying buildings. During the day, I took refuge in the sturdier ones, and by night I would travel. It took me three nights to sneak through the streets before I finally left everything behind."

"Three nights?" Casey asked. "It only takes me a day to get to headquarters."

"You're a guy," Lottie replied. "And ARA."

"I fail to see how that applies."

"You can march right in," she responded. "If a fellow soldier detains you, at best you have to prove who you are, at worst you get what, in a fistfight? Whereas, I am breaking the law. If caught, it would be much, much worse for me. I had to be extra careful." She looked in her empty cup. Admittedly, she wasn't hungry anymore, but she wished she had something to keep her hands and mouth busy.

"You want more?"

She shook her head and set the mug aside. Her hands strayed to the rocks in front of her, and she rolled a few in her fingers. "I came too close to Fort St. Louis a few times." She stopped explaining for a moment, remembering. "There's a park west of Fort St. Louis. At one time, it must have been fun. It has large metal frames for these giant rides, and big open spaces filled with concrete sidewalks. Not a lot of undergrowth, but the woods are slowly reclaiming it. I saw several old buildings and a few new constructions. Lots of men live there." Lottie took a deep breath and shivered.

"Any of them enlisted?"

"No," she answered, picking at her fingernails and shifting in her seat. Lottie cleared her throat. "I think everyone that lives there is a drifter like myself." She discarded the torn skin into the fire, refusing to look at Casey.

"Is that where..." Casey asked.

In her peripheral vision, she saw him wave his arm toward the tent where Greysen slept. She tossed a pebble toward the fire. "No, but it easily could have," she said with another shudder. She didn't want to remember those weeks. With effort, Lottie shoved the memories aside and immersed herself in that close call at the park. "It's stupid, really. I was fortunate."

"Oh?"

"I was hunched down, looking at one of the mechanisms for the rides, trying to see how it worked. Wondering if there was something I could salvage. I heard voices. I was on the fringe of the park, and the undergrowth was higher there—either that or the perimeter guards weren't being observant—but the two men who could have easily seen me, passed right on by," Lottie answered. "As soon as they were gone, I ran away as fast as I could."

"How long ago?"

"Early. Before my sense of self-preservation improved," Lottie replied. "I'd been hunting when I came across the park." She lifted her head and gave him a self-deprecating lopsided smile. "Curiosity nearly killed the cat."

"I'm glad you got away."

"Me too," she replied. "Or I probably never would have escaped. It's a thriving community. I'm surprised CPS doesn't shut them down." She wondered how many female evaders lived there—willingly or unwillingly—and she couldn't suppress the whole body shudder that coursed through her and made her skin twitch. Lottie shifted away from him. He wasn't a physical threat—she knew this—but she was powerless to halt her reaction. Gratefully, he didn't pursue her or comment on her repositioning, and she let her gaze drift back to the fire.

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the flames. Lottie didn't know what to say to fill the gap in the conversation, and she scolded herself for being so open about her escape. Lottie supposed she had a touch of apathy at the moment, and couldn't summon the energy to evade his questions. She didn't see the point. If everything went okay, Lottie would be on her way north by dawn. And if things went poorly? Well, it would be another day of travel before she could escape.

How far away from Four are we?

When Casey spoke, she jumped in surprise and looked at him guiltily. She'd forgotten he was next to her.

"What was it like working in the labs?"

"I don't know. I didn't work there. I was in the outer office."

"What did that entail?"

Lottie grimaced. "I maintained the enlisted files, attached photos. I typed scientific notes. That sort of thing," she replied. "I did get to run the random name generator. Named a few of the babies." _I guess they aren't babies anymore._ "There is some sort of algorithm software for the communal home placement that I used. A quota of sorts that the program had to meet. It made me sad to run it, knowing I was finding a new home for the babies." That part of her life felt so far away, even though it was barely over three years ago.

"I bet."

"You know, someone ran that program for us." She picked up a stone and tossed it before staring at the fire some more.

They sat quietly, but eventually, Casey broke the silence. "I'm going to go get some water set for heating. You need anything?"

She shook her head and forced a yawned. "I think I'll turn in."

"I'll be up for a bit yet," he replied. "I'll try not to disturb you both when I come to bed."

Lottie nodded, stood, and climbed into the small backpacking tent. She looked around as she took her shoes off. It was small, barely tall enough to sit up in without brushing the top with her head. It was a good thing she was used to cuddling up to Casey when they slept. They didn't have much choice in the small space available. Pushing her shoes to the side, she slipped off her shirt. It was easier to feed Greysen with it off, and since no other soldiers were nearby, Lottie felt comfortable being that exposed.

She crawled under the covers and curled herself around Greysen. She would sleep until Casey came to bed, and then she would stay awake and wait for her opportunity to slip away.

***

Casey fished the last of the hot water masquerading as soup from the cooking pot and sat back down. His body ached, but he wasn't sleepy. Casey would keep watch for a bit, do a few chores around the campsite, and then try to rest. He had quite a few things he needed to do to get Lottie set up and secure at the camp. Not the least of which would be to obtain enough venison to last her the two weeks he would be gone, but Casey had twelve more mornings to accomplish his goal. Casey rubbed his chest, knowing he had to leave her and Greysen alone, did not sit well with him.

He looked out over the river. The moonlight reflected off the small eddies created by the current, and the water gurgled pleasantly. He hoped she would like it here.

Casey sighed.

_She's going to try to run. Probably even tonight._ Why hadn't Casey told her this was a permanent campsite? He didn't know what held him back. Casey had wanted to, but it never seemed like the right time. He would have to tell her in the morning.

He shivered and tossed a few branches on the fire. The breeze was moist and smelled of petrichor. _Rain tonight,_ he thought and looked to the packs on the ground next to him. He needed to secure them from scavengers and keep them dry.

Taking some wire from his pack and an oilcloth poncho, Casey walked to a nearby tree and looped the cable over a branch. He caught the other end and weighted it down with the raincoat. Then Casey grabbed the packs from where they lay near the fire, and hoisted them up, securing them to the line and covering them with the rain slicker.

_That should work._

The wire was thin enough that the large critters couldn't pull on it or climb down it, and it was sturdy enough to not snap under some strain. Plus, it kept the packs off the ground. Casey would have to do something about the squirrels, but at least the raccoons couldn't get to it.

After Casey confirmed the packs were secure, he made a mental note to collect more firewood and to build a lean-to cover in the morning. He couldn't do anything about it at night, so he took out the second poncho from the front pouch of Lottie's pack and used it to cover the wood he'd collected earlier. A complete downpour would saturate the pile, but a drizzle or even a slow, steady rain wouldn't cause too much of a problem.

_Tomorrow I'll build a smokehouse and maybe do some tanning. We need some leather._ Casey shook his head, nervous about the project. He'd only tried to tan deer hide once before, and with disastrous results. _Maybe Javier knows how?_ Casey would have to ask him when he got back to base. The manual he'd used the first time was unclear.

Casey glanced at the river again. It would keep fresh meat cold long enough for him to set something up, but in another month, using the river to clean their clothes or for freshwater would become a bit of a problem. _She needs a barrel for drinking and one for cleaning._ In the meantime, he would leave the soup pot, but he'd have to bring supplies here to build her what she needed.

With a sigh, Casey ran a hand through his hair. Twelve days didn't feel like enough time, but that was all he had, and he'd have to do what he could to get her everything she needed in that amount of time.

Noises from the tent caught his attention, and he looked toward it, wondering how long he'd stared off into space. Greysen was whimpering, and Lottie was trying to shush him. Casey made his way to the tent. He unzipped the flap and stuck his head inside. With practiced ease, Casey kept his eyes from Lottie's bare breasts and asked, "Do you need help?"

"Can you watch him a second? I need to clean up before I feed him."

Casey nodded and switched places with her. He held Greysen close and gave him a knuckle to suck on while Lottie grabbed her shirt, and disappeared. A few minutes later, she climbed back into the tent feet first.

"It's cold out there," she complained and stuck her hands under her arms to warm her fingers.

_Bring her gloves,_ he added to his mental list of things she needed.

"Give me a second," she said and stripped off her shirt.

He managed to avert his eyes before she caught him staring, and he chastised himself for looking. "You ready?"

Lottie twitched the covers back and settled onto her side. "Yes."

Casey handed her Greysen and stripped down to his usual boxers, before sliding under the covers. He was glad she'd faced him this time and not given him her back like she often did. For one, it meant Casey could cuddle her most of the night, and—as he tried to readjust himself surreptitiously—it gave him a few minutes to get his body under control before being pressed against her warmth.

To distract himself from his less pure thoughts, he rested his head on his hand and watched Greysen nurse. He supposed his insatiable interest was a bit disturbing, but Lottie seemed immune to it now, and he loved watching the baby eat. The harmony of the action, the contented sounds as Greysen suckled, filled Casey with a level of contentment he never knew he missed until he experienced it.

Casey awoke with a jolt when head slipped off his hand and knocked against the ground. At some point, Lottie had rolled over. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and scooted closer to her. Her skin was warm against his chest, and Casey buried his nose in her hair. He knew she hated being dirty, but even after several days, she smelled fresher than him. Casey decided tomorrow morning he would heat enough water that they could all get clean.

He slipped back into sleep, daydreaming about warm water and her fresh scent.

***

Lottie lay as still as possible. Casey had woken her when he'd pulled her closer, and now she was waiting for his breathing to even back out into sleep. She would try to escape then.

***

Plip. Plip. Plip.

_Is that rain?_ Lottie thought.

The gentle pitter-patter on the tent was soothing, and she was toasty warm under the covers. She felt herself drifting back to sleep. She didn't want to move, but she needed to... Didn't she? Lottie couldn't remember.

_Something is wrong._ Slowly, Lottie opened her eyes and checked on Greysen. _Not him._ He was sound asleep. The puffs of air that stirred her hair belonged to Casey. That wasn't unusual, and neither was his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

Lottie froze.

Shit!

She was supposed to have stayed awake. Was it too late to escape now? Maybe not, she needed to try at least.

With a careful hand, she slowly lifted Casey's arm from around her waist. Before she even moved his hand off of her, he caught her hip and squeezed.

"Stay," he whispered.

She held her breath.

His hand relaxed against her side. Had he been asleep? She resumed extracting herself from his embrace. He flopped to his back, and she winced, but she was free. Now she needed to wait and confirm he still slept.

After a few minutes, when he didn't stir, she breathed a sigh of relief. With one last glance at Casey, Lottie scooped up Greysen and crept toward the tent flap. Greysen made a mewling noise. Again she froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. Then the voice she dreaded to hear filled the tent.

"Please don't go."

She gulped.

"I'm not going anywhere. Just the bathroom," Lottie lied.

"You're trying to escape. Come back to bed. There is no need to go rushing off in the night."

She hung her head, defeated. He was right. Fatigue had made her miss her chance. "Okay," she whispered. _Tomorrow!_ Lottie vowed. She would try again tomorrow.

Lottie scooted back and flopped down next to Casey on the bedding. He tossed the blanket over her and pulled her close, nuzzling her ear. "Try to sleep. You're home," he whispered. "I'll explain in the morning."

Home?

What did he mean, home?

She nodded, and let Casey's presence and the soft drip of rain hitting the tent comfort her, and she drifted off.

***

That was too easy.

Casey squeezed her close, thankful the rain had woken him before she'd made her move. He had to admit, Casey might not have felt her leave, otherwise, since he was too used to her sleeping next to him. Casey hoped telling her his plans would keep her here—safe—where he could take care of her from afar.

With a stifled objection, he slipped from the blankets. The air in the small tent was warmer than the air outside, but it was chilly, and goosebumps erupted on his skin. He tucked the warm blankets around Lottie. He didn't want her to be cold without him.

Quickly and as quietly as he could, he dressed and donned on his coat. Grabbing his firearm, he let himself out of the tent and zipped it closed.

As he moved away from the tent, he checked the sky out of habit. It was too overcast to determine the exact time of night, but he guessed it was almost dawn. Casey stepped behind a tree and unzipped his fly.

Finished with his bathroom break, Casey left the camp. He'd already scoped out a few spots for hunting, and Casey would start at the closest one.

_Time to get a deer_ , he thought.

# Chapter 12

"Damn thing's heavy," Casey groused and dropped the small deer to the ground on the edge of their camp. "At least I got it back." He reached his hands above his head and stretched. Even field dressed, the buck weighed at least a hundred pounds, and he wasn't used to carrying the weight by himself. There had been a few times there, that Casey wasn't sure he could get it back to camp without quartering it first, but he succeeded.

"Next butcher, preserve, then build travois." Casey glanced toward the tent and the fire pit and cursed. "Fire's out." His gaze drifted to the river beyond. He would store the meat in the water until he had a blaze going again.

With a flick of his gaze, he confirmed that both packs were secure under the raincoat, but he couldn't be positive she hadn't fled until he confirmed Bean's small bag was there. If it was, then he could be reasonably confident she hadn't left. "She's too smart to leave without any supplies at all." But he had been gone for hours so she might have tried to run anyway.

Casey strode toward them and checked. Her things were there, and he sighed with relief. At least Casey didn't have to track her down and try to reason with her. He had worried when she'd rolled over and gone back to sleep without a fight. It hadn't been like her, but Casey was thankful all the same.

While at the bags, he grabbed his hatchet. Casey would butcher the deer and then start some of his other chores for the day. His stomach growled, so he fished around in his bag for a travel cake. He gave it a dirty look, but having a warm breakfast was out of the question. The constant drip of rain would keep a fire from succeeding without a monumental effort.

Casey sighed and took a bite before walking back to the buck.

"First things first."

Shoving the last of the cake in his mouth, he bent down and started butchering the deer. Hopefully, the rain would stop before the evening arrived. If it did, they could have roasted venison for dinner.

Casey let himself get lost in thought while he finished dressing the buck.

***

A rhythmic thwack, thwack, thwack slowly woke Lottie from a sound sleep. She'd been dreaming of being warm and secure in a small cabin with Casey and Greysen. The dream had been bittersweet, and now she was reluctant to face her day. So she lay there, listening. _It sounds like Casey is splitting wood._

The noise was soothing, and between it and the gentle plop of rain hitting the roof of the tent, Lottie felt her eyes drifting closed again. Lottie rolled over and forced them open. She needed to get up, but she was too comfortable. As she lay there, she remembered something he had said. _Home. What did he mean by that?_

Her heart fluttered in excitement, and she shook her head, she must have remembered wrong. There was no way Casey could mean they weren't going back to Fort St. Louis, but why else would he say she was home? For that matter, why was Casey splitting wood if they were moving on today? Why hadn't he woken her at dawn to break camp?

Before she could follow that train of thought, Greysen stirred and then began howling. His eyes sought hers, and tears slipped down his cheeks. "Hungry and wet," she grumbled and pulled him close. She'd deal with the hungry first and then change him. There was no point in doing it twice since he tended to make a mess of his diaper after eating anyway.

Lottie snuggled into the blankets and ran her fingers over Greysen's head while he eagerly sucked. She smiled down at him. Lottie had loved her brother Skylar, but this emotion she felt for Greysen was more profound.

Between the soothing sounds of Greysen eating and Casey working, Lottie's eyelids grew heavy, and she lightly dozed, waking long enough to switch sides when she needed to. She awoke sometime later to the smell of a dirty diaper and a whimpering infant. Lottie stifled her complaint and attended to her son. Once he was clean, she dressed, then scooped up him and the soiled clothing and exited the tent, getting doused in runoff from the canopy in the process. She grumbled a curse and looked at the dark gray sky.

The light rain had stopped while she dozed, but now everything was soggy. It was one of the things she hated most about not living in Fort St. Louis. Life in the woods contained too much mud.

"I'll take him," Casey said behind her, and she jumped.

"Thanks," she replied and handed Greysen to him.

She dropped the dirty garment on the other side of the fire ring and walked to the river. She'd need to clean the clothes, but the thought of putting her hands in the frigid water long enough to scrub them made her shiver, washing her hands would be taxing enough. At the bottom of the small hill to the Black, Lottie knelt, and, using some river grit, she scrubbed her hands.

Now that she was clean, Lottie trudged back up the slope. The incline was steep, and it took some effort to scale without getting her hands dirty again. Casey greeted her at the top with a travel bar. She took it and thanked him. "I can take Greysen back," she offered.

"Finish eating," Casey responded. "I've got him." He shifted the baby from the crook of his arm to his shoulder and patted Greysen's back. Greysen rewarded his efforts with a burp.

Lottie smiled and bit into the ration. It tasted as dry and lifeless as she remembered.

Her gaze drifted away from Greysen's back, and down to the dirt on Casey's wool coat. There was even a spot of dried blood. _Did he go hunting this morning?_ She'd been so sad over the missed chance of escape that she hadn't noticed he'd left camp.

Glancing behind him, she saw a stack of deadfall and some fresh-cut saplings. From where she stood, they all looked uniform in length. Some were even quite long. _You only do that if you're building something,_ she thought and felt her heart start to pound. _And you only make things if you have no intention of leaving._ She didn't want to hope, but why put that much effort into a temporary campsite?

Her eyes sought his. "Are we leaving after we eat?" She reprimanded herself silently. Her voice held too much interest.

"No." Casey sighed. "Eat. I want to get the fire going again, and then I'll explain."

No! He couldn't deflect her. Not this time. She _needed_ to know.

Reaching out, she grasped his sleeve and stopped him. "Do I have to wait? A fire could take hours, and I want to know what is going on." She wanted to yell in excitement but managed to keep her voice quiet. _Are you letting me stay here?_ "Why are we here? Why did we stop? What did you mean by 'home'?"

He looked at her and ran his free hand through his hair. "I picked this site for you and Greysen. It's close enough I can take care of him—and you—but yet far enough away from Base that no one there will discover it." Casey regarded her, then added, "It isn't ideal, but it's all I can do right now."

"What about the border patrols? Couldn't somebody find us during one of those?" It would be her luck that, after he leaves, one of his men would stumble across her new camp. What if that soldier was Adan or Ethan? Lottie shuddered.

"Not impossible, but highly unlikely," Casey answered.

_Unlikely? Not good enough._ "What do you mean?"

"The closest decoy shelter is several kilometers from here, and we don't patrol past that perimeter unless there is a reason for it."

"What would be 'a reason'?"

"Evidence of someone in the area," Casey replied. He sounded concerned, and Lottie searched his face for some indication of why.

"Someone in the area?" Lottie swallowed hard. "Like? Drifters? Do you get a lot of them?"

Once again, Casey focused on her, and the scrutiny made her squirm, and she dropped her gaze.

"Occasionally," he said.

Lottie nodded her understanding and took a deep breath. Her heart pounded, and her knees felt wobbly.

"But you are in a valley shielded on one side by a bluff. Most tracks don't originate from this direction. You should be safe. And I'll be by as often as I can to check on you," Casey added after a pause.

She struggled to believe him, but the thought of a drifter—or a band of drifters—finding her again struck fear into her heart.

"Do you think you can make this home?" Casey asked. "At least until springtime?"

Lottie looked around the campsite again with fresh eyes. She could make it work, and if it didn't, she could escape while he was at Fort Sutton, but having a permanent home for the winter appealed more than traveling or hiding in caves during the worst of the cold. Even better, it kept her close to Casey. Maybe she should pinch herself, confirm it wasn't a dream.

Casey's muted voice ordered her to sit down. Lottie stared at him.

He tugged her forward and helped her settle. "Breathe."

She nodded as she sat and reached for Greysen.

"Breathe, Bean!"

Lottie gasped, and the darkness at the edges of her vision receded.

"I'll give him to you in a minute," Casey said, denying her unspoken request. "You're shaking."

She looked down and was upset to see he was right. It was a lot to take in.

_Home!_

"But why would you do this for us? For me?"

Casey sat with her on the log and slid Greysen from his shoulder to his lap. "I don't know. It felt right."

Lottie took a few huge breaths and let them out slowly. Shifting her body away from his, she was surprised to see that he was blushing _._ Should Lottie admit how crushed she'd felt when he'd given her every indication that he was taking them back to Fort St. Louis? Coming to a decision, Lottie volunteered, "When you turned northeast," she paused and took another deep breath. "I'd lost all hope." _And then I'd missed my chance last night._

He tickled Greysen under his chin and let the baby grasp his fingers. "I looked at a few spots south of here, but this one was the best," Casey replied. His voice calm, almost reserved. If she hadn't been looking at him, she never would have known he flushed at the admission. "The other sites were too close to Base." He wiggled the fingers gripped by Greysen. "It's going to be hard once winter hits. But that tent's one of my best—small, and rated for subzero temperatures—plus a lean-to surround should keep the air inside warm enough." He lifted his eyes to hers, and she noted the almost pleading expression on his face. "I promise to make it a good place for you and Greysen to live. Even if it takes me a year to do it."

"What about the handoff? Won't you be in trouble if I'm not there?" The thought hadn't bothered her before, but now that it was his action and not her escape that would create the predicament, she worried about it.

Casey's blush darkened. "It won't be an issue."

"But, your superiors?" She could picture it now, a retrieval squad descending on her location and dragging her back after lulling herself into a feeling of security at the campsite.

"They don't know about you," Casey answered softly. "Never have."

Lottie didn't know what to think. Flabbergasted, she queried, "Not even that first day?" He'd been such a great actor. He'd even fooled her. "Tristan told me to trust you, but I didn't believe him. Couldn't."

"He is _very_ angry with me."

"Is that why he's been calling you Huxley?"

Casey shrugged, then nodded and focused on Greysen again. "He doesn't know you are here. No one does." He pulled his fingers free of Greysen's grip and held the baby's hands instead. "I'm sorry to leave you so isolated. No one can know you are here; for their protection as well as yours."

Lottie could understand. Being on her own wouldn't have scared her last year, but now? The idea of doing everything alone was daunting. _Who am I kidding? I am terrified._

"I'll be by once a month. More if I can. I have to be careful," Casey explained. Greysen's open mouth chased Casey's finger as he ran it along the baby's cheek. "I put your gut hook at the bottom of your bag. Between that and your sling, you should be able to provide fresh meat. Enough to supplement your diet should I be unsuccessful while hunting. Or you run out." Casey hesitated before continuing, "I wish I could give you a gun, but I can't. I don't have extras, and can't risk someone missing it."

"It's fine. I don't need it."

Casey sighed. "I would feel better if you had one."

She waved the concern aside and held her hands out for Greysen. Casey scooped him up, and after a quick hug to the baby, he gave Greysen to her.

"You put a lot of thought into this," she remarked.

Instead of responding, Casey stood and grabbed a branch off the ground. Returning to his seat, he flipped open his pocket knife and began slicing into the wood. "If this site is still your home this spring, I'll build you a coop and bring you a rooster and a couple of hens."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. "Aren't you afraid I'll leave?"

His hands stopped a moment. "Yes," Casey said and resumed his task. "I won't be here to stop you. I'm hoping I can provide enough to convince you to stay."

She didn't know what to say. Quietly, Lottie watched as he continued to cut into the small branch. He sliced thin strip after thin strip into the wood, but none all the way through. Curious, she inquired, "What are you doing?"

"Making a Fuzz stick."

"Fuzz stick?"

He didn't reply. Instead, Casey set the branch next to the fire pit and grabbed some kindling he must have collected earlier. Arranging the sicks in the fireplace, he then added the Fuzz stick. "The wood is wet, but the tendrils will catch."

"Which will dry out the other branches allowing them to burn. Got it." That trick would have been helpful on several occasions over the past few years. "Does it work well?"

"Usually," Casey answered. "I have a limited supply of synthetic starter. I'll use it if I have to, but this would be better."

"Limited here?"

"Limited period."

_Ah._ It made sense Casey would hoard something that valuable.

"I store some kindling and logs in the shed back at base. That way, at least the cook fire will start. I only ever had to use the synthetic once, and that was after several days of heavy downpours." Then, Casey added, "I'll leave you a few." He turned and smiled at her, and Lottie was struck by how handsome that smile made him look. "They are deceptive in their simplicity. They look like braided cotton balls. So don't throw them out by accident." He returned to working with the fire. "You ever use a striker?"

"No."

He sat back on his heels and glanced at her again. "How did you start fires then while you were on your own?"

"I used lighters and matches. I kept my fires to a minimum to conserve the starter."

"Did you run out?"

"Yes."

"What did you do then?"

"I," Lottie paused. It was embarrassing to admit how much she stole during her time on her own.

"I'm not judging. Just curious."

"I went into every abandoned building I passed and took what I needed. Food. Clothes. Matches. Knives. Shelter. I even used a rifle for a while until I learned the sling."

He nodded and returned to the fire. "I wondered how you obtained that wicked knife of yours. It's not a standard-issue item. Not even for EDD."

A strange urge to apologize about the night he found her and how she tried to cut him, was on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she focused on Greysen in her lap. He was whimpering, and it was clear he would want something to eat soon.

"What did you do during the coldest part of the year?" Casey asked.

"Went south to the border and hid in old houses that first winter. And last winter wasn't an issue until early spring."

"Why?" Casey asked.

"Why what?"

"Why wasn't last winter an issue?" Casey asked. "Did you find a good hiding spot?"

Lottie gulped but was surprised to realize that, although her emotions were raw from those weeks in _their_ clutches, the fear and pain of that time was less than it had been. " _They_ kept me in their camp."

When Casey didn't reply, Lottie looked up and saw the tension in his shoulders. _He's angry._ The realization triggered her shame. Although she knew Casey wasn't mad at her, she felt the need to appease him, to apologize for what happened to her. _If I'd been more careful, they would never have found me._

Lottie blinked back tears. The shame she felt at her involvement was such a stupid emotion. It wasn't like she could have fought off all five of them. Lottie looked down at Greysen, wanting Casey to stay focused on the fire and not see the tears making tracks down her cheeks. "It's okay now. I'm away from them, and I have Greysen."

"And later, after that winter?" he asked, his tone sharp.

Lottie breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't asking for details. "I kept moving."

He nodded. "Smart move."

"I got lax only once."

"Oh?" He looked at her over his shoulder.

"The night you found me."

Again he nodded and went back to lighting the fire. After a moment, Lottie saw the spark catch, and a small blaze was burning through the kindling and catching the tendrils of the fuzz stick on fire. In less time than she anticipated, the fire was crackling and popping, warming the air around them. Casey continued messing with the blaze and lined the edges of the pit with bigger logs, presumably to dry them out.

Lottie looked down when Greysen wiggled in her lap. His face was screwed up, ready to cry. Quickly before he could, she slipped him under her shirt and started to nurse him. The position was awkward, but she was growing used to it.

"You need a backrest?"

"Yes."

Casey sat with his back to her so that she could recline against him.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem."

They sat quietly for a few minutes before Lottie turned to the lighter subject of her wanderings. "I hid in a cave this last spring. I was terrified I shared the space with a Lynx."

"I assume you didn't."

"I don't think so. But I barely slept that night, just in case," she replied. "Instead, I watched thunderstorm after thunderstorm roll through. It was a cold and wild night."

"Where were you?"

"South. Near the border."

Casey nodded and shifted his weight behind her.

"You comfortable?" Lottie queried.

"Yes."

"Good."

They fell silent. The only sound was Greysen's sucking.

After Lottie shifted Greysen to the other breast, Casey spoke. "I once lost a private to a storm like that. A tree fell on him, pinning him to the ground."

"How horrible!"

"It was," Casey replied. "No one knew he was in trouble until after the storm. Knowing about it sooner wouldn't have helped in the long run. Too many internal injuries. He died stuck in the fabric of his tent, with a ten-inch branch across his chest." Casey moved behind her. She assumed he shook his head. "Now, I make everyone sleep in the supply shed when it gets bad. The guys mock, but at least there is a solid roof to slow a tree down."

Lottie glanced at the tent a few feet away and shuddered. She didn't have a roof.

"A roof is one of the reasons I'm building a lean-to today." He must have been thinking the same thoughts as she. "It will keep the snow off the tent, block the wind some, and in a storm, it will help deflect branches." _Wouldn't stop a tree, though,_ she thought. But after a glance around the clearing, she realized all the big trees were far enough away, and not a threat. _He thought of that also._ Casey shrugged. "Setting you up will take a while, but I can't help that. Next spring, I'll start building you a small cabin." She smothered her smile when she heard him mutter, "I have to learn how to do it by myself first." Louder, he asked, "Is the fire still going?"

Lottie confirmed that it was, and Casey excused himself from behind her a moment to add more branches to it. She watched as he set some more logs near the flames to dry. Turning to her, he questioned, "Do you need me?"

She had to think about it for a moment, but aside from the comfort of having him near, she didn't need any more help with feeding Greysen. "No. I'm good."

Casey nodded. "Anything else you need to ask?"

"I'm home?"

"Yes," he replied.

Lottie shook her head. She had trouble believing what Casey said wasn't an elaborate hoax devised solely to torment her. Later, Lottie was sure she would have more questions, but at the moment, she had none.

"I'll be over there"—Casey waved at the stack of logs—"If you need me, holler."

"Okay," she replied and pulled Greysen out from under her shirt and propped him up on her knee.

Casey gazed at Greysen with such longing before he turned and left her sitting by the fire. Casey's expression tugged at her heart, and she needed a distraction. "So, what should we do today, Greysen?"

Greysen cooed in response and looked around the camp with interest.

"You think we should explore our new home?"

The idea had merit, so Lottie stood and retrieved her baby carrier from the tent. Securing Greysen against her chest, she walked to where Casey was lashing the wood together with nylon rope. He acknowledged her approach but didn't stop his task.

Lottie observed for a few minutes, then spoke, "I'm going to take a look around."

Casey sat back. "Let me know if you find a good spot for a garden. You'll need a small set up similar to what we have at Fort Sutton."

"I will," she agreed. After a moment of awkward silence, she turned to leave.

"Lottie?"

"Yes?" she asked and faced him again.

Several emotions were in his expression, regret, worry, and—dare she say—some happiness. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling with expressing why he detained her. At last, he said, "Be careful."

"I will," Lottie replied. Again, she made to leave, but stopped and turned back to him. "Casey?"

"Yeah?" he said and looked up.

"Thank you." _For everything._

He smiled as if in relief and replied, "De Nada."

***

With the pad of her thumb, Lottie wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks. "You can't be serious," she gasped out.

"Deadly," Casey replied, chuckling. "And that's only a few of the things Hank genuinely thought were good ideas."

"So he snuck into Communal Director—"

"Chouteau," Casey supplied.

"Director Chouteau's office," Lottie prompted.

"And stole his flask. It's not like Chouteau could report the theft," Casey agreed.

Lottie shook her head and tried to smother her laughter. She pulled in huge gulps of air before finding herself calm enough to ask, "Then what?" It amused Casey how entertaining she found some of the antics from his childhood friend.

"You know the rest," Casey answered with a shrug. "Hank, George, and Rich drank enough to be ill at the dance, and we all had to do KP duty for a week."

A mischievous glint twinkled in her eye. "What'd they dare you to do?"

"Steal from the Archives."

She gasped. "You had access?"

"No," he admitted.

"How'd you end up succeeding? You need a card key for that building."

Casey looked at the fire, crackling merrily in the pit. "It took me three tries, but finally, a FAR specialist accepted my offer to help with the door. She had a stack of books and files up to her chin, and I held her things while she swiped her key. I pulled the door open, and as I handed everything back, I palmed the strike plate and stuck some putty in the hole. When the door closed behind her, the putty prevented the door from latching." Casey paused and glanced around the campsite, confirming everything was as it should be. "After that, it was a matter of waiting 'til she moved on so that I could sneak in."

"What did you take?"

Hopefully, Lottie wouldn't be able to see his blush in the dark, even with the firelight illuminating their faces. "A Beginner's Guide to Guitar and some sheet music to go with it."

Leaning forward, Lottie asked, "Do you know how to play?"

"Only those few songs that I taught myself," Casey answered, embarrassed.

"I didn't see a guitar at Base."

_No, you wouldn't have,_ he thought bitterly. The memory rankled. Careful to drop the emotion from his answer, Casey said, "Kerner confiscated it."

"Oh," Lottie replied, disappointed. "I would have enjoyed listening to you play. I bet you have a nice singing voice." She paused and then asked, "When did he take it?"

"My first week. I hadn't even had a chance to play it yet," Casey grumbled, unable to keep the irritation from showing.

"I'm sorry," Lottie said, comforting him with a touch. Her hand's heat seared through his coat and warm clothes. Casey wanted to wrap his fingers around hers, but he restrained himself.

He shrugged and gave her a non-committal smile. "Shit happens." Casey was sure she saw through his attempt at deflecting the conversation.

"Well, I'm sorry. It would have been fun to sing camping songs with you." She smirked at him. "Off-key, of course."

"Not a strong singer?"

She shook her head and chuckled. "No. But it wouldn't have stopped me from belting out playground rhymes. I could have entertained you with classic renditions of Miss Susie or Sipping Cider."

"Ah, a blessing in disguise, then."

"Hey!" Lottie yelled with mock anger, and Casey couldn't keep a straight face. When he laughed, she treated him to her easy-going lopsided smile.

"Just for that, I might have to sing for you anyway," she said.

"Heaven, help me," Casey murmured.

Lottie harrumphed, "You wish, buster."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the camaraderie, before Casey asked, "What did you and your friends do?"

"Compared to what you've done? Nothing," Lottie answered and looked away.

Touchy subject?

"Dances? Secret liaisons behind the slides on the playground?" he asked.

Lottie laughed and shook her head. When she faced him, her eyes reflected the firelight. It made them sparkle. A small grin played at her lips.

Casey continued, "Little cornstalk voodoo dolls? Anything?"

"Not really," Lottie answered and faced the fire again. "Wendy had a shy demeanor. We tended to sit out the community things whenever possible." Lottie threw a pebble toward the blaze. It thunked against a burning log, throwing up sparks. "Instead we'd make up stories about us being heroes that cured the fertility crisis, or silly reasons to explain why there are more boys than girls. We also had stories about the fantastical, like dragons, fairies, knights, magic, saving the day. You know, that sort of thing."

"Sounds boring," Casey commented and then regretted it instantly.

Before he could apologize, Lottie responded, "It was. I would have rather been drunk at a dance, like you. But then, when I was sixteen, she was drafted. Six months later, I was in Basic—and, well—you know the rest."

He did.

"I don't regret much about the actual leaving, but I do regret not telling Wendy goodbye. It would have been nice to have been there for her during our enlistments." Lottie's voice cracked, and he saw her try to wipe away a tear serendipitously. "She was pregnant when I left. I don't know what happened to her."

"Was 'Wendy' a nickname?"

"Yes," she answered.

"What's her full name, and I'll look her up."

"Winona Johnson," Lottie replied.

"What's her middle name? In case there are more than one Winona."

"Berra."

Casey nodded. He'd keep tabs on her too, exactly like he did with Maddy and Zoe.

After a moment, Lottie yawned. "I think I'm going to turn in. You tired?"

He smiled and shook his head. Ever since he told Lottie that she didn't need to go to Fort St. Louis, she'd spent her evenings sitting with him by the fire instead of rushing off to bed the second it was polite enough to do so. Casey welcomed her company, and it was fun spending time with her. Casey felt a pang of sadness at the thought. In another few days, he'd have to pack up his things and head back to base.

She rubbed her hands on her knees, stood, and disappeared from the light. Casey listened to her soft footfalls as she walked away to do whatever it was she needed to do. Turning back to the fire, Casey took a moment to bank it so it would last the night. After he finished that task, he settled into his seat to await Lottie's return.

***

Greysen whimpered at the rough treatment, and Lottie held him tight against her chest, trying to protect him from being jostled too much while she did target practice. She'd started the morning determined to hunt, but when her ability proved too rusty, Lottie switched to hitting inanimate objects. After several hours, a couple breaks to take for Greysen, and a lunch for herself, she admitted she'd made progress. Her aim was back, but along with it came an aching arm.

Giving her wrist another spin, she let a small stone loose. The satisfying thump of it hitting her target greeted her ears, and she celebrated with a fist pump. "You hear that, Greysen? That was Momma succeeding."

He cooed, and she looked down. His eyes were open, and he was gazing up at her. She ran her hand across the back of his head. Greysen's soft baby curls sprung back in the wake of her fingers. "If I ignore your hair color and your eyes, I think you look more like me than him," she told Greysen. She shook her head and ran another hand over his curls. Greysen's eyes were growing greener by the day. She hugged him close. "But you're more handsome than him! I promise." The baby squawked at the tight squeeze, and Lottie patted his back to soothe him.

"Should we try to bring home some rabbits?" she asked.

Reaching down, Lottie pocketed a few of her practice stones and set one in her sling. She'd hold it at the ready, and if a squirrel or rabbit offered itself up for dinner, she'd take a shot at it.

As quietly as she could, Lottie made her way back toward her camp. The task infinitely more difficult with a cooing baby tucked into the wrap and strapped to her chest, but her steps were light and sure, confident she would succeed, even if that was only in the future.

***

_That should do it,_ Casey thought and tugged the zipper on his pack closed. He'd finished transferring out all the remaining supplies he'd brought for Lottie and Greysen from his bag to hers. Smiling to himself, Casey imagined her reaction to finding the seeds for her herb garden in her pack. He'd bring more seeds the next time.

Sitting back on his heels, he surveyed the campsite. That disquieting feeling of being watched was back, but Casey couldn't see a reason for it. Nothing seemed out of place, yet Casey strained to hear any sounds that didn't fit. After a few minutes, he shoved worry aside and surveyed his week and a half's worth of work.

Casey had enclosed the tent in a small A-frame lean-to, the firewood was protected similarly, and the dried deer jerky was as secure as Casey could make it. _Still not enough wood,_ he thought, even though he'd split logs each day until his arms burned with muscle fatigue. Regretfully, Lottie would need to collect deadfall on her own for her fires. Casey glanced at the edge of camp where the clean bedding whipped in the breeze. Casey had even done the laundry for her this morning.

Sighing, he kept himself from checking the direction Lottie had taken after breakfast. He wanted to find her, but he resisted the urge. Barely. She was out honing her skills with her sling, and he didn't feel he had the right to interrupt, especially not for the ridiculous reason of missing her. She needed to keep her skills sharp, and him bringing her back to the camp before she was ready wouldn't help. She needed to be able to hunt while he was gone.

Casey stood and shook off his desires. _I'll go for a run._ The exercise would be an excellent distraction, and he had nothing else to do this afternoon. After a few warm-up exercises, Casey took off at a jog.

Maybe she will be back by the time I am.

***

"Casey," Lottie called out as she entered the camp, and held up the three rabbits she'd killed on her way back. "We have fresh..." Her statement trailed off when she didn't see him at the site. "Casey?"

When he didn't answer, she shrugged and walked toward the fire, stopping only long enough to grab her gut hook on the way.

"Let me get you settled," she murmured to Greysen and placed her butchering knife and the rabbits on the ground next to the fire pit. She slipped the knot of her baby sling loose, and, after smoothing away stones, she lowered Greysen to the ground next to her. "I'll be right back. I don't want you splattered with blood."

It didn't take long for Greysen to begin howling. The sound made Lottie want to run to his side, but she couldn't skin and spit one rabbit while holding him, let alone three. _He's going to have to deal._ Working as quickly as she could, Lottie prepared her kills by shaking the body and then squeezing the rabbits' innards out its rear end and into the fire to burn. Next, she skinned them. Blood coated her hands and speckled her elbows. Lottie needed to wash both herself and them, but to do so, she'd have to leave Greysen alone for a moment.

Holding the raw meat, she looked to the river and back to Greysen. Torn. Deciding he would be all right for the few minutes, she turned and hustled down the hill to the bank of the river.

_At least if he's crying, I know where he is,_ she thought as she dunked the rabbits in the water, giving them a scrubbing. _There._ Satisfied, she made her way back up the hill.

After putting the meat on the spit, and setting it above the fire, she returned to the river to clean herself. The sound of Greysen's cries made her hurry. When they abruptly stopped, Lottie charged up the hill, sling out and ready, fear clogging her throat.

As her eyes crested the hill, she caught sight of Casey. His hair was damp, and he looked out of breath. He was rocking back and forth, and although he faced away from her, she knew he was soothing Greysen with quiet words and gentle pats on the back.

Slowing her steps, she joined Casey and thanked him.

"He's got some lungs."

Lottie shared a knowing grin with Casey. "Yes, he does."

"I sprinted the last half kilometer or so," Casey added. "I thought something was wrong."

"No, nothing wrong, other than indignation that Momma dared place his royal hiney on the ground," Lottie said and settled next to the fire to spit the rabbits.

"He is our little Prince," Casey agreed. With a tilt of his head, he indicated the roasting rabbits, and added, "I see you were successful."

"Yeah." Lottie nodded, brushing the hair from her forehead before returning to her cooking. "It took all day, but at least now I know I can do it, even if I have Prince with me." Stepping around the fire, she reached her hands out. "I can take him if you want."

Casey shook his head and held Greysen closer. "I missed him today," he said, and quieter, he added, "And you too."

The admission made her skin tingle with warmth, but she didn't know how to respond. After a moment, Casey dropped his gaze, and Lottie could see the flush creep up his neck.

The desire to tell him she felt the same was on the tip of her tongue, but yet she held back.

_Dammit! Say something._ She cleared her throat. "I just put them on, so they should be ready in about an hour."

"Okay."

_Double dammit._

When Casey had responded, his voice had been carefully neutral. Lottie knew she'd hurt his feelings, and she wanted to kick herself. It had been the last thing she'd intended to do, and now she didn't know how to bridge the gap. Awkwardly, she asked, "Did you have a good workout?"

He dipped his chin in acknowledgment and went to sit on the log by the fire. He carefully placed Greysen in his lap before he spoke. "It could've been better. I never push myself hard when I'm alone."

She didn't find that to be true about herself. "I think I'm the opposite," she told Casey, but she had seen how hard he worked out with his soldiers, so she conceded the fact that he probably did work harder with the competition.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said, rotating the rabbits before returning to Casey's side on the log. "It's easy to get lax when there are soldiers"—she bumped his shoulder with hers—"around to do the heavy lifting."

He rewarded her teasing with a chuckle. "Not for much longer."

Casey's statement sent a shiver of dread down her spine. He had to go back to Fort Sutton. "When do you leave?"

Taking Greysen's hands in his, Casey played with them for a moment before answering. "Tomorrow morning. Early."

Lottie's anxiety at being alone with Greysen created a lump in her throat that she had trouble swallowing. "And when will you be back?"

"I'm not due out to Shelter Seven for another six weeks. And not to Shelter Four for even longer," Casey answered. "They are the closest to this site, and I need their patrol routes as an excuse to come here." He took a deep breath. "I might be able to get out here sooner, but I wouldn't count on it."

She nodded. Casey had a job to do, and if the men at Base knew he was hiding her? She didn't want to think about what would happen. "We'll make do."

He glanced at her. "You _will_ stay?"

"Yes. It's a good site, and I like it here," Lottie replied. "Thank you."

His answering smile chased away her concern about hurting his feelings earlier. "Good," he said and focused on the fire. After a minute, he added, "I plan to turn in early."

"Okay. I can keep Greysen out here if you need me to."

"Na," Casey muttered. "You don't need to disrupt his routine for me."

She smiled and bumped Casey's shoulder again. Lottie knew he wanted a few more minutes alone with the baby, and if cuddling Greysen tonight was how he wanted to do it, Lottie wouldn't stop him. "If you say so."

"I do," he said, straightening Greysen's outfit.

They sat quietly, lost in their thoughts, and every few minutes, Lottie stood to turn the rabbits' spits. The smell of cooking meat made her mouth water.

Several minutes of companionable silence passed before Casey spoke, "Here. Take him. I'll watch dinner for a while."

Lottie thanked him, wiped the fire-induced sweat from her brow, and took Greysen. Setting him on her knee, she braced his chest and chin with her hand and let him look around, while she did the same.

She couldn't believe it. _Home._

***

The light in the tent barely illuminated anything due to the lean-to's roof blocking the sun, yet Casey knew it was well past dawn. He needed to leave but couldn't quite bring himself to disentangling himself from both Lottie and Greysen. They were sleeping so peacefully, and really, what did he have to do today besides hike back to base?

But he did have a problem.

Casey had been awake for over an hour already, dutifully holding still so he wouldn't jostle either of them awake, but now the arm Lottie used as a pillow was numb, and he had to urinate. He suppressed his groan when Lottie stretched, rolled over, and pressed her naked breasts against his chest. She wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him closer in a sleepy hug. Her soft breathing sounded like sexual moans in Casey's ear, sending him straight into a daydream where her gasps were real, and he was the star of the show. The mental image faded slowly, and in its wake, he realized he had a hard-on in addition to having piss like a racehorse. Focusing on the ceiling of the tent, Casey willed the erection away. His body wasn't listening.

"Morning," Lottie whispered.

_Shit._ Casey felt the flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. He prayed she didn't notice. Explaining either the blush or the morning wood, was not something he looked forward to doing. "Hi."

"What time is it?" Lottie asked with a yawn.

"About two hours after dawn."

She nodded and stretched again. Casey caught her arm before she slid it down his stomach. Luckily, she didn't question the restriction.

"I thought you were leaving early."

"I wanted to wait. Have breakfast with you two, and then I'll leave."

Lottie smothered another yawn in the crook of his shoulder. Afterward, she apologized, and Casey squeezed her. "Was there any rabbit left over?" he asked.

"Yes. I put it in the stew pot with water before banking the fire and coming to bed. The hot coals should have kept it at a simmer all night," she replied. Pushing herself upright, she smiled down at him, clearly proud of herself. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep eye contact and to not look at her breasts. "I think a few of the things I collected yesterday, plus a travel cake, will make the soup tasty." She glanced at the tent flap and then back to him. "Do you have him or?"

"Go," Casey answered her unfinished question. He'd waited this long to pee. Five more minutes wouldn't kill him. Besides, with her gone, Casey could get dressed without her seeing the evidence of his arousal for her.

She grinned at him and grabbed her shirt, unaware she gave him time to ogle her exposed skin. The view hadn't helped him any with willing away his erection. After pulling on her shirt, she donned her coat and shoes, crawled to the door and slipped out.

Casey sighed in relief as the flap zipped shut. To distract himself from the desire to masturbate, Casey turned his attention to the sleeping infant. "I'm going to miss you, Greysen, my son." He flushed anew at the admission. Who was he trying to fool? He treated the baby as his own since his birth, and Casey knew it. He might as well start calling Greysen his and eliminate any doubt.

Greysen whimpered in his sleep and wiggled. Casey patted Greysen on the back. Gently, Casey rolled Greysen over and touched his cheek. "I'll pick you up again in a second," he told Greysen and got dressed.

"Your turn," Lottie called from outside the tent.

"I'll be right out," Casey responded, then grabbed his shoes, tugged them on and laced them up. He snagged his holster and gun from the corner, strapped it to his thigh, scooped up Greysen, and exited the dwelling.

Lottie was crouched near the fire, breaking up a travel cake and dropping it into the gently boiling water. She glanced at him over her shoulder with a smile, stood, and dusted off her hands onto her thighs and took Greysen from him.

He dipped his head in thanks, and strode toward their designated latrine, wondering if he also had time to take care of that other little problem. He discarded the idea. Lottie would notice if he took too long, and it wasn't worth the risk. Slipping behind the screen of scrub brush, he took a leak and made his way to the river dedicated to washing their hands after bathroom visits.

Standing, he dried his hands on his pants and surveyed his surroundings. Again, he couldn't see anything amiss, yet the feeling of being watched wouldn't go away. _Lottie needs a gun._ Casey had no idea how he'd get one to her, but the thought of leaving her alone where drifters roamed, didn't sit well with him.

He climbed the slope quickly, and stalked back to camp, barely suppressing the urge to pull his weapon. As he approached, Lottie took one look at him, and her eyes grew round. _Damn!_ Before he could reassure her, she picked up Greysen and held him close.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Relax," he replied, keeping his voice neutral. "It's nothing."

She shook her head. "You felt the eyes on you too. I can tell."

He pulled her into a hug, Greysen sandwiched between them. "I'm sure it's an animal. Nothing to worry about."

Lottie took a shuddering breath. "Do you have to go?"

Casey sighed and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Unfortunately."

They stood, locked in the embrace until Greysen protested at being pressed between them. Pushing away from her, Casey held her by the shoulders and looked into her upturned eyes. "You're safe here. I'm sure of it." Casey prayed that she didn't hear the lie in his words.

She squeezed Greysen closer and pulled from Casey's grasp. "You're right. This is a good place. Secure as any other." Lottie tried to smile for him, but he could see the effort it took. The nightmares of her past surely surfacing. It pained Casey that he couldn't do more to help. The desire to be everything she needed was so strong, yet he had a duty to his country, to his men. Without his job in the Army, he couldn't provide for her, nor keep her safe. He had to go back. It was the only way he could guarantee her protection. What little of it he could provide.

After a moment, she turned back to the fire, grabbed a spoon, and stirred the concoction she was cooking.

Casey's stomach growled loudly, and Lottie chuckled. "Breakfast will be done shortly."

"Good," he said, relieved at the subject change. "I'll head out afterward."

She muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah." Then Lottie said, "Are the mugs clean?"

"They are," he answered, and picked them up from where they sat next to the plates he'd cleaned last night. He handed her one, and she dipped it into the soup.

"Careful, it's hot," she murmured as she returned the cup to him. She scooped some for herself and awkwardly sat on the log while holding Greysen and the mug.

Casey took a seat next to her, and they ate in silence. He slurped the last of the soup from his mug and grabbed another serving. "This is delicious."

Lottie beamed with pride. "I found a wild onion. It adds a bit of a salty flavor to the broth. Rabbit is so bland without it."

"Well, you're a good cook."

She ducked her head. "There's some fat in the travel cake that helps give the stew body."

"You said that before—with the sunflower oil."

Poking at a rock with her toe, she added, "Our bodies need fat to survive. Without some of it, we can't digest all that we need." She snuck a peek at him and lifted her head. "You haven't noticed its lack since you supplement your diet with supplies from the army."

"You're probably right."

"That's another reason why I'm glad you have the herb garden now." She paused. "You'll need it if the army is ever late on a supply shipment.

"It's happened before," Casey said and drained his second serving of soup. "You need more?"

Lottie handed him her mug. He refilled both their cups and gave her back hers and sat down. Setting his on the ground next to him, he reached for Greysen. Lottie handed him over.

"One last baby cuddle before you leave?" Lottie asked with an indulgent smile.

"Am I that transparent today?" he asked, a bit chagrined.

She laughed out loud. "You've been that transparent since Greysen's birth."

"He's been mine since day one," Casey said. His face grew hot. _Why did I say that?_

"Yours?"

_Aw hell!_ He might as well make it official. "Yes. My son, if you'll let me."

Lottie made a strangled noise, and Casey worried she'd say no, but then she nodded. Her eyes were shiny with tears, and he didn't know what to say. When she didn't respond further, he figured she didn't know what to say either, and they let the conversation lapse between them.

In the meantime, Casey finished his soup. Unfortunately, he couldn't delay his departure any longer. Casey set his empty mug down and gave Greysen one last hug. Turning to Lottie, he handed Greysen to her. She accepted him without comment.

As he stood, Casey felt her eyes on him as he reached for his bag and slipped it on his back.

"I guess this is goodbye," she whispered from behind him.

He nodded and turned toward her. Her sad smile made his chest ache, and Casey desperately wanted to lean in and kiss the pain away. The thought was unsettling, and he quickly dismissed it. With her history and the way she reacted to his touch, Casey knew she wouldn't welcome his sexual attention. To drown out his desire, Casey brushed some hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Dropping his finger down, he touched the tip across Greyson's forehead and down his nose. "I'll see you both soon."

"Okay," she murmured.

He tugged at the straps of his pack, giving them one final adjustment before grinning at her and walking away.

Each step was agony.

Casey hiked up the small path to the bluff overlooking the Black and stopped at the summit. From here, he could look down on the camp, secure in the fact Lottie wouldn't see him.

What he saw made his heart hurt even more than when he initially left her. She was upset. Her body language easy to read, even from where Casey stood.

"I didn't even try," he groused under his breath. Casey's fear of rejection had kept him from pulling her into a final embrace, but now Casey regretted it.

After grumbling another recrimination against his cowardice, Casey shifted his weight, letting his eyes sweep the campsite one more time. From his vantage point he confirmed nothing threatened her or her location, and satisfied all was as secure as he could make it, Casey turned away from the sight of her at the fire and headed into the woods and back to Fort Sutton.

# Chapter 13

Casey stood in one spot as Ty and Adan slid past him on perimeter watch. He was pleased to see how quietly they moved, communicating with hand signals when required and, for the most part, knowing what the other would do without discussion. It was the sign of a good team.

There was one problem with their surveilling, though. They weren't keeping tabs on their surroundings. They should have noticed Casey not ten feet away, even if he was hiding behind a tree at dusk.

I'll initiate a POW search and rescue game this week.

Easing from his hiding place, Casey inched his way past his soldiers, using their patrol as a training exercise on stealth maneuvers for himself.

He wanted—no needed—some bunk time, alone, before facing the rest of his team.

Regretfully, the melancholy of leaving Lottie behind that morning had given way to dirty daydreams about having sex with her. During his hike back to camp, memories had besieged him with thoughts of her bare breasts pressed against his chest, and her soft, breathy moans had mixed until he couldn't separate them from their innocent origins and his desire to be the one to create them. It was unsettling, and he had to take care of that distraction before joining his men at Mess in an hour. If he didn't, he wouldn't get anything done today, and he had a lot of work to do.

Carefully, Casey skirted the different clusters of his men between the camp perimeter and his command shed. Some soldiers were working, but many others were relaxing. The ones at ease proved to be quite tricky in circumventing. It took him a bit, but Casey succeeded, and after locking the door to his command shed, Casey sighed in relief. He'd made it. No one had noticed his return.

Casey rested his head against the door before slipping the backpack from his shoulders and tossing it to the side. He took a deep breath and turned to survey the room, confirming everything looked undisturbed.

As he walked forward, he slipped the buckle of his belt loose and popped the button on his waistband. He looked at the chair, deciding that sitting was unnecessary. He would finish quicker than it would take to get comfortable on the wooden seat.

Once at his desk, he leaned against it, using his hand to support his weight and let his pants fall to the ground. Shaking his head at his urgency, Casey released his imagination.

Deep into the fantasy, it took a moment for the noise behind him to register. The part of Casey's brain not consumed with gratification took control, and he stopped to listen. _Shit, that's the door!_ Before he could even retrieve his pants bunched around his ankles, the command shed door clicked open.

"Jesus, Huxley!"

_Tristan._ Yanking his pants up, Casey fastened them and turned to face the interloper. "Don't you knock?!" He felt the heat of his cheeks and knew he was blushing redder than when he had to do Lottie's pelvic exam.

To his credit, Tristan was facing the wall. His shoulders shook with laughter, and his amused snorts were getting louder.

"Get out," Casey growled, mortified.

"No can do, Case," Tristan said, cackling. "You'll need the extra buffer between your pasty white ass and Lincoln. Who is on his way here, by the way." Tristan started to look over his shoulder and then stopped. "You got your pants on yet?"

"Yes, asshole."

"Good," Tristan said as he turned to face Casey. "Is the chicken dead?"

Casey glared at him, willing Tristan to shut up.

"No? Maybe you didn't choke it hard enough?" Tristan asked, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Fuck you," Casey grumbled.

"Ah, never fear," Tristan said, snickering. "I'm sure you'll get things... Ah. Worked out. Later." Tristan smirked at him. "You know you have a bunk for that, pup?"

Casey clenched his fists. "I had work to do."

"I see that," Tristan said, snorting. "I'm sure the one-eyed monster appreciates the extra man-hours."

"Shut up," Casey barked, irritated and embarrassed. He knew he'd never hear the end of it. "What does Lincoln want?"

"Weekly report's due."

"Then, why are you here?"

"I saw you sneak passed," Tristan answered.

"That doesn't answer my question," Casey snapped.

"I figured there was a reason for your stealth," Tristan replied. "I didn't realize it was so you could practice being a donor."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Tristan, let it go."

"Nope," Tristan chuckled. "How's Momma?"

"Fine," Casey answered. It was a non-answer, but at least it wasn't a lie. The last thing he needed was anyone at base overhearing that Lottie was anywhere _but_ Fort St. Louis.

"Fine?" Tristan asked. "Did you—" but before Tristan could finish his question, the door pushed open, and they both faced it expectantly.

Lincoln stopped abruptly, his hand on the knob when he noticed Casey. "Sir?"

"What do you need?"

"Weekly report is due," Lincoln replied. "Do you wish to submit?"

"For last week? Sure." Casey affirmed. If he wrote the report, he could do damage control.

Checking last week's document had been one of the items on his to-do list now that he was back. He needed to confirm if Lincoln had revealed his absence to their superiors. If he had, Casey needed to think of a plausible explanation to anything Lincoln may have disclosed. To minimize Lincoln's involvement while he was gone, Casey had submitted his weekly summary before he left, guaranteeing Lincoln only had one formal report to turn in. The less chance Lincoln had to mention Lottie's prior placement at—and subsequent removal from—camp, the better it was for all parties involved.

"Very well—sir—Case," Lincoln retorted, his tone tight as if he was irritated.

Casey's nerves jangled in a warning. "Any incidents I need to be aware of?"

"No."

When he didn't leave, Casey inquired, "Do you need something?"

"The Asset?" he asked, his voice trailing off.

"Taken care of," Casey replied and glanced at Tristan, who was looking in Lincoln's direction. Tristan's eyebrows were drawn together but otherwise didn't react to Casey's statement. _That's not good._ Casey returned his gaze to Lincoln, who was looking at his feet and frowning slightly.

"Where is your tent?" Lincoln demanded.

_Dammit!_ He'd forgotten he'd dropped his bag right by the door. Casey had intended on unpacking it before announcing he had returned.

Tristan turned to him, and his expression was thoughtful.

_Shit._ Just what Casey needed. Speculation. By both of them! Casey scowled, and he snapped. "Tristan? Do you have anything else to report?"

"No."

"Good. Thank you for the information. Dismissed." _Now get out._

Tristan saluted, then eased behind Lincoln to get to the door. Turning in the threshold, he tossed the shed keys at Casey and smirked before saying, "Don't forget to _service_ your weapon," and then slipped out the door, letting it close with a bang behind him.

_Asshole._ Casey hated to admit it, but if he reversed their roles, he wouldn't let Tristan live it down either. He glanced at Lincoln and sighed. His second in command looked ready to tear him a new one. "Out with it."

"The Asset shows as presumed dead," Lincoln glared at him. "You let her go. That's why you went alone."

_What can I say?_ _What will throw Lincoln off?_ Casey tried to think quickly. He sat in his chair, stalling, knowing once Lincoln thought someone wasn't playing by the rules, he'd be ruthless in pursuing the truth. The only thing Casey could think of that Lincoln wouldn't expect would be a confession to that very accusation. Sometimes the best lies were truths.

"Of course. You're right, Lincoln. That's what happened," Casey admitted, watching for Lincoln's response. He didn't disappoint.

Lincoln's eyes narrowed, his disbelief written in his expression.

_Good._ Whether the skepticism was due to the confession itself or because Casey acknowledged the charge, he wasn't sure, but he'd take either. To make his point clearer, Casey added sarcastically, "I took her several kilometers from camp, slapped her on the ass, and told her to get lost. Then I set up camp, waited the right amount of time, and came home."

"If you took the Asset back, then why isn't she listed on the system as being retrieved and enlisted?"

"How the hell should I know?" Casey tossed back at Lincoln, careful not to indicate his concern that Lincoln was checking the database records. "Maybe they haven't gotten to it yet. Maybe she's in transit to the Fort St. Louis medical facility. Maybe _they_ let her go." Casey paused and ran a hand through his hair, realizing he needed a haircut again. "She's priority White, Lincoln. For all we know, they may never update her record," Casey amended, looking at him. _Especially since she'll never get there._ "And it's not our job to question what _they_ do." Adding his recrimination to the discussion.

Casey kept his gaze steady, locked with Lincoln's. Lincoln's eyes flashed with anger, but the uncertainty was also there, and Casey didn't know if he felt relief that he'd sowed the seed of doubt or disgusted that he'd need to.

"But you took her alone," Lincoln argued through gritted teeth. "Highly irregular."

"I don't argue that," Casey agreed. "I went alone since worrying about two people is easier than worrying about five. I had the deployment well in hand."

Lincoln looked dubious. "Did she try to run?"

"Yes," Casey lied.

"And you let her. Didn't you!" Lincoln accused. "That's where the tent is."

"I didn't let anyone do anything," Casey countered, shaking his head. _I encouraged it._

"Explain the missing tents then?"

"Tents," Casey trailed off and then remembered. One was missing from storage. _So it hasn't been returned yet._ He had a sinking suspicion that Tristanknew what happened to the missing tent. And Casey wondered if that is what Tristan had whispered to Lottie before they left. "You saw our packs. I had one tent. One. And it was mine. To answer your other accusation, yes, I no longer have it."

The eager gleam returned to Lincoln's eyes. Lincoln probably thought he had Casey against a wall. Time for him to dash those dreams, no matter how true they were, "I left it with the retrieval team."

Casey would have laughed at the look that crossed Lincoln's face if the situation hadn't been so dire or the fact he was lying to his second in command. "It was damaged during one of her escape attempts. I will request a new one with the next supply shipment. It's not like we need it yet."

Lincoln appeared to be thinking about Casey's answers or trying to come up with a new retort. As the silence dragged on, it was all Casey could do to keep from squirming under Lincoln's gaze. The lies burned in his stomach, but he had to keep the ruse going. If Casey didn't? At best, Lincoln would storm off to try to find Lottie, and at worst, he would report his suspicions to their superiors; neither was an option.

_Have I satisfied your concerns?_

Instead of voicing his thought, Casey quirked his eyebrow at Lincoln in question.

At last, Lincoln relaxed and gave him a curt nod. "Welcome back, Case."

Disguising the sigh of relief with movement, Casey leaned back in his chair, plopped his feet on his desk, and laced his fingers behind his head. "It's good to be back."

"Did you have additional trouble on the mission? Besides the escape attempts?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tristan mentioned needing to clean your firearm," Lincoln replied.

Casey felt a blush creep up his cheeks, and he mentally cursed Tristan again. "That," Casey trailed off. "No. Dispatched a few deer. That's all."

"I was under the impression there was more to it than that," Lincoln continued doggedly.

With a sigh, Casey dismissed Lincoln's statement, "He enjoys taunting my marksmanship."

"You rarely miss."

"True," he agreed. "But he was with me one of the times I did, and you know how he enjoys razzing."

Lincoln nodded in agreement, and his stance relaxed further. "How was the deployment?"

"It was fine," Casey answered.

They spent the next several minutes discussing his mission before parting.

"I have some work to do yet. Go on to Mess," Casey offered. "I'll be along shortly."

"Will do," Lincoln replied and left Casey alone.

After he was sure Lincoln was gone, he dropped his head in his hands and breathed deep. "Damn, that was close."

***

Lottie took a huge gulping breath and let the sob escape. Greysen wouldn't stop wailing, and she had a sinking suspicion it was due to missing Casey. _He's two months old for Ever-absent, God's sake. He can't know Casey left._ But Lottie couldn't dismiss the fact that in the past, Casey had never been away from their side more than a day, and after almost two weeks of his absence, Greysen was still inconsolable.

She rolled over, pulled Greysen to her chest, and tucked the blankets up around them both. Lottie knew she had to get up and take care of herself—at the very least, eat and do laundry—but she couldn't muster the energy to leave her tent. It was cold and rainy, and the fire had gone out days ago.

Greysen hiccupped, turned his tear-streaked face to hers, and let loose with another keen.

"Shh, sweetie," she begged, sitting up. He needed to stop crying. Lottie's frayed nerves and his continual racket made her want to smother him. The violence in her thoughts scared her, and she wiped tears from her eyes. She scooped him up and gently bounced him in her arms. "I won't ever hurt you," Lottie whispered, unsure who she was reassuring. "Mommy's here. Please stop crying," she whimpered.

Slowly, for what felt like the first time in days, Greysen calmed and fell silent. Only his ragged breathing interrupted the silence. "I know you miss him. I do too." But after twelve days of not having Casey around anymore, Lottie wasn't too sure.

No, that was a lie.

Lottie did miss Casey as a companion and protector. Unfortunately, the campsite now felt like it was an elaborate trap—a way to trick her into trusting Casey right before he sent the government in after her. It didn't help that she heard voices and phantom footsteps. Lottie shuddered. Between Greysen's crying and the sensation of someone watching her, her hands had a continual tremor. She was petrified of venturing out.

"You know, Greysen. Maybe it's time for us to pack up and leave," she told her son. "Or at least do some more exploring." _Plan an escape route._ "We're way too close to Fort Sutton. Six hiking hours to close."

Greysen cooed in reply.

Lottie scrubbed her face with her free hand. The dirt and tears on her cheeks made her feel filthy. "But first, a bath."

She set Greysen down and grabbed one of the Fuzz sticks and a striker that she kept at the foot of her tent. "I'll be right back."

Exiting the tent and rubbed her bare arms. The drizzle chilled her skin and made her shiver. "Be quick," she scolded and set up her fire supplies. It took two attempts, but the kindling did eventually burn, and she sighed in relief.

Once she was sure the fire wouldn't go out, she dove back into the warm tent and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Slowly, her shaking stopped, and she let the blanket fall. _That was stupid,_ she chastised herself and picked Greysen up to feed him. _You don't want to get sick._

After he finished, she donned on her coat and the baby sling and tucked Greysen inside. Carefully she exited the tent and zipped it closed. Then she tended the fire. It took a few minutes, but in the end, she had a hot blaze despite the rain.

Leaving the fire's warmth, she made the trek down the small incline with her only pot. The slick river mud stuck to her shoes and made the hill treacherous. Lottie held Greysen tightly as she slipped and slid her way to the water's edge, scooped up some water, and slowly made her way back to the fire.

The gurgling of her hungry belly serenaded her as she set about making a hot bath for herself and Greysen. After checking the temperature of the water, Lottie sat to wait for it to heat a bit more.

It wasn't long before the tingle of being watched trickled down to her consciousness, and she looked around. She didn't see anyone, but the feeling was hard to ignore. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice wavering.

No one answered.

The skittering of a squirrel in the underbrush made her jump and whip around to face the sound. The movement startled Greysen into crying. "Shh," she whispered, trying to calm him and listen for footsteps or voices. When it was clear no one was in her clearing, Lottie cleared her throat and checked on her heating water. Deeming it ready, she plucked the bucket from the edge of the coals and retreated into the tent.

Lottie set it down on a stack of wool blankets hoping they provided sufficient buffer between the heated bucket bottom and the nylon of the tent. After confirming it was stable, Lottie took Greysen from the sling and put him down. Lottie quickly stripped him of his garments, and used a strip of wool as a washcloth, wiping away nearly fourteen days worth of grime.

Now that he was clean, she dressed him and slipped out of her clothes. The warm water felt good, and the wool cloth scratched at her skin, easing the itchy spots. Lottie was drawing the washcloth down her arm when she heard the footsteps in the clearing.

_No! Can't be. No one is there._

The fabric fell from her nerveless fingers, and Lottie reached for her shirt with a shaking hand. Listening hard, Lottie strained to hear any noise above the cooing sounds of Greysen chewing on his toes.

She couldn't decide if the sounds she heard were one of Casey's men, here to cart her off to Fort St. Louis, or a danger closer to the one she faced a year ago. If the former, she would find a way to escape, but if the latter, she would die before letting another man do that to her again. Quickly, she slipped on the rest of her clothes, her coat, and the baby sling. Tucking Greysen inside, Lottie confirmed he was secure and then grabbed her knife.

Inching her way toward the tent flap, she tried to calm her racing heart and heavy breathing. "Steady," she murmured.

Bunching the nylon around the zipper in her hand, she slowly pulled it down, once again thankful for the slight overhang of the lean-to. It provided adequate cover for all angles except the tent door.

After an age, the zipper was down enough for Lottie to peer out. No one was in front of her tent. Carefully, she pulled the tent flap over further and stuck her head out the hole she created. With a steadying hand on the ground, she leaned out to see around the frame. Again, no one was there. Swallowing hard, Lottie opened the door the rest of the way and crawled out of the tent. She kept one hand on Greysen and peeked around the other side of her lean-to, and squeaked in alarm.

The animal sat on its haunches about twenty feet away and regarded Lottie with ears raised and had a tilt to its head. The wolf looking creature was brown with black ears and snout. Lottie gulped and skittered backward into the tent. As she did so, Lottie accidentally cut the pad of her thumb with her knife. Sucking on the digit, Lottie thought, _Wolves eat people, right? Or is that a story?_ She couldn't remember. It took a whimper from Greysen to realize she squeezed him too tightly, and she nervously giggled to herself. "At least it isn't a soldier."

She sucked on the cut on her thumb and listened. The sound of steps began again, and Lottie exhaled her breath in a wheeze. Had she been afraid of a wolf all week? She could hear it sniffing about the edge of her shelter. _Shouldn't it be more fearful of me?_ Lottie wondered. _What if it's rabid?_ In all her wanderings, no wolf or coyote had come close enough for her to look at, let alone sniff around her campsite.

_Maybe it's just curious._

Yeah. Right.

"Go away! Git!" she yelled at it through the tent walls. A sniff at the tent flap was the animal's response.

Lottie tapped at the door, flicking it as she would if she were trying to launch a June bug across the clearing. The animal made a noise halfway between a huff and a bark, but it didn't go away.

"Great. I'm held hostage by a wolf," she grumbled.

Unsure what to do with this turn of events, Lottie moved Greysen to the bedding, and removed her outerwear, deciding that she would wait out the beast in the relative security of her tent. With nothing better to do to pass the time, Lottie tried to nap, only to be startled awake every time the creature moved.

After what felt like hours, she gave up the pretense that she was calm and decided to venture out. Lottie would leave Greysen in the tent. Hopefully, she could scare the wolf off easily.

Once again, she got dressed and grabbed her knife. She eased the tent zipper down, but before she could do more than stick her head through the opening, the animal was at her side and licking her face. She sputtered and shoved it away.

It whined at the treatment.

"Great," she grumbled and wiped the animal spit from her face. "What is your problem?"

It cocked its ears forward at the sound of her voice, barked once, and dropped its mouth open. Its tongue lolled about as it panted.

_Now, what do I do?_ Lottie pushed at the animal so that she had enough room to get out of the tent, then turned and zipped the opening shut. Sitting back on her heels, she gave the creature a once over. "I don't think you're a wolf." Tentatively, she reached her hand forward. The animal licked her. "I think you're somebody's dog." She paused, overwhelmed, as the dog continued to clean her fingers. "But if you're somebody's dog." _Then I have another problem._

"If your owner shows up, I don't promise I won't gut him," she told the dog.

It barked in reply.

***

_You. Footprint. Follow,_ Casey signed to Javier, who acknowledged the order and disappeared in the direction indicated.

Casey shook his head as he studied the footprint. After weeks of patrols where no one reported usage of the decoy shelters, Casey had hoped his mystery visitor had moved off, but here was irrevocable proof that someone visited, and never the same building twice.

Worrisome.

Moving quickly, Casey traversed the woods, following the sporadic prints left behind, and hoped he could catch the vagabond before he disappeared or moved out of range. _Either he's lazy this time, or he wants me to find him,_ Casey theorized after spotting another depression in the ground only a short distance from the one prior. It brought him up short, and Casey paused to look around the small clearing. _Something's wrong,_ Casey thought and strained to hear anything past the sound of steady rain hitting the deadfall on the ground. He couldn't detect anything out of place but yet felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift. _Is that Javier?_ Casey sniffed the air. _No. Not Javier._ He'd be able to smell Javier's cigarette smoke if he was near.

Casey sniffed again. _A hint of... mint?_

"You're good."

Casey whipped around to face the voice while also reaching for his holstered gun at his thigh. By the time he'd finished pivoting, Casey had the firearm steady between both hands and aimed at the speaker. A skinny black man with salt-and-pepper hair and trimmed beard leaned against a tree, his arms across his chest, and his feet crossed at his ankles.

The man was taller than Casey by several inches, but he looked thinner. He wore a leather jacket over what was an army-issued shirt, tucked primly into worn leather pants. Casey glanced at the man's feet and confirmed he wore boots. Casey guessed that the footwear matched the tread of the mysterious Noah. Everything this man wore looked worn and faded, and Casey assumed he smelled as bad as he looked.

Before Casey could say anything, the man continued, "I made sure those tracks were hard to follow. Just one or two far enough apart to look accidental, but close enough to keep your interest." The man paused, then added, "You moved faster than I expected."

Finding his voice, Casey demanded, "Who are you?"

The man didn't hesitate. "The name's Noah."

Casey blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the man to answer so readily. "Why did you leave tracks for me to follow?"

"I was curious about you." Noah shifted his weight away from the tree, and Casey followed his movement with the gun. "It's interesting what you've done with Fort Sutton."

Casey grunted and readjusted his grip. The rain and his sweat had slicked his palms uncomfortably.

"You are very... revolutionary." Noah paused and clasped his hands behind his back. "So informal." Noah took a step closer, making Casey backup to maintain a safe distance. "You even farm. Hard to believe your superiors let you get away with that. Let alone encourage it."

"I do what works."

Noah nodded. "I see that."

Casey tightened his grip on his gun. Noah's remarks made him nervous. The man knew way too much.

"So what does a _revolutionary_ Staff Sergeant do with a pretty little miss he sequesters away in a secret camp?" Noah challenged.

_Ever-absent, God, he knows where she is?_ Casey gulped, anger and fear coursed through him in equal measure. "Don't you fucking touch her!" Casey snapped and shifted his aim from Noah's chest to his forehead, tightening his finger on the trigger. He'd put a bullet between Noah's eyes before he'd let him harm Lottie.

"Put away the gun, son. I'm not going to hurt the lady or her baby," Noah replied, his tone so calm, Casey almost believed he didn't care about the revolver pointed at him. There was no way Casey was taking his eyes—or his gun—off of the stranger, especially not now that Lottie was involved. "I left her with a guardian angel."

_Guardian angel? What the fuck?_

"You know nothing about her!"

Noah smiled and shook his head. "I know she's jumpier than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs at that camp of hers."

"Leave her alone. Or..." Casey heard the blood pounding in his ears, and everything around him disappeared as he concentrated on Noah. "Or I'll kill you," he growled.

Noah tsked him. "I assure you, I have her best interests at heart. Maybe even yours too."

The assertion did nothing to calm Casey's concerns. He could think of too many reasons why a drifter would be interested in a lone woman, and none of those ideas were charitable towards Noah. "Why are you watching her," Casey demanded, his mind racing to find a new way to protect Lottie and Greysen from afar. Could he set up a patrol closer to her location without any of the men realizing why he'd made the change?

Noah cocked his head to the side. "Why didn't you ship her off to Fort St. Louis?" He sounded genuinely curious as he completely ignored Casey's question.

"None of your business," Casey snarled. He had no intention of answering that question, especially to an unknown entity, one that had yet to prove himself trustworthy.

"I'm making it my business," Noah replied and took another step closer. The movement made Casey readjusted his aim so that it was back on Noah's chest. "In the past two and a half months, one of the U-S-of-A's finest broke several laws, and I want to know why."

_Just how long_ has _he been watching?_ "You're a drifter. I don't owe you any explanation."

"That is where you are wrong," Noah replied.

Another worry popped into Casey's mind, demanding attention. "Did Green send you?"

"No one sent me." Noah shook his head. "The young lady piqued my interest when she wandered through my territory a few months ago."

_Territory? How big is his fucking_ territory _?_ Casey took a deep breath, trying to steady his hands.

"I've made it a point to watch out for her since then."

Casey couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Watch out for her?"

Slowly, Noah nodded once. "I wanted to make sure you treated her right. I was very interested when you ditched all protocol and kept her in your camp. In your tent, of all places. Very unusual."

"That's not unusual. She was a flight risk, and I needed to keep her close."

"True enough at the time, I'm sure," Noah agreed. "But how much of a flight risk could she be? It seemed to me that you found something in her that you were missing. It worried me."

"Worried you," Casey parroted, anger coloring each word. The conversation was proving to be entirely out of his control. Each time Casey thought he could dictate the direction, Noah would force it back to his agenda.

"Someone in your position could do more harm than good," Noah answered. "All children are treasures, and a mother so devoted to her infant as to leave the security of Fort St. Louis behind to provide for her family, earns my respect without further effort." Noah tilted his head to the side. "The enigma isn't in her motivation. It's in yours."

"Mine?"

"A product of the communes," Noah answered, indicating Casey with a slight move of his hand, before returning it to his back. "Desiring a family. It isn't common. I'm concerned about your intentions."

Casey declined to answer. What could he say? Even he didn't understand his motivations fully.

"Most _boys_ your age prefer the sport to the practice." _What the fuck did that mean?_ "You, on the other hand,"—Noah looked at him as if seeing him for the first time—"appear the opposite. What are you going to do, son, when winter is here?" Noah asked him and slid a step closer.

"I'm not your son," Casey barked, then added, "Don't come any closer."

Noah continued as if Casey hadn't spoken, "When it's below zero outside or snowing so hard you can't see your hand in front of your face and leaving the security of that tent is akin to suicide? What are you going to do when she needs food, hot water, a fire? How are you going to provide for the woman or the baby if you can't ditch your duties at Base?"

_I don't know!_ It irked Casey to hear each of his fears voiced by this man. "She can take care of herself."

"You overestimate her abilities."

"I gave her more than she'd—" Casey started to say, before swallowing the rest of his sentence. He didn't need to justify his actions to Noah, no matter how much he knew about the situation.

Noah nodded knowingly. "You did. And it's commendable."

"Leave her alone."

"I can't promise you that," Noah replied, lifting his head and visibly sniffing the air. "Forgive my quick departure, but we're about to have company. And although I felt the need to meet with the head of Fort Sutton, that desire does not extend to one of its feet." Noah nodded to Casey again. "'Til next time."

Casey watched as Noah abruptly turned, and, like a ghost, disappeared into the woods.

"What's up, Huxley?" Javier asked from behind him, and Casey tensed.

"Nothing," Casey replied. He flicked the safety back on and holstered his gun. "Thought I saw something." He dropped his gaze to the ground. He wasn't surprised to see that Noah hadn't left footprints in the clearing. Casey assumed that even if he'd tried to follow, he would have lost Noah before that first step.

"Shall we finish the circuit?" Javier inquired and took a pull off his cigarette.

"Yeah," Casey replied. "You lead."

Javier acknowledged the order and headed off into the woods with Casey following.

***

"Paul. Tyrone," Javier called, dragging the 'i' sound out long enough Casey knew Ty would react.

"It's Ty, asshole."

Casey kept his smile from showing. Barely. Javier was too good at learning what buttons to push for each man and then smashing that button repeatedly. It was astounding.

"What do you want, Javier," Paul said, sounding defeated, and Casey wondered what Javier had over him.

"A moment of your time," Javier replied, shrugging.

At his request, both Ty and Paul stopped to wait for him to join them.

Casey had to squash his urge to fall in line with them. Javier was off duty, and as long as he wasn't causing trouble, it wasn't Casey's business what Javier did after their patrol deployment ended. With his curiosity unsatisfied, Casey started down the hill.

Javier called, "Yo, Case, am I off-duty?"

"Until tomorrow's perimeter watch."

Javier saluted, and Casey shook his head in bemusement, and left them on the trail and headed back to his command shed. Casey wanted to document his impressions of his encounter with Noah in his notebook.

The meeting with Noah had upset him deeply. No amount of insistence by Noah would convince Casey that Lottie and Greysen were safe from him. Noah knew too much and, by his own admission, knew where they were. Casey feared for their safety.

Casey cursed. It was already mid-November, and the bitter cold of winter was a few short weeks away. By the time he found them a new location close enough to get to, but yet providing all that they needed, he wouldn't have time to build any of the comforts he'd already given them. _Dammit!_ Casey had counted on that site being perfect, and now that illusion was destroyed.

Upon reaching the shed, he unlocked the door and let himself in. He shrugged off his wet coat and grabbed a blanket off his chair and wrapped it around his shoulders. He felt warmer already. The persistent drizzle had chilled him, and he was glad to be out of the rain.

Taking a seat at his desk, he pulled his notebook out of a locked drawer. Casey was in the middle of writing his thoughts down when there was a knock at his door.

"Come in!" he called.

"You got pants on, right?" came the muffled question.

"Yes, asshole," Casey replied with a roll of his eyes. Even after almost two weeks, Tristan still hadn't let that incident go.

A moment later, Tristan opened the door and stuck his head inside. "Good! I wouldn't want to interrupt you and your date again."

"Ha. Ha. What do you want?"

"Javier said you might need to talk."

Barely stifling a groan, Casey responded, "I'm fine."

"Really?" Tristan inquired, entering the room and closing the door behind him. "'Cause we both know you're a hopeless romantic at heart. I told him, you were probably plannin' a perfect date for your five-fingered girlfriend," Tristan said, and Casey dropped his forehead into his hand. A blush crept up his neck. "But Javier insisted somethin' was wrong." Tristan paused. "He was genuinely concerned, Case. Which, you know, is weird for him. What gives?"

Casey debated whether he should tell Tristan. Deciding he should, Casey said, "I thought I saw something in the woods. Turned out to be nothing," Casey replied, trying to deflect the conversation. The need to protect Tristan from the truth burned through Casey, even though he longed to have another person to talk to and brainstorm with over ways to keep Lottie and Greysen safe. He felt confident Tristan would have some ideas on how to handle Noah.

Tristan cocked his eyebrow at Casey in apparent disbelief.

"It can happen," Casey defended.

"Not with you."

"It was a mistake. I do make them," Casey said.

Tristan stepped forward and sat on the edge of Casey's desk. As Casey leaned back, he grabbed his notebook and flipped it shut, resting it on his lap. Tristan stared at him and said, "I don't believe you."

Casey laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. He didn't respond, just sat there, waiting.

"You miss them?" Tristan asked, breaking the silence.

The question made the blood in Casey's veins turn cold then hot. Of course, he missed them. Lottie and Greysen were never far from his thoughts.

Tristan nodded. "I thought so," he said. "You've been down ever since you came back. I figured that's what Javier picked up on."

What could he say? Nothing. And so he didn't reply.

"Well, I'm here if you need someone to talk to," Tristan offered. "And unlike your girlfriend, I won't spit at you."

Casey groaned, shut his eyes, and shook his head.

***

"Don't you have someplace better to be?" Lottie asked as she reached down to ruffle the fur on the top of the dog's head. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your important doggy chores." The dog thumped his tail against the ground in acknowledgment of her voice but made no move to leave her side.

Lottie pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and after a moment, the dog laid down, covering her feet in his warmth. Between the fire and the dog, she felt cozy.

"I wonder where you go some nights," Lottie mused. He left her occasionally. On those nights—and sometimes days—Lottie always felt a little tenser, less settled, but then she would feel the sensation of being watched, and a few minutes later, the dog would bound into her clearing and greet her with a lick. But, on the times he didn't disappear, Lottie could hear him settle in at her tent flap door as if protecting her, and there he would stay until morning roused her and Greysen from the tent.

She couldn't believe how much of a help he was after she moved past her fear of what he could do to her or Greysen, like when Lottie washed her hands. She would leave Greysen on the ground with the dog curled around him while she took care of business. It was unbelievable how gentle the dog was with Greysen, and it was a relief not to have to carry the baby down to the river every damn time Lottie needed water. _That dog is a real blessing,_ she decided. "I don't know what I'll do when you move on. I guess I'll go back to using the baby sling." Shaking her head, Lottie admitted she'd grown too dependent on his help. "You're like a guardian angel."

Lottie studied the dog. "Angel?" He twitched his ears in her direction and lifted his head to look at her. She smiled at him. "Can I call you that?" she asked hesitantly. Lottie felt a bit odd naming someone else's pet, but calling him dog didn't work for her anymore.

"So, Angel, do you think it will snow more tonight?" she asked. She'd been discouraged earlier in the day when a few flakes fell. Although the ground was too warm for any accumulation, Lottie knew it wouldn't be long before winter would be here. Glancing at the tent, once again, she was thankful Casey had given it to her. True to his word, the shelter was warm, and it should work well once it was colder.

A tiny whimper from the tent made Angel twitch his ears, but when Greysen went back to sleep, Angel settled his head on his paws, and Lottie grinned. Angel never failed to pay attention to Greysen.

"So what should we do tomorrow, Angel?" Lottie paused as if waiting for him to respond. "Should we go hunting?" The thought had come to her that evening when she realized she was bored with her camp. She had plenty of preserved food, but the idea of some fresh meat made her salivate. It amazed her how much the notion energized her. She'd stayed close to camp since Casey left, but with Angel at her side, she felt secure enough to try again. "We'll leave in the morning," Lottie told him, and Angel thumped his tail in agreement.

***

With a shake of his head, Casey reached over and grabbed the eraser from the corner of his desk. He needed to redo some of the decoy shelter deployments. There had to be a way to work them so that Casey could be up by Shelter Seven and Four more often. As it stood, he'd only be able to see Lottie every seven weeks, and he refused to go that long between visits.

"Hell, it's been a month, and I can barely stand it," he mumbled to himself, hunching over his work again. _I already miss them too much. Would anyone notice if I always deployed to Seven or Four when Lottie's old guard are on that rotation?_ _Probably._

Several minutes later, the door to the command shed slammed open, startling Casey from his studies. As he looked up, Tristan tossed his backpack to the side and barked, "You are an insufferable jackass. I want a transfer. Now!"

Casey swiveled around and leaned back in his chair. "What is this about?"

"You."

"I gathered that," Casey replied dryly. "What did _I_ do?"

Tristan took a step forward, anger so palpable that it rolled off him. "You know exactly what I am talkin' about."

Aside from Tristan's patrol duty out to the different decoy shelters, he had been idle, so Casey was dumbfounded. "No, I don't. Enlighten me."

After another glance at the pack he had cast to the side, Tristan straightened and took another menacing step forward. His fists curled. "I have half a mind to deck you into next week."

Casey kicked his feet out and crossed his ankles. If Tristan wanted a fight, he'd have to work for it. "I'm sure I could use a good ass-kicking, but I'd like to know why first."

"Did you handcuff her? Tie her up at night? How'd you keep her from slippin' by you?"

Ah... Lottie.

"I didn't need to. Bean went willingly enough." _Once she knew I wouldn't turn her in._

"You are a lyin', motherfucker," Tristan growled, and then faster than Casey anticipated, Tristan had crossed the remaining distance and grabbed Casey by the collar. Tristan hoisted him up from his chair.

As calmly as he could, Casey reached up and tried to uncurl Tristan's fingers from his shirt. "You have overstepped your bounds, soldier."

Tristan gave him a shake that rattled Casey's teeth. "Don't give me that 'soldier' shit, _Huxley_. I can't believe you would do that to her. Not after the way you looked at them. Why did you do it? You loved them!"

"It is my duty," Casey answered.

Tristan slowly let go of Casey's shirt. The false calm on Tristan's features was enough warning for Casey to block the punch that sailed toward him. Before Tristan could take another swing, Casey shoved him back and yelled, "You weren't this upset when I came back from Fort St. Louis or two weeks ago after Shelter Five patrol. What the fuck changed?"

"That was before you proved to be a complete asshole. I don't even know you anymore!"

Casey shook his head. "Nothing is different between then and now."

"That"—Tristan jerked his thumb to the backpack in the corner—"proves otherwise."

"It's a travel pack and a personal tent," Casey acknowledged after a glance. "How does that figure in this? You just came back from patrol. For all, I know it is yours."

"That is the pack I hid for Momma. If she'd been able to shake you—and I know she would have—she should have taken it. The fact it is intact _and_ where I hid it means she didn't get it. And if she didn't get it, then you had to have restrained her the whole trip."

_That explains the missing tent_. With a muttered curse, Casey staggered back and sat in his chair slowly. "So, you mutinied against me."

Tristan paled at the accusation but firmed his shoulders in response.

"Who else was in on it?" Casey questioned.

"No one."

He could believe it. Tristan had the same level of honor and need to protect the men of Casey's squad as Casey had, coupled with a strong need to safeguard women from harm.

"Turn me in if you need to, but I can't work under you. You're not the man I thought you were."

The simmering anger between them had to stop. Casey hadn't realized how much he needed Tristan's friendship until he threatened to take it away. "You can't transfer. I need you here," Casey replied matter-of-factly.

"Fuck you, Casey," Tristan snapped and stalked toward the door. "Fuck you!"

"You don't understand, Tristan," Casey paused and took a deep breath. _Now or never._ He had no one else in which he could confide. Not with a secret like this. Not even Jaesen, who'd pledged one-hundred percent support, could be trusted knowing that Lottie was a few kilometers away. In a tone barely above a whisper, Casey admitted, "She's not in Fort St. Louis."

Tristan paused with his hand on the doorknob and asked, "What did you say?"

"Come back, and I'll explain."

He nodded, and after tightening his hand around the doorknob as if he might still leave, he let go and walked back to Casey's side. Once he was close enough, Casey repeated what he'd said, and Tristan whistled.

"You're right. When it came down to it, I couldn't do that to Bean or my son," Casey said.

"Your son?"

"Yes," Casey confessed with a shrug. "Was there ever a doubt?"

Tristan gave him a rueful smile. "No."

"Exactly," Casey responded. "If there had been, you wouldn't have been as pissed, right?"

Tristan acknowledged with a nod of his head.

"I set them up with a nice campsite northeast of here. And for the record, she did try to run that first night."

"Good for Momma. Can I see them?"

"No," Casey said with a shake of his head. "For your safety and hers, you can't know where she is."

"Will she stay?"

Casey wasn't sure. "I hope so," he conceded, and he cringed, his voice held a tone of anguish over not knowing for sure. "She told me she would, but I haven't been back to check on her, so I don't know." _And then there's Noah._ The worry about what that man would do weighed heavily on Casey's mind, making it hard to sleep at night. Casey could count on his hand how many times he'd almost ditched his duties to check and make sure she was doing fine.

"When will you see her again?"

"Soon, I hope. Another week maybe," Casey replied. "That's where you can help me. If you are willing and if I'm not _still_ an insufferable jackass."

Tristan tried to smile. He failed.

"If you hadn't threatened to leave, I might never have told you, but I need you here to cover my ass when I go to take care of her." Casey sighed. "Besides, you would have been curious about why I needed three new cisterns."

"A little bit," he agreed. "What do you need them for?"

"The usual: a handwashing station so she doesn't have to fight her way down to the Black each time she needs her hands cleaned, a bigger washtub for laundry, and a large tank for drinking water. Make the washtub first."

"A lot of laundry?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

A smirk tugged at Tristan's mouth. "I never knew babies shit so much."

Casey nodded in agreement.

"You want taps?" Tristan asked.

"If you could. That makes them easier to use."

"Will do."

"Good," Casey replied, needing to confirm they were back to where they were before his supposed trek to Fort St. Louis. "Tristan?"

"Yeah, Case?"

Relieved at the casual address, Casey supplied, "Never mind, you answered it."

Tristan gave him a genuine smile. "Anytime," he replied. "What else does she need?"

"Way too much," Casey replied with a sigh. "Regardless of if she stays at that site, she'll need a garden, a cabin or shed of some sort—"

"What is she in now?" Tristan asked, cutting him off.

"My tent."

Tristan whistled again. "How'd you explain that one away to Lincoln?"

Casey gave him a rueful smile. "I told him she damaged it trying to escape, and I gave it to the retrieval squad for disposal."

That provoked a chuckle from Tristan. "Between your tent disappearin' and mine missin', he must have been having a conniption."

Casey grinned at Tristan. "I need to figure out construction tactics I can do without help," he said and ran his hand through his hair. "I can't have you guys see where she's at, but it's daunting to think about building these structures alone."

"Well, I can help."

"You can't—"

"See her. I know," Tristan interrupted again. "But, I can prepare boards for her home, and you can lug them to her camp." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I could work at the decoy closest to her location and leave them aways away from our usual perimeter walk. That way, you don't have as far to drag them."

"Good idea," Casey replied, relieved. He'd known Tristan would be a wealth of ideas in keeping her secure. And if he couldn't think of a way to nullify the Noah situation, he'd ask Tristan for advice. "So, how do you think I should build it?"

# Chapter 14

"We have a problem, Case," Hong called from the other side of the tent flap, waking Casey from his doze.

Before he was even fully awake, he knew what Hong meant. Casey's wool blankets had been cast off sometime in the night, and a light sheen of sweat covered his body. "Yes, we do," Casey replied, sitting up. With the back of his hand, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Take the south side of Base and wake everyone. I'll handle the north. Assemble at Mess in fifteen."

"Will do, Case."

As Hong walked away, Casey quickly dressed. After strapping on his firearm, he grabbed his coat and left his tent. Casey stopped at Matt's on his way. "Wake up," he barked.

Casey heard rustling, and then a sleepy voice replied. "Huh?" After a pause, Matt asked, "What time is it?"

"Early. Dawn."

Casey heard him yawn. "What do you want?"

"Company meeting. Mess. In fifteen."

"Okay," Matt replied through another huge sounding yawn.

Assuming Matt would heed his wake up call, Casey moved on down the hill waking others as he went. Arriving at the clearing, Casey hopped up on a log and waited for his squad to arrive.

"It's supposed to be winter," Adan grumbled as he and Paul entered the clearing.

"It _is_ winter. Or close enough to it," Paul replied.

"Then why is it so fuckin' hot?" Matt chimed in.

Paul shrugged.

Adan grumbled, seemingly to himself. "Summer is hot. Winter is cold."

"Not in the Midwest," Wu replied.

Adan glared at him and took a seat, leaving Paul to stand next to him.

After the team settled—except for Jules and Ty, who were on perimeter duty—Casey addressed the group. "Most of you have experienced Missouri weather before. For those of you who haven't, we're in for a rough twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

Casey heard a few grumbles amongst the veterans of his squad. No one liked the Midwest weather's mood swings. Making sure to meet everyone's gaze, Casey continued, "I want everyone to take a few minutes to collect clothing appropriate for the bitter cold. That includes gloves, hats, and scarfs. Put everything in your packs and bring them to the supply shed. If you have a small keepsake, save that in your pack also." Casey looked over the group one more time. "Bring your field boxes."

"Why?" Matt asked.

"What did it do yesterday?" He didn't expect the Northern Michigan native to recognize the signs of turbulent weather—blizzards, maybe—but Missouri stormy weather was a thing of legends.

Before anyone answered, Adan grumbled about the ridiculousness of severe weather in November.

"It was cold—flurries," Matt answered,

"Exactly," Casey agreed. "And now?"

"Too warm."

A few of his men nodded.

"This is prime tornado weather," Casey stated. He held up his hand to stall any rebuttals from Matt. "Yes, tornados in November." Casey glanced at his other new privates. Out of the four of them, only Jules would understand the threat of weather cold enough for snow one day and then less than twenty-four hours later weather warm enough to wear short-sleeves shirts and shorts at six in the morning. "The weather will break, and when it does, the cold front is going to generate severe storms. I would expect them by this evening, but they could hit overnight. If that is the case, we will sleep in the supply shed. Regardless of when the storms arrive, I want everyone to report to the shed for their duration." _No more deaths._ "I _will_ take a headcount."

Casey was pleased to see that most of his squad appeared accepting. He supposed it made sense. He had an established group, and although not all of them had been present when Max died, many of them would have heard the story by now.

"Thank you," Casey murmured to Tristan when he handed Casey a cup of his signature coffee. To the assembled, Casey continued, "Normal rotations apply. We have a duty to our country, and each other—at least until the storms hit, then it's every man for himself." Several of his squad laughed, and Casey smiled. "But when you are not on active duty, I need you to report to me for tasks required to secure the Base before the coming storms."

Casey took a sip of the hot beverage. He welcomed the warmth that tingled down his throat. "Lincoln."

His second in command nodded at him as he accepted his coffee from Tristan.

"We'll need the shed rearranged. Pull whomever you need to get the task done," Casey ordered him.

"Understood."

"I can find Jules and Ty and let them know," Tristan offered.

Casey acknowledged the offer with a nod of his head. "For everyone else, I want you to keep your winter coats on you." With a sweeping glance, he confirmed the group understood. "You don't have to wear them while it is warm, but you don't want to have to search for them when it's too dangerous to be out."

The squad rumbled as men voiced their compliance. As the noise died down, Jaesen volunteered, "I'll go around and make sure everyone's tents are secure."

"Take Teo and Wu, and when done, join Tristan and collect firewood. If the storms are as bad as I expect they will be, we'll be more worried about the clean up afterward to take time for maintaining the fires. It gets dark early, and having the firewood already would be helpful."

"Where do you want it?" Wu asked.

"Stacked against the buildings will be fine," Casey replied.

"Need me for anything else?"

Shaking his head, Casey dismissed him. Turning to Tristan, Casey said, "Go. Check back with me later."

Tristan nodded. "Will do, Case," Tristan replied and left the group. They'd been through these before, and Tristan knew what Casey wanted him to do.

Several of Casey's veteran men took Tristan's dismissal as an implied order for themselves, and as Casey watched, his men paired off to do the rotations and duties he required of them. If he hadn't been so worried, Casey would have been pleased to see how well everyone worked in tandem, as it was his thoughts drifted to Lottie and Greysen. He had a cinder-block shed to take refuge in, and they did not. Casey wanted to rush to their side, and it took all of his willpower not to leave his men to their own devices.

_She lived on her own before Fort Sutton,_ he reminded himself, praying that meant she could take care of herself during the coming storm. But the worry left a sick feeling in his gut, nonetheless.

***

Taking a sip of the weak stew she'd made, Lottie stared at the fire. She was eating a quick meal since she was unsure if she would get another chance before the storms left the area. Cooking at night wasn't as much fun as it sounded. Warily she glanced at the sky. It was clear enough, but she could feel the heaviness in the air. It was the calm before the storm.

She let her gaze flick down to the pack at her side. Lottie had crammed in every tool and food supply Casey had left her. It represented safety and security, and she would sleep with it on. Once the storms hit, Lottie would put Greysen in the baby sling and keep him close. If she had to flee her new home, she wouldn't do it frantically searching for her son. In the meantime, Lottie left him to sleep.

Absentmindedly, she reached down and ruffled the fur on Angel's head. She'd tried repeatedly to get him to leave, but he wouldn't go, and she'd given up trying to convince him.

Lottie swallowed the last of her soup from her mug, and leaning over, tied the cup to her pack. She'd wash the utensil and the cooking pot in the morning.

Then, Angel huffed, drawing her attention. He was sitting up and looking at the edge of her clearing, his ears swiveling as if he heard something rustling in the deadfall. Lottie looked and listened, but she didn't see or hear anything. When Angel huffed again in his greeting bark, she strained to see what he did.

"Angel, there is nothing there," she scolded the dog. It always scared her when he looked into the woods that way. He twitched one ear toward her but didn't change his intense focus on the trees. Eagerly, he inched forward. "Angel," Lottie murmured. "You're scaring me." He wiggled forward again. And as Lottie watched, a tall black man with gray hair and beard, and wearing army fatigues, materialized out of the woods.

_Oh, ever-absent, God. Oh, ever-absent God._ She squeaked in fear and lurched to her feet. When he took a step toward her, she backpedaled, caught her foot in her pack, and fell on her backside. Hard. Before she could stand, he took another step forward. Angel whined, rose, and wagged his tail.

Scrambling backward on hands and feet, Lottie looked to Angel and then to the man. Would the dog protect her? She sure hoped so, but she doubted it. He didn't act intimidated by the man at all.

Gaining her feet, she stood with her back to the tent. _Where is my knife?_ Lottie cursed. It was packed in her bag five feet away and resting against the log she used when at the fire.

Lottie took a shaky breath as she assessed her options. She could run, but then Greysen would be defenseless, and there was no way she would do that to him. Lottie could fight, but one look at the older man made it clear that Lottie didn't stand a chance against him, for although he was graying, he held himself like a man several years younger and in his prime. She'd never be able to outrun him or outfight him. Lottie didn't have the strength or endurance. She could admit defeat and go to him willingly. At best, he would take her to Fort St. Louis. At worst... She shook her head. _No!_ The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that wasn't an option. She would fight him with every fiber of her being. _And if I die?_ Her stomach rumbled, and she felt the bile rise. Swallowing convulsively, she managed not to throw up. Barely.

_Stay away!_ The man took another step closer and pursed his lips. The soft whistle sounded like a come here, and Angel trotted over to him. At a hand signal from the man, the dog turned to face her and sat at the man's heels. At least that answered that question. The man owned Angel.

The man looked around her camp, stopping at her stored food hanging from a tree branch, her fire cheerily lit, the tent behind her, and then finally herself. Another signal to the dog and the man came toward her, and Angel kept pace with him the whole way. As he reached her pack, he spared it a glance and stopped his advance.

Perhaps he wanted her food. "You can have it," she whispered in an unsteady voice. He didn't look hungry, but maybe if he took her supplies, he'd leave her alone.

"I don't need your things." He flicked his eyes to the sky and then the river flowing next to her.

"Then what do you want?" she said, forcing her voice to be level. It took considerable effort.

"I want you to come with me."

_No!_ "No," she squeaked.

"Is everything you need for your baby packed in this bag?"

Greysen had been quiet—not even a whimper—so the reference about him made her start in surprise. "How did you know about him?"

"Ah, you had a little boy. I had wondered," the man replied with a smile. "I wasn't there for his birth, but I've watched you with him often enough. That boyfriend of yours sure loves him." He paused and then shook his head. "Curious really."

Did he know Casey? Was he the reason she always felt eyes watching her?

"Your boyfriend was careful in his choice of a campsite for you, but not careful enough." His brown eyes were bright and calculating, and Lottie wondered what he was planning. "We don't have much time before the storms. You need to come with me. It isn't safe here."

"And being with you is?" she snapped, regretting it right away. "Sorry," she muttered, in a vain attempt to keep the man placated. He could overpower her with his pinky, and she shouldn't offend him. The man didn't respond. The similarity to how Casey had first treated her came to mind. "Are you here to take me back?"

"No, child," the man smiled ruefully. "I don't expect anyone will ever take you back. Least of all me."

Lottie wrapped her arms around her stomach. She could feel her defenses crumbling the longer he took to attack her. His eyes didn't hold that gleam, but that didn't mean much anymore. As the minutes ticked by, the sounds of their eager voices filled her mind. _Dammit! Hold her down!_ The remembered words drowned out everything around her. There was nothing left in the world but her, the voices, and the stranger. This man she was sure wanted to take the very last part of herself she hoped to control. "Are you going to ra—" she gulped. "Rr—" She couldn't say it.

His focus sharpened, and he took a step forward.

_Ever-absent God!_ Lottie screamed and lurched to the side, falling to her knees. Her stomach heaved, and she vomited the stew she'd eaten earlier. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, turned her head, and looked at him. "Please don't," Lottie begged, horrified at her weakness. She could feel the dead space at the edges of her consciousness growing. That mental hiding place she'd lived in for months last winter. _Not again, please!_

"Child," the man said as he crouched next to her. The scent of mint teasing her nostrils as he exhaled. "I don't know what you lived through—and by the looks of it, it was a lot—but I'm not like that."

She searched his eyes. Lottie couldn't find any indication that he lied to her. He took her hands and helped her to her feet. Brushing the hair from her forehead, the man tucked it behind her ear, and she shivered in disgust. As he spoke, Lottie attempted to tug her wrists free from his grasp. "Your boyfriend didn't know of the danger here, or he would never have picked this place for you. Understand?"

Lottie longed to pull away, but his grip was firm, and no amount of tugging loosen his hold. Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise again, she nodded in agreement.

"Get your baby. Get any other gear you need to care for him, and we'll leave," he told her. "Can you do that?"

Again she nodded.

He dropped her hands and turned, scooping up her cookpot, he dumped the remnants of the soup on the fire. Turning to look at her, he urged, "Now. Child. We don't have much time."

Lottie shook herself into motion. And as he took the pot down to the river, Lottie went into her tent. She fastened the sling tight to her body and nestled Greysen into it. He whimpered but didn't wake. Then, she grabbed a few more of his makeshift diapers and exited the tent, where she saw the man dumping water on her fire, and after the blase was out, he told her, "You don't need to pack food. I have plenty. And I'll come back for the tent after the storms."

She tried to answer, but the words lodged in her throat. In the end, Lottie resorted to nodding. Cringing at the motion, she chastised herself, _Get a backbone girl!_ Lottie hated the fact he scared her.

"Do you have everything you need for him?" the man inquired, indicating Greysen with a hand gesture. "I admit I've never had to care for a baby before, so I have nothing to give him."

She squeaked, cleared her throat, and after trying again, Lottie managed to whisper a response.

"Good," he replied, then asked, "Are you ready?"

Lottie wasn't too sure she was ready to go anywhere. How had he managed to talk her into leaving Casey's campsite?

"Child?"

She twitched her head, affirmatively, and clutched Greysen closer.

The man gave her another rueful smile, reached down, and shouldered her pack with ease. "What's your name, child?"

Lottie squeaked again. Did it matter if he knew? The man was too old to be enlisted. _But,_ she thought, _he could be in contact with someone._ She wasn't willing to risk it. Pursing her lips, she ignored him.

He lifted his eyebrow in question but didn't press her for an answer. Instead, he whistled for the dog, and with one more backward glance, he walked into the woods.

_What am I doing?_ Lottie looked back at her tent and lean-to. _What will Casey think? He'll think you ran away. He'll be hurt._ Amazingly, that thought depressed her. She didn't want him to believe that. It was strange. When had she grown to care what he thought of her? She shook her head.

"Come along, child," the man called back to her. "We have to hurry."

"What is the rush?"

"Your camp is prone to flash floods."

Goosebumps erupted on her arms. "Oh," she acknowledged. Maybe it was good he'd come for her. _No, I can't think he is my friend. But Casey never hurt me,_ Lottie thought _._ She stopped her train of thought. Who knew what he would do to her if she let down her guard.

The man let the conversation lapse as they hiked through the woods. He kept a brisk pace, but the cold front caught up with them before they'd gone more than a few kilometers. Lottie watched as the tops of the trees swayed in the downbursts, and she had to hold her hair back with her free hand. "Where are you taking me?"

"My home."

Lottie stopped, fear holding her immobile. _His home?_ Now, she was sure she couldn't trust him. Casey would never find her. _But maybe he can track me,_ she thought. As she followed the stranger, Lottie yanked out some of her hair and made sure to drop it onto some brambles. Then she intentionally stepped heavier than usual.

With a glance over her shoulder, Lottie confirmed she'd left a footprint. She hoped she could leave enough clues that Casey could rescue her. After a while, she worried that the man would notice what she was doing, but other than confirming she followed, he left her alone.

Without any other recourse, she followed him as he moved smoothly through the woods. He was always checking around him, just like Casey did, and that included the darkening the sky. It wasn't long before the lightning and thunder grew close enough to wake Greysen. Lottie tried to comfort him as they marched, but his wails were getting more and more insistent.

Unfortunately, before they reached their destination, big fat raindrops started to fall. After a bolt of lightning and a thunderous crash, the sky opened up, and the torrential downpour plastered her hair to her head in seconds. It didn't take long before she longed to be undercover, warm, and dry. Greysen added his protesting to the general din, and Lottie did her best to keep the worst of the rain off of him.

"How much farther?" she called.

"One point four kilometers."

She had to admit that, although she worried what the stranger would do once they reached their destination, she wanted to be out of the storm more. Lottie ducked her head, hunched over her baby to keep the rain off of him, and held her steps steady, and in the process of watching her feet, she lost track of time and distance until the man interrupted her thoughts.

"We are here, child."

Glancing up, Lottie saw they were in a small clearing. Nestled under the trees was a shabby looking shed. There was a rusty chainlink fence that held back a barking dog. The new dog looked precisely like Angel.

Off to the side was a small wood building, and Lottie assumed it was an outhouse. On the other side of the little shed with the dog, there was a plot of cleared land. Using its size as a guide, Lottie assumed the area was a vegetable garden.

Further away, at the extreme edge of the clearing, was a building that looked like Casey's smokehouse. A few feet in front of it was an outdoor fire pit with some upright poles near it, and Lottie guessed it was a game dressing station.

All the evidence pointed to the man living out here for some time.

"Come along, child," he called.

Lottie shuffled forward and followed the man to the shabby shed. As she approached, the dog behind the fence barked frantically.

"Just a minute, Mira. Let me get the child inside first," the man said as he opened the door for Lottie. "Unfortunately, it will smell like wet dog in here," he said, apologetically. "I had hoped to be back before the rain hit." He turned to Mira and scolded her. After she quieted, he bid Lottie enter.

Lottie took a tentative step inside the darkened room and clutched her arms around Greysen. Anything could be inside. The darkness loomed like a monster ready to snatch her and deposit her into her worst nightmare.

"There are towels stacked on a shelf next to the fire. Help yourself," the man said.

She jumped in surprise. In truth, she'd forgotten the man was next to her.

"Go on," he urged. "I'll be in with the dogs in a moment."

Squaring her shoulders, Lottie stepped up and into the man's home, and he let the door close softly behind her. Lottie spun around, ready to shove her way out, but she didn't hear anything to indicate she would be locked in. Slowly Lottie swiveled back around and faced the opposite wall from the door.

She brushed the wet hair from her forehead, thankful to be out of the rain even if it meant she was in a dark shed. Taking that first step past the threshold proved difficult, but after a wailing protest from Greysen, Lottie swallowed her fear and inched her way forward.

After another deep breath to calm her nerves, she looked around. Although the shed was dark, it wasn't as foreboding as Lottie initially thought. There were two windows, and the light from them plus the light around the door provided enough illumination for her to move toward the red glow of a banked fire.

Before she was halfway across the room, two very wet dogs bounded inside. Immediately she was besieged by dog noses and vigorous licking.

"Get down," the man growled at them.

The dogs stopped with a whine.

"Won't take but a moment to get it warm in here," he said.

Lottie managed to suppress her squeal of alarm when the man brushed past her. A moment later, his shadowy outline took form in front of the fireplace, and as the fire took hold, Lottie let out a sigh of relief. The man then took a lit branch and maneuvering around two dogs, made his way around the room, lighting candle wicks, and an oil lamp. In no time at all, the small dwelling was brightly lit and cheerily warm.

The one-room home felt cozy and charming despite its small size, and she looked around curiously. There were cooking utensils stored near the fire on shelves, and in the corner, a small table and chair resided. Along that wall, toward the door, opposite the table, a bookshelf rested— _with real books!_ —and a wooden chair with cushions tied to it sat under a dirty looking window. On the wall, a small metal hook was hanging over the chair. She assumed it held the oil lamp in a convenient spot for the man when he sat in that chair to read. The comfortable reading nook made Lottie smile.

As she turned, her eyes passed over the door they'd used to enter the dwelling and landed on the other side of the small shed. There she saw a bed covered in a patchwork of blankets and quilts. It had a tiny window across the room from its partner. The bed's pillow set to catch a cross-flow breeze between the two windows. At the foot of the bed, on the floor opposite the cooking tools, were baskets and wood buckets. There was even one metal one that looked big enough to take a bath in if you were willing to contort yourself into a tiny space.

"It's nothing like what I left, but it keeps the rain off, and I'm comfortable here," the man said, interrupting her inspection.

Lottie nodded her understanding.

The man stepped close, and she took a shaky step backward. Her knee bumped the bedframe behind her. The man's eyes were warm and friendly, and she looked down at what he held out to her. "Here," he said as she took the cloth from him.

Lottie looked at him with her eyebrow cocked in question.

"A towel," he said with a smile. Turning, he grabbed Lottie's pack and placed it next to her. "Dry the baby and yourself." When she didn't respond, he continued, "You both will catch a cold if you don't change your clothes and get warm."

Lottie swallowed hard. She didn't have a change of clothes, not unless you counted her summer rags as clothes. Casey had only given her one set of winter wear, and there was no way she was going to be naked in front of the stranger.

"At least dry the baby off."

She nodded and grabbed the bag. Maneuvering herself to sit with her back to the fire, Lottie shook out the towel and pulled Greysen from the sling. He looked around the room with bright eyes and caught his fist in his mouth. It didn't last. Greysen's coordination was too sporadic to allow him to suck his thumb for long.

Lottie placed him on the towel on his stomach. Greysen protested the effort required to hold his head up and look around his new surroundings. Lottie ignored his mewling and fished out a makeshift diaper for him. After discarding the baby sling, she quickly stripped Greysen and dried him off. Once he was dry, Lottie wrapped him in a new diaper and rolled him back over to his tummy. She would let him strengthen his neck for a while. After setting Greysen's clothes out to dry, Lottie turned her attention back to the man who sat in the reading nook with a book on his lap.

He read with one leg braced across his knee, appearing absorbed in his book. He still wore his soaked army fatigues. The plinking sound drew her attention, and she starred as water dripped off the edge of his boots and cuff. She didn't know if she felt relief that he hadn't changed yet or worried. With effort, she suppressed her shiver. The fire at her back was slowly warming her, but it would be a long time before her clothes were dry.

Now, what?

The flash of lightning and the crash of thunder made her jump.

The man glanced at her over his book. "Is he all set?"

She nodded and wrapped her arms around her knees, silently wishing for a dry shirt.

"Have you tried leather?"

"Excuse me?" Lottie asked.

"Leather. For diapers," he said, indicating Greysen on the floor. Lottie looked down and smiled at her son. He managed to roll over and now had a bewildered expression as he looked at the ceiling. Shifting her focus away from him, she looked back at the man and shook her head.

"I'll get you some," he said and set his book aside. Standing, he walked toward the bed and knelt. Looking under the frame, he fished around and pulled out a stack of hides. After flipping through a few, he pulled out three. He turned to Lottie and smiled. "I don't suppose wool holds back urine all that much."

Lottie grimaced and shook her head. _No, it doesn't._

The man chuckled at her reaction, and after setting a stiff rawhide on the bed, he tossed the remaining leathers her way. Lottie picked them up from where they landed. They were so soft.

At his chair again, the man inquired, "What is your son's name?"

Lottie thought about it. Greysen wasn't in any kind of database, and as far as she could tell, the man didn't have a communication device in the one-room dwelling, if he had one at all. Even with all that, Lottie couldn't bring herself to tell him.

As the silence dragged on, she grew more uncomfortable. Eventually, once it was clear she would refuse to respond, the man spoke again, "Well, my name's Noah. And, although you don't believe it, you're safe here. My house is yours. Make yourself at home."

She nodded, but it felt hollow. Lottie knew she would have to sneak away no matter how helpful this stranger was to her. She figured Casey's Base was due west of her location, and she'd head that way first. Then, once Lottie found his Base, Lottie would find a way to let him know she was near without alerting any of his men.

Noah shifted his weight in the chair, and Lottie tensed. When he didn't get up, she relaxed.

"You need a knife to shape those?"

She shook her head. Lottie didn't want to work on making Greysen leather diapers yet. Her hands shook from cold, and she feared she'd cut herself.

Noah flipped open his book again. Without looking up, he said, "You know the tracks you left on your way here were completely unnecessary. I will make sure your boyfriend knows where you are."

His statement distressed her. She'd hoped his lack of commenting at the time, had meant he didn't notice what she'd been up to, but his remark nullified that, and she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "He's not my boyfriend."

Noah clucked his tongue but didn't argue with her. "Regardless, you are not a prisoner. You may leave this second if you wish, but I do hope you will stay. If not for your sake, then for the baby's."

As his words faded, the storm decided to reinforce his request, and the pounding of rain on the roof grew in volume and intensity. Truthfully, Lottie didn't want his hospitality, but there was no way she'd venture outside in the storm, especially not now that she heard hail. After coming to that decision, she didn't know what to say, so after another few minutes of silence, she asked, "Aren't you cold?"

"Aren't you?"

She shrugged in answer. Sure she was cold, but what could she do about it.

"Child, do you even have a change of clothes?" When she didn't reply right away, Noah tsked again. "I have to come close to get you something to wear. Will you permit me?"

Lottie almost said no, but after a particularly violent shiver, she nodded. Noah scared her—it was true—but he'd been nothing but gracious to her since he came into her clearing. And as she thought back, aside from him helping her up after she vomited, Noah hadn't touched her in any way, not even when he moved by her to start the fire. Noah had gone out of his way to appear non-threatening. Those _others_ had stalked her, intentionally playing with her to build up her fear. Noah hadn't done that. Surprisingly, Lottie realized she wasn't afraid of him anymore. She felt wary about what he wanted, who he was, and why he would spend the effort on her, but she didn't think Noah would rip her clothes off the second her attention wavered.

Maybe he was okay.

No. Escape. Find Casey.

"May I?" Noah asked again.

She felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment. Not only had this man been observant enough to realize why she'd refused to change in the first place, but he'd seen enough to be aware of her proximity issues. "Yes," Lottie replied, pleased to hear her voice firm.

He nodded and set his book aside. Standing, Noah stretched and came toward her. He stepped gingerly around Mira and Angel— _no, not Angel,_ Lottie reminded herself and decided to ask for the dog's name—and leaned over the buckets at the end of the bed. After a moment of rustling around, Noah straightened and pulled some clothes from a cubby.

"Sorry," he said after bumping her with part of a garment.

Lottie swallowed her chuckle. Noah's house was small, barely five feet between the hearth and his chair.

Straightening, he handed her two items off the top of his pile. "I hope you don't mind if I change at the same time?"

She did, sort of, but if he were busy attending to his own needs, he would be less likely to spy on her. "Will you turn around?"

"Only if you do the same," Noah replied with a wink. He promptly turned his back and stepped behind his chair. She assumed it was to give her—and himself—as much privacy as he could in the small home. As quickly as she could, Lottie kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of the wet pants she wore. Tossing them aside, she grabbed the dry ones Noah loaned her and yanked them on. Then, without checking on Noah's progress, Lottie shucked her coat and shirt and hastily dressed in the other item Noah had loaned her. After putting on the garments, Lottie snuck a peek at Noah.

He was dropping his shirt over his head when she looked up, and she caught sight of three army tattoos on his back. Lottie identified one. It looked like Casey's ARA tattoo. She lowered her gaze to Greysen in front of her, not wanting Noah to realize she'd watched him while he changed.

"Are you done?" Noah asked.

"Yes," she replied, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him come around the chair.

Noah took a second to add the cushions and then sat down again.

After he was situated, she asked, "What's the dog's name? The one you left in my camp."

"Bix."

"Bricks?"

He smiled, shook his head, and corrected her confusion with a spelling.

Lottie ruffled the hair on Bix's head. _So your name is Bix._ Bix wagged his tail at the attention and moved his head so that she could scratch an itch behind his ears.

"A friend of mine up north and I trade pups every few years. He trades with someone in Iowa, and I'm trying to find another breeder in Arkansas. Mira, there, is my first new bitch in five years," Noah offered.

"Why?"

"Why do I trade for pups?" he asked, and when she indicated that is what she'd meant to ask, he answered, "I'll trade her pups to my friends. It keeps the inbreeding down."

Lottie nodded her understanding and let Bix rest his head on her leg. "Is that a common problem?"

"What do you know of the human breeding program?"

Confused, she asked, "What does that have to do with dog inbreeding?" The term he used for her military service rankled, but Lottie had to admit it was accurate.

"Frame of reference," he replied.

After a pause, she hedged, "I know enough, I guess."

"Do any of the poor _assets_ get treated with the same"—Noah's nose scrunched in distaste—" _donors_?"

She shook her head. The few documents she'd read when bored in the labs indicated the most successful donors were used as fathers first, but if their sperm failed in a woman's treatment, then the next tier was used. But even with success, the scientists wouldn't reuse that donor again with the same woman. The scientists were continually trying to expand the pool of successful donors, and Lottie only ran across one record that had indicated the same donor was used more than once for the same woman.

"It's the same premise with dogs. Too many pups with the same stud and you get a sickly line. So we trade them regularly."

At the end of his sentence, a flash of lightning brightened the room. The subsequent thunder scared Greysen into squalling. Lottie sent Noah and apologetic smile and scooped up her son. She patted him on the back in an attempt to calm him, but his cries intensified.

"What's wrong?" Noah inquired. "Is he hurt?"

"No."

"Hungry?"

Lottie felt her cheeks warm. "I think so. Yeah."

"Do you need anything?"

Her embarrassment intensified, and she flicked her gaze to the bed. She longed to lay down and feed Greysen, but that would be impossibly rude. Instead of asking for comfort, Lottie shook her head and tucked Greysen under her shirt. His wailing ceased, and she winced when he began sucking in earnest. Shyly, she lifted her eyes to gauge Noah's reaction, and she smiled in relief to see he'd graciously returned to his book, studiously ignoring her and her son as he fed.

They both sat in silence as Greysen ate, and as the hour drew to a close, Lottie felt her eyelids grow heavy. But it took Greysen falling asleep in her arms to prompt Noah to speak again.

"You take the bed," he told her.

"But that's yours," she said with a huge yawn.

"Child, you need it more. Though I ask for one thing."

Lottie's heart skipped a beat.

"Please have your son sleep on the rawhide and a towel while on the mattress," Noah requested.

"Why?"

Noah responded apologetically, "The rawhide will protect the bed from diaper leaks."

Amused by his regretful tone, Lottie agreed. Carefully she stood and made her way to the bed. After flicking back the blankets, Lottie situated the leather and then nestled Greysen into the bedding. Once he lay there, she climbed in and put her back to the wall.

"Where will you sleep?"

Noah pointed to the chair and began to snuff candles. "I'll leave the lamp burning. It can be a bit disorienting waking in a strange place at night, and you may need it to light your way to the outhouse out back."

Lottie felt the corner of her lips twitch up in a half-smile. "Thank you, Noah," she whispered as he settled back into his chair with a blanket he procured from the foot of the bed.

"You're welcome, child. Now, sleep."

And with a smile playing upon her lips, Lottie did just that.

***

_Where the hell is he?_ Casey cursed under his breath and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Pursing his lips, he whistled his 'all-come' and hoped that Tristan would hear it.

Casey resumed pacing. He'd been traipsing around the edge of the camp, whistling every few minutes, hoping Tristan would return, so far, to no avail.

He looked at the sky again, and grumbled, "Get your ass back here." The storm was only minutes away—if the green rolling clouds were any indication—and Tristan knew the dangers of being caught in a thunderstorm like this one.

Casey whistled again. _Come on!_

Right as he was about to give up and seek shelter, Tristan popped out of the woods at a jog.

"Where the hell were you?" Casey snapped at him angrily.

"Catchin' chickens."

"Catching chickens?"

"Unlike you, I don't choke them," Tristan said with a smirk.

Casey rolled his eyes.

"Shed. Now," Casey barked and ran down the path.

Watching the rolling sky, Casey asked, "What was so important about the chickens that you had to push your luck?"

"They are a prime food source. We can't go without them," Tristan replied. "I secured them in their hutch. If we're lucky, they will be fine for the storm."

Tristan was right, and he didn't say it, but Casey felt relief knowing that the birds were secure.

Slowing to a walk, they quickly let themselves into the shed, and Casey did a quick headcount. _No one else is missing. Good._

Nudging Casey's shoulder, Tristan pointed to the back wall where there was space for them to sit together. They headed that way, managing to avoid most of the men's toes.

As they passed Adan and Javier, Casey heard part of the conversation. "You're okay, Adan. The big bad storm can't hurt you."

"Stuff it, Javier."

Turning to sit, Casey glanced down the column to look at the two men. Quickly assessing that Adan didn't look scared, he looked annoyed.

"It's okay to admit you are scared," Javier teased. "No one here will judge you."

"I said to shut your trap, asshole."

Casey shifted closer to Tristan after he settled. He wanted to see Javier's reaction. Javier's smirk told Casey all he needed to know.

"Do you need a hug?" Javier asked, his voice dripping with false innocence.

With effort, Casey refrained from rolling his eyes, but he wondered if Javier was compensating. It would have been a classic Javier redirection tactic.

"There's not enough room in here if they start swingin'," Tristan muttered to Casey.

"I know," Casey replied quietly. "But I can't stop every fight. You know it doesn't work that way." He suppressed a sigh. He'd have to do something if the altercation became too heated.

"Fuck you, Javier."

"You offering?"

"No, dickhead," Adan snapped.

"Your loss," Javier said and leaned back against the wall.

"Wait... You're gay?" Jules inquired.

"Bi," Javier replied and then shrugged.

Casey snorted at Jules' expression. It probably never occurred to Jules that not everyone on the squad was straight, and although the fact Javier had had sex _and_ held same-sex tendencies was news to Casey, it didn't surprise him. It sure didn't change the fact he was a damn good tracker and tactician, and a valuable member of Casey's team. But before anyone could retort, a loud crack of thunder reverberated in the shed, rattling the walls, and Casey heard the sound of stones hitting the roof. Several eyes turned skyward and looked at the ceiling.

"Hail," Casey whispered.

"Yeah," Tristan replied just as quietly. "That's not good."

"I know."

After a few minutes, the hail slowed, and Jules tried again to start a conversation. "So, um," he hesitated before plunging on, "Where are you from Adan?"

Someone coughed the word drifter, and Adan scowled in Javier's direction, which, in turn, made Casey pinch the bridge of his nose. He could see it now; he was going to have to intervene.

"Should we make a bet on who swin's first?" Tristan asked out the corner of his mouth.

"Javier never swings first," Casey replied in a whisper. The only other soldier on his squad with a more checkered past than Javier was Adan.

"PA," Adan grudgingly responded to Jules.

Jules shifted and faced Adan more. "I hear the mountains are pretty in Pennsylvania."

Casey wondered if Jules was allergic to silence or if he wanted to get to know Adan. As far as Casey knew, they rarely interacted on the field.

A flash of hostility crossed Adan's expression, and his response was snippy. "They're fine. Better than here."

_Homesickness or something else,_ Casey wondered, but he empathized. Adan's record indicated he belonged to the Philadelphia district, so even after two years, Missouri must seem pretty foreign to him.

"Was it as hot there as here?" Jules asked.

"Some days. The ocean kept temps steady most of the time." Adan studied him. "Why do you want to know?"

"I've never been anywhere but here and Illinois," Jules replied and then launched into his next question. "What do you miss most?"

"The girls," Adan replied with a mocking laugh.

"No, really," Jules pressed.

Adan watched him for a few minutes more, then grudgingly volunteered, "I miss the seasons."

"We have seasons," Paul chimed in, his tone defensive.

"Not unless you count too-fucking-cold, rainy-with-a-chance-of-tornadoes, or hot-as-fucking-Hades as seasons," Adan scoffed.

"Well, they are seasons," Paul responded.

Adan snorted with contempt.

"What made you join the ARA?" Jules inquired.

_Shit!_ The conversation was quickly straying into dangerous ground. Adan didn't join so much as was forced to choose between ARA or the prison camps for deserters, but before Casey could redirect the conversation, he heard Javier cough the words 'draft dodger'.

Adan glared at him. "You have something to say, dipshit?"

"Must be frustrating to know none of those female dodgers would suffer service extensions, yet yours was extended by six years," Javier drawled.

_Good Lord, that information was top secret._ Casey struggled to remain impassive as more and more side conversations dropped in favor of watching the drama play out between Javier and Adan. _What else does Javier know?_

"You ain't no angel. I've seen your back," Adan sneered. "How many times you fuck up?"

"Depends on who you ask and what they consider a fuck up," Javier said with a shrugged. "What did you do those four years on your own?"

"Did you live with other dodgers?" Ethan asked, and Casey swallowed his unvocalized complaint.

"Sometimes," Adan answered

"Did you ever run across _assets_?" Ethan queried.

When Adan looked up and caught Casey watching him, he scowled, and Casey shot Adan a warning look. _Watch what you say._

"One? More than one? More than ten?" Ethan pressed in the wake of another rumble of thunder. His questions got more eager with each passing breath.

The cold smile that grew on Adan's face was chilling, and goosebumps raced up Casey's arms. Casey and Adan's superiors in Pennsylvania had made some assumptions on what Adan had done while living on his own. Despite Adan's outright denials, his body language alluded to truly deviant behavior. And then, Javier's expression didn't reassure Casey in the slightest. Javier's disgusted frown rattled Casey's nerves more than Adan's answers did, and Casey wondered if he should interrogate Javier later about what he knew of Adan's escapades. If anyone on the squad could confirm Adan harmed assets, it would be Javier.

Casey regretfully admitted that although Adan had made progress on the goals set out for him, Casey's influence was tentative at best, and now Casey feared the genuine possibility of both Adan and Ethan going AWOL in hopes of encountering runaway assets.

Adan turned to Ethan and replied with a clipped, "A few."

Tristan snapped, "Then, I would have expected you—out of everyone on the squad—to have had the most sympathy for our asset."

"Why?" Adan asked innocently.

"Knowin' what it's like to run. To hide," Tristan answered. "To fear being found."

Casey held up his hand to stall Adan's retort. Tristan did not need to learn more about what Casey assumed Adan did while unenlisted. With a touch to Tristan's arm, Casey hissed, "Stay out of this."

"Why?" Tristan murmured.

"Classified. But believe me, you don't want to know."

Tristan gave him a tight nod but dropped the conversation, and Casey took a relieved breath. _One crisis averted._

In the silence that followed, someone cleared their throat as if to speak. "So, um, Wu, what made you join the ARA?" Jules tried again, reminding Casey that Wu joined for reasons similar to his own.

"I wanted to make sure—"

"Hush," Casey said, cutting him off. He couldn't identify it yet, but something was wrong.

"Do you hear that?" Jaesen whispered.

And that was it. The low moaning of distressed wood, the high-pitched whine of debris scraping against the ground, and the roar of fast-moving wind all combined into a cacophony that battered his ears and set Casey's heart racing.

"Yes," Casey replied. "I'm sure it's a downdraft." He hoped his tone sounded convincing, but if he were in his men's place, he'd be doubtful.

Then a crack, like a gunshot, followed seconds later by a thud that shuddered the earth, dispelled any notion that their camp would escape some form of destruction.

"You think that was a whole tree or a branch?" Jaesen asked.

"The whole tree," Hong speculated.

"It was close, whatever it was," Paul muttered.

_That it was,_ Casey thought with a shiver.

The howling wind and the distressing rumbles cast a pall over the squad, and all conversation died while the storm raged. Casey sat, listening to nature's fury, and thought about Lottie and Greysen. Worry gnawed in his gut. They were in a clearing, but that didn't mean they were safe. Any number of dangers could present themselves, and there was nothing he could do about it.

After an excruciatingly long time, the wind died down, and the sound of rain fell to a trickle, and Casey deemed it safe enough to venture out of the supply shed. The sight outside the building sobered him. The shudder they had felt ended up being a large pin oak. The crown of the tree rested a foot from the back wall of the supply shed. Casey's scalp prickled, and he felt chilled. Casey had been worried about Lottie, but here was irrefutable proof of how close he and Tristan had come to injury, if not death.

"That was close," Tristan murmured.

Casey agreed. Leaving the felled tree behind, he went to inspect the rest of the camp. He needed to complete it before full dark. "Come with me."

As they walked, Casey took a mental inventory of the damage. It was too late in the day to clear the debris, and two tents were missing, and one tent had irreparable damage. A quick survey proved their outlying buildings, the smokehouse, and outhouses, were okay.

Standing at the top of the hill, next to Casey's missing tent, they surveyed the base.

They were out in this.

"We were lucky," Tristan said, breaking the silence. "You can bunk with me 'til you get your replacement."

Unfortunately, that wouldn't work. Casey would have to share with Javier. He groaned at the thought. "Thanks. But no thanks. Can you bunk with Jules instead?"

"Sure, Case," Tristan paused, "Why?"

"Javier."

"And Teo?"

Casey took a moment to think it over. Hong didn't like change—a comfort soldier—having a roommate would push him. "I'll pair him with Hong for now."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tristan nod, then confirm they were alone. In hushed tones, he spoke, "She was out in this."

Don't remind me.

"You have to go to her. Make sure she and Greysen are fine."

"I can't," Casey whispered. "How would I explain my absence when I'm needed here? I have duties here—no matter how much I wish it were otherwise."

"Fuck duty! You love them," Tristan paused, and then continued in a rush, "I love them. You have to go. Make sure they are all right."

"Lincoln will know something is up if I leave. You know I have to keep them secret."

Tristan nodded. "Agreed. But, can't you delegate—send some of us out to check on shelters—and then inspect a shelter yourself?" Tristan pleaded. "What if they are hurt?"

That genuine possibility made Casey's stomach churn. He wanted to go desperately, but he couldn't see how to do what Tristan suggested without seeming out of sync with what was needed here.

"I swear to God—wherever he is—that I'll cover you while you are gone."

With that promise, Casey felt his resolve crumble. "I'll leave at first light."

Tristan grinned in response.

# Chapter 15

Tristan whistled softly in amazement. "We were lucky. A kilometer south, and things would have been different."

_No kidding,_ Casey agreed silently.

"At least it was a small one," Tristan added. "F2?"

Casey shook his head. Path size didn't indicate tornado strength. The destruction had to be thirty meters across, maybe even as much as fifty. "At least a three, maybe even a four. Two's don't normally uproot like this."

He climbed up on a downed tree and looked across the new clearing, studying the damage. The tornado destroyed several trees. The one Casey stood on had to be two and a half feet in diameter, and the tornado's path littered the area with similar-sized trees. Casey scrutinized the destruction. "If it stuck to this trajectory, Shelters One or Five or both may have been hit."

"You want me to check it out... While you inspect that _other thin'_ we talked about?"

His statement dragged a snort from Casey. Lottie and Greysen were more than an _other thing_ , but Casey appreciated Tristan's discretion nonetheless. "Yes." Casey studied each direction again. "Let's check Four and Seven first. The tornado may have missed them, but we better confirm."

"Sure, Case."

After a nod to himself, Casey hopped down and began to pick his way across the debris. It was sobering, and Casey had to swallow hard a few times, yet the lump stuck in his throat wouldn't go away. Lottie and her son— _his son_ —were out in that storm. What if this hadn't been the only tornado to touch down?

"You okay, Case?"

He gave himself a mental shake. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh."

Dammit, he was fine! Everyone was fine. Anything else was inconceivable. "Come on."

***

They stood in silence, surveying Shelter Four. Or, at least, what remained of it. A large tree rested straight down the middle of the structure, and the walls listed inward at gravity-defying angles. It looked like the only thing holding them up was the tree in the center.

"Well, that is... unfortunate," Tristan muttered.

Casey grunted his assent.

"We'll have to raze it. Build new," Tristan added.

"No." That wouldn't work. It defeated the purpose of the decoys. "We'll abandon this one. It's finished."

"Not fix it? Why would you do that?" Tristan asked, surprised.

"The whole point of the shelters is that they _look_ empty and unused. Do you think we'll lure in any evaders if we remove the tree and the structure, clear the ground, and build new?" Casey grumbled. He'd have to scout out a new location that was near but not close enough to raise suspicion.

Tristan didn't respond. Instead, he looked at the shelter again, thinking. "Yeah, you're right," Tristan said. "Instead of fixin' it, how about we leave the tree, and build a small addition."

"Explain."

"Well, if we tack on a shed or even put one nearby, then we'll have a workin' decoy again, and it will still look unused. Maybe even more so."

Casey smiled. The idea had merit. A dodger would see a tree in the middle of a structure with an outlying shed. The set up screamed abandoned. "That is an excellent idea." Casey clapped him on the shoulder. "Make it happen."

"Will do."

"Let's hope this is the worst of it."

"No doubt," Tristan replied. "Should we head to Seven?"

"Yes," Casey said, turned and melted into the woods with Tristan following.

***

Slowing from his run, Casey took a few deep breaths. He approached the bluff that overlooked Lottie's campsite at a walk. Casey didn't want to appear too eager to see her, and he figured panting would be a dead giveaway to how hard Casey pushed himself to reach her location. But, truthfully, he couldn't wait, and his heart pounded in excitement.

Leaving the treeline, he stepped to the edge of the cliff and looked down. "No," Casey whispered in disbelief.

The clearing was empty, her lean-to in pieces. It, along with storm debris, was strewn about the open space. "She can't be gone." Turning, he ran down the path, slipping on leaf clutter and mud before bursting into the clearing.

"Lottie!" He turned in a full circle, searching. "Lottie!" he cried, but she didn't answer him. "Dammit! Bean!" _Where did she go?_ He ran to the river's edge. His heart lodged in his throat, stealing himself for what he might find, he leaned forward and looked downstream. The breath he'd been holding exploded from him in relief. Casey didn't see them snagged and battered on the rocks. They were alive, at least.

_Or washed away_.

No, he couldn't think that way. Casey had to think positively.

Shakily, he stepped back from the river edge and stopped near the fire pit. He squatted by the ring and tested the coals. _Cold._ He cursed again and dragged sooty fingers through his hair. He couldn't stifle the almost plaintive wail building in his chest. _She said she would stay!_

Forcing himself to remain calm, Casey spun around and spotted the food locker. He marched toward the tree where Lottie's food cache swung in the breeze, fully expecting it to be empty. _If she fled, she would have taken it all._ But upon reaching it, Casey discovered it almost fully stocked, only the easily transported food items were gone. He pulled a piece of jerky from it, and, as he swiveled back around, he took a bite.

_She left food. She wouldn't have done that. Something happened,_ Casey thought.

The vice around his heart tightened. Casey slowly walked back to where her tent used to be. If it blew away—especially with them inside—there would be evidence of it, he reasoned. And if she'd removed it purposefully? Yeah, that would also be evident.

As he walked closer, he studied the ground, growing more worried. There were canine prints, and a few of them circled the supports from the lean-to. It was unusual to see so many tracks near a human encampment.

Dismissing the animal prints for the moment, Casey knelt next to the smooth-edged holes left behind by the tent pegs, evidence that someone removed them calmly. Sitting back on his heels, Casey examined the facts. If Bean wasn't under duress when she took the tent, she might not have left a trail for him to follow. He grimaced. It probably would take him longer to find evidence of her passing, but she hadn't been that great at hiding her tracks the first time.

He focused his attention back to the ground at his feet, and Casey resumed looking for traces of her departure. The clearing wasn't the best place to locate a trail since most of it was river gravel, but there were a few spots where dirt prevailed. He was sure he would find some indication of where she'd gone.

First, he checked the usual route she went for hunting when they had shared the site, but he didn't see any tracks beside the animals. Changing direction, Casey moved toward the edge of the clearing near his path back to Fort Sutton, and, using a systematic gyre, he scanned the ground for her prints. Casey didn't see any that indicated where she'd gone.

Wait? What is that?

He dropped to his knees for a closer look. He knew that footprint—and it wasn't his. "Noah!" he growled. Casey's vision grayed around the edges. He didn't trust that man and if he was hurting her?

Casey stood and removed his gun from his holster.

He would kill him.

Casey stalked into the woods, and it didn't take long before he determined the animal prints belonged to a dog and not a wolf or coyote. They followed Noah's tracks—the few he left anyway.

_Sloppy,_ he thought with scorn while studying another print he assumed belonged to Noah. Why would he leave so many tracks for Casey to follow? Unless it wasn't Noah. Casey gulped. It didn't help that he'd found strands of Lottie's hair on some underbrush and a piece of wool blanket. Her prints didn't look forced. There were no drag marks. No stumbles. No signs she struggled against a captor. _Is Noah stalking her?_

Casey took a few more steps along the path, his gun raised. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could feel it in the way imaginary ants crawled on his skin. He stopped and sniffed. _Is that mint?_ Before he could turn, something crashed into his back, unbalancing him. His finger tightened on the trigger, and Casey fired into the woods as he fell forward into the dirt. The thing on his back growled menacingly. But when the animal's saliva dripped onto his cheek, Casey tried to roll away. The animal growl-barked at him, and Casey froze to avoid the dog's bite. A second later, a knee landed on his lower back, and a hand secured his wrist in an iron grip.

"Drop the gun, son."

Casey knew that voice. "No," he hissed.

"Now." But Noah didn't wait for him to comply. He repeatedly slammed Casey's hand into a rock. Casey held on for a few moments before Noah succeeded in getting him to drop the weapon. Once it fell free, Noah twisted his arm and brought it up Casey's back. He tugged it tight, and Casey felt the joints pop with strain.

Casey gritted his teeth against the pain. "If you hurt her—" he began, but Noah cut him off.

"Son, you have murder on the mind," Noah exhaled softly, and the smell of mint teased Casey's nose.

As soon as Noah released him, he'd get up, and he'd...

"You aren't listening to a word I am saying."

Casey huffed. Dirt and bits of leaves billowed away from his face.

"I said, your girlfriend is fine. The baby is too."

He twitched in Noah's grip.

"I have your attention now, don't I," Noah remarked.

"Yes," Casey growled. "Where is she? What did you do with Lottie?"

"So, that's the filly's name."

Casey cursed to himself. She hadn't told Noah. "You better not have—"

Cutting him off, Noah asked, "If I let you up, will you come nicely, or do I have to restrain you?"

Casey's anger simmered. If he played along, he could get to Lottie and rescue her from this lunatic. After a moment's hesitation, he snarled, "Nicely."

"Excellent," Noah replied as he released him. "Bix. Watch 'im."

The dog once again loomed in Casey's peripheral vision with teeth bared.

"You can get up now."

Slowly, Casey pushed himself to his hands and knees. The dog gave him another growl, but this time, it lacked some hostility.

Casey turned to look at Noah. He had Casey's gun and was rapidly removing the rounds from the barrel. Glancing at Casey over the weapon, Noah cocked his eyebrow, and Casey wiped his face of emotion, earning a chuckle from Noah.

"I think you're a good man, son. Or I wouldn't be helping you."

"Helping me?"

"Do you honestly think, if I didn't find you acceptable, that you'd be able to find that young lady of yours?"

Casey swallowed. No. Noah had proven himself time and time again that he was more than capable of hiding his tracks. Lottie would have disappeared, and Casey would never have known.

Noah finished disarming the revolver and handed it back to Casey. "You can have these,"—he said, showing Casey the rounds—"after we get there."

Casey gave Noah a tense nod.

"Bix. Heel," Noah commanded, and the dog fell into step next to him.

After several minutes of walking, Noah remarked over his shoulder, "How'd you fare over at Fort Sutton? Encounter any tornado tracks on your way here?"

"Yes. Several klicks north of here."

"Had to fix some hail-damaged shingles, and I moved some debris this morning, but other than that, no real issues."

"And Bean?"

"Bean?"

"Lottie," Casey clarified.

"You'll see when we get there."

Noah set a brisk but casual pace, utterly unconcerned that Casey was on his six as if removing Casey's ammo was enough to control him. Casey snorted in wry amusement. It had been. Between promising to return him to Lottie and rubbing his face in the dirt, Casey had to agree, he was sufficiently cowed into behaving correctly.

"About another klick, and we'll be there," Noah volunteered.

Casey didn't reply.

***

Lottie woke with a pounding heart and a scream on her lips. Was Greysen all right? She looked over the edge of the bed to where Greysen was in his makeshift crib, sleeping peacefully. Finally. So what woke her?

Voices. Lottie had heard voices.

She turned to look out the window where she saw Noah and another man talking. Noah stood facing her, his expression calm, as he clearly explained something. Lottie focused on the man with Noah, and her heart started to race. She knew that sandy brown hair, tensely set shoulders, coat, and cargo-fatigues with a firearm holstered on his thigh. Her heart skipped a beat with relief and excitement.

Casey!

Lottie lurched out of bed. In her haste, she became tangled in the bedding and fell to her knees in an ungraceful lump. The reverberation woke Greysen, who began squalling. Kicking free of her restraints, she scrambled to Greysen and scooped him up. "It's Casey!" she blurted, making Greysen's eyes grow wide, but he stopped crying.

Lottie held him close as she shoved her feet into her shoes. She didn't even take the time to put on her coat. Instead, she burst outside and promptly collided with Casey's chest. His warm hands wrapped around her, steadying her.

"You're here!" she exclaimed breathlessly. She knew she _shouldn't_ be so excited to see Casey. She _should_ find his touch repugnant, but she couldn't summon that emotion. All she felt was a relief that he found her, that he came for her.

"Yes," he said. His voice sounded thick, choked.

Her words collided against others in a bid for expression. Lottie wanted to reassure him she hadn't disappeared; she hadn't wanted to leave the clearing at all. Lottie needed to tell him how much seeing him again meant to her, but nothing coherent manifested. Instead, she sighed in contentment and snuggled closer, as close as she could with Greysen pressed between them.

Noah chuckled. "Come in when you are ready."

They stood there for several minutes. Lottie never wanted it to end. But eventually, Casey pulled her away from his chest and stared at her. His throat worked like he was trying to say something, but nothing came. Finally, Casey tugged her into another embrace. His chin rested on the top of her head. "Are you okay?" he whispered. "Noah didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I'm fine," Lottie replied just as quietly and took a step out of his arms. She felt the loss all the way to her toes. "He said the clearing wasn't safe, and he brought me here." She chastised herself for stating the obvious. "He never touched me. Well, he helped me up after I threw up, but," she trailed off.

Casey's intense eyes stared straight into her soul, compelling her to explain. She felt her cheeks warm. Shrugging, she looked down at Greysen so Casey wouldn't see her discomfort. "I was scared of him at first."

A light touch tipped her chin upwards. Casey's gaze searched hers. Whatever he saw satisfied him, and he nodded, releasing her from his scrutiny. "I'm glad you are all right."

She nodded. Remembering Greysen in her arms, she held him out to Casey.

"You want to hold him?" _Of course, he does._

Casey made no move to take Greysen from her. "He's grown so much."

Lottie didn't think so, but then, she was with him daily since Casey left four weeks ago. "Here," she said, offering Greysen again. "Take him."

His throat worked as Casey swallowed hard a few times. "Okay."

She smiled as he took Greysen from her, cradling him in arms that were strong and sure.

"He missed you," she said and bit her lip. _And I did too._

"Oh?"

"He cried for almost two weeks straight. Nothing I did was good enough for him."

Casey held him up and looked him in the eyes. "You missed me?"

Greysen smiled and cooed. His hand patted Casey's cheek, leaving slobber behind, but Casey didn't seem to mind.

"I missed you too," Casey whispered.

Lottie couldn't help but beam at them. Casey's usual shuttered expression was open, and she could see his love for Greysen shining through.

"When did he start smiling?" Casey asked.

_That's right!_ He'd left before Greysen figured out how to smile socially. "After he stopped asking for you."

If she hadn't been watching, she would have missed the look of dismay that crossed Casey's face. It came and went so fast.

She didn't know what to say. She hadn't meant to make Casey upset. After a moment of awkward silence, Lottie asked, "Do you want to go in?"

Casey gave Noah's home a dirty look, but in the end, Casey agreed.

Lottie pulled the door open and stepped inside with Casey following. Noah stood by the fire, rearranging the racks with their almost dry clothes draped across. He gave them a brief smile and returned to his task. Lottie pushed the makeshift crib toward the wall and sat on the bed. She tugged at the fabric edging, inexplicably embarrassed that Noah had made the bed while she'd been outside with Casey. To cover her reaction, she patted the spot next to her, and after a moment of hesitation, Casey sat.

Glancing back and forth between the two men, Lottie grew more uncomfortable. The silence dragged on and on. And in its wake, Casey tensed to the point it made Greysen whimper in his arms. "She's free to leave?"

His tone sent shivers up her spine, and she winced.

Noah flicked his gaze to Casey and went back to his task. "You hungry?"

"Goddammit, answer the question."

Again, Noah looked at him. His gaze was calm, cold, and assessing; slowly, he stood, and Lottie held her breath, waiting. She looked at Casey. The muscles in his jaw twitched, and he ground his teeth together.

Noah returned his gaze without flinching. "What is your name, son?"

The rumbling low in Casey's throat sounded like a dog's growl. Several seconds passed as the two men stared at each other until Lottie couldn't handle it any longer. She touched Casey's sleeve, and he jumped like he had forgotten she was there.

"Staff Sergeant Huxley," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well, Huxley, she can leave anytime she wants. She isn't a prisoner," Noah replied. "But if you take her back to that clearing, I will remove her again."

Casey's nostrils flared. "And _why_ is that?"

_He's so angry._ Lottie pulled her knees to her chest, desperately wishing she could snatch Greysen from him, holding her son would calm her.

Noah's stance relaxed, and turned to fuss with the fireplace, completely unconcerned, before straightening again. He walked to his chair and sat, folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned back. "How does Fort St. Louis get its power?"

Casey's lips thinned into a straight line. "Hydroelectric and solar," he snipped.

Lottie blinked and wondered why Noah changed the subject.

With a nod, Noah agreed. "That wasn't always the case."

_Oh?_ Lottie loosened her grip on her knees and breathed a little easier. Noah sounded like he knew something about the area's history, and history was one more thing the military kept under control. Ignoring Casey's frustration in favor of knowing more, Lottie asked, "What do you mean?"

"Two hundred years ago, give or take a few years, Fort St. Louis primarily used nuclear and fossil fuel power," Noah replied. "Don't get me wrong, they had a few places where hydroelectric, solar, and even wind power helped meet the needs of Fort St. Louis, but those weren't the popular options."

"What does this have to do with anything," Casey snapped.

Noah pinned him with a stern look. "The main electrical company back then kept a reservoir to help meet the power requirements. A giant battery of sorts for the—then city's—generators." Noah glanced at her, and then down to Greysen in Casey's arms, before continuing, "Then one night the walls of this reservoir failed. Billions of gallons of water spilled down the side of the mountain." Noah leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "As the water swept downhill, it felled trees, moved boulders, and exposed bedrock. It crashed into a ranger station down by the old road. A ranger lived there with his wife and three children."

"Was anyone hurt?" Lottie gasped, horrified.

Noah shook his head. "The water destroyed his home, scattered his family, and left devastation in its wake. The reservoir's water merged with the Black near your campsite, overflowing its banks and causing extensive damage to the area. On our way here, we crossed over some of that damage." Noah took a deep breath and eased back again. "There aren't enough Power Generation and Distribution engineers stationed at the reservoir anymore, and even if there were enough hydroelectric PGD technicians, they couldn't do a damn thing to stop the water should the reservoir suffer another catastrophic failure. And you— _Staff Sergeant Huxley_ —set your little family right in the water's path should it fail again."

Casey cleared his throat, and Noah nodded, seeming pleased at his reaction. "The ranger and his wife thought their baby had perished, but miraculously they found the toddler clinging to a tree above the high water line." He flicked his gaze to hers again. "They were lucky, but you can't rely on luck," he said with a pointed look to Casey.

"No, you can't," Casey agreed, and his shoulders sagged.

Lottie took Casey's hand in hers while she reflected on the story. "When you said the site was prone to flash floods, that reservoir failure is what you meant?"

"Among other things, yes."

Slowly Casey's hand balled into a fist. "That day? Did you know you would move her?"

Again Noah answered in the affirmative, and Lottie looked back and forth between them. "You talked about me?" She didn't know which bothered her more, the fact they already met, or that they discussed her, and Noah's reassuring smile did little to make her feel better.

"I had to make sure of his motives. No staff sergeant has ever done what he has, and I needed to confirm he had your best interests at heart."

Lottie huffed and blew a strand of hair from her face. She didn't quite believe him.

"I know how that must sound," Noah continued.

"No, you don't," she interrupted.

Noah smiled sadly. "It must sound like I am making all of your decisions and removing all your free will."

_Okay, maybe he does know how it sounds._ "Are you?"

"No."

Lottie didn't agree, but before she could formulate a response, Casey stood and handed her Greysen. "You ready to leave?"

"And where do you think you will take her?" Noah interjected, earning a glare from Casey.

Instead of answering Noah, he barked to Lottie, "Let's go," and walked to the door. His hand pressed to the frame when Noah said his name in a commanding tone, stopping Casey cold, his shoulders and back stiff, almost like a soldier at attention.

In a flash, Lottie realized Casey reacted as his men did at Fort Sutton after he commanded them to do something. She gazed at Noah. The way he wielded his words—as if he expected immediate compliance—made her wonder if he'd been more than a simple soldier.

"What?" Casey ground out.

"I propose she stay here."

"Out of the question."

"Why is that?" Noah asked. "I have food, clothing, a solid roof overhead. I have two fearless canine protectors. She would be safe."

Lottie glanced between the two men again. Her irritation grew. Here they were actively deciding what they would do with her like she wasn't even in the room. _Things are different,_ she reasoned, and some of the fear she'd harbored for the past year fell away. Lottie cuddled Greysen to her chest and rubbed her cheek on his fuzzy head. She had a say; she could decide. Casey never kept her from that, and, although she didn't know Noah, he'd been unfailingly polite to her. He even gave her his bed and slept in a chair all night. She couldn't sit back and let them make her choices any longer. "Wait," Lottie said at the same time as Casey said, "No."

"If I stayed, he could come and visit anytime, right?"

"Yes."

"And if I change my mind later and want to leave?"

Noah sat forward, reiterating, "You are not a prisoner, child. If you decide to walk out the door, right now, I won't stop you. Not now. Not later. But if you wish to stay, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

Noah's home was cozy, warm, and dry. If she left, she'd be in a tent all winter, and although the tent Casey gave her was adequate, it couldn't compare to solid walls.

"Do you need time to think about it?" Noah asked her.

Did she? Lottie shook her head. No, she knew. "I'll stay."

"No, Bean," Casey argued, and Lottie flinched at his tone.

She hated that he was angry with her, but she wouldn't let that stop her. "Why not?"

"I don't trust him."

Lottie agreed, she didn't trust him either. But... A new concern made her pause. "If I choose this, you will still visit, right?"

Casey hesitated but then gave her a brief nod.

Hope bubbled inside. "So," she started and then took a deep breath, ashamed to realize her fingers shook. "I'll stay. But on one condition." Lottie struggled to keep her voice steady. "You find a new location for us in case this"—she waved her hands to indicate the room—"doesn't work out."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Noah steeple his fingers and felt a pang of self-doubt.

"Are you sure about this?" Casey asked.

Dispelling her misgivings, Lottie gave Casey a grin. "I am."

***

_Ever-absent God damn that man!_

Casey threw a stick into the woods. He'd never been so angry in his life, not since Kerner destroyed his guitar. He wanted—no needed—to hit something, _someone_. That bastard had the gall to ignore his questions. Repeatedly. Noah only answered when it suited him! And then, when he'd barked Casey's surname, Casey'd frozen like a raw recruit. It was disgraceful. Him? Obeying a mere drifter as if Noah was Casey's superior. _Motherfu_ —

"You finished sulking yet?" Noah asked from behind him.

"No."

The response drew a snort from Noah. "Didn't think so."

"What do you want, Noah?" Casey's stomach burned from pent up frustration.

"Just to talk," Noah replied. "I'm afraid I haven't left you with a good impression."

"No. You haven't," Casey grumbled.

"Walk with me?"

Casey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine," he growled.

Noah whistled, and Bix bounded out of the treeline with a stick that looked suspiciously like the one Casey had chucked a few moments before. At a hand signal, Bix dropped it and took off running. Noah strode after the dog, obviously expecting Casey to follow.

Irritated, Casey joined him.

They walked for a few minutes before Casey calmed enough to realize that, although they were marching through the woods, neither of them was making undue noise. Casey didn't want to admit it, but between Noah's skill at evading and his authoritative manner, Casey's curiosity was unduly piqued.

In less than a half of a kilometer, they stopped at the edge of a stream. With a sweep of Noah's hand, he indicated the water. "Just over two klicks downstream is where that ranger lived."

"And you're sure it's safe here? Being that close?" Casey asked, barely masking the sarcastic tone.

"It is," Noah replied. "On the other side of that ridge is the reservoir, but none of the paths down the mountain turn this far north." Noah paused and took a deep breath as if steeling himself for something unpleasant. "I owe you an apology, son."

Casey didn't know what to say. "I'm not—"

"Permit an old man his folly," Noah retorted, cutting him off.

Casey's mouth snapped shut, and he glared at the river. _Fine._

"I knew you cared about them. But I must admit, I didn't expect you back this soon," Noah told him. After a pause, he murmured, "If at all." He angled toward Casey before continuing, "I fully intended to let you know where your girlfriend—"

"Lottie."

"—Lottie was, but you beat me to it."

Casey grunted, watching Noah out of the corner of his eye, who, in turn, scrutinize him. "Do you begrudge her this choice?"

_No..._ "What do you mean?"

"You control men. You control women—when you have too—and, 'til recently, you've controlled her."

Casey's gaze returned to Noah's. "Dammit, what _is_ your point?"

Noah cleared his throat. "She's suffered a trauma that much is clear." Noah held up his hand, forestalling Casey's insistence that nothing happened to her while she lived at Fort Sutton. "And I know you and your men are not the cause, no matter how many times your men threatened her." Casey looked away, ashamed to admit he'd let that behavior flourish under his command. Noah continued, "She needs time to heal. Time to relearn who she is and time to learn how to make decisions for herself."

"And you think you can do this for her?" Casey growled.

"In short? Yes."

"And where do I fit in"—Casey asked, waving his hand—"in this plan of yours?"

"Right here, as you were. But as her friend. Her companion. Her lover—should she wish it," Noah answered. "But definitely not as the decision-maker. Not yet." Noah stopped speaking a moment to survey the clearing. "I am heartened to see her stand up to you already. To face your anger when she so clearly wants to please you."

Casey lifted his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Oh yes," Noah gave him a gentle smile. "You didn't notice?"

Had he? She'd done what he ordered—most of the time—but Casey couldn't pinpoint when her actions changed from, grudgingly doing what he asked due to his position of power, to her doing them because Casey was the one doing the asking.

"You have an important place in her life. Be careful." Noah gave him another smile, and before Casey could stop him, he melted into the trees and was gone. A second later, Bix bounded up to him and leaned against his leg. When Bix didn't growl, Casey reached down and petted the dog behind the ears.

Straightening, Casey stared at the water as it burbled by.

***

Lottie bounced Greysen on her hip while she patted his back and paced the small clearing in front of Noah's home. Back and forth she went between Noah's garden and the edge of the woods, consoling a wailing Greysen the whole time.

Noah had come back from his talk with Casey, but Casey hadn't, and now she worried. Had Noah done something to him? Or had her insistence about staying chased Casey away? Was he _that_ angry at her? Lottie second-guessed herself for the hundredth time since her decision in the cabin when Casey walked out. Maybe she should have agreed with him and left.

"No," she contradicted herself. Accepting Noah's hospitality might not be the right decision, but not because Casey didn't agree. _If Casey doesn't like it, then that's too bad for him._

Groaning, Lottie didn't believe that either, and she shifted Greysen in her arms. Her heart panged with a deep ache at the thought of Casey leaving her. It hurt so bad that she had to believe Casey wouldn't do that. Couldn't do that. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she dashed it away with her free hand.

Noah's door pushed open, and he called out to her, "When you two finish talking, come inside. I have tea prepared."

We?

"You ready to go in?"

Lottie squeaked and whipped around. Casey stood at the edge of the woods; his hands shoved deep into his pant pockets. He didn't look happy.

"You came back," she said, her voice barely above a whisper and infused with hope.

He'd heard her nonetheless. Scowling, he replied, "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

She gulped and focused on Greysen. "I thought you were angry at me and wouldn't come back because of it." Lottie couldn't help it. Another tear fell, and she wiped it away.

"Hey. No," Casey chided gently, and she risked looking at him. "It was your choice, and I'll stand by it even if I don't agree with it."

Warm, fuzzy relief suffused her, and she gave him a shaky smile. It _had_ been her decision, and he wasn't angry at her for it. She nodded.

Casey glanced toward the abode and grimaced.

Before she could worry at his expression, he shook his head and gave her a bemused smile. "Let's go figure out how three—sometimes four—people are going to coexist in a one-room cabin."

"Yes. Lets."

***

Carefully, Casey lifted himself onto his elbow. He didn't want to disturb Lottie, who was sleeping peacefully at his side. Glancing over her and the edge of the bed, he checked on Greysen in his wash bucket-turned crib.

Greysen's mouth made small sucking motions in his sleep, and Casey ached to hold him. But waking him for a cuddle before he left wouldn't be fair to Noah or Lottie. Especially if he couldn't keep the baby quiet and it made them get up early.

Letting his gaze drift around the room, Casey studied the rearrangements Noah had put in place after Casey returned from his sulk in the woods. Casey had helped move the larger items at the foot of the bed so that Noah had a place to sleep. The endeavor was successful, but now there was significantly less room on the other side of the dwelling, making the whole area have a slightly claustrophobic feel.

Casey checked on the man sleeping on the floor, surrounded by his two dogs, and sighed. He had a hard time fathoming why Noah would rearrange his life so thoroughly. Still, he had, and Casey had to admit a begrudging amount of respect for the man, especially when Noah had insisted—despite their arguments to the contrary—that Lottie and Casey take the bed.

It was a small bed.

Bix lifted his head, and his tail thumped on the floor once, but when Casey didn't move right away, he relaxed and went back to sleep.

Gazing down at Lottie, Casey felt his heart twist. He needed to go—Tristan would be waiting for him—but the pain at the thought of leaving her behind nearly crippled him. Casey gently brushed a strand of her blonde hair to the side. He wanted to kiss her, but that was impossible. He had to let go of that fantasy.

Carefully, he disentangled himself from the bedding and stood. The subtle change of breathing in the man at his feet told Casey Noah was awake. Casey tapped Noah's foot with his to let him know that Casey knew he was awake, and Noah sat up.

Casey hunkered down and whispered, "Thanks. Take care of them."

"I will. Come back anytime. We _will_ be here."

Casey nodded, grabbed his coat and holster from by the door, and let himself out.

***

Shoving his cold fingers into his pockets, Casey waited for Tristan to finish packing up his things.

"How's Momma?" Tristan asked over his shoulder.

"Fine."

"Uh-huh." His tone clearly said Tristan didn't believe him. "Any trouble?"

_Yes._ "No."

Tristan stood and contemplated him. "Liar."

Casey quirked an eyebrow at the accusation.

"You don't act like a man who saw his girl."

"And how should I be acting?"

"Sad, yet happy," Tristan answered. "Instead, you look like you came out of a briefin' with Kerner."

Apt description.

"So, what gives?"

"Let it go, Tristan," he commanded. He wasn't ready to discuss Lottie's new living arrangements. "They're fine."

Tristan raised his hands in a placating manner. "And Greysen? How's he?"

A grin tugged at Casey's lips. "He's smiling now." The answering grin on Tristan's face lightened his mood. "He's starting to interact. The visit wasn't nearly long enough." A sigh escaped, despite Casey's efforts to hold it back. Snapping himself back to attention, he ordered, "Report on your findings?"

Tristan smoothly slipped from comradery to business. "One and Five are fine, comparatively speakin'. The tornado touched down about a klick northeast of Decoy One."

"Repairs needed?"

"Not really. There's debris, and a tree leans against Five, but nothin' as drastic as Four here," Tristan answered with a wave of his hand. Smirking, he added, "My professional opinion is to leave them alone."

"Very good. Did you decide how to work on Four?"

"One crew. A handful of days to clear and prep some timbers, and a skeleton crew to assemble. It'll take a week. A week and a half tops."

"You think we can get it done before the bitter cold?"

Tristan grabbed his pack, shouldered it, and began walking. "If you set up the team this week or next, yes." Tristan shifted his bag on his back, helping it settle. "We'd be done right about the new year. Wait any longer, though, and you'll be pushin' the repairs into January."

Working on construction in the worst part of winter was dicey at best, and Casey didn't want to condemn anyone to build it during a snowstorm. "Who do you want on assembly?"

"I assume you'll be there."

Casey agreed. His presence was a given.

"Matt would be a nice choice."

"Matt, it is, then," Casey replied. "I'll tweak the schedules, and we'll deploy this week."

Tristan acknowledged him with a nod of his head.

They were almost back to base when Tristan broke the silence. "How's Zoe?"

Casey ran a hand through his hair. He didn't like thinking about Zoe or Maddy or what they were going through. "Zoe miscarried about three weeks ago. Her second this year."

Tension radiated from Tristan's shoulders, but there was nothing Casey could do. So instead of offering inane platitudes, he opted for silence as they finished the last few kilometers of their hike.

***

Lottie shifted Greysen in her arms and fixed the blankets draped around them, before scooching lower into the wooden lawn chair she'd found near Noah's fire pit. She barely spared the ring of stones a glance even though she would have enjoyed a crackling fire to warm up the crisp and clear night. Letting her head fall back, she stared at the stars and rocked Greysen.

"Does he sleep?" Noah asked as he settled another blanket across her lap.

Greysen whimpered and then howled.

"No. I'm sorry if he woke you." She'd left the cabin hoping Noah would rest.

He waved off her apology and pulled the other chair closer. Settling in, he joined her in looking at the sky. "Beautiful, aren't they? I swear they get brighter every year."

Turning her attention to Greysen's cries, she shrugged; she hadn't noticed one way or the other.

"May I hold him?"

Lifting Greysen to her shoulder, she patted him on the back and considered Noah's request. If she was going to live here with him, she could probably trust him with Greysen. "You ever hold a baby?"

"A few. Although not many chances to do so out here."

"I suppose not." After a moment of indecision, Lottie nodded her assent and handed the bundled Greysen to Noah. Once sitting in Noah's lap, Greysen quieted.

"Damn," she muttered. _How did he do that?_

Noah cooed to Greysen, and the baby gurgled happily, waving his arms and patting Noah's cheeks. Lottie wanted to be frustrated at how quickly Noah consoled her crying child, but she didn't have it in her heart to be angry. Truthfully, Lottie was thankful Greysen no longer screamed. Deciding Greysen was secure for the moment, Lottie studied the night sky, and let her thoughts drift.

"Noah, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, child."

"Why did you want us to live here?" she asked. "I mean, Casey could have found us somewhere else. We didn't _have_ to be here."

"I know," Noah replied and didn't say anything further.

After a while, Lottie gave up on getting an answer and watched the sky while her mind wandered.

"You took a huge chance," Noah said, breaking her reverie.

"I'm sorry?"

"Leaving the security of Fort St. Louis to keep your child. That was a huge risk. I applaud you for it."

Casey—and now Noah's—assumption that she left Fort St. Louis because of her pregnancy with Greysen was too charitable. In reality, she was selfish. Her lips turned down in a frown. _Just plain selfish._ She deliberated about letting him continue to believe the fallacy that she fled for honorable reasons, but in the end, Lottie was tired of not answering for fear of criticism. Casey forgave her for being self-centered. Maybe Noah would too. And if not, well, she could leave.

She pulled the blankets tighter to her body. "I dodged the draft, Noah." Lottie checked his reaction out of the corner of her eye. The moon reflected off his wide, unblinking eyes, which were turned her way in surprise. "I'd been on my own for over a year when..." She gulped. "When I conceived." She might as well admit everything, get it out into the open, even if it was difficult to do so. "I never wanted to be pregnant. Some nomadic drifters found me. Greysen was my reward for enduring their attentions." She shivered at the memory and pulled her feet up under her and wrapping the blanket around her toes. "There's no reason to think I'm anything but a selfish evader."

Noah made a strangled noise deep in his throat, and she sighed. "I never wanted a baby 'til I knew I'd have one, and then he was all I wanted." A single tear trailed down her cheek, and Lottie dashed it away angrily. "I couldn't let him go." Her emotions were too raw, and she let the conversation lapse, fearing the repercussions of her confession.

"Understandable."

"What is?" she asked him.

"Not being able to let him go."

She snorted.

Noah cleared his throat. "You scoff, but family is a huge motivator for most." Noah tucked Greysen to his chest and rocked him. "I remember the protesters."

"Protesters?" Lottie didn't know a polite way to ask if Noah was older than the forced orphanage policy, but he volunteered the information before she had a chance to voice her question.

"The sixty-fifth anniversary of the mandate is in a few weeks. It went into effect two years before I was born." He paused to help Greysen catch and suck his thumb. "Children born before January first of that year stayed with their families. The ones born after were given to the government to live in communal homes. Some families were lucky enough to stay in the same Fort as their children. Others were not." Noah stopped speaking and looked out across the dark yard, breathing deeply several times.

Lottie waited for him to continue. She had the feeling what he said next would break her heart, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear it.

On a shaky breath, Noah added, "My mother, father, and two older brothers came to visit me as often as they could, but in the end, it was too much. By the time I entered the service, I hadn't seen them in several years. That is why I asked if you wanted to live here."

# Chapter 16

Casey set his pencil down and eyed the few remaining blank pages of his journal before closing it with a muffled curse and rubbed his eyes. He _could_ use the ancient communication device to store his thoughts, but frankly, he didn't trust it. One of these days, it would die, and then what? Casey couldn't repair it. The nobody manufactured the parts needed anymore, not even overseas. But, he figured, it was a good thing the military spent so much time and effort reverting to basics. Men knew how to make paper—they'd been doing it for centuries—and each state was required to maintain one small paper mill dedicated to keeping the government supplied. It wasn't the end of the world if Casey ran out of blank pages, he could request a new notebook, but he didn't like asking for books. He worried the frequency of his requests for them would raise undue attention. The last thing Casey needed was to have his CO poking his nose in Casey's private thoughts.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he grabbed his journal off the desk and shoved it into a drawer. He just finished locking it as the command shed door clicked open. Without glancing at the door, he asked, "What's up?" The door snicked closed, and the lock slid home. Casey whipped around to face the newcomer.

Noah?!

"Were you aware she conceived naturally?"

"Why the _fuck_ are you here?" Noah's unannounced arrival at Fort Sutton worried him. "What happened? Are they hurt?"

"I want to see her file."

"Her file? Why do you need to see her file? Noah, what's going on?" What did Lottie's file have to do with their wellbeing?

"It runs in families."

Noah's statement chilled him, making him wary. _How the hell does he know that?_ "What are you talking about?"

"Son, if you don't pull up her file and let me check some details, I'll do it for you. I don't think you want the military to know I was here."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Casey asked, confused. Noah had nothing to fear about discovery. The Army wouldn't press them into service like they did the younger men. _Wait... that's not what he said._ Drifters don't get credentials to the secure system. "You'd brute force the passcode?" That _would_ create problems.

"Don't need to," Noah replied.

"Explain," Casey barked, then changed his mind. "No. Never mind. You can't barge in here and demand access to my system without giving me some answers first."

"Classified."

"Bullshit!" Casey growled. "You give me the runaround every time we meet. Answer the question. Then we'll talk."

Noah made to take a step closer, and Casey pulled his firearm from its holster on his thigh, clicked off the safety, and leveled it at Noah's chest. The minuscule amount of goodwill Casey managed to generate back at Noah's home vanished with each step. "Not another fucking step, old man."

"Put away the gun," Noah ordered, but his steely tone had lost some of its bite when he put his hands up in front of him in a placating manner.

"Fuck you. You come in here acting like you own the place—which you don't—demanding information without extending me the same courtesy. _I will not put up with it._ Now answer the goddamn question."

"Which one? You asked several."

"Start with the most important one. Are they hurt? Do they need me?"

"No and no."

Choosing to believe that they were safe, Casey sighed in relief, and without a better course of action, he reapplied the safety on his gun and holstered it. "Now, why do you need to see her file?"

Noah stared at him as if deciding how much to say. "There is a facility up north—every state has one—where they send women who conceive naturally." Casey wasn't sure he schooled his expression fast enough to hide his surprise at what Noah knew. He must have failed, for Noah's next statement remarked upon it. "Oh yes, top secret. Buried deep under layers of confidential documents and security clearance requirements. But you, as ARA, have access to files most do not. I want to see if my theory is correct. If it is—"

"If it is?" Casey pounced, asking for clarification.

Noah declined to answer.

Typical.

Continuing as if Casey hadn't spoken, Noah added, "She mentioned her mother died in childbirth. Easily proven."

"Or disproven." Now he knew what Noah wanted, but why?

They stared at each other for several moments. After a while, Noah asked, "How much do you know?"

Again, Casey hedged, "Some."

Noah gave him a slight nod, whether it was to acknowledge his response or his discretion, Casey didn't know for sure. Raising his eyebrow in question, Noah inquired, "Did you know that what happened to her mother is why she ran away?"

Casey sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "She named her son after the woman. So, I'd say yeah, Greysen senior was a strong driving force behind her actions."

"If the woman is alive?"

"You'd do what? Rescue her?" Casey scoffed.

Noah stood a little straighter.

_He_ would _rescue her._ Casey thought with surprise, sobered by Noah's unspoken conviction. "Who are you, Noah?"

"Classified."

Casey settled back on his feet, his hands on his knees and glared at Noah. Like all conversations with the man, this one proved to be as unproductive as the last. "I don't think so. Not this time. I'm trusting you with my family—against my better judgment, and at your insistence—and time and time again, you prove to me that my trust in you might be misplaced. You don't answer straight forward questions, opting instead, to dictate each conversation's direction to satisfy your own needs. I'm sick of it, and I think you're hiding something. So I ask you again. Who. Are. You."

As each second ticked by, Casey grew more convinced Noah would refuse to answer. After an eternity, Noah responded, "I cannot tell you. Not yet. It _is_ classified."

Waving his hand in dismissal, Casey snarked, "Then, by all means, let me bend over backward to answer all your questions." _I am not playing that game. Not anymore._ "We are through here." Casey went to turn away from Noah, to prove to Noah that he didn't scare Casey in the slightest. Yet, Casey's heart pounded, knowing that a potential killer was at his six. All it would take were a few short steps, and Noah could end him.

Noah sighed. "Wait."

"No, I have nothing else to say to you."

Speaking softly, Noah began, "She said she wouldn't change a thing about her life. Not the way she ran. Not the way she conceived that baby. And not how she met you." Noah's voice dropped to a whisper. "The only thing she would have wanted to be different in her life right now was the fact her mother couldn't meet her grandson." The floorboards shook as Noah stepped closer. Casey felt the heat of the man at his back, making the hairs on Casey's neck stand on end. "If I can," Noah said. "I'd like to give her that."

"And if the woman you seek was locked away in a government-controlled tower, how would you get her out?"

"I don't know. Not yet. But I do know that everything about this stinks. The fact the facility exists at all, reeks of despair. And the horrors they face? No one—least of all our women—should be subjected to this. Some believe the forced orphan policy is hindering our attempts to find a cure. The pain of losing your children creates a subconscious desire to prevent conception. And once your body doesn't want to do something? I'm sure you can extrapolate from there."

And Casey could. Even if he hadn't seen how much Lottie loved Greysen, he felt it himself. He rubbed his chest to ease the ache he felt at the thought of giving Greysen up. And to do that over and over again? Impossible.

"So you see why there are some who agree with me? Some who want to change things at all costs?" Noah asked, whispering in Casey's ear.

_Some?_ Were there others like Noah? Others willing to counteract the government's mandates? What Noah suggested. Casey shivered at the thought. It was a whole scale deflection of the highest magnitude. A Rebellion. Could Casey put himself in league with Noah on this?

He didn't know.

Noah continued, "Regretfully, I admit the enforced draft appears necessary. As a species, we are dying. We _need_ women to conceive. And now, keeping the genders separated is required for everyone's safety. But even though single pairings should be discouraged—I'd recommend multiple males to female ratio, myself—the separation from the men shouldn't get in the way of letting women keep their children."

Casey sat up straighter as Noah retreated, and he swiveled his chair to face him. "I don't know if I agree with you. What you suggest could land me—land all involved—in a prison camp."

Noah tipped his head down once. "I needn't point out that what you have already done would do the same."

Casey grimaced at the truth in those words. "But no one else was involved"—he waved his hand at Noah, conceding the point—"'til you took her to your home, that is. I'm not willing to risk _my_ men for _my_ treason. I couldn't do that to anyone else. They didn't sign up for that."

"Commendable," Noah replied. "And you wouldn't have to ask any of your men. There are plenty outside of this base who are willing and able to help. Many who would stand behind an agent of change. Any agent of change." A tight grin stretched his lips. The smile looked more like a scowl than an expression of happiness. "Now, can I see her file?"

"No."

Noah's eyes flashed in anger, and Casey shoved his elation at besting Noah, aside. The game Noah played could—no would—blow up. It was only a matter of when, and Casey would be out of the army with a Dishonorably Discharged _._

The thought pained him, but not as much as it once would have. Yet, the decision to deflect wasn't one to be made lightly. _But, I already have,_ he criticized. _I chose them over my career. Would telling Noah about Maddy be any worse? No, it wouldn't be._ Coming to a decision, Casey spoke, "It's true. Greysen senior is in that upstate facility. She is alive but not doing well. Not by a long shot. The scientists, they want Lo—" Then, the doorknob rattled, cutting him off.

"Case? You in there?"

"A minute, Tristan," Casey called and indicated Noah should stand in the corner that would be shielded by the open door.

"We're missin' a chicken, Case. You're not in there choking it, are you?"

He glanced at Noah and saw humor reflected in the man's expression. _Great._ Casey rolled his eyes. Casey walked toward the door, and after a quelling glance to Noah in the corner, he opened it. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to discuss the repairs."

_Uh-huh._ Casey saw right through him. Tristan wanted an update on their shared obsession: Maddy and Zoe.

"I'm busy right now."

Tristan glanced over his shoulder. "Doesn't look like it."

The touch on Casey's fingers startled him, and he barely refrained from glancing at Noah, now angling himself next to the door. How had Casey not heard him come closer? He had to get rid of Tristan.

"I'm serious. Now is not the time." Casey tried to close the door.

"I don't think so," Tristan said, his eyes narrowing. "You've been avoidin' me since we got back. What happened to her campsite that you don't want to tell me?"

"Nothing happened."

"Look," Tristan tried again. "I know you're tryin' to shield me from the shit when it hits the fan, but quit. Somethin' big happened, and I deserve to know."

"No, you don't." Casey had to get him to stop. Drawing on every ounce of command he could muster, he ordered, "Leave."

Tristan's eyes glittered with anger, and his lips thinned, but he fell silent. And for one blissful moment, Casey thought he'd succeeded, but then Tristan opened his big mouth again. "It's not like I am innocent in this either. I encouraged her to defy you."

Against Casey's will, his gaze caught Noah's. The man was interested, and in that instant, Casey was tired of fighting. Would it kill him to let Tristan know about Noah? _No, it wouldn't._ If he were honest with himself, Tristan would be on board to rescue, not only Maddy but Zoe, too, and that was what scared him. But if he let Tristan in, told Tristan what was going on, then his friend would be in danger, and Casey didn't want to live with that on his consciousness. "Tristan," Casey said, wearily, shaking his head. He had to try one more time.

"No, Case," Tristan cut him off. "Helpin' her avoid that fucked up facility is the best thing I've ever done, and if I could, I'd do more. I'm a big boy, Case. Let me choose if I'm in too deep."

Now he's done it.

Casey saw the next few seconds unfold as if in slow motion, as Noah decided for them both. It showed in his eyes and his actions. Noah's hand came closer and closer to the edge of the door, and his fingers wrapped around it. Tristan's grim smile faded, and his eyes widened at the sight of the man's fingers gripping the door in preparation for opening it further.

There was nothing else Casey could do, and he hoped he wasn't making a gigantic mistake. Stepping to the side, he let Tristan enter and closed the door softly behind him. Locking it, Casey rested his forehead against the door for a moment, drawing on a reserve of strength he didn't think he had any longer.

When Casey turned, Tristan was staring at Noah, shocked.

"Tristan," Casey said. "this is Noah, the 'nothing' that happened at her campsite. Noah, meet Tristan, the friend that can't take a hint."

***

"You think he left yet?" Tristan asked as he hung by his elbow from the support beams of the axillary shed they were building for Decoy Four.

"That's what he said he'd do last week," Casey grumbled in reply and began hammering the board Tristan held.

"Unreal. I can't believe he made it past perimeter patrol undetected. You can't even do that."

Casey grunted. He wasn't surprised since Noah eluded him all the fucking time.

"You think we can do it? Save Maddy and Zoe?"

"I don't know," Casey snapped and hammered a bit harder, irritated at how quickly Tristan agreed to help Noah plan a rescue of the women. "You don't even know if Zoe wants out."

"Why wouldn't she?"

"What if she's not interested in you anymore?"

Tristan shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I can't stand the thought of her sufferin' for two more years."

"Or more," Casey said regretfully, knowing Maddy was almost forty and under forced service.

"Or more," Tristan whispered in agreement.

Quietly, they worked on the roof of the shed together, deep into their thoughts. As they grew close to the end of their task for the day, Casey checked on the sun. Relieved to see, they would get the roof finished before sundown.

"Hey, pass me that," Tristan said, pointing to a stack of wood shingles. Casey tossed him a few. Tristan caught them and resumed his task. After a moment, he said, "You know Noah's high military, right?"

Casey's hammer stopped mid-swing. "What?"

"You didn't know that?"

"He's a drifter," Casey said, dismissing Tristan's comment. "He did his service, got out, and has lived in the wilds ever since."

"Nope," Tristan said, shaking his head. "You're wrong."

"How can you know that? Did he tell you?"

"Na. It's in the way he carries himself. Like you, but on steroids." Tristan smiled and pounded a nail into a shingle while he continued to talk. "The way he moves? Him sneakin' past the guards? I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't some sort of secret agent. A ranger or a fancy Black Op. Hell, he may even be RAC."

Casey snorted. "You're full of shit."

"No, Case. I'm not. Why else would half of what we discussed be 'classified'?"

"Because he's a sneaky bastard that doesn't want us to know his business." Casey dismissed Tristan's statement and began hammering again. "Besides, he's what sixty? Seventy?" Shrugging, Casey added, "He knows people is all."

"I'm tellin' you, Case. That man has more security clearance than you do."

"Not possible."

Tristan huffed a laugh. "Okay. Do me a favor, though, and ask him next time. I betcha he's under active enlistment."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Fine, I will." But Tristan's insistence made him think of the repercussions of Noah being military. Finally, he voiced his concern, "You think they are okay with him?"

"Yeah. They're fine," Tristan replied. "He wouldn't have offered them his home if they weren't."

He supposed Tristan was right, but his back tensed with worry.

Tristan clapped him on the shoulder. "Why don't you go see them before we leave here. Confirm for yourself that they are doing all right."

Casey nodded, and he felt lighter. He would do that.

***

"Any word on when we're getting our replacement tents?" Hong asked Casey across the fire. There were a few mumbled agreements from the others who had to share tent space.

Casey took a moment to think about his answer. Hong hated sharing and asked him almost daily if he'd placed the order. But after the storm, Casey'd put off writing the formal request. Here was a chance for him to replace more than what they lost without the army growing suspicious. If Noah did succeed in rescuing Maddy and Zoe, they would need at least one more tent, preferably two, but he couldn't delay any longer. "Putting the order in this week."

"Good," Hong muttered. "I'm sick of smelling Teo's feet."

"Like yours are any better," Teo grumbled, and Hong shrugged, resuming his meal.

Casey leaned back and kicked his feet out. He always enjoyed sharing Mess with his soldiers. Sometimes it was the only time in a day for him to get a read on the group, especially in the winter, when the men tended to hide in their tents more during the day. He scanned the team, making sure to meet everyone's eyes, pleased to see everyone relaxed. His team didn't appear to suffer from the same hostilities present this past late summer.

Conversations floated around him, their ebb and flow only drawing his attention when the tone grew heated, or the volume raised. Instead, he let his mind drift, and Casey wondered when Noah would get back from his reconnaissance mission in Fort St. Louis. Casey wanted to hear what the 'contacts' had to say about the proposed rescue mission.

At that thought, he added another tent to his mental order. Hell, maybe he should order one for every man. He could get away with it, right?

Returning his thoughts to the rescue mission, Casey wondered who he should send. He couldn't go, and it would look suspicious if Tristan went, but he supposed that was who he would deploy. Casey couldn't trust anyone else—well, maybe Javier—but Casey was getting ahead of himself again. He didn't even know if it was possible to rescue Maddy and Zoe yet.

A hand landed on his shoulder; a second later, a voice whispered in his ear, "He was here."

Casey didn't react to Tristan's comment. He knew who Tristan meant.

Noah.

"I would have had him wait for you, but he didn't want to stay," Tristan said, then let go of Casey's shoulder. Tristan walked over to where the food sat next to the fire and grabbed himself a plate. He made his way back toward Casey with his dinner in hand. After he sat, he quietly remarked, "He asked when you would be at Four or Seven again."

"And?"

"I told him the next time _we_ would be down that way."

"He say anything else?"

Tristan shook his head.

Of course not.

"And he's gone?" Casey confirmed.

"Yep. I answered, and he left."

Casey sighed. He would have like to talk to Noah about what he'd learned while away, but Casey assumed he would have to wait a few more weeks. "Very well," Casey whispered. He wasn't sure what made him look, but Casey glanced across the fire. Javier held his gaze easily, and Casey had to stifle a groan. That soldier had a knack for learning things he wasn't supposed to, and now Casey feared Javier would turn that curiosity his way. Casey had to devise a clever redirection tactic for Javier.

***

Lottie held Greysen closer to her. "You think this is a good idea?" she called out to Noah.

"Yes, child. I do."

"But we're so close to Base," Lottie argued as she followed behind Noah on the trail. She doubted, heading back toward Casey and his soldiers was a good idea. "What if someone sees me?"

"Everything will be fine. You will see."

"Okay," she whispered, not believing him or herself.

After walking a while longer, Noah stopped. "We'll wait here."

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least they stopped several kilometers from Fort Sutton.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back soon."

"Wait!" she called. "Where are you going?"

"To get Staff Sergeant Huxley and Private Bell."

"Bell?" _Who is Bell?_

Noah didn't respond, and instead, he turned and melted into the trees. Lottie permitted herself a wry smile. Noah usually answered her questions, but she could see how being ignored would bug Casey to no end. Lottie found that even though Noah didn't respond every time, it was usually due to the answer becoming apparent faster than it would take to explain. So, rather than become irritated, she shrugged her shoulders and took Greysen out of the sling. Lottie placed a wool blanket across her lap and propped Greysen so that he could look around.

"I wonder why we are out here," she murmured to him. Greysen cooed in response.

At almost six months old, he was at the awkward stage of not yet able to crawl, but unhappy sitting still, and, now that they were no longer moving, he wanted down to explore. Lottie debated it, but in the end, decided the ground in early February was too cold, and instead kept him on her lap. He was just beginning to fuss at her when she heard voices in the woods. Pulling him close, she waited, but Greysen decided he wouldn't patient any longer, and he whimpered. His little fingers made clutching motions in the direction of the conversation coming her way. A moment later, Tristan stepped into the small clearing with Noah and Casey right behind him.

_Bell! That must be Tristan's last name,_ she thought, and her heartbeat accelerated in excitement. He was the closest thing she had to a friend out here besides Casey and Noah, and she'd missed him. "Hi!"

Tristan stopped abruptly, and a grin tugged at his lips. "Momma?" he said and walked toward her. He dropped to a crouch and looked at Greysen. "My ever-absent God, he's big."

Lottie chuckled, and Greysen put his hands out for Casey standing behind Tristan. Casey beamed down at him and scooped the baby out of her lap. The action earned him an infant giggle.

"How are you?" Lottie asked.

"Good," Tristan replied at the same time as Casey said, "Fine."

"You?" Tristan inquired.

"I'm all right." She felt ridiculous at how insanely happy she was to see them and couldn't keep from grinning.

"Why don't you all take a seat," Noah suggested from behind them.

For some reason, Noah's request didn't instill confidence, and she felt her heart rate ratchet upwards. Her unease grew as Casey's expression darkened. He snipped, "I had hoped to discuss this with you first. Alone."

"Well, we don't all get what we want," Noah remarked and sat off to the side facing Lottie. "Now sit."

Casey grumbled, and Tristan chuckled, but they both found a comfortable seat on the cold ground.

After everyone was situated, Noah turned his sympathy filled, dark brown eyes her way, and Lottie felt the world shift under her feet. There was no humanly possible way she would like what he had to say. She was sure of it. "You're not taking me back, are you?"

At her question, all three men told her 'no' in varying intensity. Their insistence didn't quite calm her racing heart, and she wiped sweaty palms on the blanket in her lap. Glancing back and forth between the men, Lottie asked, "What's going on?" They sat silently, looking at each other for several moments. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer. "Please. Someone tell me."

Taking a deep breath, Casey began, "There's no easy way to say this."

Lottie gulped, fear coursing through her, and she clasped her hands in her lap to quell their shaking.

"Your mother—along with Tristan's girl—is alive and is living upstate in a medical facility dedicated to the study of natural conception."

_Alive?_ Lottie's breath rushed out of her in a noisy huff. Out of all the things he could have said, learning her mother was alive hadn't even made the list.

When she didn't respond, Casey continued, "Since her death"—Casey did air quotes around the word—"she's had three more babies. All boys. But her successful pregnancies are growing farther apart."

Tristan added, "Noah went to Fort St. Louis to learn whether or not we can get her and Zoe out of this facility."

"Ah." Lottie struggled to find the right words. "Like a rescue?"

Tristan nodded.

"Can we?" she queried. _Alive?_ She remembered that night at Noah's cabin after Casey left her there with him the first time. She'd told Noah that she wished her mother could meet Greysen. She never expected that it was possible.

"I would like to try," Noah replied.

"How?"

"I don't know that yet."

Lottie dropped her gaze at Noah's admission. _Alive. Unbelievable._

Casey sighed. His irritation evident when he spoke, "Did you learn _anything_ useful?"

"Yes."

"And?" Casey prodded.

"Getting in might pose a problem, but out should be easier," Noah said and didn't volunteer anything further.

_A rescue?_ Lottie hadn't wrapped her head around the fact her mother was alive.

"What are we facin'," Tristan asked. When Noah didn't respond, Tristan added, "We can't adequately plan if we don't know what we are up against. What did you learn?"

Noah held his silence while Lottie stared at the ground and chewed on her lower lip. _Alive? She's been in there six years. I have more brothers. Were they all taken away from her? That poor woman. She must be so sick of it. I know I couldn't do that?_

Slowly, the quiet of the clearing intruded on her thoughts, and Lottie looked up. Noah seemed to have been waiting for her attention, for when she caught his gaze, he began to explain. "The facility is minimally staffed. Only the best Fecundity Analysis and Remediation specialists are on-premises. The women enlisted in the breeding program number in the twenties. And the whole facility is guarded by a single squad of Asset Translocation and Retention soldiers."

"Only one squad to secure a whole hospital?" Tristan queried. "Then why will it be hard to get in?"

Noah turned to Tristan. "When I say a single squad, I mean eight men to serve the entire state." Noah held his hand up, stalling Tristan's retort. "These men were selected for their circumspection and years in the service. They know each other in ways you cannot imagine. Infiltrating their ranks is impossible, and their identities are under enough security clearance requirements that I was unable to learn who comprised their squad in the time allotted to me."

"Were you at least able to learn where the facility's located?" Casey demanded.

"No. But I did learn that when the Army identifies a new subject, the ATR is activated."

"What about the scientists who work there," Lottie queried. "Wouldn't one of them know?"

Noah shook his head. "Whether they are coming or going, they are blindfolded for several days' worth of travel near the facility to prevent knowing its exact location."

"Why is it so secret?" It didn't make sense to her. The draft's enactment was for the sole reason to have children, so why a secret facility when the ones in Fort St. Louis hospitals should suffice.

Casey answered her. "It is completely unethical. The women kept there are ex-military, and, to keep questions down, they're declared dead before being installed inside." Turning to Noah, Casey remarked, "So getting in is going to take some planning. How about getting out?"

"You did say leavin' would be easier," Tristan agreed.

"My contact assured me the woman could walk out of the building easily enough."

Tristan snorted.

"The grounds are not patrolled. Not anymore at any rate. The technology behind the security systems has long since expired. The only servicemen on the premises are the ATR, FAR, and one FCO."

"If it is so easy to leave, why hasn't anyone?" Lottie asked, curious. Even escaping Fort St. Louis had taken _some_ planning to avoid enlisted men roaming the streets.

"Where would they go?" Noah replied. "The facility is out in the middle of nowhere. They are blindfolded going in. They don't know exactly where they are. And if they did manage to escape, they would need to go to ground—find safe-quarter."

Tristan snarked, "Not to mention the fact they are dead."

"What about pursuit?" Casey probed.

"No pursuit by the ATR—"

"No pursuit," Tristan scoffed.

"I didn't say, no pursuit. I said no pursuit by ATR," Noah snapped. "There are only eight of them, after all."

"Then, who?" Lottie queried.

"They would deploy an Individual Reclamation and Translocation team."

The term was unfamiliar, so she asked for clarification.

"Like specialty ARA soldiers but not based anywhere permanently," Noah answered.

"So when my mom leaves that building, IRT will be after her?

Noah shrugged. "There will be a delay of several days before deployment if there is a deployment at all."

"Why the delay," Casey asked and shifted Greysen in his lap.

"First, the escape has to be confirmed and reported. Then First Sergeant Cole has to decide whether or not the escapee is worth pursuit. Furthermore, the IRT is a special forces team, and they need to be activated each time. It would take a few days for a team of them to be contacted with their orders and then sent on their mission. There isn't a high demand for them anymore. They're split up and deployed individually."

"Would my mom be 'worth it'?" Lottie asked.

"My understanding is no," Noah replied. "She's almost forty and unable to produce—" Noah snapped his mouth shut and gave her an apologetic smile.

"It's okay," Lottie reassured him. "You think she can walk away with no repercussions?" It sounded too good to be true.

"Maybe if we were only discussing Greysen alone, but not with Zoe added to the list," Noah said and glanced at Tristan.

Tristan gave him a brief smile.

"Would a pursuit be guaranteed?" Lottie didn't know how she felt about the rescue idea yet.

"No," Noah replied. "But, it is likely."

Lottie nodded. If Zoe were Tristan's age and had children naturally like herself, she would be studied further. "What did you suggest for eluding pursuit?"

"Hide the women's tracks as they flee. Provide a guard. Travel hard. They will need to put several days' worth of land between themselves and the facility."

Escaping wouldn't be as easy as Noah first indicated, but it was doable. But then, being freed raised another concern. Lottie couldn't picture two more people in Noah's little cabin. "Where would they live?"

"Unknown," Noah answered. He looked uncomfortable. "I can house you, but more than that, and I put my position in jeopardy. The movement needs me to be unencumbered."

"Movement? What do you mean?"

"Classified," Noah replied, at the same time Casey remarked, "Rebellion."

Noah reiterated, "Classified."

The tension between the two men grew, making Lottie uncomfortable, but when the silence became too much, and she cracked. "Um, if I understand this right, someone will sneak in and get my mom and Zoe and will break them out of the facility, all the while avoiding IRT and keeping them safe?"

"In effect, yes, that is correct."

_Wow._ "But you said getting in is hard. Do you have any ideas on how to do it?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Lottie exhaled heavily. Good. Having ideas were good. "How."

"The most expedient way would involve a woman already prioritized for transport to the facility. She would then make contact on the inside and bring the other women to safety."

"No!" Casey barked. Lottie started at his harsh tone. "Unacceptable. There has to be another way." Casey looked positively livid, and Greysen began to cry.

_Another way?_ It took a moment for Casey's statement to register, but when it did, Lottie's eyes went wide in shock.

"You mean me?"

***

Casey was furious. Absolutely. Unequivocally. Furious. He didn't jeopardize his career or his life to hand Lottie over to some stupid scientists for study in a secret hospital that would force her to keep having babies. "You cannot ask her to do this."

"It is not your decision," Noah answered him calmly. Turning to Lottie, Noah continued, "Are you aware that your file is flagged?"

Lottie looked back and forth between Noah and himself. "What do you mean?" Her voice tentative, as if she was afraid of his answer.

"Due to the fact your mother conceived a child naturally, your file's listing is at the highest priority possible. Should you be found, you are to be transported to the Sandra and Horton Gates Research Hospital immediately."

"I didn't know about the priority part," Lottie admitted, albeit reluctantly. "But I did know they wanted to study me. I read it in my file while at training. It was one of the reasons why I ran."

Casey's anger simmered while she spoke. She looked so fragile sitting there, her hands fisting the blanket wrapped around her. Lottie's worry, distrust, and fear almost a physical presence, and Casey wanted to pull her close, tell her that everything would be all right, that they would find a way to rescue Maddy and Zoe without her help. The problem was, Noah's idea had merit. Unhappy with the way things were going, Casey shifted Greysen in his arms and patted him on the back. The action calmed Casey more than the baby whimpering in his arms. He kissed his son's temple and shushed him.

"Are there any other ways to get in?" Lottie asked.

Rocking Greysen in his arms helped Casey keep from arguing, and he let Lottie continue the conversation without interruption.

"At the moment, no," Noah conceded.

"What about provisions? Don't they have some sort of delivery?"

Casey couldn't explain it, but her questions made him proud like she wasn't going to take Noah's word for it.

"The ATR is in charge of everything that comes and goes from that facility."

"How often is the full squad on-premises?" Casey asked.

"Unknown."

"So it is possible to come up with a solution that doesn't involve sendin' Momma into that hell hole."

Noah acknowledged Tristan with a dip of his chin. "Nothing is impossible with enough time and money. I think we should adjourn for the day and brainstorm for ideas. We can discuss this again in a few months." Noah glanced at Casey, offering an uneasy truce with one look. "Besides getting in and out safely, we need to know where the women will live and who will protect them once they are there."

"Don't you have some 'contact' you can tap for this?" Casey asked snidely. He couldn't quite keep his tone neutral. For some reason dealing with Noah always seemed to set him off.

"I'm sure I do," Noah calmly remarked, not taking the bait. "I will resume my search mid to late March." He paused. "This isn't something we can rush into, regardless of who goes in. We will need a careful plan in place before attempting anything at all."

"Too many thin's could go wrong," Tristan agreed. "We'll think about this and discuss it again in May? Will that give you enough time to gather more facts?"

Noah inclined his head once. "It will."

"It is settled then. At least for tonight," Tristan said and stood. "Let's set up camp, Case. We can finish patrol tomorrow."

Casey agreed, glad that Tristan brought his backpacking tent. "Are you staying?" he asked Noah. Worst case, Noah hadn't planned on it, and he would have to bunk with Tristan.

An indulgent smile graced Noah's lips. "I planned on it."

The knowing smirk irritated Casey, but he brushed the reaction aside, and Noah moved off to find a place to pitch his tent. Casey turned to Lottie. "Are you staying with me?" he asked her casually as if her response didn't matter. Her answering blush and nod gave him a perverse sense of pleasure.

Earlier this morning, when he'd hiked to the shelter, he'd been worried that he wouldn't see her today. The possibility had been real. If Noah came to meet them alone, there wouldn't have been enough time after the impromptu meeting for Casey to reach Noah's cabin for the night.

"Can you start the fire while I set up our tent?"

"Let me get Greysen settled, and then I can."

She proceeded to set up a small nest for Greysen on the ground. Once she finished, she took Greysen from him and set Greysen down on the blanket. Greysen sat, leaning forward awkwardly for a few seconds before falling forward onto his belly. He huffed out a little cry but then gave up complaining in favor of scooting toward the edge of the blankets, obviously pleased to be allowed to explore.

Knowing Greysen would be safe where he was, Casey left him there and grabbed the tent from his backpack. He split his attention between setting up the tent, and the people he considered under his care. Grudgingly, Casey included Noah in that group, even though the thought made him angry. He had to admit, Noah had gathered more information than Casey had expected him too.

While Casey worked, he snuck peeks at Lottie. She managed to get a blaze going despite all the interruptions by Greysen, and had something simmering next to the fire before Casey had finished setting up the small tent. He was securing the last line on the canopy when Tristan wandered over to the blaze and, picking Greysen up. Tristan sat next to the flames and talked to the baby. Lottie smiled at the two as she worked.

Forcing the twinge of jealousy aside, Casey reminded himself that they were friends by necessity, a byproduct of her stay at Fort Sutton while court-martialed and that he shouldn't feel threatened by her attention to his best friend.

Standing, Casey dusted off his hands and joined them at the fire. "What are you making?"

"Nothing exciting," Lottie answered. "Just some soup using smoked turkey and some of Noah's vegetables from last season. He's going to teach me how to can next fall."

While the food cooked, they sat around the fire chatting, and after the meal, they cleaned up before resuming their conversation about nothing and everything. The sun sunk behind the horizon while they talked, and after a few hours, Lottie announced she was heading to bed. Tristan nudged Casey in the ribs and wiggled his eyebrows at him. Casey rolled his eyes and excused himself to follow after her. He wasn't going to waste any of the precious minutes he had with her or Greysen.

Climbing into the tent behind Lottie, Casey took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. He found Lottie sitting on the ground nursing Greysen. He felt his cheeks get warm, and he averted his eyes, trying to give her some privacy. Clearing his throat, he asked, "You doing all right, really, with Noah?" It wasn't the first time he inquired about her treatment, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

She exhaled heavily. It was almost a sigh. "It was awkward at first, but he's gone quite a bit, so it is almost like I live there alone." Lottie snorted softly. "Truth be told, I'm a bit bored."

"Bored?"

"Yeah," she replied. Casey could hear the smile in her voice. "Aside from a few times—Fort Fenton, those assholes, when I learned to hunt with a sling—I've always been on the move. Now that I am here, I have all this _time_ to... sit." Lottie paused for a second. "Noah has an interesting library. I've been reading some of his books."

"Like what?" Casey could picture the bookshelf now: _Being a Jackass 101_ , _How to Piss People Off Successfully_ , or how about _Not Answering Questions and Other Ways to Avoid Exchanging Information_. That man aggravated him to no end.

Lottie sat, thinking. "Well, there are a few like _Eva_ and _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ , but then there are some others, like _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ and _Diary of Anne Frank_. There is a whole shelf dedicated to books like _1984, Fahrenheit 451, Night, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich,_ and _Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl._ He has an eclectic taste."

"Sounds like it."

"They help pass the time in any case."

Casey pondered some of the titles she mentioned. Quite a few of them were on old banned book lists. He wondered if Noah's affinity for rebellion was the chicken or the egg in the analogy. Did his desire to change the world stem from his reading material, or did his book choices reflect his inherent personality? Casey would have to watch the man and hope that the answer became clear.

Lottie shifted, and she put Greysen to her shoulder. He burped almost immediately, and she chuckled. "I didn't know what Noah planned bringing me here, but learning my mom is alive was not it."

Casey felt a twinge of chagrin at not telling her sooner, but in his defense, he didn't know how she would have reacted to the news those first few weeks at Fort Sutton. "You don't _have_ to do this, and I don't _want_ you to. It's dangerous and I—" Casey snapped his mouth shut in alarm. He'd almost said he loved her.

"I haven't said I would do it, and if I did, I couldn't do it anytime soon. Greysen needs me."

She was silent long enough Casey worried he'd upset her, but he didn't know what to say.

"The idea is terrifying," she admitted. "What if it isn't as easy as Noah thinks? What if I couldn't get out? I'd be stuck there, and Greysen would be out here, and I would have done no better than if I'd stayed in Fort St. Louis, voluntarily giving him up to the communal home."

Casey didn't have an answer. It made him sick to think about it.

Quietly, she added, "I mean, if I did go, I'd be in there for a while at least. There is no way they wouldn't supervise a new arrival, waiting for them to snap and to try to flee. I'd have to wait 'til they weren't guarding me close anymore. It could take months. I don't know if I could be away from Greysen that long." She dropped her gaze shyly. "Or you."

Her words both chilled and warmed him in equal measure. She didn't want to be away from him, but that sentiment highlighted how she couldn't do this. Casey wouldn't let her.

_It's not your decision._ Noah's voice echoed in his head.

_Shut up, old man._ "We will think of something else. Don't worry about it," Casey told her.

"I know you will," Lottie said, ending the conversation. She maneuvered Greysen so that he was in the crook of her arm and rocked him. "Anyway, I'm glad Greysen got to see you. He misses you something fierce when you are gone." She smiled at him. "I'd give him back to you, but he's almost asleep."

"It's okay." He wouldn't have minded rocking Greysen to sleep, but he understood why she kept the duty for herself.

Her hair fell forward when she looked down, and she tucked it behind her ear. The action reminded Casey that he had a gift for her in his pack. Grabbing it, he riffled through it until he found the item in question.

While he'd been busy rustling in his bag, she'd settled Greysen into the bedding for the night, much like she used to when she'd been at Fort Sutton. Casey held the small wooden comb in his hand, and before she joined Greysen, Casey stopped her. "I... uh," he felt his cheeks warm, irritated that he always seemed to blush in her presence. "I made you something."

"Oh?" Surprise and pleasure warmed her tone.

He hoped she would like it. But now that he was ready to give it to her, he was worried about the quality. Casey never carved a comb before, and this one had the added complexity of a design on the spine. "It's not the best—I mean Tristan would have done a better but—"

"I'm sure it is fine," she said, cutting him off, sounding eager.

He took a deep breath and handed it to her, instantly wishing he'd waited. It was too dark in the tent to see her reaction, but he could see her running her fingers over the spine. He'd managed to carve a small flower the center and a vine of leaves sprouting out of each side. It was crude, he'd be the first to admit, but he had done it by hand and without help.

"It's beautiful," Lottie whispered, her voice thick with withheld tears.

She began combing her hair. The desire to do it for her overwhelmed Casey, and before he could think better of it, he blurted, "Can I?"

"What?"

"Can I do that?"

He was sure she blushed when she ducked her head. "All right." After giving her consent, she wiggled closer and turned her back to him. Handing the comb over her shoulder, Lottie waited.

Casey plucked the comb from her grasp and began teasing out the knots in her hair. He loved touching it; it was so soft. The pale strands cascaded through his fingers and the teeth of the comb. After several minutes, her hair was free of tangles, but her sighs of contentment spurred him on.

She whispered, "Thank you" when he stopped.

He didn't know if she thanked him for the comb, or the contact, or both, but he chose both. "No problem, Bean. No problem."

# Chapter 17

"And that's it," Casey said, wiping sweat from his forehead and then dusting his hands on his cargo shorts.

"Seems easy enough," Jules replied, his expression indicated otherwise.

"To you and Javier maybe," Ethan grumbled.

Casey shook his head. If he weren't careful, the men would snip at each other until they ended up in a fight. He needed to keep them on task. "Matt, you work with Javier, and Jules, you partner with Ethan. Then try again." There was a general rumble of complaint, but the men paired off as Casey requested.

Matt's retort to Ethan came to him from across the clearing. "Just be thankful it's June and not January."

"Oh, piss off."

Swallowing a sigh, Casey stepped back into the shade to supervise. The mid-morning heat was making the men waspish, and a cool down in the Black after their lesson wouldn't be amiss.

"You think they will get it?" Lincoln asked from behind him.

Casey shrugged. "Javier will."

Lincoln muttered noncommittally. "Here," he said, handing a sealed envelope to Casey. "A dispatch arrived for you."

Taking the formal notification from Lincoln, he asked, "Is the I-Comm soldier here?"

"Yeah. Tristan is setting him up with a tent and serving him rations."

"Excellent."

Glancing down at the envelope, he felt his heart race when he read Lieutenant Green's name in the sender's line. _The army doesn't know about them,_ Casey reassured himself. The notification had to be about something else. _But what if Noah wasn't as discrete as he'd thought? Maybe Lieutenant Green knows about the rescue mission?_ Shaking the thought aside, he asked, "You got this?"

"Sure, Case."

"I'll be in command." As he walked, Casey stared at Green's name until the letters swam. With shaking fingers, Casey ripped the envelope open as he walked, but waited until he locked the command shed door before he read it.

Collapsing in his chair, Casey sighed in relief. Lieutenant Green only summoned him to Fort St. Louis to give his recommendation for Matt's transfer to the assignation committee in person. It was unexpected. Casey looked at the date of the meeting again and pulled his perimeter deployment roster closer.

His rotation to Shelter Seven fell right in the middle of the time he'd be traveling back from Fort St. Louis. Disappointed beyond measure, Casey wondered how he could get a message to Lottie about his departure. He didn't want her to worry unnecessarily. At least Casey should be back in time for Greysen's birthday in August. The thought made him grin in anticipation. He couldn't wait to see Lottie's lopsided smile when she saw the gift he'd made for Greysen. He'd been working on it for weeks.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his daydream. Pushing his chair back from the desk, he stood and went to unlock the door. Pulling it open, Tristan greeted him. "I-Comm Payton wants to speak with you."

"Does he need to leave today?"

"No."

"Then why the rush?"

Tristan shrugged, and Casey forced his features into a calm mask. "Tell him I read the mission dispatch and will be there at the appointed time." Tristan acknowledged Casey's order but didn't leave. Casey guessed why, and volunteered the expected answer, "No, it isn't about that. No one knows. Everything is good."

"Then," Tristan trailed off.

Although Tristan didn't need to know, Casey told him about the deployment anyway.

"You think they will transfer Matt to CPS?"

Casey replied, "I don't see why not. He's exceeded expectations here, so there is no reason to hold him back."

"You think he'd help our cause?"

"How? If he transfers, he'll be in Fort St. Louis far from here."

Again, Tristan shrugged, and Casey barely refrained from calling him on it.

"It was a thought," Tristan said. "Anyway. When do you leave?"

"I'll leave Monday. That will give me ample time to get to Fort St. Louis before the committee meets July fifth."

Casey watched as Tristan did the mental math, and his eyes shone with sympathy when he came to the same conclusion Casey did about missing his next visit with Lottie and Greysen. Glancing over his shoulder, Tristan confirmed no one was nearby. In a whisper, he asked, "You want me to go to Momma?"

He almost told Tristan no for several reasons—for one, how would Tristan sneak away from his partner—but Casey withheld his response to think about it more. In the end, Casey decided that having someone else know where Noah lived might prove useful. Besides, Lottie would be happy to see Tristan. "Actually, yes, I do," Casey replied quietly. When Tristan's eyes lit up with pleasure, Casey knew he'd made the right decision, regardless of the roster hassle. "I'll draw you a map before I leave, but it won't matter. Noah'll find you first."

Tristan's eyebrows rose. "He'll find me?"

"Yeah. That man has an uncanny knack for knowing when someone is on his land," Casey confirmed, pausing to run his hand through his hair. "He'll find you all right." After a deep breath, he added, "Find out if he has any new plans or if he found a location for them yet. I don't like not knowing where they are going to live once this goes down."

"Will do, Case. Anythin' else?"

"Just take care of them, and let me know how they are doing."

"You know I will," Tristan said with a smirk. "Hey, you finish that gift yet?"

"Almost. One block to go."

"Greysen's gonna love it."

"He will, won't he," Casey remarked, smug. He was pleased with how well the carved building blocks were turning out, even if he'd needed Tristan's help to do some of the woodworking. "You think I'm ready to make something harder next time?"

"Depends."

"I'm thinking of a toy car."

Tristan tapped his finger against his lip while he thought about Casey's idea. "Let me work out a design plan, and we'll work on it together." Focusing on Casey again, Tristan asked, "When do you want to give it to him?"

"Winter solstice."

Tristan chuckled. "Are you tryin' to revive the ole 'Christmas' tradition?"

Casey felt the blush inch up his neck and warm his ears. _Yes._ "No."

"You know if you keep givin' Greysen gifts, you're gonna have to give Momma somethin'. Somethin' more than a carved comb this time."

"Hey! She loved it," Casey retorted.

"That may be," Tristan snorted, and then winked, "But I'm sure she'd like somethin' else."

"Like what?"

"Dunno."

"You going to make them something?" Casey queried, curious and entertained by the idea of teasing Tristan for a change.

"Yup."

"And?" Casey probed.

"Nope, ain't tellin'."

With a sigh, Casey gave up. "Fine. Go tell Payton I'll speak to him before nightfall."

Tristan saluted.

"Go, asshole," Casey said and rolled his eyes. He could hear Tristan's chortle as he walked away. Shaking his head, Casey closed the shed door and returned to his desk. He had the joyless task of redoing the perimeter deployment schedule, and he needed to get it done by dinner time, so the men heading out in the morning could prepare.

***

Lottie sat on the bed and watched as Greysen toddled around.

"Oooie!" Greysen squealed and made his way toward Mira.

The bitch rested on a large cushion near the fire with five nursing puppies piled around her. Mira stared at Greysen's approach in curiosity but made no move to get up or prevent the baby's advance.

Greysen lost his balance two steps later and landed on his bottom. Undeterred, he continued toward Mira at a crawl.

Lottie jumped up from her seat to stop him. Scooping him up, she said, "No, no, Greysen. You can't touch the puppies. They're too little."

Greysen whined and made clutching motions. "Oooie!"

"He'll be steady on his feet about the same time they will be," Noah remarked, warmth coloring his tone.

"I know." Lottie bit her lip to hold back the smile. She couldn't believe Greysen was walking at eleven months old. "I can't wait 'til Casey sees." Excitement coursed through her. She expected him this evening and struggled to remain calm.

"Not this month."

She felt her chest constrict with disappointment. "What? Why?"

"He's not back yet."

"Not back? What do you mean?"

"Just that. He left a little over a week ago and hasn't returned."

_And you didn't tell me he was gone?_ "Do you know where he went, or why?" Lottie asked. Aside from the first few months when he was adjusting the perimeter roster, Casey never missed a visit—every three weeks, like clockwork.

"I didn't investigate."

Despite her frustration, she could respect that. Lottie didn't know what Noah did when he was away from the cabin, but she knew he had some serious skills at ferreting out information. If he didn't know, then he didn't feel it necessary to figure out. Wherever Casey went, it wasn't a concern to them or their cause. "Okay." She hoped Noah hadn't heard the waver in her voice.

"Oooie!" Greysen cried, drawing her focus, and distracting her from her thoughts. Greysen's face scrunched in frustration as he struggled to get down. He was gearing up for a giant meltdown.

"We're going outside," Lottie announced. She hoped a change of scenery would prevent the budding temper tantrum or at least make it easier to bear.

Noah nodded in understanding, and she hustled outside before Greysen could cry in earnest. Just as she hoped, he quieted down as they left the cabin. Setting him on the ground, she held him until he was steady. The second her grip loosened, he pulled away in a bid for freedom, which ended a moment later when his balance gave out, and he sat with a noisy thump.

When he didn't cry, she left him there to grab a chair. Dragging it closer, she sat and watched Greysen as he played, and aside from preventing the occasional fistful of dirt from making its way into his mouth, Lottie was free to let her mind wander.

Time moved forward, and before she knew it, the sun was sliding behind the bluffs, casting the yard into full shadow. Rousing herself, she plucked him from the ground and cradled him on her hip. "It's time for your bath, young man."

"Da," Greysen replied, pointing a finger over her shoulder.

Lottie spun around, hoping that Casey was near despite what Noah had said, but all she saw were leaves rustling in the breeze. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Daddy isn't coming today," Lottie told him.

"Da," he pleaded again. "Da?"

"I know. I know," Lottie murmured, frustrated at Greysen's uncanny ability to know when Casey was due for a visit. Tonight, instead of exhausting himself playing with Casey, he'd spend the evening crying and making everyone in the cabin miserable. Lottie sighed, resigning herself to a night under the stars in self-appointed exile so that Noah could sleep. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up before dinner."

"Da!"

"Child," Noah called. His voice pitched so she could hear him over Greysen's increasingly vocal requests for Casey.

Turning toward Noah, Lottie blanched. He stood in the threshold of the cabin, revolver in hand. Although she knew he carried a gun at all times, she rarely saw it. "Is something wrong?"

"Possibly," Noah said and gave her a reassuring smile. "But I'm sure it is nothing."

"Then why... Why the gun?"

"I need to check the perimeter. Could you please come inside and wait for me to get back? I shouldn't be gone long."

Her stomach soured, and she swallowed hard. Tension and the knowledge of an unknown threat made her feel sick. "What's going on?"

"I don't know yet, child," he said. Noah slid the barrel back into place. "Please come inside, stay away from the windows. I will be back soon."

With Greysen on her hip, she nodded and trotted toward the dwelling. When Lottie drew near, Noah put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her, and she flinched. She couldn't help it. Her worry and Noah's intensity revived memories long suppressed.

Noah's expression softened. "This is a precaution. Relax. Eat dinner. I'll be right back."

"Okay," she whispered. She would feed Greysen, but there was no way she could eat until Noah was back safely.

He nodded at her, whistling for Bix, and left her standing there at the door.

At the edge of the clearing, Noah turned back to her and waited for her to retreat. Lottie caught her lower lip between her teeth and ducked inside. It felt stifling inside. Stale, humid air felt like weights on her shoulders. Unable to stand it for even a moment, Lottie began pacing. Her measured strides like a metronome to her worried thoughts. After a while, she realized Greysen whimpered and cried with every jerky step, and she softened her gait and patted him on the back.

She didn't know what to do. What if Noah faced something serious? She clutched Greysen tighter to her chest. What if Lottie needed to rescue Noah? Then she thought the unthinkable; what if Noah died? What would she do then?

_I wish Casey were here._ But he wasn't.

She felt punched in the chest. Her breath came in strangled little gasps. She faltered and stumbled over to the chair by the bookshelf, where she collapsed. Greysen squirmed in her arms. His tears pulled her from her panic attack, and she ducked him under her shirt to nurse. The contact and Greysen's quieted sobs were an instant relief. She inhaled slowly, growing calm, and her anxiety bled away. By the time Greysen finished eating, she no longer felt the edges of her panic.

Setting Greysen on the ground, Lottie stood, and even though Noah warned her not to look out the window, Lottie chanced a glance anyway. Dusk hung around the clearing like a thick blanket. The fireflies winked at her, telling her all was right in the world.

She didn't believe them.

How long is he going to be gone?

A noise caught her attention, and she spun around in time to see Greysen fall on his rear next to Mira's head. To Mira's credit, she didn't growl when Greysen reached one grubby hand toward her face and smacked her hard in his approximation of a caress. "Oooie." Pointing to the puppies, he said, "O."

"That's right, Greysen. No," Lottie agreed and picked him up, hugging him. "We don't touch the puppies."

Greysen's chubby fingers gripped her hair. "Da?"

Lottie sighed and shook her head.

His lower lip quivered. "Da?"

She tucked him under her chin. "No, Greysen. No 'da' today."

He sniffled but didn't cry. His little hand patted Lottie's collarbone, and she nuzzled the top of his head. His curls tickled her nose. "You need another haircut," she whispered. She would ask Noah for help tomorrow, knowing that if she didn't keep Greysen's locks short, his hair would be a knotted mess. "I don't know how your _donor_ managed." Her lips pinched together. It was easier to think of her attackers as donors than face the memories. "I need a sturdy hairbrush, and I don't know where to get one."

Greysen wiggled in her arms and looked over her shoulder. "Da! Da!"

"No, Greysen," she said with a sigh. It was going to be a long night if he kept this up.

His motions became more frantic. "Da!"

When she turned to look out the window, Greysen shifted with her and squealed 'Da' once again. It wasn't Casey, she thought with regret, but the man in the clearing standing next to Noah was equally as good. Her lips turned up in a smile. "No, Greysen, that's not Da, but _it is_ Uncle Tristan. Come on."

Not waiting for Noah to come and get her, Lottie left the dwelling and met them halfway across the clearing. She readjusted Greysen on her hip and put her arm around Tristan's waist, squeezing him in greeting. "What are you doing here?"

Tristan hugged her back. "Case asked me to stop by since he couldn't do it."

She nodded. That sounded like Casey. "Where is he?"

"Fort St. Louis," Tristan answered. "I expect him back by the end of this week or early next."

"Why is he there?"

"Matt's getting reassigned, and he went to give his recommendation in person."

It made some sense, but it made her uneasy. "Is it safe?"

Tristan chuckled and poked Greysen on the tip of his nose. Greysen squealed in delight and grabbed at his finger. "No worse than what we are doing."

Lottie felt her cheeks warm. She'd forgotten the risk they were taking every day, letting her live in the woods with Noah.

"I'm kind of jealous of him. I miss the fourth celebrations. What's left of them anyway."

She smiled, remembering the few times her communal home director had brought them to the barter market for Fort St. Louis's Independence Day celebration. All of the vendors had colorful booths filled with supply surplus or things they created from those items. "I would love to see a real fireworks display," Lottie said wistfully.

"We haven't had one of those in over sixty years," Noah remarked. "I don't even think they make flares anymore. No one around to collect the supplies or to make them."

"I know. But that doesn't change the fact I'd want to see one."

"No, it doesn't," Noah acknowledged. "Why don't you start up a fire, and we'll eat out here?"

"I got it, Momma," Tristan said and moved off to the fire pit.

After he was far enough away, Lottie asked Noah, "Is everything okay? On the perimeter?"

Noah indicated Tristan with a twitch of his head. "He set off one of my alarms blundering around the woods with that map of his." He shook his head. "Huxley does it too, but I wasn't expecting him, so it was a concern."

It was a relief to know that Noah's worry had been unfounded. _Wait?_ "You have alarms set?"

Noah's eyes twinkled with amusement, but he didn't reply. "Did you eat?"

Frowning, Lottie shook her head. "I couldn't." Glancing to where Tristan knelt by the fire pit, she added, "We'll need to thin the stew, I think. Otherwise, there won't be enough."

"I'll take care of it," Noah responded.

Lottie hitched Greysen higher on her hip and grabbed the back of the wooden chair she'd used earlier. Dragging it toward the fire pit, she called back to Noah over her shoulder, "Don't forget the flatbread." She caught his wave out of the corner of her eye.

Muttering an oath, she set Greysen on the ground. "I can't lug you and the chair at the same time." Smiling down at Greysen, she whispered, "Let's go show Uncle Tristan your new skill."

Greysen cooed something unintelligible as a response.

Deciding to take that as an agreement, Lottie helped him stand. "There you go," she said to him. Lifting her head, she called out, "Tristan." When he looked at her, she let Greysen go. Greysen took a few faltering steps before landing on his rear.

Tristan's eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned. He stood and dusted his hands on his cargos before abandoning the fire to come over. "He's'a walkin'? Already?" He stooped to pick up Greysen from the ground.

She beamed with pride, and she ruffled Greysen's curls. "Yup. He started taking steps on his own about a week ago. I couldn't believe it."

"Case's gonna be pissed he missed it."

"He'll be walking next month."

Tristan laughed. "There goes the neighborhood." He refocused on the toddler. "You're plannin' all kinds of mischief for your Momma, aren't you?"

Greysen shoved a hand in his mouth, blew a raspberry around his fingers, and smiled. A small dimple puckered his cheek when he did.

"Damn, Momma. He's a cutie."

She bit her lower lip and tried not to nod her head vigorously. Changing the subject, she said, "I hope you like rabbit stew."

"You cook it?"

"Not this time. But it's been simmering all day, so it should be pretty good by now," Lottie answered.

"I bet, and did I hear ya say you made flatbread?"

Lottie nodded.

"Cornmeal?" he clarified.

She snorted. "Yeah."

Tristan groaned and patted his belly with his free hand. "You're gonna kill me, Momma."

Lottie rolled her eyes and pushed at his shoulder. "Move."

He chuckled but moved out of the way.

Grabbing the chair again, she carried it to the fire pit. She was halfway there before Tristan offered to help. Lottie set it down and sat, resting her feet against the ring of stones that contained the fire pit.

"I would have gotten that for you."

"I know, but I'm not helpless."

Tristan harrumphed. "Never said you were."

Kneeling by the wood, he used Noah's striker to start the kindling. Once the branch began to burn, Tristan sat back on his heels and sighed. Lottie knew by the tension in Tristan's shoulders and by the tone of his sigh that he was about to say something unpleasant. "You don't have to do this, you know. We can find another way in."

A sense of helplessness grew in her chest, and a weight tugged at her heart. _Not this again._ "We've been over this already, Tristan."

"I know. But you never gave us a chance to pursue any of the other suggestions."

She shrugged. "You know why I have to." After Noah had advocated her involvement in infiltrating the facility, she'd been dead set against putting herself in that kind of danger. Ever. Except, over the past several months, Lottie had kept track of the women's lives in the hospital. Her heart broke for them. It took the knowledge that her mother had miscarried twin girls to make her change her mind. The forced pregnancies had to stop. It wasn't fair.

"No, I don't," Tristan argued.

"I can do this. I need to do this. You know I'm the best way in."

"No. We don't. We can find someone else."

Lottie sighed. Neither Casey nor Tristan understood how it would feel for Zoe or her mother to keep losing babies like that, and if Lottie could do anything at all to alleviate their pain, she would.

"He loves you, you know," Tristan said.

The change of subject confused her. "I'm sorry?"

"Case. He loves you."

Lottie felt her cheeks warm. "I know." She couldn't reciprocate the notion. Not yet, anyway.

Tristan caught her gaze, and Lottie squirmed under his scrutiny.

"Don't do this to him. The need to be there for you. And then to not be able to? It will kill him."

"It won't. And he'll have to help Noah take care of Greysen while I am gone."

Releasing her from his questioning gaze, Tristan stood and sat in the chair next to her. "Have you thought more about when?"

She had given it a lot of thought. Truthfully no time seemed right, but if she went as soon as she weaned Greysen, then, if something happened to her, he wouldn't have memories of the mom he lost. "Early fall. When the leaves turn, that way, when I go to leave the facility, it will be spring."

"That's five or six months!"

Swallowing hard, she nodded.

The muscle in Tristan's jaw flexed. "And what if that's too long? What if you can't get away?"

A tear fell, and she dashed it aside. "Greysen's young enough. He'd never have to know he had a mom."

"Dammit, Lottie. No."

She held a hand up to stop him. "It's better that way. If something happened... Not knowing me," her voice caught. She couldn't go on.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, child," Noah replied from behind her, and her hands flew to her chest.

"But it is a risk," Tristan mumbled.

"Living is a risk," Noah retorted. "But enough about this subject. Huxley isn't here to weigh in on new decisions, and I don't want to rehash old ones."

Both Tristan and Lottie nodded and fell silent. She would have found their reaction—like school children caught wasting time—amusing if the subject weren't so dire.

"Eat," Noah ordered.

They did.

***

Lottie sat at the edge of the gravel bar in the river upstream from the path to Noah's cabin. It afforded her some privacy in case Noah need to come to the river for water, but yet kept her within yelling distance of the dwelling should she need help.

She splashed her arms, adding moisture to her already drenched tank top and boxers. The cold water provided temporary relief from the intense August heat. She glanced around, checking her surroundings, and confirmed nothing looked out of place. Yet, the feeling of being watched remained. Forcing her attention back to her son, Lottie dribbled water over Greysen's legs. He laughed and squealed in delight, and splashed her back when he smacked the water with his open palm. His giggles brought a smile to her lips, and she couldn't think of a better sound in the world than her son laughing.

"Huxley girl. I should have known," a voice said behind her.

Lottie's heart leapt into double-time as she jerked around and nearly knocked Greysen over in her haste to spy the speaker. She winced as the river stones scraped her skin under her thighs.

Javier stood on the opposite bank of the Black, watching her.

What is he doing here!

_What do I do?_

Lottie cast around, looking for an escape. Javier's presence so close to Noah's home was worrisome. Would he tell Lincoln he found her? Should she scream for help? She gulped and pulled Greysen to her before standing. Her knees felt weak, and she slipped on a wet stone.

"Javier."

He inclined his head in greeting. His eyes raked over her, and Javier smirked. "A few more Huxley girls with curves like yours, and the boys would be willing to overlook any babies y'all might have."

Lottie hugged Greysen tighter to her chest, acutely aware of how her wet tank top clung to her skin and how the borrowed boxers hung from her hips. She flicked her gaze to her dry cargoes and t-shirt on the bank. They were too far away to grab quickly. Lottie licked her lower lip and caught it between her teeth. "What do you want?" She cursed to herself when her voice wavered.

"Plenty of things: extended leave, be back in PCE instead of this ARA bullshit," Javier replied, the corner of his lips twitching, almost as if he suppressed laughter. "Be balls deep in a nice piece of ass."

Lottie sucked in a breath, preparing to scream. Javier's sarcastic smile slipped, and he put his hands out in a wait signal. "I was curious, all right? Thought I'd find out why every few weeks, Huxley lights up like a recruit-pup with a new porn mag. And I'm not the only one who noticed."

The pronouncement chilled her, adding to her fear, and goosebumps erupted down Lottie's arms. "I don't understand."

"Easy," Javier replied, but now worry completely replaced the gleam in his eye. "He's not as subtle as he thinks."

"Are you... Are you going to turn me in?"

Javier's sardonic expression returned, even if it looked strained. "Nah. What fun is there in that?"

_Fun?_ She took a step back, wincing when her foot landed on a sharp river rock. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

Now she was confused as well as scared. First, it was threats, and now? "Nothing?"

Javier studied. "He needs to be more careful. Joplin's suspicious and—"

"Joplin?"

"Lincoln," Javier replied. "Fox is stirring up shit with Hood too." At her blank look, he added, "Adan and Ethan."

She nodded but didn't question further. Why was Javier telling her this?

"Eventually, they're goin' to deflect." He paused. "I wouldn't be surprised if—" A sound, more like a growl than a bark, cut him off, and Javier's light brown skin turned pale. His gaze bounced from the path to her and then back again. "Fucking hell," Javier muttered. He took a step back from the bank of the river and disappeared into the trees.

Lottie blinked. Then blinked again. He was gone. Disappeared! _How do they do that?_ Before she could reflect on it more, Bix tore out of the woods, cleared the river in two bounds, and began sniffing the far bank. A moment later, Noah and Casey appeared, their weapons drawn and ready.

"Who was here," Casey barked at her. His expression was cold. Accusatory.

Lottie started, and Greysen screamed in excitement. His legs kicked frantically at her side as he tried to reach Casey. "Da!"

"Javier," she replied.

"Shit," Casey exclaimed, and Bix growled.

"Threat?" Noah's calm voice asked over the commotion.

"Yes... Maybe... I don't know," Casey answered.

Noah shot Casey a look Lottie couldn't decipher and made for the opposite bank. Gaining it, he turned back to them. "Get her to safety," Noah ordered. At a signal from Noah, Bix took off through the woods after Javier with Noah following.

"Da?" Greysen repeated, his hands reaching for Casey.

Casey holstered his gun and came toward them. Taking Greysen from her, he offered her his arm. Lottie grasped it, and carefully navigated the rocks to the opposite bank and the path back to the cabin.

"You, all right? What happened?" Casey inquired while checking Greysen for injuries.

"Nothing." At his sharp look, she amended her statement. "He didn't touch me if that is what you mean." Lottie shivered. "He's," she trailed off. _Scary weird._ But she couldn't say that. So instead, she asked, "How do you guys do that? That disappearing into the woods trick?"

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He said he wanted to find out where you went every three weeks. He said Lincoln's suspicious and that Adan and Ethan are planning something."

"Fuck," Casey groaned. "I do not need this. We do not need this," he amended.

"Will I have to run?" Her voice caught on the last word.

He pulled her closer, tucking her under his arm as they walked. "I don't know. If he tells Lincoln?" Casey fell silent. They both knew what would happen if Lincoln found out she didn't go to Fort St. Louis. He would inform Casey's superior, and the rescue mission, Casey's career, and her and her son would all be in jeopardy. There was no question about it, she decided. She'd have to run again. "What will happen to you?"

Casey sighed. "At best? Dishonorable discharge."

"At worst?"

He didn't answer right away, but his hand clenched into a fist at her side. "Prison camp." Casey straightened his hand and gripped her hip tightly as if he were afraid she'd flee. "There is no escape from the camps. I'll have to deflect to avoid them."

Lottie bit her lip. She knew Casey had broken the rules to keep her from Fort St. Louis, but she hadn't realized he'd faced such a high penalty for the action. "Maybe it won't come to that. Maybe we can convince Javier to keep quiet."

Casey's laugh was dry and brittle. "Come on. Let's get you back to the cabin."

***

It took four steps—four lousy steps—to transverse the entirety of Noah's cabin.

_It has to be close to twenty-three hundred. Where the hell is he?_ Casey wondered for the hundredth time since Noah left to hunt Javier. Agitation and the need for action drove him to distraction, and he felt torn between wanting to catch Javier and not wanting to leave Lottie or Greysen alone.

Casey walked another four steps, pivoted, and strode the other way. At the end of each pass, he'd stop and study Greysen sleeping peacefully with the wood ball Tristan had given him for his birthday held loosely in his fist. _If they run, Lottie won't be able to take the presents with her._ The realization pained him. Greysen had loved his new toys. Toys that had taken Tristan and Casey hours to shape and carve. But it wasn't the prospect of the lost time that bothered him. It was how powerless he felt. Lottie and Greysen's well-being rested in Javier's hands. Could Casey trust Javier with that information?

Casey ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know, and there was nothing he could do about it until Noah reported back in.

With a smothered moan, he sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Lottie while she slept. The bounce of the thin mattress shook a lock of her hair loose, and it fell forward. Casey carefully brushed it from her cheek, and she twitched in her sleep. Casey let his mind wandered away from the need to find Javier, to what it would be like to live with Lottie and Greysen every day. He didn't count the weeks she lived at Base with him. Casey grimaced at the memories. He knew he'd been an insensitive jerk on more than one occasion, a necessity born from his rank and his need to hide his plans from the rest of his squad. It irked him regardless.

Shifting his weight, Casey brought his feet onto the bed and settled next to her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he let his chin rest on the top of her head. Her breath tickled his neck, and he felt her tuck her hands under her cheek.

Casey pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Taking several deep breaths, he forced his mind to calm, returning to the problem of Javier and examining what he knew about the man. Aside from his worrisome skill at ferreting out information, Javier had other useful talents. Talents Casey might be able to employ.

An idea took root and began to grow.

What if they took this expedition of Javier's at face value? What if he had felt a need to warn Casey about Lincoln's suspicions? Or maybe, he never planned to say anything at all, and Lottie's presence surprised him enough that he blurted out the information? Or maybe, he wanted to learn Casey's secret so that he could push Casey's buttons?

Was Javier a risk? Sure. Especially if Javier announced what he knew to the world, but Casey had to admit, prior interaction with him showed a surprising amount of restraint. What if he _was_ trustworthy? What if Casey could use Javier's investigative ability to his own goals? He would have to vet his idea through Noah and Lottie. Trusting Javier with his family's safety wasn't something to be taken lightly, and Casey valued their opinion on the matter.

And if he was wrong to trust Javier?

Well, he would get firsthand knowledge of day to day living with Lottie and Greysen when they ran.

***

The sound of movement on the other side of the wall woke Casey, and a glance at the sky through the window told him it was before dawn. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Extracting himself from the bed, he made his way outside. There Casey found a trussed up Javier sitting on the ground and Noah tending his dogs.

Casey didn't know where to start.

Javier stared back, apparently equally at a loss.

"Did you elude him this whole time?" Casey queried.

Emotions flashed in Javier's eyes before he brought his expression back to neutral and nodded curtly in response.

_Impressive._ "How far did you get?"

"Not far," Javier reluctantly answered. "That damn dog had me cornered several times."

"How'd he finally get you?"

Javier's lips pressed into a thin line, and Casey wondered if he would respond. "Got tackled from behind."

_Join the club,_ Casey thought with wry amusement.

"I think his knee"—Javier twitched his head, and Casey looked to see Noah coming their way—"left a permanent mark on my back."

"He's not as good as you," Noah replied from behind him.

Casey snorted. He didn't want Noah to know he felt a momentary sense of pride at the compliment. Too many times, the two of them were at odds with each other, and the rare praise warmed Casey more than it should.

"But give 'im some more practice, and he'd be good enough for RAC."

"RAC?" Casey had heard of it from Tristan, but he didn't know much about that branch of the military.

"Resource Analysis and Compilation," Noah answered as if Casey needed him to spell it out.

Casey held back his sigh, and if Casey hadn't been watching Javier so closely, Casey would have missed Javier's look of interest.

Hmm. Noah's mention of the intelligence branch made Casey wonder if he was a spy. "That on your back, old man?"

Without hesitation, Noah said, "Yes."

Casey looked at him from the corner of his eye. He'd never expected Noah to answer him, let alone so readily. "You're enlisted?"

Again, Noah replied, "Yes."

_Un-fucking-believable._ Tristan had been right all along. "They've been living here all this time? With you. And you've been an active spy?" Casey didn't wait for Noah's reply. "Figures," he muttered. It wouldn't matter how much Lincoln told his superiors. Noah had probably already sent the Brass a dissertation on Casey's transgressions. "How much have you told them?"

"Nothing."

_Yeah right._

At his skeptical expression, Noah added, "The Army having that knowledge would have jeopardized too many of my missions. As for the woman herself? I would have extracted Lottie from you before you had a chance to complete the translocation with Fort St. Louis."

"Of course you would. You want her as a poster child for your damn rebellion." Casey's mouth snapped shut when he realized what he'd said.

"We could use someone like him," Noah continued as if Casey hadn't blurted out new treasons. "It's hard to find someone of his skillset willing to play both sides." Noah dropped to a crouch and addressed Javier directly, "And you are, aren't you, Private Javier Dwight Hearst? You've been working toward it for a while, but it's hard to get into RAC when you keep pissing off your superiors."

When Javier did nothing more than smirk in reply, Noah went on, "Ever wonder why you landed in LPD? Communal Director Seaver thought it would be a good idea. 'Teach you humility,' he said. And when that didn't work, Staff Sergeant Steiner put in a transfer request for WCD. But you wanted PCE, didn't you?" Noah chuckled to himself. "Perimeter Control is swankier than Waste Disposal. Isn't it?"

Javier's eye twitched, but otherwise, he didn't react.

"Took you two tries with First Lieutenant Lopez to accomplish it. Employed some real fancy talking to get what you wanted." Noah stood and looked down at him. "And you spent more time there than anywhere else so far." Noah tapped his lip with his finger. "Is it because they trained you to be part of the Shadow Guard? That's the only thing I can figure."

Javier shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable, but whether it was due to Noah or the hard ground, Casey wasn't sure.

"And then you 'accidentally' killed the wrong man. Personal vendetta?"

That piece of information was news to Casey. It hadn't been in the transfer report.

Noah resumed his denunciation, "Three Staff Sergeants, two First Lieutenants, and a Communal Director all washed their hands of you. Had you slated for the prison camp, but someone saw something in you others didn't, didn't they?"

Javier opened his mouth but snapped it shut without saying a word.

"Thought I didn't know about that, did you?" Noah asked. "Well, Sergeant First Class Nixon put in a good word for you. Got you a transfer to ARA against the wishes of all those other superiors of yours. And you've managed to make good on those transfer requirements so far." Noah turned and winked at Casey. "I think you can do better. Much better." Noah nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. "I think you've rebelled against authority so often you wouldn't notice if you did it again."

What is Noah up to?

Pivoting, Noah returned to a crouch in front of Javier. "I think if you use your skills to redirect suspicions—no matter how well-founded—and apply yourself to our objective, then _I_ can put in a good word and get you what you so desperately desire."

Hope flashed in Javier's eyes before returning neutral. "You're joking."

Noah shook his head. "It's no jest, Hearst. One recommendation from me, and you're in."

Casey couldn't believe what he witnessed. Noah not only knew Javier's history, but he managed to bribe and recruited him into another branch of the military with a few well-spoken words.

Unbelievable.

"You'd get me into RAC?" Javier asked.

The unfettered hope in Javier's tone, made Casey wince. He sure hoped Noah wasn't feeding Javier propaganda.

"I would."

Javier's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed several times, but he came to a decision quickly. "I'm in. What is the mission?"

# Chapter 18

"You think it's wise? Having him track the ATR to the facility like that?" Casey asked, concerned with Noah's idea. His suggestion had merit, but it seemed riskier than Casey's plan.

Noah grunted. The sound was oddly affirmative, or so Casey thought.

They stood at the opposite edge of the clearing in front of Noah's cabin, watching Javier, Greysen, and Lottie talking around the dying breakfast fire.

Casey couldn't believe it. Here it was, less than twenty-four hours after Javier's surprise arrival, and Lottie was chatting with him.

Chatting!

As if they were friends. Casey wasn't sure what galled him more: her ability to accept Javier's involvement in the plan so easily or the fact she deigned to talk to Javier at all.

"It would have been nice if you'd run it by me first," Casey grumbled. _Like I had planned on doing for you._

Rather than reply to Casey's churlish statement, Noah let the conversation lapse.

During the whole exchange with Noah, Casey never took his eyes off of Lottie. Occasionally she'd notice smile at him. He didn't know what it was about that lopsided grin of hers, but it made him want to lay at her feet like Bix and bask in the warmth of it.

Currently, she was laughing and wiping her eyes as if she brushed tears from them. Casey wondered what Javier said that had been so funny, but it didn't distract Casey from his staring.

Her white-blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and she tucked some errant strands behind her ear. Casey _wanted_ to do that. His fingers ached to brush the loose tendrils from her face, and his lips tingled at the thought of kissing her neck. His eyes continued to trace the edge of her jaw until he reached her mouth, and there Casey lingered, curious about how it would feel to have her lips against his. Eventually, his gaze drifted to Greysen at her feet. His son waved the small wood ball around, and whenever Lottie went to take it from him, he squealed in a complaint, not quite ready to let go of it.

Casey empathized. He didn't want to let go either. Everything happened in too short of time, and Casey regretted the fact his visit was drawing to an end. One night wasn't enough. It never was, but Casey had already spent more time at Noah's than he intended, hashing out high-level details with all of them over breakfast, and now it was time to go.

_Javier._ "Can I ask you something?" Casey queried Noah.

"Go ahead."

"If you knew all those things about Javier's deployment history, then why'd you ask me if he was a threat?"

Casey wasn't sure why, but Noah's silence felt contemplative as opposed to his usual contemptuous. Several minutes passed before Noah responded, "It is easy to know facts written in reports. It requires minimal effort to obtain and assemble. But knowing a man is different." Noah paused to catch Casey's eye before turning back to the scene of domestication before them. "Private Hearst is under observation, but I'm not with him every day. You are." He huffed a laugh. "Although you weren't very definitive when I asked."

Casey swallowed his excuses. He wanted answers, not a debate on his spur of the moment decision about a soldier's trustworthiness.

"Take Private Fox, for example," Noah continued.

"What about Adan?" A heavy feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. Nothing good ever came from the words 'take Adan, for example", and he dreaded what Noah would say.

"Wild speculation is in his report. Nothing concrete, correct?" Noah continued without waiting for Casey's reply. "He covered his tracks well, but you know the man and do not trust him. Therefore, I do not trust him and regularly report as much."

Regularly? "How much _do_ you know about my squad?"

"I know something about every man, but only two are considered report worthy."

"Adan and Javier."

Noah gave him one dip of his chin in a slow nod.

"Do you watch us all the time?" Casey asked.

"No," Noah responded at once. "I have other priorities and a large territory to cover. Fort Sutton is not the only Fort on my circuit."

The thought disturbed Casey. He was aware of other forts—as the most senior non-commissioned officer at his Base, how could he not?—but he hadn't given them much thought before now. How were they going to hide three women and a toddler from all the hazards—soldiers and drifters—found in the woods?

"I know where your busy mind has gone, son, and you do not need to worry on that score."

Casey snorted. "I don't?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Let me ask you this," Noah said in reply. "How many assets have you encountered since you graduated from Basic and deployed to Fort Sutton?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Casey rocked on his feet once while he thought about the answer. _Two or three a year over seven years._ "Maybe as many as twenty."

"And is it safe to say you've encountered zero assets this year?"

It was, and Casey admitted as much.

"When the Army enacted the mandate for the female draft, avoiding enlistment was common. But as the years progressed, fewer and fewer assets protested their required service. The flow of them leaving Fort St. Louis decreased to a mere trickle. A drop. So, ARA outposts are understaffed." Noah shifted his weight and took a deep breath. "If you wanted to, you could find records on the soldiers stationed at Fort Sutton over the years. But in the interest of saving time, I will tell you instead." His lips turned up in a small, sad smile. "A full platoon."

"Really?" The amount seemed excessive.

"In addition to normal missions, soldiers were constantly being deployed back to Fort St. Louis to return the recovered assets."

"This is... interesting, but how does it help?" Casey asked.

"How far do you think a full platoon can range in the perimeter patrol effort even if some of them are out on translocation detail?"

"Far," Casey admitted.

Noah nodded as if he'd made his point. "You can not—no matter how hard you try—patrol as far as they could. We will be able to avoid the existing Bases easily. Your concern needs to be on rogue soldiers. Dodger's like Fox."

"And what do you propose?" Casey loathed to admit it, but he didn't have a viable solution for guarding his future charges. If he could, he would have preferred to use soldiers in that capacity, but that was a luxury he didn't have.

"We will recruit amongst the honorably discharged. A few have already made their interest known. We will find others."

Turning worried eyes back to Lottie and Greysen, Casey asked, "How many do you think we need to keep _them_ safe?"

"Many."

The thought was unnerving.

"Many?"

"Yes," Noah replied, his tone intense. "The goal is to liberate all the women who want to keep their families intact."

Casey refrained from slapping his hand to his face to cover his eyes. Barely. He didn't share Noah's enthusiasm regarding his rebellion, but it was clearly at play in this conversation. Casey crossed his arms over his chest defensively. He wanted to save Maddy and Zoe. Only. Not the whole damn world. Realizing he fidgeted, Casey forced his hands to his side, nodded once to Noah, and left the man to his scheming.

He'd crossed half the clearing before Greysen noticed him, and his son's squealed 'Da!' soothed his nerves in ways Casey never expected.

"What's up, buddy?" Casey asked as he scooped the toddler up into his arms.

"Ba!" He yelled and tried to hand Casey the ball.

"Ball," Casey agreed and reached for it.

Greysen yanked it back. "Ba!"

"Yep," Casey agreed. "Ball."

Lottie chuckled at the exchange, and Casey smiled down at her, but it felt forced. _It would be so easy to stay here._ The thought of leaving them left a dull ache in his chest.

"Time to go?" she asked.

Casey didn't trust himself to speak. His throat felt tight and scratchy.

Her signature grin slipped, and she clapped her hands to her knees and dusted them as she stood. Reaching for Greysen, she said, "Okay."

_Did her voice crack?_ It was probably Casey's imagination, but a small part of him wished it had, just to prove she'd miss him as much as he would miss her.

"I'll see you in a few weeks."

"Yeah. Last one," Lottie added, her eyes over bright.

"Fuckin'-a Huxley." Javier snipped at his side. Lottie started in surprise and took a shaky step backward. Javier snarked, "Why don't you two get a room already and spare the rest of us the torture of watching you two make googly-eyes at each other."

"Shut up," Casey retorted, but the mood was gone. The words 'I love you' left unsaid.

"Oh, the light of my life. You're the only one for me—"

"I said, shut up," Casey barked.

Javier laughed. "I know." After a pause, he clapped Casey on the shoulder. "Come on, loverboy," he said as he passed, "Let's go."

"Yeah... I," Casey trailed off and quickly dipped his head to kiss Greysen on his forehead. Turning, he called to Javier a few feet ahead, "I want to be back at Fort Sutton tonight. Think you can keep up?"

"I can take anything you dish out, _Sarge_."

Casey snorted, grabbed his pack, and after shouldering it, he marched out of the clearing. Even though it tore at his heart, he only turned back once to wave at Lottie standing at the cabin door with Greysen in her arms and Noah at her side.

"Get a move on, o' fearless leader. I thought you said you wanted to move fast?"

"I do," Casey grumbled and took point, putting Javier on Casey's six. "You'll be begging for a stop long before I need one."

"Uh-huh."

Rolling his eyes, Casey led them down the path. Once he felt sufficiently warmed up, he brought them both to a jog, and Casey kept a fast pace as he pushed Javier hard on their run back to Shelter Four.

The whole time they ran, he pondered the problems ahead for the rescue and the more immediate issue of sneaking Javier back into camp without Lincoln noticing. Casey had no idea how to disguise the fact they'd been absent for so long, and Tristan, stationed at Four in his absence, would surely be worried. Hopefully, Casey would think of something before any excuse was needed.

The kilometers slipped by under their feet, and they were close to the shelter by the time Javier's labored breathing filtered into Casey's thoughts. Casey slowed but kept them to a brisk walk as they approached Four.

"You know if you quit smoking, you wouldn't have as many issues."

"Ha," Javier snipped. "Easier said than done. Besides, keeps the hands busy."

Casey didn't bother responding. It was an old argument, and one he knew he wouldn't win. "How'd you slip away?" Casey asked. The question hadn't come up before now, and he was curious. How had Javier managed to ditch his responsibilities to find him?

"Easy."

He waited for Javier to elaborate. When he didn't, Casey prompted, "And?"

Wheezing a laugh between panted breaths, Javier said, "Joplin initiated a POW game. I didn't play."

Tension Casey hadn't realized he'd harbored, melted away. "Excellent." His problem had solved itself. "You'll return the same way."

"I will, will I?"

"Yes." _If you want my help to get into RAC, you will._

"Why can't I be coming back from the pisser?"

"What will you say when challenged about your absence before this 'bathroom break'?"

Javier didn't respond.

_Uh-huh._ "Being incommunicado while participating in the training exercise is at least believable. In the event it is already completed, you can assert that you did not know due to being out of contact with other participants." And with that, Casey considered the matter closed, so it was a surprise when Javier reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. Casey turned and raised an eyebrow in question. "Was I unclear?"

"No."

Dropping his pack to the ground, Casey smirked, "What? You need a break?"

Javier shook his head, his expression grim.

Casey's amusement faded. "What?"

"You know she'll be gone for months in that facility, right?"

Of course, Casey knew. He dreaded it. "Your point?"

"That facility specializes in _natural_ conception," Javier trailed off. His statement sat between them like a delicate vase on the edge of a table. Balancing. One breath away from being shattered. "Sex, Casey. They're going to want her to fuck men."

The edges of Casey's vision turned black. Javier didn't know her history, but Casey did. He knew all too well the panic attacks she suffered when faced with aggression, especially if it was sexual. He swallowed hard.

"Hadn't thought that far ahead, huh," Javier said. "Let me tell you something. She _has_ thought about it. And even though she hasn't breathed a word to you or Ives, she's terrified. Terrified, you're gonna hate her for it."

_Hate her?_ Why would he hate her? "Why?"

Javier rolled his eyes and fished a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it and took a drag. Blowing out the smoke, he repeated, "Ya'know another man's gonna be fuckin' her and not you, right?"

"That's not her fault," Casey growled.

"Not that she wants you either, but still."

Casey's fingers tightened into a fist. Javier's words cut him more than he'd like to admit, and he desperately wanted to hit something.

Someone.

Okay, Javier. Casey wanted to hit Javier.

Shrugging, Javier added, "Me? I'd be pissed as hell."

"Enough," he barked.

"No, Casey. I don't think you have fully faced this situation."

"What else is there?" Casey said, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hold in his anger. He feared he might punch Javier anyway.

"Pregnancy."

Casey didn't want to think about Lottie pregnant. Unwinding his arms, Casey rubbed his chest to ease the ache building there.

But Javier wasn't done. "There is a high probability at least one of these 'fertility treatments' will be successful. What'er you gonna do, huh? When some other asshole's bastard is in her belly? How'er you gonna feel then about this whole damn mission?"

Casey's eyes widened. He could picture it, Lottie crying in devastation, knowing she would have to give the infant away at the end of her ordeal.

_Unless she makes it out in time,_ Casey thought.

"You know she's abso-fuckin'-lutely grateful that you want her at all."

"She tell you this?"

"Fuck no. But it's in her eyes all the same."

"Then you don't know, do you?" Casey's whole body shook as he spat the words at Javier.

Javier shrugged and took another drag off his cigarette. "What with that lil' bastard suckin' at her tit, an' all."

"Watch it," Casey growled. "You will not talk about them that way."

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Javier's callous demeanor returned, and he snickered. "You treat that infant as if it's your own flesh 'n blood. You gonna be that protective when Huxley girl is big and fat from another man's baby? When she has another squalling brat at her breast?"

"Yes," Casey hissed. In truth, the thought of casting her aside never crossed his mind. Why would it? Any man worth his woman would have been proud to see her able to conceive, no matter who the donor happened to be or how it happened. "I will want _any_ of her children _because_ they are hers."

"Good," Javier snapped and grabbed Casey by the front of his shirt and shoved him hard against a tree.

The air burst out of Casey's lungs in a whoosh.

"Because I'd never—and, I do mean never!—jeopardize my chance at RAC if I thought for one fuckin' second that you didn't mean it. I didn't spend all that time keeping those assholes from hurting her for you to fuck away what you have out of spite."

Javier shoved him one more time before letting go of Casey's shirt. Casey stood there, dumbfounded. His aching back pressed against the tree Javier used to pin him. Did Javier know how she conceived Greysen? Casey asked, "You watched over her?"

Laughing out loud, Javier shook his head and began walking again. "Did you think I liked fuckin' around with Fox and Hood?"

Taking a hesitant step forward, Casey grabbed his pack off the ground and shouldered it again. "No. But then I try not to get involved."

"Smart."

They hiked quietly for several minutes, before Javier spoke, "You run a tight ship, Case."

Case? Javier was full of twists and turns today. Casey grunted, unsure how to respond.

"I'm proud to be a part of this squad." He turned and flashed Casey a grin. "And for the opportunity to get into RAC."

Casey acknowledged Javier's compliment but didn't say anything more, and it wasn't until they reached Shelter Four that Casey realized Noah had known his name this whole time.

***

No! I won't do it.

Violently shoving back from his desk, the chair clattered to the floor, and Casey heard the wood crack. But, other than setting it upright, he didn't spare it another glance. And why should he? A chair was replaceable. But Lottie couldn't be...

Lottie.

Casey turned to glare at his communication device. The text on the screen mocked him, his words written impersonally, condemning her.

He had to turn her in.

That was the plan.

He couldn't fucking do it.

***

Casey had no idea how long he sat on the floor with his head tucked against his knees, but it was the gentle weight of a palm on his shoulder that roused him.

A glance out of the corner of his eye proved Tristan sat next to him in silent support.

"I can't do it," Casey whispered, undisguised grief made the words rough.

"You have to. There's no other way to save them."

"That's a fucking lie, and you know it."

Tristan's hand slipped off his shoulder. The absence of its implied comfort stabbed at Casey. "True," Tristan agreed, "but it is what we all decided. It's too late now to back out."

"No, it's not too late," Casey growled. "I should have insisted we find someone else." _Anyone else._

Shaking his head, Tristan negated his statement. "It could have taken years to find the perfect person for the job. Who knows what would have happened to Maddy and Zoe in the meantime." He paused. "Lottie wants to do this."

Casey harrumphed. "That asshole put the idea in her head."

"Maybe," Tristan conceded with a shrug. "But she might have come up with it on her own, too. I told you once she was a scared rabbit with a spine of steel."

Casey huffed a laugh, but his heart wasn't in it.

Neither one said anything for several long minutes. After a while, Tristan asked, "You want me to send the report for you?"

"You want to?" Casey growled, giving voice to his bitterness.

"No."

Casey heaved a sigh and lumbered to his feet. Two steps brought him to his chair. Casey pushed it under the desk slowly, anything to delay the inevitable.

Entirely out of stalling tactics, Casey lifted his hand. He didn't even bother trying to hold it steady. The tremors shook his fingers like a palsy victim. Placing his finger on the enter key, Casey took a deep breath and then another. The enormity of what he was about to do nearly crushed him. On the third inhale, Tristan's finger joined his.

"Ready?"

"No," Casey choked out.

He would not cry. Could not cry.

His eyes stung anyway.

"We'll do it together," Tristan coaxed. "On three. One... Two... Three..."

They pushed the button.

Casey staggered back with a strangled whimper.

_Oh, fuck!_

Anguish squeezed his heart, and Casey's breathing faltered. The edges of his vision grayed.

Tristan's hand snagged his bicep, holding him steady. "Breathe, Case."

The air shuddered into Casey's lungs with his next ragged breath.

"Sit," Tristan murmured and helped him to the ground gracefully. "Head between your knees."

"What did I just do?" Casey whispered.

" _We_ just set in motion the tools needed to accomplish our mission. She will find them. She will get out. And with Javier's help, she will come back to you."

"You believe this? Really?"

"I have no doubts." And if he did, Casey couldn't detect them in Tristan's tone. "She's strong. She'll make it."

Casey nodded and swallowed back another sob at Tristan's reasonable words. "I'm acting like a fool, aren't I?" he asked, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"No, Case, you're not. You're actin' like a man whose loved one is about to put themselves in danger. You don't like it. I don't like it. But it will work out. I believe this."

"Okay," Casey said. After brushing away his tears, he added, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for."

And as friends go, Tristan was a good one.

***

"Staff Sergeant Huxley, sir?"

Casey pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Why was Brandon addressing Casey so formally? Casey thought he'd broken him of that habit a week ago.

"Sir?"

He released the pressure on his nose in favor of rubbing his forehead wearily. The idea of training the two new privates, Brandon and Wade, in Fort Sutton protocol, weighed heavily on his mind. Casey dropped his hand and looked at the recruit standing at attention in front of him. "At ease," Casey ordered.

Brandon shifted his position to assume a more relaxed stance. It wasn't what Casey had wanted, but it would have to do for now. "What is my name, Brandon?"

"Sir?" he hedged.

"My name."

"Staff Sergeant Huxley, sir."

_Motherfu— Okay._ Casey swallowed his curse, took a deep breath and tried again to explain the most straightforward rule at his Base. "We go by first names here. So I ask again, young man, what is my name?"

Brandon tentatively replied, "Casey, sir."

Contemplating the eighteen-year-old in front of him, Casey huffed a laugh. Since when did he address a raw recruit, only seven years his junior, as ' _young man'_? He couldn't help his wry amusement. _When did I get so old?_ _Next, I'll pull a Noah and be calling him 'son'._

"What do you need, Brandon?"

Brandon cleared his throat nervously. "Private Hearst tasked me with delivering this dispatch to you, sir."

"Brandon," Casey gently reprimanded.

"I'm sorry, sir. Casey, sir."

Casey ran his hand over his face, forcing calm into his features. "Thank you, Brandon," he replied. Casey hoped that repeatedly using the private's name would reinforce the lesson Casey was trying to convey. Assuming it was a lost cause for the day, he took the document from Brandon's outstretched hand and dismissed him.

He set the letter aside. Casey knew what would contain, and he could read it later.

Not that he wanted to.

Javier stepped from the woods and sat next to Casey at the picnic table. He picked up one of the rosters Casey worked, glanced at it, and then smirked at Casey over it.

"You put him up to that?" Casey asked. "Or did he come up with all that new 'sir' bullshit on his own?"

Javier barked a laugh. "What do you think?"

"I think you are a jackass."

"Guilty as charged."

They sat in companionable silence for a long time. Casey periodically surveying his camp and checking on his men, but spent most of the quiet time working on the routine changes. He had several deployments to juggle now that Javier would be absent for a handful of months. Casey recognized his avoidance tactic for what it was, but he was willing to do just about anything—even rework patrol deployment schedules for hours on end—to not face the official letter next to his left hand.

"That what I think it is?" Javier asked after a while.

"Yes."

Javier dipped his chin once in acknowledgment. A trait he seemed to pick up from his frequent dealings with Noah over this past month and a half.

Again, the conversation lapsed, both men deep into their thoughts. Finally, Javier tapped the letter, stood, and clapped a hand on Casey's shoulder. "She'll come home to you. I'll make sure of it."

Casey's throat constricted.

She better.

***

Tears dripped down the bridge of Lottie's nose and soaked into her pillow. She didn't even try to wipe them away, and instead sniffed as quietly as she could, hoping she didn't wake either Greysen or Noah with her misery. Tugging the wool blanket tight up under her chin, she watched Greysen sleeping in his crib. So peaceful. She was going to miss him terribly.

"Having trouble sleeping, child?" Noah whispered from his place on the floor next to the fire.

_Damn,_ Lottie thought and ended up wiping her eyes anyway. She hadn't wanted to wake him with her crying. "Yeah."

"Understandable."

She sighed. Noah wouldn't press for more, and for that, she was thankful, but she wanted to hear a friendly voice on her last night free.

Unfortunately, she didn't know what else to say.

In the end, she didn't say anything at all.

***

_So this is it_ , Lottie thought with equal measures of excitement and fear and leaned into Casey's side with his arm resting comfortably around her shoulders. _Time to get mother and Tristan's girlfriend_. "And you'll be okay with Greysen?" she asked Noah.

Noah shifted Greysen in his arms. "Ayers and Drake agreed to take on my deployments north, and Hopkins and Ross will take south. That leaves me with only the central circuit to patrol."

"Baww," Greysen said and held the ball up for Noah to inspect.

Noah took it from him with a smile and then handed it back, before continuing, "And the missions I cannot trade, Huxley will be tapped to watch over him." Noah tickled Greysen under the chin earning him a giggle. "We'll take good care of Greysen for you."

Lottie nodded. She'd known this already but needed the reassurance. "And Javier?"

"His falsified RAC mission paper's arrived at the same time as the instructions for your retrieval," Casey answered.

She'd known that too, but couldn't help asking them to repeat themselves. She was so nervous. "And Javier knows where to take us once I get us out?"

Casey's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Relax. We all know our parts to this mission. It will be fine. And it's not like the handoff is tonight. We have ten days to get to the rendezvous point."

He seemed so sure. Breathing deeply, Lottie tried to release her tense shoulders. She wasn't successful. "Yeah." Leaning forward, she took Greysen from Noah's arms, hugged him tight before kissing his cheek. "I'll miss you. Don't give Grandpa Noah too much trouble, you hear me?"

"Momma!" Greysen agreed and blew a raspberry at her. "Dada!" At the toddler's request, Casey leaned in and kissed him.

Handing Greysen back to Noah, Lottie retrieved her small backpack from where she left it. It felt so light without any real supplies except her change of clothing. "You think I should take my knife and sling?" She felt so naked without a weapon.

"No," Casey answered as he grabbed his pack. "If this were a real recovery, I'd have confiscated your weapons and food."

"You're right," she agreed. She'd forgotten those tense defenseless hours after her discovery by Casey's patrol team last summer.

"Have I dressed the part?" She'd switched back to her ratty tank top and shorts underneath a pair of freshly distressed cargos and oversized long-sleeve shirt Casey had given her. They'd decided his decommissioned wool coat would be too informal and raise too many eyebrows. They couldn't risk making the ATR suspicious. If ATR knew they were more than an ARA soldier and retrieved asset, Casey could get into trouble.

Lottie would never forgive herself if that happened. "I guess there is nothing left to do, is there?"

"Javier will meet us on the trail. So, if you are ready," Casey trailed off, waiting.

"I am." And she was, mostly. Lottie wiped her sweaty hands on her pants. "Let's go."

"Commence Operation Perot."

***

The rumble of male voices speaking quietly outside the tent woke Lottie from her light slumber. The cadence of their words soothed and relaxed her, and she almost fell back asleep. Rolling over, she pulled the wool blanket tighter under her chin and shivered. Her thoughts fuzzy and unclear on why she was so cold. _Did Noah let the fire go out?_ Lottie wondered groggily, but then she remembered she was headed for the medical facility and wasn't at Noah's cabin any longer.

Now that she was more-or-less awake, the voices and words began to take on meaning, and Lottie opened her eyes. The firelight illuminated Casey and Javier, creating silhouettes against the tent wall.

"Can I ask you something?" Casey asked.

"Shoot."

"Did you really accidentally kill a man?"

_Killed someone?_ Lottie rubbed her eyes.

"Nope," Javier replied. He sounded utterly unrepentant. Lottie figured from his tone that he was lying.

When Casey didn't reply, she suspected he didn't believe Javier either, and Lottie could picture his piercing hazel colored eyes drilling into Javier's soul to learn the truth.

It took a bit, but Javier cracked under Casey's silence. "It was no accident. Although I was careful to make it look like one."

There was another delay before Casey spoke again, "Will you tell me what happened?"

Javier put his feet up on the fire ring, and she wouldn't put it past him to be smirking at Casey. Lottie had to admit she was curious and hoped Javier would answer.

"It went down like this," Javier began. She could hear him warming to the topic already. "Shadow Guard's mission was to capture and detain an AWOL Communal Director named Darby. Last spotted near the ruins of Buffalo, New York. Mission orders authorized the use force if necessary but to bring the bastard back alive for his prison camp sentence." Javier took a quick breath and then spat, "Fucker didn't deserve to live."

It was clear from the few times she dealt with Javier that he had his own set of morals and would do what he felt was right—even if it went against direct orders—so she held her breath and waited for his explanation of why he disobeyed his superiors.

"So when the asshole slipped his UTR guards, I was activated and sent out to retrieve him. I did a little research beforehand. Learned that he liked to fuck 'em young." Javier's words sounded bitter. "As in 'not even old enough for Basic' young. I couldn't sit back and let a pedophile live. So when he went to cross the border, I changed my target from his thigh to his sick twisted head. And when I got a clear shot. Bam. No more pedophile."

Strangely, Lottie felt relief. She hadn't expected him to feel so strongly and was glad he was willing to eliminate a threat to the communal home children. She brushed a tear from her eye, thinking about the abused kids.

She wanted to hug Greysen.

After a quiet moment, Javier added, "I wasn't the only one who wanted him dead. Captain Evans all but gave the order to take him out." Javier gave a small huff of a laugh at that point. "When I had to report on the failure of my aim, he made sure to classify it as an accident, givin' my distance from the target." Javier's shadow moved, so he appeared to be looking at Casey. "You remind me of Captain Evans. Willing to shield your men from your decisions if those decisions go against the Brass. Evans didn't have to bother on my account. Would'a done the same, with or without his order."

"Do you ever follow orders?"

"I am now," Javier said, his response, clipped

"Because it will get you what you want."

What did Javier want? No one had told her the details about why they brought him on, only that he was willing to help rescue her mom.

There was another pause in the conversation. "At first... Yes." Javier's profile turned back to the fire. His foot fidgeted with the ring of stones under his feet. "But, now I see Ives's point. This is just the first step in his vision. There should be options."

Lottie wondered what he meant by that.

"You agree with his rebellion?" Casey asked, and Lottie smiled at his shadowed air-quotes.

Laughing, Javier looked at Casey, before once again facing the fire. "It isn't a rebellion. At least not how you're defining it."

"Then what would you call it?"

"A resurgence of the Underground Railroad."

Lottie sucked in a breath and covered her mouth.

"He wants a community—a haven—for families who want to stay together." Then, Javier added sarcastically, "And you better not be a hypocrite and say you wouldn't be in favor of it."

Casey didn't respond.

"Lottie and the others are the beginning," Javier continued.

"You think he'll be successful?"

"No doubt about it. He's got plenty of support. They just wait for his word and a network of conductors, and the ability to extract women—and, I guess, men—who want to keep their families together, will be set into motion."

"That's if he's not lying."

"Ives ain't lying. He does have a backbone of support ready and willing to work with him on this."

Snorting in disbelief, Casey remarked, "The ramifications are huge. He risks civil war if he's successful."

"The U.S. of A's survived worse."

"Barely," Casey said dryly. His shadowed hand wiped at his face.

Lottie assumed Casey referred to the current fertility crisis and population imbalance. Both had far-reaching effects on the world, but some of what Javier said made her wonder what drove him to be willing to help. Did he want a family? Daring the repercussions of admitting she eavesdropped, Lottie asked, "Is there someone you'd save?"

Both silhouettes turned her way, and Javier barked a laugh. "What'er you doing awake, Huxley girl?"

She felt the tips of her ears warm, thankful he couldn't see her embarrassment through the tent wall. "I didn't mean to listen in. Forget it."

"Damn, she's fun to play with," Javier snickered.

Casey smacked Javier in the chest, but other than a slight wheeze indicating air knocked from Javier's lungs, it didn't diminish Javier's chuckles. Answering her, Javier said, "Na. There's no one I'd want to save. The only one I'm interested in now is forty years my senior, and although he plays for the right team, he ain't interested in me. Too young."

It took a minute, but then her eyes widened in surprise. "Noah?"

"Yeah, Huxley girl. Noah."

_Noah's gay?_ Not that it mattered to her really, but then the rest of what Javier said registered. "You're gay?" she sputtered. That didn't fit with what she knew of him and his ceaseless innuendo.

Javier chortled again. "You could say that, but then I wouldn't turn down a gorgeous pussy either."

Her cheeks flamed, and she bit her tongue to keep from making a sound.

"Maybe one of each at the same time. My face buried in snatch with a cock up my—"

"Javier!" Casey warned, his tone unmistakably angry.

"Fine," Javier continued. "I'm flexible. Cock can be in her ass, and she can wrap her lips around my—"

"Enough!"

"You sure?" Javier said in amusement.

Casey's curt "yes" fell over top of Javier's added, "Ya'know, I don't mind sharing."

"Well, I don't—we don't—need to hear about it."

"You'd rather act on it?" Javier sounded incredulous, and Lottie found herself shaking her head in denial, not that they could see her. "I mean, you're not my type, but I guess you could persuade me."

"Javier," Casey reprimanded again, but he sounded more resigned this time than angry.

"What?" Javier tried to ask but then chuckled. "Can't help it. You guys are fun to tease."

"Exercise some restraint."

Snorting his reply, Javier said, "Yeah. All right."

After that, the conversation lapsed, and as Lottie began to drift off again, Javier changed the subject. "We should encounter the ATR tomorrow or the next day."

"Um-hmm."

"I'll scout ahead tomorrow to see if they are in range yet."

"Good," Casey absentmindedly agreed.

Javier turned serious. "You ought to start treating your Huxley girl like an asset. Like it or not, this is classified as a real recovery, and you better start thinking of it as one, or you're gonna make a mistake when it counts."

Casey's huff of agreement disrupted Lottie enough that she rolled over, but not enough for her to voice her opinion. She wanted to insist that they no longer consider her—for lack of a better term, Casey's girlfriend—but whether it was her sleepiness that finally overtook her or her insecurities preventing her from speaking up—she didn't know, but the words didn't come, and, instead, she let sleep claim her.

***

The gentle patter of rain against the tent roof and Javier's quiet footfalls in camp woke Casey at dawn. He scowled at the ceiling. The weather matched his mood perfectly. A deep sense of gloom prevailed.

_It's today,_ he thought with a frown.

They'd camped a few kilometers from the rendezvous point, and ended up spending a couple of days waiting for the ATR to arrive. He wasn't sure why, but intuition told him they would be there today, and Casey didn't want to get up and learn the truth.

Perhaps he'd sleep the day away. Pretend the hand-off wasn't imminent.

Casey wrapped an arm around Lottie's waist, holding her tight to his chest, and breathed deeply. He let her scent wash over him, calm him. Casey loved how she smelled: like earth, campfire, sweat, and him. He brushed his nose behind her ear, barely refraining from kissing her neck. She mumbled something, and shifted in his arms, but didn't wake.

He sniffed her again.

Steps on the other side of the tent wall made him freeze.

"Huxley?" Javier whispered. "They're here."

"Understood," Casey replied as quietly.

He dawdled, cherishing Lottie's warmth against his chest and letting her heat act as a balm to his frayed nerves. Unfortunately, he couldn't stay in bed with her forever. Casey disentangled himself from their shared bed, and after putting on his boots, he eased outside. "Where did you see them?" Casey asked, once clear of the tent.

"Three klicks east of here."

"They know our location?"

"I don't think so," Javier replied. "They must have arrived after your patrol last night, and I don't think they felt the need to do more than set up camp."

Casey didn't necessarily agree, arriving late at night didn't preclude a perimeter check, any squad leader would tell you that. Regardless, he'd made sure to adhere to standard asset transport procedures. The 'asset' shared his tent as protocol demanded, and if Casey deviated from the requirements by having her without restraints and asleep in his bed, so be it. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.

He sat next to the almost dead fire and grabbed a branch off the woodpile. The rain made a Fuzz stick mandatory if they wanted something hot to drink this soggy morning. Retrieving his knife, Casey began shaving the wood, creating tendrils along its length.

Javier sat next to him. "Need help?"

He nodded. Another Fuzz stick wouldn't hurt.

Pulling his knife from its sheath, Javier began carving on his branch. "It looks like Ives was right. They sent four."

"Anything else?"

"Not really," Javier said. "But, I can confirm one soldier per tent."

"How?"

"Snoring."

Casey grunted in acknowledgment. Four men, each to their tent, didn't mean others weren't on patrol. They'd be hard to see if they used the decrepit old homes surrounding Casey's camp as cover.

Once they completed the Fuzz sticks, Casey stirred the fire and added them to the remaining coals. The curls of wood along the branches worked their magic, and despite the rain, he had a small blaze going. After it took hold, Casey abandoned it to search for the cleaned stew pot.

He was desperate for some of Tristan's coffee.

While he hunted for the container in his backpack, Lottie emerged from the tent. Her blonde tresses in a disheveled halo around her face.

_Ever-absent God She is beautiful._

Tension skewed her lopsided grin into a grimace. Casey returned it with a brief smile of his own. Even after schooling his expression, there must have been resignation in Casey's eyes, for Lottie's smile faltered, and the muscle in her jaw twitched.

"Today?"

He nodded at her unhappily.

She gave herself a little shake, firmed her shoulders, and took the pot from him. Casey stood frozen and watched her walk to the creek down the hill from their campsite.

"When will we head out?" Javier inquired.

Casey barely kept himself in check. He'd forgotten Javier was here. "After breakfast."

"I'll strike the tents."

Casey nodded absentmindedly. Starring. Lottie was by herself, and Javier would be busy and not likely to overhear. Now would be the perfect time to talk to her, to tell her he loved her, and without conscious effort, Casey started toward her.

"Lottie?" he called, coming to a stop when he drew near.

She looked up at him from where she knelt to scoop water, and then slowly stood, clutching the bucket to her chest. "Yeah?"

"I," he trailed off and glanced down, and scuffed a foot in the dirt. _Damn._ He wasn't sure he could say it after all.

"What?" she asked, her tone hesitant and insecure.

Casey stepped closer and pretended not to notice her flinch, but she didn't back away. He admired her for it.

"I," he tried again, his cheeks warming. Why was it so hard to tell Lottie how he felt?

"Did you need something?"

"Yes." Casey cleared his throat. "I," he trailed off for a third time, his gaze drawn to her mouth. Lifting his hand, he traced her jawbone with his fingertips and brushed his thumb over her lips.

_She is so soft._

Carefully, he cupped her cheek in his hand. Leaning in, Casey brushed his mouth against hers. Her eyes widened in surprise and then drifted closed. His tongue teased at her lower lip, asking for entry. Lottie wrapped her arms around his neck and let him in to taste her. The heat of her body against his raised goosebumps down his arms.

All too quickly, the kiss ended, and he pulled away.

Lottie came back to him slowly. And when she did, she only opened her eyes halfway, waiting.

Casey took a deep breath. "I wanted you to know—before they take you from me—that I love you. Come back to me. Please." He hated the desperate need in his voice, but it was the truth, and he'd stand by it.

Her arms dropped away from his neck, and she took a shaky step backward.

A sharp pain lodged in his chest. In his heart. In a flash, it all became painfully clear. She didn't love him.

The tips of his ears began to burn, and he longed to escape, to put everything back the way it had been, but that was impossible. Casey's gaze sought hers. So many emotions swirled in their depths, especially confusion. Casey took a relieved breath. Maybe she did love him. Perhaps she just didn't know it yet.

He could be patient.

Casey sucked in a torturous breath and calm returned to him when he let it out. He held a hand up to stop her from speaking. "It's okay. I understand." He tried to smile at the relief he saw in her eyes.

She may not love him, but she didn't _not_ love him, either.

"Go ahead and get warm by the fire," he added. "I'll get the water for the coffee."

Lottie handed him the pot and walked past him.

He stooped and dipped it into the water. Turning, he nearly dropped it when he saw Lottie standing there looking at him. His heartbeat returned to its previous staccato.

"I want you to know," she said, "that although I don't know how I feel about you—us—right now, I will find a way to come back to you. I promise."

"I know, Lottie. I know." Casey grinned. Her admission thawed the ice gripping his heart, and he half expecting the sky to miraculously clear and the sun to shine down only on him.

I know.

# Chapter 19

"I'm sorry," Casey whispered in Lottie's ear.

She understood. They had to keep up appearances, and she _was_ Casey's recovered asset. Lottie swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She could do this. Then why were her knees knocking hard enough to leave bruises?

Gripping her upper arm, Casey pushed her in front of him. "Walk."

After a small shudder she disguised as a nod, Lottie trudged around the corner of a decaying home and then down some long-dead person's yard toward the facility guards sent to collect her. At least she didn't have to act frightened. Between Casey's rough handling, the four men standing at attention at the bottom of the hill, and the derelict homes, Lottie felt thoroughly creeped out, almost as if hundreds of eyes watched her every movement.

She shivered.

Casey ordered her to a halt ten feet from the soldiers. He stayed behind her, out of her line of sight. Lottie assumed Casey exchanged salutes with the four guards, but even if he hadn't, they'd acknowledged her arrival with one and then fell into a more at ease posture.

"Asset recovery complete and prepared for the hand-off. Charlotte Lindbergh Forrester submitted for processing," Casey said dispassionately and dropped her small backpack at her feet.

The lead man—a Lieutenant Truman according to the name on his uniform—turned to her and said, "Charlotte Lindbergh Forrester, you are hereby court-martialed for not carrying out your sworn duty as an enlisted female of the United States of America Army. You will be returned to Fort St. Louis and detained until your trial. Do you have anything to say?"

_Fort St. Louis? That can't be right._ She had to go upstate.

She gulped and shook her head, unable to find her voice. Her eyes darted between Lieutenant Truman's and the three other men with him. All of their expressions were devoid of emotion. She shifted her weight backward, closer to Casey, seeking comfort even though she knew he couldn't give it to her. Instead, he pushed her forward, and Javier snorted derisively. Lottie felt tears well up, and she blinked them away furiously. _No weakness!_ Casey shoved her again, harder this time, and she lurched forward, nearly falling.

"Ellington, place Miss Forrester in restraints," Lieutenant Truman called over his shoulder.

"Sir," a redheaded man replied and stepped out from behind Lieutenant Truman. His large stomach strained the buttons of his uniform jacket. She watched as he came closer, almost as if in slow motion. Stopping a foot away, Ellington grabbed her wrist, and at the same time, he popped open a pair of handcuffs. He slapped them down, first one side and then the other, cinching them tight. He tugged on them, and Lottie winced when they pinched. "Secure, sir."

Lottie looked down at her hands and then back to him. Ellington's brown eyes, set deep into his freckled face, stared back at her disinterestedly. She shifted her gaze to Lieutenant Truman. He glanced over her shoulder and then back to her. His eyelids narrowed to slits. Did he expect her to try to run?

"Taft? Ford?"

"Sir," the remaining two men replied in unison.

"Escort Miss Forrester to our camp and set up a guard rotation. We leave in thirty."

"Sir," they acknowledged.

When they stepped closer, Lottie forced her shoulders back. She refused to let their gender or size intimidate her.

The one with the nametag 'Taft' laughed and clasped her bicep in his large hand. He squeezed, and Lottie bit her tongue to keep from yelping. "Time to serve your duty, _miss_ ," Taft said, his tone silky smooth, caressing as if he made love to each word.

Lottie shrunk into herself. Her prior promise to not be afraid of them dissolved into nothing. Real fear clawed at her throat. Noah, Casey, Tristan... everyone was counting on the fact she needed to be studied. Surely that meant these men wouldn't abuse her. Right?

Right?

Oh, ever-absent, God.

Ford, snatched her backpack off the ground, shouldered it, and then flanked her on the other side. His grip on her arm was firm but not as brutal. They pushed her forward, and she looked over her shoulder. Lieutenant Truman and Ellington were directly behind her. Casey and Javier were already walking away.

Dragging her gaze away from their retreating backs, she caught Truman studying her. He seemed to know the whole story already and only waited for her to confirm it. Lottie couldn't let that happen. She faced forward again, and with effort, she stilled her trembling.

'I can do this' became a calming mantra. One Lottie chanted to herself with every step.

I can do this.

***

Javier's hand wrapped around Casey's forearm briefly. "Whatever you do, do not look back," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Casey didn't acknowledge the warning. He knew that hawk-eyed Truman might see even a small nod, and after the intense scrutiny he'd received, Casey didn't want to give that man anything else to study.

Once they crested the hill, they ducked behind a dilapidated home and paused to take a break. The hold he'd kept on himself broke, and he sagged against the wall. Casey's heart pounded, and his gasping breath left visible puffs of air he couldn't hide. He felt like he'd run fifteen kilometers.

Anger seethed through him. They'd made her whimper when they cuffed her. And then he'd pushed her. Pushed her! He'd shoved his Lottie!

Casey rubbed at the ache in his sternum with the heel of his hand.

How the hell was he going to go back to his job as if nothing happened? How would he ever hide his pain from Lincoln?

_One day at a time, Case._

Javier peeked around the corner of the home and exhaled audibly. "They're out of sight."

"But not gone."

"Not yet," Javier agreed. After a pause, he added, "You know they're gonna tail us."

Casey nodded. "At least 'til tonight. Probably tomorrow, too." He sighed. "We'll stay together 'til we know for sure we're no longer followed. You'll have to double back."

"Understood." Javier pressed his back against the wall and looked to Casey. "You're gonna have'ta work on that tell of yours."

"What is it?" Casey needed to know so he could learn to disguise it.

"Beats the fuck out of me, Case, but Truman sure-as-shit knows what it is," Javier replied.

Casey swallowed a groan. "Helpful. Really, helpful."

Javier shrugged, and they began walking again, cutting across the old yard as they made their way back to their campsite from the morning. They stopped briefly to retrieve their packs before continuing toward home.

***

Ford and Taft never loosened their grip as they drag-marched Lottie past three ruined homes before forcing her to sit on the wet ground under a tree. The rain-soaked grass saturated her pants, and she grimaced in distaste. Lottie glared at them both, but when her gaze met Truman's, she quickly refocused on the ground at her feet. Plucking a leaf from the grass, Lottie began tearing it apart.

"I don't trust him."

Lottie wondered who'd spoken, and she looked up. This time, Truman faced Ellington, and she assumed Ellington had been the speaker.

"Agreed," Truman replied.

Her fingers stilled. Cold dread slowly spread through her body. If the ATR didn't believe them?

"Did you see how he watched the asset's every move?" Ford asked and tossed her pack to the ground.

_Had Casey been watching me?_ She shifted forward, intent. Lottie caught herself and tried to relax.

Ford continued, "He twitched—aggressively—when you cuffed her."

Taft glanced at Lottie before saying, "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd fucked her."

"If you were his age, wouldn't you?" Ellington inquired. He gazed down at her, watching.

Lottie froze. Who knew what they would glean from her body language.

"He wouldn't. Not Staff Sergeant Huxley," Ford replied with a snort, pulling everyone's focus back to him. "He has an impeccable record and is in tight with superiors. He wouldn't do a damn thing to jeopardize his position as a golden-boy. But I'd be surprised if the asset"—he pointed at her with his thumb—"isn't suffering from Stockholm syndrome."

"I nearly laughed out loud at the asset's wounded expression when he shoved her toward us." Taft chuckled. "Wide-eyed. Betrayed."

Ford gave him a dirty look before turning back to Truman. "The shove was an act. He suppressed his grimace. Almost. Something is going on here that we don't understand."

"Like I said," Taft interrupted. "He's possessive. Jealous. He fucked her."

Ford shook his head. "You're wrong. We could swab the asset for proof, but I don't think you'd find anything."

Fear raced through her like lightning.

"Take too much time," Truman replied.

"But you'd see her naked," Taft argued.

"Not our goal."

Taft shrugged. "Next time then."

Ellington snorted, sounding amused.

Lottie shivered. The conversation plus the temperature combined to chilled her. The thin fabric of her long-sleeved shirt barely kept out the wind that was steadily growing stronger. It rattled the dying leaves above, showering her in droplets. Lottie dropped her gaze back to her hands, cuffed in front of her, and tried to block out their conversation. They acted like she wasn't there anyway, so it shouldn't be too hard for her to do.

"Ford, follow them," Truman ordered.

Lottie jerked her eyes upwards, and Truman's gaze connected with hers. His eyelids narrowed in speculation.

Damn!

"Report to Fort Fenton in six days. That should give you enough time to confirm Huxley heads back to Fort Sutton and to return before we need to leave. We will process the asset and collect the dignitary while you are gone."

"Understood, sir," Ford replied and saluted. Truman returned it and again focused on Lottie. Her heart raced.

He knows.

***

_It can't be more than a few hours past midday,_ Lottie thought in despair. How much farther were they going to walk? She was exhausted, cold, and wet. Her legs and back ached, and all she wanted to do was take a break. But every time she slowed down, Ellington would glare at her, or Taft would shove her, and she'd push herself a little harder. If they didn't stop soon, though, it wouldn't matter, she'd collapse. In a desperate attempt to distract herself from her plight, she studied the three ATR guards.

Even without the uniform pins, it was clear Truman was the squad leader. He rarely spoke, but she figured it was a personality trait and not due to her presence. His dark brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and framed by a rather square-shaped face. She was sure he could peer straight into her soul, precisely like Casey. He also towered over her—they all did—but his size and bulk intimidated her more than the other two.

Now Ellington, she surmised, had to weigh the same as Truman, but unlike the muscular black man, Ellington was overweight. His pot-belly protruded from his waist, and he looked eight months pregnant. The image would be funny if she weren't so tired and scared. He reminded her a little of Ethan, with his pale skin, red hair, and freckles, but he wasn't as irritable or aggressive.

After staring at Ellington for a while, she glanced at the slender white fingers, gripping her bicep. Taft. Unlike Truman's visible intelligence or Ellington's occasional curiosity, Taft exuded cruelty. It wasn't hard to picture him pulling legs off Daddy Longleg spiders and throwing the bodies at little girls on the communal home playgrounds. Her shiver started at her shoulders and shuddered down her spine. The tremor was so violent that she tripped. Taft's fingers bit into her flesh as he yanked her upright. Lottie hissed in pain, and her shoulder screamed in protest.

"We'll stop here," Truman announced.

Taft let go of her arm so fast, Lottie staggered and fell. Landing hard on her bound hands, she rolled to her shoulder to ease her weight off her cuffed wrists and let her head rest on the cold, wet pavement. Fresh rainwater wicked into her already damp clothes, adding to her misery.

"If she keeps me from a warm bed and a good screw tonight, I'm gonna be pissed," Taft grumbled.

"If you're so concerned about our speed, you could carry her," Ellington snapped.

"Fuck that. If I have to walk, so does she."

"Then quit bitching."

"Enough," Truman ordered, and both fell silent.

When the pain receded, Lottie eased herself to a seated position. Ellington was eating a travel ration and watching her. Her belly rumbled. She'd forgotten how hungry she could get hiking all day, although the term 'hiking' was a bit of a misnomer. Lottie didn't think marching along decaying roads, derelict yards, or the occasional field qualified. But it did make the day's travel more accessible than in the woods, even if her knees protested the harder ground.

Ellington took another bite of his snack, and her stomach growled again louder this time. She averted her eyes. The food and his overt staring made her uncomfortable. Instead, she tilted her head back and let the mist caress her face, and daydreamed about what Casey was doing right now. Had Ford caught up with him yet? Was he okay?

The wind gusted, and she shivered.

"The asset needs a coat," Ellington said.

"She should have thought about that before she ran," Taft muttered.

"Maybe, but that won't help us any when she gets sick with a cold halfway there. She should eat too."

"The Asset'll keep 'til we reach Fort Fenton."

"She hasn't eaten all day—"

"Damn, Ellington, give her some of your rations if you're so fuckin' set on her eating," Taft snipped.

Ellington huffed but didn't say anything more, and Lottie assumed that meant he wouldn't share his food. Not that she wanted anything from him anyway. She lowered her head and lifted her hands to wipe rain and tears from her face. Lottie's bound hands made the action awkward. After another minute or two of silence, someone walked toward her and stopped a foot away. Her gaze lifted to see Taft glaring down at her. "Looks like the asset's sufficiently recovered," Taft said. "Let's go."

"Let her have another minute of rest. The State-workers ain't going anywhere," Ellington replied.

"You think I don't know that?" Taft faced Ellington, and Lottie looked back at her hands. "I want out of this shitty weather. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can process the asset, get our equipment taken care of, and get to relaxin'."

Ellington snorted. "We have to dry the tents and reprovision—"

"I already said that."

"—Unless you plan to ditch your duty."

"When have I ever—"

"But you said," Ellington trailed off with a chortle. "Never mind. I misheard you."

"About?"

"Equipment and relaxing," Ellington answered.

Taft walked toward Ellington, laughing. "Oh, you thought I meant the whores."

"State-workers," Ellington corrected tiredly.

Lottie fidgeted with her cuffs nervously. It sounded like they'd had this argument before, but she didn't want to hear it. She glanced at Truman, wondering what he thought about his men's bickering. He stood a little way away from Ellington and studied her. His expression gave nothing away, and it didn't appear as if he cared one iota about what his soldiers said. Lottie returned her gaze to her hands.

"They're whores, Ellington. Giving them a fancy name ain't gonna change that fact. I shouldn't even have to pay them anymore. They _owe_ me for taking care of their worthless asses."

"No one owes you—"

Taft cut him off. "Of course they do. You ever wonder how they end up in State-run brothels getting paid to fuck?"

"Sometimes," Ellington replied. He didn't sound any more enthusiastic about the topic now than he had a second ago, and Lottie wondered if this, too, was part of their recurring discussion.

"They're paying us back."

Ellington snorted.

"Think about it."

"Okay, I'll play along, explain?"

"What's the definition of a whore," Taft inquired.

"Someone who takes payment in exchange for sex," Ellington answered.

"Exactly."

"Okay," Ellington replied, drawing out the vowels, and Lottie looked up in time to see Ellington roll his eyes.

"We pay for every screw," Taft snapped. He must have also seen Ellington's reaction.

"And," Ellington drawled. "I fail to see your point. They get my money. I get sex."

"That's not what I meant."

Waving his hand, Ellington invited Taft to continue. "Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I mean, they should pay for every service or perk they ever received."

"That's rich."

"Think about it, Ellington. Not only do we pay for each screw, but we also paid for it years before. And now that these retired assets are all used up, they hafta offer what's between their legs in exchange for all the perks they enjoyed while enlisted. We gave them: vaccines, medicines, cushy rooms—our fucking surgeons!—plus, all the other resources I ain't even tried to think about yet. I've served my country thirty-one years, and I've never once received meds when sick." Taft took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. "If they'd contributed to the population while serving, I'd not care, or at least not care _as_ much, but these _enlisted_ couldn't even be bothered to do that. Only the sterile ones end up like whores."

Ellington shook his head. He had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think that's the most logically fucked up thing you've ever said. They can't help it if they couldn't conceive."

Taft spat, "I don't give a shit. Not my problem. But they better damn well spread their legs for it."

"It's a good thing you're good at your job."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're an ass."

"Yup," Taft agreed with a laugh. After a pause, he added, pointing at her over his shoulder with his thumb, "That's one thing I don't get about this one. The asset ain't even a proven breeder."

Truman interrupted, drawing everyone's focus. "Not our place to decide."

"True," Taft conceded. "But usually they come from Fort St. Louis with some assurances that they'll produce. But we don't have any such guarantee with that one. And telling me, it's 'cause her genetic mother's there, ain't gonna cut it." Spinning to face her, Taft returned to her side and hunkered down. She flinched when he tucked a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear. The gentle gesture left Lottie cold with dread and a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She blinked away fresh tears, but she knew he saw them anyway. His fingers traced the shell of her ear and then a line down her jaw. At her chin, he abruptly stopped. Opening his palm, he lightly smacked her cheek twice. It stung, but not enough to hurt. "But you'll make sure you're worth it. Just like your mother, won't you, little girl." He grinned at her. "Well worth it."

"Taft," Truman said, his tone demanding.

Looking over his shoulder, Taft met Truman's gaze. "Sir?"

"Take the asset around the corner for a bathroom break."

"Sir," Taft acknowledged the order and caught the keys Truman lobbed at him. Grabbing her by her upper arm, he hauled her to her feet and shoved her forward. "Get moving." Lottie stumbled, and Taft pushed her again. "I said, go."

_I'm going. I'm going._ Lottie had heard Taft the first time, but her stiffened muscles protested the movement. After a few shaky steps, she was able to convince her legs to work, and she walked toward the decaying house Truman had indicated. She looked at the structure's fading facade. In addition to the broken windows, the home's roof sagged and had several missing shingles. The effect reminded her of a toothless elder smiling vacantly. It wasn't a cheery image.

Glass crunched under her feet as she walked around to the back of the dwelling. Rounding the corner, Lottie stopped abruptly. In the backyard, a small rusted playset stood. One of the swing's chains had broken sometime before, and the rubber seat swayed in the breeze. Lottie choked back a sob. Her arms ached with the need to hold Greysen. The pain was so intense it felt as if she'd had the wind knocked from her lungs.

"Far enough."

"Okay," she murmured, valiantly trying to subdue her misery.

"Now, take a piss so we can move on."

Her cheeks grew warm, and she held out her wrists. She hated it when soldiers watched her use the restroom. She had hated it when Casey'd done it, and she hated it now with Taft. When Taft didn't move, she glanced at him, then down at her bound hands and then back to him. How did he expect her to pee without soiling herself if he left her hands bound? She rattled her cuffs. "I need my hands." He cocked an eyebrow at her. Tension coiled in her belly. Did he want her to beg? "Please?"

A smirk twitched the edge of his lip, and Lottie swallowed hard. He had. Taft grabbed her by the handcuffs and yanked her closer. "Please?" he cooed.

She nodded.

"I'm sure your begging would be prettier on your knees—"

Lottie's eyes widened. He couldn't be serious.

"—But we don't have time for that," he finished and released her hands. A second later, he popped one of the restraints off her wrist. "Don't get too cozy. Those"—he pointed to the cuff—"go back on."

She nodded again and rubbed the sore skin around her wrist gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered, hoping she played Taft's game the way he wanted her too. He waved a hand, dismissing her statement, or urging her to hurry up. She wasn't sure which.

Stifling a sigh, Lottie pulled her shirt up enough to reach her belt and to begin untying it. Her ears burned the whole time she fumbled with getting it loose. Lottie pulled her pants down at the same time as she dropped to a squat and willed herself calm. An almost impossibility, Lottie was sure. Forcing her gaze to not waver from a point in front of Taft's boots, she retreated deep into her thoughts, searching for a distraction, or Lottie would never be able to relieve herself while he watched. Recalling a familiar childhood song, Lottie hummed it to herself, determined to forget her audience. When she finished, she quickly stood and fastened her pants.

"Done?"

Couldn't he see that for himself? "Yes."

"Good. Give me your hands," Taft demanded.

Lottie held out both arms, and Taft cuffed her quickly. He tugged on her restraints, checking them. Once satisfied, he ordered her to move. She glanced back at the playset one last time. Homesickness squeezing her heart.

"Move," he barked.

When they drew near, Truman and Ellington fell into formation around her. It made no sense. Where would she go? It wasn't as if she could outrun them.

After several minutes of walking, she sighed.

How much farther did they have to walk today?

***

"They're watching," Javier said under his breath.

They were several kilometers from the hand-off site and had stopped to set up camp while it was daylight.

"I know," Casey replied. "Hand me the mallet." Javier picked it up from the ground and passed it to Casey's outstretched hand. "Did you see who?" Casey asked as he hammered the tent stake into the ground.

They decided earlier that afternoon that they would only set up one tent and then share it. Casey hoped that in doing so, their follower wouldn't be able to confirm or deny Javier's presence once night fell. Besides, with guard rotation, it wasn't like Javier would be sleeping next to him anyway.

"The darker skinned one—Ford—not the beanpole." Javier huffed a chuckle under his breath. "I'm sure the fat one declined the assignment."

"Ellington was acting as Truman's second." Casey shook his head. Why had he defended the man?

"You'd think he'd be skinnier with all that walkin' they do." Javier shrugged. "I wonder if he packs extra MREs."

Javier tended to latch on to the strangest things, Casey thought in amusement, and Ellington's ration quota qualified as odd.

"I don't care how much he eats as long as he takes care of her." Although that 'taking care of her' sentiment was true, it left plenty of room for interpretation. Casey rubbed the back of his neck, worried. Before he even agreed to let Lottie act as a Trojan horse, he'd demanded Noah's assurance that the ATR wouldn't sexually abuse her. Noah had the same opinion as Casey and spent some effort confirming the trustworthiness of the ATR. He'd reported back to Casey with assurances that the ATR did not rape their charges. To do so, not only broke the rules of their engagement, but it would hinder the future scientific study of the assets.

Casey didn't trust them.

Javier whispered, "They were wearing ARA uniforms."

"And using aliases."

"You noticed that too," Javier whispered.

Of course, Casey noticed.

Casey granted that, in theory, the random name generators could assign former presidential last names to each of the soldiers in that squad, but it was highly likely. "To what purpose?"

"Besides shielding their true identities?" Javier asked, and then continued before Casey could respond, "It may have significance, but I doubt it. It's probably an inside joke."

Casey supposed it could be.

"Take the names to Noah anyway. In case they are relevant."

"Will do," Casey agreed. He'd come to the same conclusion. Maybe Noah could use the aliases to determine the men behind them and, by extension, the IRT they would deploy once Lottie turned up missing.

Casey moved to the next stake. While he hammered it in, he prayed to the ever-absent God to bring Lottie home safe.

***

Each step brought Lottie closer to the one-story red brick building. The sign overhead proclaimed it to be Fort Fenton. But the word 'Fort' was tacked on above the name 'Fenton' as if it was an after-thought, and she could still discern the words 'City Hall' on the structure's facade where the letters had once shielded the brick from the sun.

When they drew within fifty feet of the main doors, Taft yanked her to a stop and pulled himself to attention. Lottie glanced at Ellington on her left as he came closer, and Truman stopped a few feet in front of them. Both Truman and Ellington had adopted similar stances to Taft's. Lottie squared her aching shoulders, standing tall. If all three ATR felt the need to be formal, it would be prudent for her to mimic them.

A minute later, a small entourage exited Fort Fenton and marched toward them. One soldier in the rear bolted toward a smaller building on the right. Lottie watched him disappear through doors situated underneath a clock tower. Seconds later, several other soldiers spilled out from inside. _Barracks,_ she assumed. It made sense. As the only army maintained bridge over the Meramec River, Fort Fenton was a busy outpost for all traffic heading to or from Fort St. Louis.

By then, the man leading the party from Fort Fenton stood before them, and all three of her ATR guards saluted while he surveyed them. Since he was inspecting their party, Lottie felt free to study him in turn. The man appeared to be about the same size as Casey, with dark brown hair and dark eyes, though, unlike Casey, his skin looked a pigmented brown instead of deeply tanned. If she had to guess, Lottie would say he had a Hispanic donor.

As the wait dragged on, Lottie stopped caring who was in front of her, no matter how much he outranked the ATR guards. She wanted to sit down, and she shifted her weight to ease the pain in her feet.

After what felt like hours, the man saluted her party. "At ease, gentleman." His voice was warm and rich. "How long will you be joining us?"

"Four nights, sir," Truman replied.

The man looked at each one of them again. His gaze lingered on her, noting her restraints and then her eyes before returning his focus to Truman. "You appear to be missing one."

"Private Ford was dispatched this morning on reconnaissance. He will return within that timeframe, sir."

"Problems?"

"No, sir."

"Anything else?"

"Sir. Yes sir," Truman replied.

The man raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Sir, I need access to your storeroom and detainment facility to process and house a reclaimed asset for the duration of our stay."

"What do you need?" the man asked.

"Rations and standard-issue winter uniform, sir."

The man eyed her again briefly. "Another asset that didn't think her evasion through, I see."

"That's right, sir," Truman replied. "They rarely think far enough ahead, and this one is as stupid as the rest." _Stupid?_ She resented his insinuation. Lottie bit the inside of her lip to keep silent. It wasn't her fault that she'd lost all her supplies over the past three years. "Probably left Fort St. Louis early spring—praying to the ever-absent God that everything would work out by winter—if she even thought about winter at all, sir."

The man laughed. "Truer words were yet spoken."

"Sir, do I have your permission to appropriate the items requested?"

"Permission granted."

"Thank you, sir." Truman acknowledged the response with another salute. After the superior officer returned it, Truman dropped into a more relaxed posture and addressed him again. "After tonight, we'll only need two beds until Ford's return—or mine—and then we'll need five bunks."

"Oh?"

"Dignitary, sir," Truman answered with a light chuckle.

"Who is it this time?"

"Someone new, sir. Sergeant Major Zan Ito of Power Generation and Distribution."

"PGD? Exploring _all_ their options, I see," the man said and stepped forward.

"It would appear so, sir."

The man dropped a hand on Truman's shoulder. "Dispense with the formalities, Truman." Lottie blinked. Had she seen the ranking officer look at Truman's name badge for confirmation before speaking? They'd conducted the entire conversation about her as if they were comrades. But that glance... Did the commanding officer not know the soldier in charge of her transport?

"Thank you, Merril," Truman replied without hesitation.

Lottie reaffirmed her prior assessment of the two. They _had_ to know each other. They were too comfortable not to be friends or at least really good acquaintances. Then it dawned on her. Truman, Ellington, Taft, and Ford were all influential former presidential names. She tried to recall when those men had been in office. _From before 21... 20—something_. Lottie couldn't remember the exact year—somewhere in the teens—but President Ellington had been in office the year that the genetically modified influenza virus from Southwest Asia and India had been identified and isolated as the cause of the gender crisis. She was sure each of the other names used by the ATR was from before that year. _They're using code names. But why?_ Lottie didn't know, but it didn't matter, she told herself. She was stuck with them for the foreseeable future, regardless.

"Shall we adjourn?" Merril asked.

"Yes," Truman responded. "Do you have some of that eighteen-year?"

"Gone."

"Damn," Truman replied, disappointed.

Merril chuckled. "Come back to my office, and I'll let you try some of the sixteen-year that arrived in my latest supply shipment."

Turning toward them, Truman called over his shoulder to Merril. "Poor me a finger. I'll be right there."

With a shake of his head, Merril signaled his entourage and left the ATR on the front lawn of Fort Sutton.

"Ellington?" Truman barked.

"Sir," Ellington answered, snapping to attention under Truman's scrutiny.

"See to the asset."

He saluted. "Will do, sir."

Truman returned the salute, and after handing Ellington his pack, he followed Merril into the building.

Once the doors shut, Ellington turned to Taft. A smirk on his lips. "Process the asset while I take care of the equipment."

Taft's fingers curled around Lottie's bicep. "Fine, I'll do it this time—" he began.

Ellington dropped three backpacks at Taft's feet. "While you're at it, take care of our wet tents, too."

"—but you get the next one." Taft's grip tightened around her arm painfully. "You fucker."

Chortling, Ellington tossed over his shoulder as he walked away, "All this talk about State-workers made me need one. Don't worry. I'll give you extra time off tomorrow."

"You better," Taft grumbled at Ellington's retreating form.

It was about that time that Lottie noticed the catcalls coming from the soldiers standing in the front of the other building. Their whistles garnered Taft's attention, and he squeezed her arm painfully. Yanking her around to face them, he growled, "Wave to your adoring fans." When she didn't immediately comply, he gave her a little shake. "I said wave."

She lifted her hands tentatively and waved at them from across the clearing. The group erupted into a fresh round of cheering.

"Now blow them a kiss, sweetheart," Taft whispered, his breath stirring her hair and tickling her ear. Lottie hesitated to obey; to do so would only provoke the soldiers further. When Taft shook her again, she thought it advisable to oblige him. She brought her fingers to her lips and kissed them before sending it across the way with a puff of air.

Taft stood motionless next to her and watched as the men renewed their heckling efforts. "Well, that was fun,"—he said and tugged her into motion—"but enough flirting." When Taft began dragging Lottie toward the main entrance, a chorus of boos joined the other hooting and hollering coming from the men. Grabbing the door, he wrenched it open and tossed her inside. Her foot caught on a broken tile, and she fell to one knee inside the threshold.

"Go si' down," he ordered, pointing to a row of chairs across the small lobby from where they had entered. He didn't follow her in.

Gaining her feet shakily, Lottie shuffled over and sank into the first chair along the wall. She kicked her legs out in front of her and rubbed her bruised knee.

A minute later, Taft returned with everyone's belongings. He dumped them beside the door and made his way over to a desk in the corner. Lottie watched him warily as Taft began rummaging around inside it. "Where the hell is it," he grumbled and opened the bottom drawer. "Ah! There it is." After Taft's muttered delight, he pulled out the old digital camera, and without sparing her a glance, he barked, "Follow me."

Lottie stood slowly, every muscle screaming in protest, and hobbled after him. They entered a narrow hallway that ended several steps later in a glassed-in office. A young-looking soldier sat in the small room and drummed his fingers on a desk, clearly bored.

"Sir," the soldier said when they entered, and he gained his feet to salute Taft.

"At ease," Taft replied. He glanced out the window, and hers followed. On the other side were the cells—three of them.

_A Jail._ It wasn't a surprise. Truman had said as much, but her seeing the bars were completely different than knowing about them intellectually. Lottie's vision constricted, the entire day's tension exploding into a painful knot that grew in her stomach, and it didn't feel like it would release anytime soon. She rubbed at it, hoping to ease the discomfort.

"Take us to an open cell," Taft ordered.

"We don't have one, sir."

It was true, Lottie noticed, each one of the three small rooms held a prisoner. Lottie swallowed convulsively. The men inside were all staring straight at her. She met each frank appraisal with a timid one of her own. Their expressions held varying levels of interest ranging from outright lust to plain curiosity.

She peeked at the men again. The man in the first cell was now at the bars, gripping them. He licked his lips as his eyes raked over her and lingered over long on her breasts. Lottie dragged her gaze away, alighting on the farthest cell from where she stood. The occupant was the curious one from her first assessment. This man also gripped the bars, but instead of a lecherous leer, he looked back at her with compassion. _Him_ , Lottie silently begged _._ _Let Taft choose the curious one._ She hoped that with him, she had a fighting chance at not being assaulted.

"Then rearrange the prisoners to get one," Taft ordered, and Lottie's focus snapped back to him.

_Rearrange? Oh, thank the ever-absent God._ If you had told her ten minutes ago when Taft was tormenting her outside, that she'd feel grateful to him, she would have laughed whole-heartedly, but here she was, ready to hug him for his consideration.

"Why? She ain't worth that kind of trouble," the young soldier replied with a sneer.

Taft fiddled with the camera in his hands, turning it on. Lottie was amazed the thing worked, but it must have, for Taft appeared to be scrolling through its stored picture file. Occasionally, he'd stop and study an image. The light from the digital viewfinder lit his face with an eerie greenish-blue light. After a few clicks, he huffed a sound that could be described as a laugh and then turned the camera off again. "Because if you don't, she's gonna get raped like this one,"—he said, shaking the camera—"and, although it would be fun to watch, we can't have that."

And... There went all the goodwill Taft had built in her heart. But, she reminded herself, he had ordered her separated from the other detainees, and by the sound of it, that was a good thing. She shuddered in memory at the first prisoner's lascivious appraisal. _That_ prisoner wouldn't hesitate to hurt her.

The young soldier in the office sounded aggrieved when he spoke next. "Very well, sir. When?"

"Now, you twat. While I finish up her papers."

After a salute, the young soldier left them in the office. Through the buffer of glass, Lottie heard him snarl, "You. Hands behind your back. Now."

Curiosity piqued, she checked to see who he was addressing. The man in the first cell—the one who leered at her—obediently turned and presented his hands to the young guard, who then cuffed him and hauled him from his cell. As the prisoner passed by the window, he kissed the air and winked at her. They stopped a few feet from the middle compartment. The soldier barked an order to the man inside. Lottie presumed he complied with the demand to move, for the young guard then unlocked the cell and shoved the cuffed prisoner inside. After locking the cell door, he removed the prisoner's restraints. The man promptly resumed his perusal of her from behind bars. When he noticed her looking, he grinned slowly. Lottie sucked in sharply and looked to the young soldier who was returning to the glass office.

Taft whistled at her, and when she didn't respond immediately, Taft snapped, "Asset."

Lottie's neck kinked when she whipped around to face him.

"Get over here and sign these."

Shuffling over, Lottie looked down to where Taft pointed. While she'd been busy gawking, Taft had been getting things ready. He'd already set out her enlistment papers and the ink pad for her fingerprints. "Fill it out and sign it," he said and handed her a pen.

She took it from him and picked up the contract.

Before she could begin reading, Taft barked, "Sign the fucking papers. You already know what it says." But did she? Lottie wasn't entirely confident. What if the wording was different from the standard obligation?

"Godda—" Taft swallowed the rest of his expletive. "I don't have time for this shit. Sign it."

There was no going back. Not even if Lottie failed to sign, so Lottie bent and pressed the pen to the paper. It was awkward with her wrists cuffed, and her hand jerked as she nervously tried to sign. When the young soldier pulled open the door, she tore a small hole in the document.

"Not the prettiest asset to be through here, but she has a fine ass."

Her back stiffened, and Lottie felt heat creep up her neck. Her thoughts quickly supplied images of violence and debauchery at his words, remembering Taft's expression when he looked at the pictures stored on the camera.

Taft hummed noncommittally.

"Damn. For an ARA fucker, you're uptight."

"Handle your post and shut-up," Taft growled in response. To her, he said a little more kindly, "Sign. Now."

She nodded, and with a shaky hand, finished filling out the form. Afterward, Taft took it from her, flipped to the back, and secured it within the frame he'd retrieved from the desk. "Keep loose. Let me do the work."

The young guard chuckled and added under his breath, "I bet that's the first time she's ever heard that."

Lottie dared to check Taft's reaction. Although he returned her gaze with a dark one of his own, she didn't know if it was the guard that irritated him or her presence. "Your hands." She lifted her restrained arms, and Taft uncuffed her. Within moments he'd successfully garnered her prints, and with lips pressed thin with disapproval, he looked at her from head to toe.

What now?

"Buzz us in," he ordered, grabbed the camera, and forcefully turned her. A faint click she hadn't noticed earlier reached her ears, and Taft pushed open the door into the jail.

The holding facility was a good ten degrees cooler than the office she'd left, and she shivered. Once again, reminded of her wet clothes that clung to her.

Taft brushed past her, and with a hand on her lower back, he led her toward the recently vacated cell. Pushing the door open, he commanded her to enter and stand against the wall. She did as Taft requested and stood with her back pressed against cold cinder blocks. "Hands at your side," he ordered and brought the camera up. "Smile."

She tried, but it was too much effort, and in the end, she stood there while he took his pictures, turning when he ordered, until, finally, Taft finished, and he stepped back out into the hall.

As he pulled the bars shut with a clang, he said, "Enjoy your stay at Fort Fenton."

# Chapter 20

The echo of the cell doors closing reverberated in the room, making Lottie wince.

Enjoy your stay at Fort Fenton.

Taft's sarcasm was thick and grating. She'd only been in his company for little over half a day, but she already knew that every word he uttered was calculated to make her uncomfortable.

At the moment, though, she didn't think anything could be worse than the disgustingly creepy prisoner in the middle cell, who sat on the small cot, staring, while also stroking himself.

She shivered and kept her gaze carefully averted. Instead, Lottie looked around her little room. Two sides of the cell were of cinderblocks painted an industrial-white, and the wall bordering her neighbor was a sturdy looking chain-link fence. The rooms all had single cots bolted to the floor, and supplied with cheap plastic mattresses. The only other fixture in the room was a small metal toilet with no seat. Lottie side-eyed it hard. She dreaded the moment she'd need to use it, knowing pervert next door would love to see her drop her drawers long enough to pee.

Wearily, she stepped backward until her knees brushed the edge of her pallet. Lottie collapsed into it and rolled to her side, facing the wall. She was painfully aware that the man at her feet in the next cell, watching her every move. Hearing him was beyond disturbing, and Lottie closed her eyes, keeping them shut tight. She plugged a finger into her exposed ear, hoping to block out the noise of the man masturbating.

What a way to spend her birthday, Lottie thought and sighed regretfully before burying her face into the smelly plastic mattress.

Then one of the men grumbled, "Knock it off, Vic."

She didn't know for sure where the voice came from, but she thought it belonged to the man sharing the cell next to her. It made sense that he would be the one to speak up, but Lottie didn't open her eyes to confirm.

"Fuck you, Cameron. This is the best action I've had in months."

"Your hand?" Cameron asked.

"Fuck-ya. Now shut-up. I'm almost there."

"No. You're an asshole. Do you think she appreciates you jerking off? Do you think I do?"

"Ask me if I give a fuck," Vic replied. His voice sounded strained, and Lottie cringed.

_Nauseating,_ she thought in disdain. Her cheeks were on fire, and she prayed that Vic would finish quickly and then leave her in peace.

There was a long moment of almost silence, broken only by the squeak and rattle the man's cot and the clamor of her pounding heart. The time seemed to stretch on forever, before finally being interrupted by Vic's soft moan and his movements stilled.

"Got that out of your system?" a new voice asked.

"For now," Vic replied.

"Good," the new voice said. "Then clean up my fucking cot and get out of it."

The barked order helped solidify who owned which voice. Lottie determined that Cameron was the curious prisoner from earlier, and the new speaker was in the middle cell with Vic. She wasn't sure why it mattered, but it did, and she felt her breathing slow and the tension in her lower back ease. Unfortunately, Lottie didn't think anything other than sleep would remove the painful ball of stress coiled in her gut, and her stomach growled.

Activity in the cell next to hers kept her rigid with nerves, but once quiet reigned, she sat up tentatively and dared to peek into the adjacent cell. Vic had his back to Cameron and was looking at her. Would it have been too hard for him to have shown a smidgen of embarrassment? But no, his expression was neutral, not even a hint of chagrin.

Vic's roommate studied her from his seat on his cot. His gaze held pity. Lottie firmed her shoulders. She didn't need his sympathy, but she did feel she owed Cameron something for trying to help her, but what could she say? Would 'thanks for trying to get the pervert to stop' be appropriate? She honestly didn't know, and the whole situation was horrifying. Opting to change the subject instead, she asked no one in particular, "How long have you been in here?"

She wasn't surprised when Cameron answered, "Almost two weeks."

"All of you?"

Glancing at Vic, Cameron replied, "Yes."

Lottie nodded, refusing to ask the next logical question. She didn't want to know what they did to land in Fort Fenton's jail. She turned and surveyed her meager surroundings again. "So. Um," she trailed off. Cameron's gaze once again caught her eye.

"What's your name?" Cameron asked.

_Name..._ Lottie's lips compressed into a thin line. At one time, she guarded her name as if it was a key to the world, but she supposed that no longer mattered. "Charlotte."

"I'm Cameron. That's Hua"—Cameron said and indicated the man sitting on the cot, who inclined his head once at the mentioning of his name—"and you already met the resident asshole, Victor."

"Fuck you, Cameron," Vic said.

"No, thanks," Cameron replied.

"I'm sick of you, too," Hua mumbled.

"No one asked you," Vic barked

Hua shrugged. "Well, I am."

"So how far'd you get?" Cameron interjected.

Was he speaking to her? "Excuse me?"

"How far away d'ya get before getting caught?"

_How far?_ Lottie didn't _think_ telling Cameron she came from Fort Sutton would hurt the rescue effort, so she answered honestly.

He whistled. "That far? We don't get many of you from that region."

"Many of me?"

"Runaways," Hua answered.

Vic pushed away from Cameron's cell and stalked toward her, grumbling. "Usually, the rural outposts are for evaders." He stopped in front of her, his fingers curling in the chain-link fencing. "You were in that office a'awful long time." His eyes raked over her. "Show me your hands."

The demand didn't make sense. With a glance, Lottie confirmed ink colored the pads of her fingertips. She rubbed them on her wet shirt.

"You. Fucking. Bitch," Vic growled.

Lottie jerked her eyes to his, confused.

Disgust and absolute loathing warred for dominance in his expression. Lottie took a step backward and wiped her hands on her hips again.

His fingers clenched, shaking the partition ominously. "Selfish. Fucking. Whore."

Now, wait a minute!

"Vic," Cameron warned.

"No, Cameron," Vic snapped, never taking his eyes off her. "How many years of service has she pissed away already? Years she was supposed to be available. Doing her part for the cure. But _no_!" He almost sang the word; he dragged it out so long. "Here she is... several _years_ later. Years we can't get back, and she's only now getting drafted?"

"You don't know that," Cameron tried again.

"Look at her fucking hands!"

"Victor."

"Look at 'em!" Vic turned toward Cameron. "If she was a runaway, then why did they take her prints? Why?"

Lottie began to shake. She was tired, hungry, cold, and scared. Pure, unadulterated anger bloomed in her heart. Furious at him—at the situation—at her life, forced to listen to his lust and his narrow-minded opinions. She had enough. She took a step closer to him. Then another. Close enough, Lottie could see his chest heaving from his angry shouting. See the stubble on his cheeks. See, his bright blue-green eyes widen in surprise when he turned back to find her inches away from him.

Momentarily taken aback by the color of his irises, all Lottie could do was stare. His eyes were too much like—she nipped that thought before it could fully form.

"Now listen here, _Victor_ ," she began, drawing out his name to show her irritation.

"The reasons for my defection are my own. They are not your business, nor would I normally share them. But for the sake of clearing the air, I want you to know this." She took a steadying breath, letting her volume drop, so even she had to strain to hear her voice. "My mother gave birth to seven children while enlisted. Seven," she paused for effect, and Victor's expression clouded. Lottie didn't know what he was thinking, nor did she care. "I saw her file. Her pictures. Saw that every confirmed pregnancy took some of her life. Watched through the progression of photos, how each baby killed her. And then—when she thought she was free. When she thought she would receive a reward for her duty—her _service_ —she became pregnant one last time."

_Officially..._ Lottie swallowed hard. _Hold on. I'm coming!_

"Her last son was conceived naturally between her and her husband. She died giving birth to him. So you see... From the very beginning, the Army singled me out as one of the lucky ones. Guaranteed to be studied and watched closely. And if I did conceive like her," Lottie trailed off, then rallied, "I couldn't do it."

Lottie's vision wavered, and she wiped away a tear. "I didn't want to die that way—in childbirth. So I ran. I ran, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. And you can take your high-handed opinion of what I did, and shove it up your ass 'cause 'til you take on the risk of dying while birthing a kid, you have no room to judge me."

Her tears were falling in earnest, and she scrubbed at her face. Before she could retreat, a voice barked from outside their cells. "Is there a problem?"

Victor took a shaky step backward.

When they didn't answer his question, the guard repeated, "Is there a problem, Asset?"

"No," she whispered, now as desperate as Victor for distance. Why had she listened to him, engaged him? Who knew what he would do with the information she'd voluntarily spouted. The enormity of the confrontation threatened to overwhelm her. Her heart thundered in her chest, and saliva flooded her mouth. Mindful of her roiling stomach, she covered her lips with her hand and backed toward the toilet. Swallowing convulsively, she struggled not to gag.

The soldier seemed oblivious to her turmoil. "Good. I'd hate to have to put you in solitary."

Lottie dashed more tears from her cheeks. Solitary would be a relief. Separated from the others would be preferable to hearing everything Victor had already done, but she seriously doubted the guard told the truth. The Fort didn't seem big enough.

"Turn around," the guard ordered. "Hands behind your back."

_What now?_ She complied with his demand, dismayed, and prayed her stomach would behave.

The door to her cell squealed in protest as the soldier pushed it open. A moment later, cold metal bit into her wrists, and she was hauled backward from the room. Roughly turning her, the soldier shoved Lottie through the door and into the small glass office where Taft waited for her.

In his arms, he held something that looked suspiciously like a towel, a bar of soap, and a change of clothes. Her fierce shivering resumed at the sight of the dry garments.

"I've got her from here," Taft told the man behind her.

The soldier exhaled forcefully. "You know where to go?"

Taft inclined his head once, and grabbed Lottie by the upper arm, and dragged her from the office. Her shorter legs scrambled to keep up. Mercifully they reached the Fort's locker room after only a few meters, and Taft dragged her into the men's room.

The door opened to a row of benches sitting in front of metal lockers that lined the wall. Opposite were two archways. One led off to bathrooms, where a man stood facing a urinal. Lottie looked away, and Taft pushed her towards a bench and dropped his burden onto it. He removed her restraints, spun her around, and barked, "Strip."

After a glance to confirm he intended to watch, she dipped her head in a small nod. Why would a shower be any different than having to use the bathroom? Fingers trembling, Lottie fumbled with her wet shirt. It landed on the ground with a plop. Her tank top and then soggy cargos joined it on the floor a moment later. Standing in Casey's cast-off boxers, her arms crossed over her chest, Lottie risked a glance at Taft. His face held no emotion, but his eyes gleamed. With a flick of the wrist, he indicated her bottoms should follow. She wanted to yell that she could shower with them on, that she wouldn't mind, but it was clear Taft wouldn't abide it.

Lottie hooked her fingers in the waistband and shimmied out of the underwear. She added it to the pile of clothes at her feet and covered her breasts with one hand and her crotch with the other. Lottie hated baring herself.

"Get in," Taft ordered, pointing to the communal showers through the archway.

It was then that the soldier using the urinal finished and joined them. His gaze swept over her, all hot and hungry. Lottie couldn't have suppressed her shudder even if she'd tried. The soldier noticed and smirked. "Can I watch?"

She dragged her eyes away from the newcomer's to Taft's. He appeared to debate the man's request. If she had any chance, Lottie decided she'd have to speak up now. "No," she pleaded.

Taft paused, his fingers tapped his thigh as he considered her request. Lottie doubted Taft would honor her wishes, but when he replied, his response surprised her. "You heard the asset, the answer is no," Taft said, denying the man's request, his expression was cold, controlled, and emotionless.

"Thank you," Lottie whispered.

"Since when does an Asset get to decide?" the guard complained.

"She didn't."

"Bullshit. She just did."

"No, the Asset didn't."

"Then what do you call that? The Asset-bitch said no, and you agreed," the guard whined.

"What I call it is not fancying an audience while I keep the Asset to myself," Taft replied, and Lottie stifled her groan. His answer was no less than she expected, yet she'd hoped maybe he had some compassion for her plight. It didn't appear so.

The soldier eyeballed her for a few more moments, before saluting, and leaving the room. Lottie exhaled in relief.

"Get in," Taft repeated and indicated the showers with a twitch of his head.

She squeaked in distress but stepped over the lip of the threshold. Sidling up underneath the first showerhead, Lottie fiddled with the tap, turning it as far as it would go. A blast of cold water hit her in the chest, and her shivering deepened, but the cold spray slowly warmed until it enveloped Lottie in water so hot it nearly scalded her. She adjusted the temperature and braced herself against the wall. Her splayed hands supported her weight while water coursed down her shoulders and back. She moaned in delight. The heat seeped into her bones, and she let her eyes drift closed. The warmth felt so good she forgot everything, even Taft's presence, and she couldn't remember the last time she had a hot shower. The heated buckets of water at Noah's cabin didn't count.

After a bit, she turned, the water sluicing over her, saturating her hair. Her eyes opened a crack, and she swallowed a scream. Taft leaned casually against the wall, half in and half out of the showers. His feet crossed at his ankles. He'd positioned himself so he could easily supervise both her and the exit, but right now, he was focused on her and not on the locker room door. His gaze drifted upward from her crotch, and a sly smile teased at his lips.

Stepping forward, Taft handed her the bar of soap wrapped in a washcloth. Lottie took it from him and lathered herself quickly, grateful to finally wash the grime from her skin. After re-soaping her hands, she scrubbed her hair. Dirty water swirled under her feet until it ultimately ran clear. Unable to stall any longer, she cut the water. Squaring her shoulders, she faced Taft. He held out a towel, and she plucked it from his grasp. "Thank you," she murmured and wrapped the terry-cloth around her.

"Don't kid yourself; it wasn't for you," Taft replied. "You stank." He ogled her for a few more seconds before barking, "Get dressed."

Taft stood planted at his observation point, and Lottie ended up having to brush against him as she squeezed past. Taft chuckled at her evident discomfort and followed her to the benches. She dried herself quickly. Lottie's skin was damp when she began rooting through the clothing Taft had brought for her. Inside the stack, Lottie found a pair of sage green boxers. She pulled them from the pile and looked for an undershirt. Further inspection of the collection proved that a tank top had not been in the stack.

Hiding her disappointment, Lottie draped the towel over her shoulders, and while under Taft's constant supervision, she struggled to put the underwear on. Once donned, Lottie hurriedly stepped into the camouflage-cargos and pulled a long sleeve shirt over her head. Her relief at being covered was instantaneous, the clothing a barrier to Taft's prying eyes.

"Ready?" he inquired.

"Yes." Lottie went to pick up her wet clothing from earlier, but Taft stopped her, "Leave 'em."

"But my clothes," she argued. The sodden garments at her feet were her last link to Casey, and she didn't want to lose them. Besides, with her backpack gone, they represented her only change of clothes.

"I said, leave 'em."

Lottie straightened. Taft's expression was so cold, Lottie felt sure in her belief that she shouldn't press him on the matter.

"Hands behind your back," he demanded.

With a wavering voice, she replied, "This isn't necessary. It's not like I can run."

Taft ignored her protest and wiggled his finger in a circular motion indicating she should turn around. It was useless to complain, so she did as he bid her and presented her hands behind her back. Taft cuffed her. Turning her around, he marched her out of the lockers and down the hall. Once at her cell, he released her from her restraints and pulled her cell door shut with a bang. Lottie stepped forward, her fingers curling around the bars. Now that she was warm and dry, the gnawing in her empty belly needed to be relieved, and she didn't know when or even if they would feed her. Swallowing her pride, she called, "Taft?"

He stopped, his hand on the door. "Yes?"

"Can I, um? May I have something to eat?"

He looked at her, a sneer tugging the edge of his lip upward.

"Please?" she implored, knowing he liked it when she begged.

"No."

Lottie let her forehead fall forward and rest against the bars. Her stomach rumbled so loudly Taft must have heard. "Cafeteria's closed for the night," he said as a way of explanation. Taft yanked the office door open. "Breakfast will be at seven-hundred," he added and then left.

***

The harsh overhead lights flickered to life, waking Lottie from her fitful slumber. Rubbing a knuckle in the corner of her eye, she brushed away the grit that collected there.

"Hands against the wall where I can see 'em," the guard called.

She nodded and pushed herself upright. After four mornings, she knew what to expect.

Before she'd even lurched her way to the wall, the soldier on duty opened her door. It grated and clanked in its tracks at the same time as her hands slapped against the cold cinderblocks. Her breakfast tray—unceremoniously delivered—scraped across the floor, and her cell door banged shut again.

"You have thirty minutes."

Lottie pushed away from the wall to retrieve her food. She picked up the tray, settled on her cot, and studied her unappetizing meal. Some of the runny oatmeal had slopped over the edge, and it reminded her of snot.

Gross.

She sighed and grabbed her spoon.

Shoveling the food into her mouth, Lottie tried to smother her disgust at the slimy texture of the overcooked oat soup, knowing that the soldier hadn't been kidding. If she didn't eat in half an hour, someone would remove the tray, by force if necessary, and she wanted to have the food in her belly before he came back. Usually, after removing her meal, they'd leave her alone until seventeen-hundred when her supper ration arrived. The day-long solitude wasn't even the worst part of her new routine. That honor went to the time between when her dinner tray was removed and lights out around twenty-two hundred. That was when the off-duty soldiers stopped by to fill her evening with snide comments and cat-calls.

Out of all the men who paraded by, not one of them came from her escort. Lottie wondered if they'd forgotten her. Her eyes drifted over to the adjacent cells. Victor, Cameron, and Hua had left after that first full day of incarceration. Although she was glad to be rid of Victor, she wouldn't have minded having Cameron or Hua around to alleviate her boredom. They'd been polite and courteous and had done what they could to keep Vic from being too obnoxious. The next morning they'd been let out before breakfast, and she'd missed her chance to thank them.

Loneliness stabbed her. Its pain a sharp ache in her chest. She missed Casey. She missed Greysen. Hell, she even missed Javier. Lottie snorted at the thought and spooned more oatmeal into her mouth. As she swallowed, her gaze gravitated to the movement in the office.

Ellington moved as if he signed something on the desk, before indicating to the soldier on duty that he should leave the office. Lottie presumed Ellington's motion was an order to the guard to come and get her, for the soldier on duty opened the door and barked, "Hands out."

Pushing her tray to the side, she stood and did as told.

The door to her temporary home rumbled open, and once again, she felt the familiar bite of metal enclosing her wrists. The guard tugged at her restraints. Happy with the results, he pulled her from her cell.

"All yours," he said and shoved her toward Ellington.

She stumbled, and Ellington caught her and set her back on her feet. Once stable, he guided her out of the office and back toward the waiting room. At the Fort's front door, Ellington pulled it open and shoved her through it. She stumbled at the threshold and blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes. The wan sunshine was too bright after four days inside with no windows. Before Lottie could adjust, Ellington shepherded her to his team at the Fort's flagpole, where the United States of America flag snapped in the light breeze.

"Here," Taft said, tossing her backpack to her.

Despite her bound hands, Lottie managed to keep the knapsack from landing in the dirt at her feet. The unexpected weight of it a surprise, and she lowered it to the ground. Unzipping the bag, she found a folded coat resting on top and below it the clothes she'd borrowed from Casey. All of them. Even the boxers. They were all clean and dry.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to hold them back.

"Thank you," she murmured, grateful beyond measure to have her things back. "Thank you," she said again, louder, and twice as heartfelt.

"You have to carry it," Taft responded, dismissively.

"Okay." She didn't mind. Her having that small link back to Casey—and through him, her son—was well worth the extra weight of the backpack, although she had no idea how she'd comply if they left her hands bound.

Taft huffed, and before he turned away from her, Lottie called, "Wait?"

Four sets of eyes focused on her, and she gulped. Taft's brows rose to his hairline. "Yes?"

She held out her hands. Taft looked to them and back to her, his expression amused. "Please take them off—just for a few moments." When Taft didn't react, she added, "I can't... Please? I'll put the bag on, and then you can cuff me again."

He glanced over his shoulder to his right, and Truman gave him a small nod. Then he grabbed the key from Ellington's outstretched hand. Lottie held out her wrists, and after tugging her closer, Taft unlocked one cuff. Lottie sighed in relief, grabbed the pack from the ground, and hoisted it to her back, staggering under the weight of it. The survival books she'd stolen three years ago had been more cumbersome, but not by much. "Thank you," she whispered again and held out her hands.

Taft secured her and left her to stand by herself a few feet away from them. Lottie let her gaze drop to the ground, and after a few minutes of standing idly, she grew bored. When Lottie raised her eyes, she caught Ford studying her. Lottie shifted her weight under his scrutiny and turned her back on him and stared across Fort Fenton's grassy mall. It was full of soldiers. Many of them were doing standard exercise drills, but others moved about on Army business, all in all, it was a busy hub.

Just as Lottie decided she'd sit in the grass to wait, Ford spoke, drawing her attention. "Should someone go get the dignitary?"

Truman replied, "No. He will be along shortly."

" _He_ gets to finish his breakfast," Taft grumbled.

"Not his fault you decided to go for a screw this morning instead of food. So shut-up," Ellington barked.

Taft chuckled. "Wasn't a tough decision. Runny eggs or a nice fuck. Don't know why you choose the eggs."

Ellington snorted. The sound wasn't aggrieved, and Lottie wondered if they were the type who liked to snip at each other or if there was genuine animosity between them.

"Ah," Ford interrupted. "Here, he comes."

Taft murmured, "Sergeant Major Ito. Act sharp, gentlemen."

Lottie scanned the crowd, her eyes finding the figure striding toward them from the barracks. He had a pack casually slung over one shoulder and came to a stop a few feet away. Sergeant Major Ito dropped his bag to the ground. "Men," he acknowledged. He turned his dark brown eyes to her and gave her a head to toe appraisal. "Hope they aren't all blondes at the hospital."

"No, Sir," Truman replied.

"Any Asian's?"

"No, Sir," Truman replied.

"Black-haired beauties?"

"No, Sir," Truman replied. "No one with black hair there, currently, sir."

"Brunettes?"

"A few, sir."

"What about other donors?"

"There are other donors on-premises, sir."

"Competition?" Ito inquired.

"No, sir. You will have plenty of choices. And out of the assets that choose you, at least one of them will be to your liking, sir."

Lottie's attention bounced between each man, her concern growing. Noah hadn't shared many specifics about what went on inside the facility, but the way Ito was bluntly discussing his options were worrisome. What did he know that she didn't?

Ito shrugged. "Fine. Ready men?"

"Yes, Sir," all four of her guards replied in unison.

He inclined his head and shouldered his pack, falling into step behind Truman as Truman lead them east across the mall. Taft and Ellington grabbed her by the upper arms and propelled her after them, their pace steady but not as punishing as their hike to Fort Fenton had been.

Curiosity had Lottie gawking as they passed the barracks. In addition to the solar panel farm set up on the lawn, she spotted several cisterns at the back of the building, some of them even had solar panels hooked to them. She wondered if Fort Fenton used them for heating the water or for something else. Maybe it was a processing station for the gray-water tanks. She debated about asking, but then her moment of chance had passed, and they were in an empty field heading toward the river.

They must have walked three kilometers before the silt-filled water of the Meramec came into view. A low wooden bridge maybe twenty feet wide spanned the flow, and there were guards at each end of the bridge checking soldier credentials. Truman stopped at the west gate and spoke quietly to the man supervising the eastbound traffic. Lottie glanced down the embankment to the river below. It was several feet deep here, and the current much stronger. This location wasn't the most accessible place to ford a river. She'd been much farther south when she'd crossed the Meramec four years ago. The water looked cold, and she was glad to be dry this time.

Truman's paperwork must have been in order, for he pocketed his documents and waved them across. Taft and Ellington kept her close between them as they followed, and Ford brought up the rear. Their footfalls made the boards shake, and Lottie was thankful that Taft and Ellington had her sandwiched between them, bringing her risk of falling off the bridge down to nill. Truman nodded to the guards on the east bank as they passed and brought them to a switch-back path up the bluff from the river.

"Lieutenant Truman?" Ford called from behind her.

Truman turned and cocked an eyebrow.

"Request permission to hang back."

"What did you see?"

"Maybe nothing, sir," Ford replied. "But I could have sworn Private Hearst was on the bridge with us and turned south."

Lottie's heart leapt to her throat. _Javier?_ He couldn't be that close. He was supposed to trail discreetly. If he was here... Now... She didn't know what would happen if they caught him. She glanced at the busy bridge behind them. There was a lot of foot traffic, but not enough to hide him if he had followed. What was he thinking? Worried, she forced her gaze to her feet. She didn't want anyone noticing how much the news affected her.

"South?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Could be nothing."

"Could be everything," Ford answered.

Lottie peeked at Truman. He seemed... unconcerned. She exhaled in relief.

"Permission granted. Report back tonight. I don't want you separated from our detail for long." Truman added, "You know the route?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

Ford saluted and turned back toward the river. Lottie hoped that if Javier was about, that he saw Ford coming and hid. If Javier didn't successfully follow them? _Stick to the plan, Lottie. Stick to the plan._

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" Ito asked.

"Private Hearst and Staff Sergeant Huxley acted peculiarly during a standard hand-off procedure. I am taking all due precautions."

Ito turned to eye her again. "Sampling?"

"Unknown, but highly plausible."

"Interesting," Ito replied.

"Yes, sir."

Ito paused, lost in thought. After a moment, he added, "You appear to have this in hand, shall we continue?"

"Yes, sir," Truman acknowledged and started up the path.

Halfway to the top, Truman called them to a halt. Lottie's hands dropped to her knees, supporting her weight, and she gasped in harsh panting breaths. Her thighs and calves burned. She glanced at Taft and then to Ellington, but aside from sweat on their brows and Ellington's red cheeks, they didn't seem affected by the steep climb. Her life with Noah hadn't been _that_ sedentary, had it?

After everyone had adequately rested, Truman once again set a steady pace up the rest of the bluff. At the top, they turned north and made their way past several work crews. Lottie gawked as hundreds of men manually deconstructed the dilapidated homes that bordered the ridge. There were so many soldiers it looked like a swarm of ants on a slice of apple, and like the ants carrying fruit crumbs, the men hauled away the spoils. Additional work crews sorted the wooden planks, shingles, and other debris into orderly piles.

Truman turned to Ito. "Sir?"

"Lieutenant."

Truman nodded to the work crews. "How is the project progressing?"

"As well as can be expected. The land should be properly cleared and graded by spring for the new power generators."

"Are there still plans to convert some of the property into more farmland, or will it all be used for the solar panels and wind turbines?" Ellington asked.

Ito grimaced slightly. "We ceded ground to the AHC. There is a minor population boom this year and last, and we need to prepare for the inevitable."

"Understood, sir," Ellington replied.

No one spoke for a few minutes, and talk of babies made Lottie's thoughts drifted back to Greysen. She wondered what he was doing, whether or not Greysen missed her, and if Noah was okay with him. Lottie swallowed her sigh.

"Sir, any news on the trade overtures to Saudi Arabia?"

Truman's question caught her attention and must have surprised Ito, for his eyebrow quirked, and he said, "For a Lieutenant, you are surprisingly well informed."

Truman twitched his shoulders in a shrug but didn't volunteer an explanation. Ito studied him for a moment more before answering with a shake of his head. "What little oil they have in reserve, they are keeping for themselves. And unfortunately, the United States doesn't have anything to offer them. I fear that avenue for raw material is gone."

"A shame," Truman replied. "Fuel for the old construction equipment would be beneficial."

"Agreed. But I worry more about the aging nuclear plants. Solar only goes so far... If we run out of fuel for the cooling towers..." Ito trailed off, and everyone fell silent.

Lottie didn't want to think about the nuclear reactors going boom, so she turned her attention back to the work crews scurrying around. Some of the men whistled at her, but most kept their heads down and ignored her party. After her group passed the worksite, Taft and Ellington released their grip on her arms, and she rolled her shoulders to try to loosen tense muscles. Her bag was heavy, and despite the crisp fall air, her back was damp with sweat.

"How far north do you expect to get today?" Ito asked, interrupting the conversation lull.

"In two klicks, we'll cross the train tracks and take Big Bend west," Truman answered. "I expect to get to old Manchester road by nightfall," Truman responded. "After today, it will take two days to get to the Missouri River. We'll camp the night on the south side and cross in the morning. Three days after that, we leave the roads. From that point forward, our pace will fluctuate with the terrain and how well the Asset keeps up with regulation distances."

"Understood." Ito gave him a tiny nod then glanced at her.

Conversation stuttered to a stop as they veered off the road and trudged down a hill. They made their way across several old neighborhood streets before forcing their way through a honeysuckle thicket. Lottie tripped over a wooden railroad tie, and Taft caught her by the arm, keeping her upright.

"Thank you," she muttered, trying to pull her arm from his grip and not enjoying the fact he had saved her from face-planting.

Again.

Taft exhaled forcefully and tugged her along.

"You know if you gave me my hands, you wouldn't have to catch me every time I stumbled."

"I know. But it's not going to happen."

Her shoulders slumped. "Okay." She'd hoped that now that they were away from Fort Fenton, she could have more freedom, but that didn't seem likely.

He glanced down at her, and with resignation in his voice, he added quietly, "It isn't my decision."

"You're a proven flight risk," someone added from behind her. _Ford._ Had he found Javier?

"Good, you're back," Truman replied. "Report."

Ford passed her and caught up with Truman. "False alarm, sir. Just a PCE on leave."

"Excellent. Good work, Private."

After acknowledging Truman, Ford dropped back and took up his position behind her. Lottie's throat felt thick and swollen with unshed tears, and she was glad no one felt the need to speak to her. She didn't think she'd be able to disguise her relief.

It wasn't Javier.

Their plan was solid.

She squared her shoulders.

She could do this.

***

Casey scanned the ground, carefully avoiding anything that looked out of place. Movement caught his attention, and he froze, watching. _There!_ His gaze locked on a rock that hovered above the ground. _Rocks don't sway in a breeze._

His eyes followed the thin wire attached to it, up into the tree canopy where it looped around a branch and crossed overhead. _Ha! Not this time,_ he thought with glee. One of these days, Casey would successfully sneak up on Noah, maybe even today. He carefully sidestepped past the early alert system and continued down the rarely used path to Noah's cabin. Nothing was more embarrassing than being caught in a snare and having to have Noah cut him out of it. Casey's cheeks reddened in memory.

"Good. You are here," Noah's voice came from behind him, and Casey flinched.

Damn.

Casey turned to Noah, who stood a meter behind him on the trail.

"Did everything go according to plan?" Noah asked.

"Yes."

"Any issues?"

"We were tailed by one of the ATR for two days after the hand-off. It delayed Javier's deployment, but he should have caught up with them by now." _I hope._ Casey didn't want to think about what would happen to Lottie if Javier lost their trail.

"And the ATR?"

"Like you said. A close-knit, formal group. All of them late in their careers." He paused, then remembered. "Oh, and they also go by aliases."

Noah nodded and indicated Casey should begin walking.

Casey took a few steps in the desired direction before realizing Noah was missing someone, "Where's Greysen?" He was eager to see his son and didn't like the fact Greysen wasn't with Noah.

"Bix is watching him."

He gritted his teeth and turned to glare at Noah. _What if he gets hurt while you aren't there?_ "You think that's safe?" Casey snapped. "Leaving him alone?"

"Safer than dragging him out into the woods to face a potential threat."

Casey swallowed his retort and resumed walking. Noah was right. It had to be challenging to stalk someone through the woods with a one-year-old baby. What if Greysen cried at a crucial moment? Casey shook his head. He didn't know how Lottie managed to hunt—and bring home game—with Greysen on her hip.

A jolt of pain constricted Casey's heart, and he frowned at the thought of Lottie. He missed her, and he didn't know how long she'd be gone.

Come back to me.

"I wasn't sure it was you out in my woods, _but_ , if I thought the individual who'd tripped my alerts intended harm, I'd have proceeded differently." __

_In other words, he'd disappear._ "I tripped one of your alarms?"

"Several."

Casey bit back a curse and started to jog. He should have known as much when Noah flanked him.

Soon they were near enough to Noah's cabin to hear the faint wail of a baby, and Casey broke into a run. Noah matched his pace, and as they drew near, the incomprehensible wails redefined into a single word cried over and over again. "Da!"

Noah and Casey jogged silently for the last few meters of the trail, and as they entered the clearing that surrounded the cabin, they heard muffled barks. A second later, Mira's five four-month-old puppies burst around the corner of the cabin and charged toward them. At Noah's signal, they slowed their headlong charge, but they couldn't quite contain all of their enthusiasm. They ended up trampling each other in their excitement to greet Noah and Casey.

Patting a puppy on top of the head, Noah murmured, "I don't know how he does it."

"Who does what?" Casey asked and pushed his way through the dogs to get to the cabin's front door. Noah followed behind him, and the puppies parted like the Red Sea for him, much to Casey's chagrin.

"Greysen always seems to know when you are coming and will be inconsolable for hours ahead of time."

"Greysen knows when I am coming?" Casey's brows furrowed. _How?_

"Yes," Noah confirmed. "Long before you've even trip my first alert." Noah snorted in amusement. "He's been up since dawn, calling for you."

_Really?_ Casey didn't voice his next question. Instead, he pushed open the door to the small one-room home and hustled over to where Greysen stood, surrounded by a large German shepherd. Greysen's tiny fist gripped the blanket on Noah's bed, and the other was in Bix's fur. The dog wagged his tail in greeting, and Greysen's tears hiccupped to a stop.

"Da!" he called. Letting go of both the dog and the bed, he reached up with both hands and begged for a hug.

"Hey there, little guy! You miss me?" Casey asked and scooped Greysen up into his arms. "I missed you."

Greysen clutched Casey around the neck and pulled him close. "Da!" he squealed in Casey's ear. Casey winced and tucked Greysen's head to his shoulder, rocking him. His hand patted a gentle rhythm against Greysen's back.

"I won't be able to stay more than a day. Two at most," Casey told Noah. Casey needed to get back to his base for some damage control. He hadn't left on the calmest of terms.

Noah chuckled and knelt to tend the fire in the fireplace. "Should be fine. I already sent the false deployment papers for Private Bell to replace you here. Corporal Joplin may have already received them."

_Tristan deployed?_ "Why?"

"I have a mission to complete, and no one else can take my place."

"For how long?" Casey began mentally manipulating his patrol rosters. He would need coverage during Tristan's absence.

"A standard duration for a meeting of superiors in Fort St. Louis."

_Ten to fifteen days._ "Reason?"

"Not your concern."

Huh?

"No," Casey said when he realized the mistake. "I mean the reason for Tristan's deployment. I don't give a shit about your mission."

Noah looked at him over his shoulder and then sat back on his heels. "Not specified."

Casey groaned. He'd have to come up with a plausible excuse for Tristan's absence, or Lincoln would become suspicious—okay, more suspicious. "When do you leave?"

"Now," Noah replied, and indicated a military issued backpack next to the door. "It is imperative I leave immediately. I pulled enough rations for you and Greysen from storage, and there are two turkeys in the smokehouse. Please watch them, and when they finish, store them."

"And the dogs?"

"They will feed themselves, but if they are unable, you can give them some of the cured meat in the storage locker."

"Understood."

"Feel free to use the bed," Noah said and stood. Grabbing his pack off the floor, he shouldered it, and with his hand on the doorknob, he turned to look at Casey one more time. His mouth poised as if he were about to say something, and Casey's eyebrow quirked up at the pause, but Noah nodded once and left the cabin. Casey followed him outside, but Noah was already gone. The only indicator of where he went were the puppies staring intently at the path that headed to the Black.

"Da!" Greysen squealed. "Da, up!"

_Now, what?_ Casey looked at Greysen uneasily. He'd never been entirely alone with Greysen. Lottie or Noah had always been nearby, and he felt woefully unprepared.

Greysen lurched toward the ground. "Da!" he whined. "Up!"

"You are up," Casey corrected. "You want down."

"'Own. 'Own."

Casey swung Greysen off his hip, and after making sure Greysen had his balance, he let him go. Straightening, Casey ran a hand through his hair. He felt confident Greysen wouldn't starve or stay dirty, but past that? _How do you play with a toddler?_ Casey wished Lottie were here to tell him what to do.

The dogs gave up watching for Noah and turned their attention to Greysen. He giggled at their tickling tongues as they licked him in greeting. His small fingers tugging at their ears, and one excited puppy knocked Greysen onto his rear.

Greysen's face scrunched up to cry, and Casey swooped in. His fingers set to tickle. "I'm'a gonna get you."

"Da!" Greysen squealed and giggled as Casey attacked his belly with tickles.

The two of them spent the day playing, and at the end of it, Casey drew a bath for Greysen. After a few well-placed splashes by both father and son, Greysen was clean and out of the tub.

Casey didn't want Greysen to get too cold in the evening air, so he wrapped Greysen in a wool blanket and head outside to sit in front of the fire.

After settling into the chair, Casey confirmed Greysen was comfortable, and then let his head fall to the back of the chair. It had been a long day of leaf pile jumps, puppy kisses, and a rousing game of Casey-fetch-the-ball-the-toddler-threw, and Casey was tired.

As his thoughts drifted, Casey wondered how Lottie was doing. Where was she now? Was she finally on the road to the secret facility? Casey's throat tightened, and he hugged Greysen closer.

I hope she is okay.

He sat outside in front of the cheery blaze, content in his loneliness as full dark pressed in around him. Puppies littered the ground at his feet, and a small smile spread on his face as the sound of Greysen sucking his thumb, ceased, and turned to soft snores.

# Chapter 21

"We'll stop here for the night."

Lottie shaded her eyes with her bound hands and squinted into the sun at Truman ahead of her.

"Ford? Ellington? Set up Sergeant Major Ito's tent and then the Asset's," Truman ordered. Turning to face her, he continued, "Taft, get the Asset out of the way, then help me set up the other tents."

"Yes, sir," Taft saluted, grabbed her arm, and pulled her from the group. They'd only gone a few feet when Taft pulled her to a stop. He shoved her, and she stumbled.

"Si'down."

She lowered herself as gracefully as she could with her restrained hands and a heavy backpack on her back.

Taft's lip curled into a sneer. "Don't move."

Lottie nodded and focused on the brittle grass in front of her crossed legs. _At least the ground is dry this time,_ she thought, and plucked a few blades from their roots and twirled them between her fingers. Eventually, Lottie's gaze lifted, and she stared unseeing as the men set up camp. Taft, Ford, and Ellington were setting up the tents along a crumbling cinderblock wall that fenced in a garage-like structure. Across the creek from their campsite, Lottie saw a large shopping mall with caved-in walls. The parking lot was full of crumbled asphalt, out of control weeds, and small trees.

She wondered about the store's history. How long had it abandoned? Did it close abruptly like so many other businesses had when the Army bought them out, or was it a more gradual decline? After a while, her attention shifted to the east. She couldn't see much past the old highway, but she knew Fort St. Louis was only a few kilometers away.

Movement caught her eye, and she glanced at the men. Taft was kneeling over the start of a fire, and Ellington stood off to the side with Ford. They were watching her and murmuring—she assumed they discussed her, but she was far enough away not to hear them. Then her gaze was drawn to Truman standing with Ito.

Sergeant Major Ito said something to Truman and pulled his revolver from its holster. He checked the barrel and then laughed at Truman's response. Ito finished inspecting his gun, holstered it, grabbed something from his pack at his feet, and then started toward her. Lottie's muscles coiled, and she forced the desire to flee from her mind. _Maddy and Zoe. Maddy and Zoe,_ she chanted silently and swallowed around the lump in her throat. _Maddy and Zoe._

Ito dropped to the ground next to her. His feet splayed out in front of him as he leaned back on his hands and studied her.

Lottie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and after some creative maneuvering, she scratched her upper arm with her bound hands. Dropping them to her lap, she realized it was Ito's proximity that made her skin itch.

He contemplated her for a few moments before sitting up straighter and opening the small canvas bag he brought with him. Ito unfurled the fabric and began assembling tools he found from within it.

_A gun cleaning kit._ She recognized the army issued items. Casey had one like it.

Ito glanced at her again before pulling out his gun, and he made a show of unloading it before tying a rag through the newly opened space and around the hammer. He grabbed a bottle of cleaning solution, and after opening it, he dipped a long-handled brush into it. Knocking extra fluid off, Ito then slid the brush down the barrel.

Lottie watched, and barely kept the tension from her shoulders. Why did he choose to clean his gun next to her?

He repeated the process from the other side, then switched to what Lottie assumed were polishing cloths. Ito pushed them through the barrel twice before putting them down and grabbing a squat, toothbrush-shaped tool. Ito scrubbed the cylinder openings with it, and other than the occasional glance her way, Ito continued to ignore her. Lottie felt herself relax a bit more. _He is on guard duty,_ she told herself. _Nothing to worry about._

Lottie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the scent of the cleaning solution and the soft metallic noises coming from her side where Ito worked. It was too easy to picture Casey sitting next to her, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he cleaned his gun and watched his men work around the camp. A sharp ache began in her chest and radiated outward. Homesickness bit deep, and she sucked in a shuddering breath. She missed Tristan's brotherly affection, Jules's unrestrained enthusiasm, and Noah's quiet competence. But she missed Casey's understanding and devotion the most.

He loves me.

Did she love him back? Probably. She didn't know.

Lottie felt a tear slide down her cheek, and she brushed it away, hoping Ito didn't see it. She glanced at him. He held the gun up close to his face and inspected his firearm. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he spoke, "Lieutenant Truman says you're a draft dodger and only recently enlisted. Is this true?"

She huffed a breath, ruffling the hair near her forehead, and she plucked several blades of grass from the ground. Letting them fall through her fingers, she replied, "Yeah."

Ito nodded once and picked up another cloth, squirted a drop or two of oil onto it, and began rubbing the outside of his gun. "Be glad I'm not in charge of your punishment then."

Lottie sucked in sharply, and Ito looked over at her. His dark eyes bore into hers. The intensity of the anger she saw there took her breath away.

"The US government only requires eighteen years of your service, and yet you couldn't even do that." Ito turned back to his gun, his motions calm and controlled. "You and the other selfish assets run. And when the ARA catches you, they take you to a nice facility in town. Give you food, shelter, medical treatment, and"—he stressed the word—"you get out of the army at thirty." Ito paused. "But I know a way to keep you bitches from running."

Lottie tried to breathe as her stomach flip-flopped, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate. Her hands felt slimy with sweat, and her fingers shook. She clasped them in front of her to keep them from trembling. _Don't let him see. Don't let him see._

"If a male soldier evades the draft, his service is extended for the duration of his absence and a few additional years for punishment. Do you think this is fair?" His eyebrow cocked at the question, and he stared at her.

"No," she squeaked.

"No," Ito repeated, his voice hard and cruel. He turned his attention back to his gun. "It isn't fair. What I think is _fair_ , is, if the asset shirks their duty, then they should serve out their enlistment under the ones who follow the rules." He paused. "An asset runs? Gets caught? Don't set her up in a hospital with all those built-in luxuries. Send her to a State-run facility instead." Ito glanced at her, and Lottie looked down. Her arms were tucked tight to her chest, her hands under her chin, fingers twined together, and she wished her white-knuckled hands were unbound so she could wrap them around herself.

Ito put down his polishing cloth and picked up a finishing cloth. "You bitches don't deserve quiet, polite fertility treatments. No artificial insemination. No in-vitro. Nothing provided in a hospital. You should be flat on your back, serving your country by getting fertility treatments in the old fashion way." He put the cloth down and checked his work. "A nice hard fucking."

Lottie gulped, nausea churning her stomach painfully.

"You'd be plenty busy trying to fix the fertility crisis. A young woman not already used up by accelerants and suppressants? The men—the good, honest, hard-working enlisted you fucked over—would get a chance to also contribute to the cure."

He snorted softly, and she drew her legs up. Looping her arms around them, and rocked. Slowly at first, but then faster as he continued.

"You'd get a few hours of sleep here and there. Some food. Medical treatment if you become pregnant. Wouldn't be much different as now except the boys would be rewarded instead of you." He paused. "But then I get invited to this Gates Research Hospital as a part of the Catherine of Sweden project, and I am relieved to know that what I want as a deterrent is what your punishment will be. Too bad the other assets won't see it. It'd cut down on dodgers, like yourself, if they knew they'd serve out their term fucked regularly."

A smile tugged at Ito's lips, and he brought the gun up to his face again. "A nice, life-long, enlistment with your legs spread to receive _all_ the fertility treatments from specially selected soldiers. You're a bit too young and blonde for me, but I'm sure there are plenty of men who won't find that to be a problem. Too bad this hospital isn't opened up to the general enlisted, though." Ito shrugged. "But at least you'll be serving your country under it as you should."

Desperate for a reason to leave, Lottie looked around. Her stomach gave a painful lurch, and she thought she might not need that excuse after all.

"Your mom's there," Ito said, his voice quieter than before.

Lottie froze. _Does he know?_

Ito chuckled. "Did you know that? I might have to loosen up on that 'no blondes' rule. Let her get a few more fertility treatments before she's shipped out. I might even try you out. See what it's like to get the mom and then the daughter."

He loaded the revolver and then holstered it before putting away his tools.

"Lieutenant Truman tells me she's the reason you're going to Gates Research Hospital and not starting at the one in Fort St. Louis. The FAR's at Gates figure if the mom is there, so should her daughter." He turned to eye her and licked his lips. "I must admit, I hope they are right. That you can conceive naturally, but even if they are not, it will be fun trying. You won't be a pampered asset bitch anymore. And that, my dear little Asset, is well worth it."

Ito grabbed the canvas holding his tools and rolled it up. He tucked it back into the pouch that he used as a lap cover and then stood.

He looked down at her, and Lottie forced her knees away from her body and tried to relax. She didn't want him to see how much his words affected her. Ito's gaze raked over her, and she shivered. "Definitely have to suspend that rule." And with that, he turned and stalked away.

Lottie slowly exhaled.

Ito glanced back at her, a smirk tugged his lip up. Lottie gagged and swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

***

Sunset was gone, swallowed by dusk, and was well on its way to becoming night when Ford approached her. He stopped several feet away, and she tipped her head back to look up at him.

"Bathroom?" he asked.

Lottie nodded.

Ford reached down and grabbed her wrist, helping her to her feet. She groaned. Her muscles had stiffed alarmingly, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the pain in her sore back.

"Here," Ford murmured and produced a key. He unlocked one cuff, and as it fell free, Lottie moaned again. The depressions from where the restraints bit into her skin, itched, and she rubbed her wrist in relief.

"Drop your bag at the middle tent and come back. I'll wait for you here."

She acknowledged him with a twitch of her head, and as she stepped away, she half expected Ford to grab her and pull her back. But when nothing happened, she lengthened her stride and marched toward the row of tents with her head held high.

Her dangling metal cuffs rattled with every step. They sounded loud and glaring in the quiet night. Each of the soldiers stopped their activities to watch her. Lottie resisted the urge to hunch over and held herself rigidly instead.

At the front flap of the middle tent, she eased the heavy backpack off her shoulders and set it on the ground. Her hands found the small of her back and pressed her thumbs into the skin along her spine.

Determined to ignore the men watching her, she leaned back and stretched as far as she could. Someone cleared their throat, and she flinched. Turning, Lottie made her way back to Ford, and as she walked, she hooked her hand under her opposite elbow, pulling her arm across her chest. Her joints creaked, and the tight muscles burned as she worked them.

Lottie held the pose for several steps before switching to the other arm. By the time she reached Ford, her back hurt less.

She stopped next to Ford and looked up at him. He clasped her bicep in his large hand and guided her away from the rest of the men. After a few feet, he pulled her to a halt, and muttered, "Here," then let go of her arm. "Hurry up," he said and turned away from her. Lottie stared at his back, then the fire where the rest of her guard had returned to their previous activities.

"You done yet?"

Lottie jumped in surprise. "No... Give me a second." She couldn't believe her luck. Privacy! Well, privacy enough. He wasn't going to watch her pee.

She fumbled with the belt on her pants, and once loose, she quickly did her business behind the bushes. Finishing, she stood, did up her cargos, and moved closer to Ford. "Thank you."

He looked down at her but otherwise didn't respond to her voiced gratitude. "Let's go."

Lottie stepped forward, and he clasped her arm in his hand. He guided her back to the fire and shoved her down on the grass next to Truman.

Ito eyed her, disdainfully, and resumed his conversation with the Lieutenant. "You're old for a Lieutenant."

Truman glanced at him but then focused on the fire. He took a sip out of his mug. "You're young for a Sergeant Major, sir."

"Driven," Ito replied. "I always thought ARA drew the younger types. The ones who don't mind camping in the woods. At your age, shouldn't you be retired by now?" Ito glanced around the fire. "Shouldn't you all be?"

"What else would we do, sir?" Taft asked as he dipped a mug into a cooking pot sitting next to the fire.

"Sir, you know a soldier never really retires," Ford added and sat across from Lottie. "Even someone no longer on active duty can be reinstated at any time." Taft handed him the mug he'd filled. "Thanks," Ford replied in acknowledgment.

Taft turned and dipped another mug. He skirted the fire and came toward Lottie. Her hungry stomach gurgled loudly at the promise of food. He stood above her and held the cup out. When she reached up to take it, he pulled it back and took a sip. "Ah," he sighed appreciatively and sat on the ground next to her.

Lottie felt her cheeks flush, and she hastily dropped her hand and her gaze to her lap. Her stomach clenched in protest.

Ito snorted, and Ellington muttered, "You're an ass."

Taft laughed and took another sip out of the mug. He swirled the contents. "Yep."

Overtop of Taft's affirmative response, Ito asked, "So what should I expect at Gates? My mission directive only specified that I would have a choice of compatible assets."

"Don't know, sir," Taft replied. "We'r'nt with them much."

"Do you know how the assets get sorted?"

Taft sipped from the mug again, declining to answer, instead, Truman replied, "Sir, the FAR determine who is available for each donor. Not us."

Ito sighed. "For a well-informed Lieutenant, you are surprisingly ignorant on this subject."

Truman shrugged slightly. "Our mission is to provide safe transport and containment, sir, not to determine donor-asset compatibility."

"Understood." Ito's gaze shifted to Taft when he stood and made his way back around the fire.

Lottie watched as Taft scooped more liquid into his mug and came back toward her. The smell of the soup made her salivate.

Standing in front of her again, Taft held the mug out, Lottie hesitated. She wouldn't put it past him to pull the same stunt as before. When she didn't take the offered cup, he twitched it in her direction as if to say, go ahead. Cautiously, Lottie raised her hand for it. As soon as her fingers were near, Taft pulled the cup out of reach.

She wasn't surprised. Taft had done as she suspected he would. Lottie pursed her lips, hungry and angry. She glanced at Truman, hoping for some help, but he gazed back at her coldly. She looked up at Taft again, and he smirked. Putting the mug to his lips, he took another big gulp of the contents.

The cup had just left his mouth when Ellington pushed past him. "Fucking asshole," Ellington muttered and extended the mug he held. Lottie hesitated, positive he would tease her as Taft did, but Ellington just urged, "Take it."

She nodded and took the cup. "Thank you," she told Ellington.

Lottie blew on the contents before drinking. The flavor was thin but tasty, and she identified it as a standard recipe for a soup made from their rations. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation of the food.

Ito studied her while she drank. Finally, he asked, "Are they all as young as her?"

"No, sir," Truman replied. "She's our youngest asset and a complete unknown. Most of the assets are in their thirties. Often, the FAR is unaware of an asset's ability to conceive naturally 'til after their enlistment ends. The ones who conceive in the State-run facilities are fast-tracked to the research hospital." Truman pointed at Lottie. "But in her case, not only did her biological mother have a girl, but she also produced naturally."

"Having a girl guarantees an asset will go to the facility?"

"No, sir," Ford answered. "But, it does get FAR excited."

Taft snorted, and Lottie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what was so funny.

"You have a problem, Private?" Ito barked.

"No, sir," Taft replied, a smile tugging at his lips, and he took another sip of his soup.

Ito huffed in irritation. "Insolence. A reprimand is in order."

"Having a girl doesn't guarantee their transfer, sir," Truman said, drawing Ito's attention again, and effectively ignoring Ito's chastisement. "But it does flag the asset's file for further study, and if they hit other FAR criteria while enlisted, then they are sent to Gates. Once at Gates, though, their daughters' files are flagged."

"There have been others as young as she is?"

"Yes, sir, but it isn't common."

"Do the daughters always automatically get shipped to Gates?"

"Only if their mothers match the above criteria, and that rarely happens. That's why eight times out of ten, the daughters live in the same Fort as the mothers."

"And the assets stay their full enlistment?" Ito asked.

"And then some," Taft muttered, but Lottie didn't think Ito heard him.

Ellington answered for Truman, "Usually, but if they prove themselves as non-breeders, the FAR stops studying them."

No one said anything after that, and Lottie sipped her soup, alternating between glaring at the fire and enjoying the quiet. After a bit, she finished her soup, and Lottie twirled the cup in her hands. Her stomach rumbled, and Lottie wondered if she could get more or if she needed to ask, but before she could make up her mind, Taft stood and ambled over to the pot.

As Taft shook the last of the soup into his mug, Ellington ordered, "Give it to the asset."

"But _I_ am hungry," Taft retorted.

"And you've already had three mugs full, so back off," Ford grumbled.

Taft faced Ellington, and Lottie could see his eyebrow cocked in question. "You're counting?"

"Hard to miss it when you make a production out of denying the asset sustenance."

"I'm sure she's had enough," Taft remarked, dismissively, and looked at her. "Isn't that right, Asset?"

With her stomach growling, Lottie glanced at her cup and then to Truman before meeting Taft's gaze. Pausing, she weighed her options. If Lottie said yes—like her hungry belly demanded—would he deny her the food? Probably. She decided to take a chance anyway. "I'd like more, please."

Taft snorted in amusement. "Fine." He took a swig from his mug and then handed it to her. She wrinkled her nose but drank the soup anyway. Once his cup was empty, she set it on the ground next to hers.

At long last, the sharp pain in her stomach from hunger and tension slowly dissolved away into a warm glow, and she let her mind go blissfully numb as she stared into the flames. It was Lottie's oldest and best strategy at avoiding her fear and distrust of the soldiers and also dealing with her loneliness and homesickness.

Casey. Greysen.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but between the fire keeping her warm and her full stomach, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. The yawn teased at the back of her throat, and Lottie covered her mouth with her hand as it escaped. Her loose cuff clanked as she did so and drew Truman's attention. He studied her before speaking, "Taft, you'll have the third watch, so take the asset and go rest. Ellington, you're on first. Ford, you're on second and then will relieve Taft. We'll leave an hour after full light."

The men acknowledged Truman's orders with a chorus of 'sir' before splitting off to do as he commanded. Taft stood and pulled Lottie to her feet. "Move."

Lottie followed alongside him in a half-marched half-dragged manner as they made their way to the designated bathroom location. For once, Taft gave her some privacy as he too used the restroom. After they finished, Lottie tentatively asked, "Can I wash my hands?"

Taft grunted but indicated she could do as she asked.

Making her way down to the creek edge, she daydreamed about hopping to the other bank and trying to run away.

She snorted.

She wouldn't make it ten feet.

_Maddy and Zoe,_ Lottie reminded herself and dipped her hands into the frigid water. The creek's mud bottom didn't lend itself to cleaning her hands adequately, but at least they wouldn't feel so grimy or sticky. Once her hands felt a bit cleaner, she splashed her face and ran her finger over her teeth and wished for a toothbrush.

Sighing, she shook off the excess water and rejoined Taft. He grabbed her bicep and guided her to the middle tent.

"Get in."

_Duh!_ she thought and grabbed her pack.

She unzipped the tent and stumbled inside. Kneeling, Lottie saw a bedroll laid out on the ground. She wondered if it was hers, and, if it was, then where was Taft going to sleep.

"Strip," Taft ordered as he joined her inside the tent. He looked uncomfortably hunched over in the tight space.

"W-what," Lottie stuttered and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Strip," he repeated and zipped the tent closed behind him.

Sweat pricked her skin. Her mind—no longer numb—screamed a silent, 'No!' Her arms inched up to hug her waist. _He wouldn't._ "No," she whispered and shook her head in denial. Shivers raced up her spine in barely suppressed tremors.

"I'm in no mood for this shit, Asset. Strip."

"No," she said a little more forcefully.

"Look, Asset," Taft growled, his face mere inches from hers. "I won't have your dirty-ass-clothes in my bed, so either strip down or sleep hog-tied in the corner with nothing to keep you warm. I. Don't. Fucking. Care." And with that, he yanked his shirt over his head. He quickly untied and removed his shoes. Tossing them in the corner, he then removed his pants.

Lottie averted her eyes and swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted to do was be naked next to any man, let alone Taft.

Standing in front of her in just his boxers, Taft asked, "Hog-tying?"

She opened her mouth to say 'yes' but closed it without speaking. It was already cold and would be even colder in a few hours. Could she afford to be immobile, and that chilled? Her heart pounded, and she licked her dry lips, wanting nothing more than to run away from him, but she shook her head. Lottie hooked her fingers under her long-sleeve t-shirt and pulled it over her head. The shirt caught on her cuffs, and Lottie thought her heart would stop. She tugged at it, desperate for it to give way, and her breath grew raspy.

Taft grabbed her chin, and Lottie squealed in alarm. With her arms tangled in the shirt, she hugged her bare chest as goosebumps erupted all over her body. He studied her a moment before releasing her with a huff and helped her with the shirt.

A single tear slid down her cheek before she could blink it back. Taft stared at her impassively. Her throat constricted, and she thought she might pass out from how hard and fast she was breathing. _He didn't touch me in the shower_ , Lottie chanted, praying that meant Taft wouldn't force himself on her this time. She knew she couldn't handle that.

"Pants," he said.

She jolted in surprise. Her mind had already begun to shut down.

With a nod, she shifted so she could remove her shoes and pants. Discarding them beside her, she sat on the cold nylon of the tent in her borrowed boxers.

"Hands."

Lottie blinked in confusion, relieved he wasn't ordering her to take off her underwear.

Taft sighed and repeated himself a little more gently, "Hands."

_Oh!_ She extended her arms, and he clipped the free cuff around her wrist, binding her once again.

"In," he ordered and pointed to the bedroll.

She sucked in a breath, and then another, before, she was able to move toward the bedroll. Lottie climbed under the covers, and Taft situated himself between her and the exit. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her tight to his chest. The heat of his skin seared her back, and Lottie twitched uncontrollably. She could feel every inch of his body against hers, and Lottie couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They poured from her eyes, and she took deep, gulping breaths as she choked on her sobs.

"For fuck's sake, I ain't gonna do anything to you, so shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Christ."

Lottie nodded and tried to stem her tears. Her throat made ugly noises as she slowly got control of herself.

His fingers splayed against her belly, pressing her closer for a moment before loosening.

_Did he... Did he just hug me?_ She sniffed. He confused the hell out of her. In one breath, Taft would threaten her, and the next, he'd do something that was almost nice, but regardless of what he was trying to do, she felt anything but comforted. She tensed in Taft's arms.

"Sleep," he whispered, his voice thick with impending slumber.

Lottie held herself still, and maybe once he slept, she could scoot away from him. A few minutes later, when Taft's breathing evened out, Lottie tried moving away. Taft grumbled and pulled her close again. She winced and gave up the attempt to put space between them. _Forgive me_ , Lottie begged Casey. She had no choice in what happened, and she hoped Casey wouldn't hate her for giving in and choosing warmth over honoring whatever it was they shared.

Taft exhaled forcefully and shifted, drawing his legs tight to hers. Her skin crawled, and she prayed the night would go quickly.

Lottie dozed fitfully, painfully aware of Taft at her back as he held her close and snored softly in her ear.

Movement outside of the tent brought her fully alert.

"Taft," someone whispered.

"Yeah," Taft replied.

"Your shift."

"Coming," he said and extracted himself from their shared covers.

She breathed a sigh of relief at his absence and made a note to remember he woke quickly and smoothly, without an ounce of hoarseness to his tone, unlike her. No doubt, Lottie's voice would sound like river stones grinding together in a current. She swallowed, trying to rid herself of her dry throat.

Moments later, the zipper to the tent rasped, and Taft swapped places with Ford. She heard him rustling around but didn't dare open her eyes to see what he was doing. Her shoulders tensed, and the knot in her belly returned. Lottie fully expected him to be stripping down and climbing into the bed with her. She felt tears streak down her nose and pool into the fabric under her cheek.

More fabric rustled, and then all was silent.

Hoping she looked like she was rolling over in sleep, Lottie shifted toward Ford and opened her eyes to a slit, daring a peek. Ford lay on his back in his bedroll, a snore already on his lips. She heaved a huge sigh of relief, and for the first time that night, she fell deeply asleep.

Lottie awoke with a squeal of dismay as the cold morning air hit her bare flesh and looked up at Ford, glaring down at her.

"Jesus Christ! Taft," Ford growled, tossed her the blanket he'd yanked off of her only seconds before, and turned away. "Get dressed, Asset. Breakfast time."

She hastened to obey. Lottie grabbed her pants from the foot of her bedroll, where she'd dropped them last night and wrestled them on, a task made more difficult by her bound hands. She hauled her shirt to her chest and shivered. Her clothes were cold and offered no protection to the chilly morning. "Please," she whispered. "May I have my hands?"

"You covered?"

After chastising herself for answering with a nod, she whispered, "As well as I can be."

"Good," Ford replied and turned toward her. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he undid one of her cuffs. "These are so stupid. You ain't going anywhere. Are you?"

She shook her head.

"No, you aren't going anywhere," Ford said, musing to himself. "You're here for a reason. I don't know what you—and, probably Staff Sergeant Huxley—are up to, but I'll figure it out. Don't worry."

Her breath stuttered in her chest, and her heart skipped a beat. What did Ford know! She cast her eyes downward and prayed to the ever-absent God that he wouldn't discern the answer to his questions in their depths.

"An evader that lasts four years in the woods and _then_ gets caught? Fishy," Ford said. "Something drastic happened to lower your guard, or you wanted to be here. Why?"

"I didn't want to be caught," she whispered. It was one-hundred percent true, too. She hadn't wanted to be in Casey's camp two Augusts ago. But now?

"No, I don't suppose you did. So what was your mistake, hmm?"

She bit her lip. There was no way he could figure it out, she reasoned, shifting her weight from side to side as she squirmed under Ford's scrutiny.

"You wandered too close to Fort Sutton—which in itself isn't a guarantee of being captured, not by someone with four years of hunting experience to draw on—but then something made noise, and I'm guessing that _something_ is what alerted the men of Fort Sutton to your presence."

He grabbed her chin and lifted it, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"What could you possibly have had in your possession that would make noise regardless of your wishes?"

Lottie shuddered. How could he be so close to the truth?

Ford studied her for a moment. "There aren't too many choices, now are there?"

Lottie squeezed her eyes shut and willed her head to stay still.

"You wouldn't be the first asset to end up with a baby out in the woods."

Her eyes flew open.

"Yet, the report of your capture didn't mention an infant." He paused and looked at her, studying her reactions. "Did Staff Sergeant Huxley put the infant out in the woods to die? That would be against protocol, but not unacceptable if the infant was male."

Lottie couldn't hold back the tears. Echoes of Ethan and Teo's threats overwhelmed her, and she choked on a sob.

"Hmm, so he did. And you were. Interesting," Ford murmured. He let go of her chin. "That explains some of your behavior, but I think you are up to something. You're too docile. Too compliant. Too... Polite. Staff Sergeant Huxley brought you to us unbound. He wouldn't have if you proved to be a flight risk, but without the infant to hold you back, you _could_ have slipped away."

Ford took a deep breath and tapped his chin with his finger. "Sloppy. Plus, Staff Sergeant Huxley only brought the one soldier with him. A shifty fellow who watched all the wrong people." Ford studied her. "Why would Private Hearst watch us and not you—the proven risk—I wonder?"

Ford's eyelids narrowed when she clenched her fists into her shirt. A bead of sweat trickled down her back.

"It can only mean Staff Sergeant Huxley and Private Hearst trusted you enough not to run. It's highly unlikely you earned this trust quickly, so how did you do it? Now, if you were in his camp for a long time, that could happen, or maybe they are keeping the infant hostage with promises of care outside the communals, _but_ Staff Sergeant Huxley isn't the type to buck his superiors, so I doubt that happened. More than likely, something else is in play. It makes me wonder what you three are planning. Why trust an asset? Especially one that ran? What are you going to gain?"

_He knows way too much!_ How the hell could Ford figure all that out from a few known facts? Would he report her? She shivered. There wasn't anything she could do about it now. She'd have to play her part and hope everything worked out.

"At least now, I know you _are_ worth it." Ford sighed and unzipped the tent. "A natural breeder like Townsend," he muttered to himself. Over his shoulder, Ford said, "Finish getting dressed. There's a personal hygiene kit in your bag. Use it, then meet us at the fire for breakfast."

"Okay," she whispered thickly. Her tears made it hard to speak.

He harumphed and then zipped the tent closed behind him, leaving her truly alone for the first time since this whole ordeal began. She pulled her shirt on and then her boots before dropping her head into her hands, giving in to her tears.

Just a nightmare. A long, drawn-out nightmare.

***

The first thing Lottie noticed was the sound of gentle rain pattering on the tent's roof. Opening her eyes, she tucked her free hand—the one not currently cuffed to Truman—under her head and watched the ceiling as the drops shook the nylon over her head. Each plop promised a day spent cold and miserable, but Lottie was determined to enjoy the sound while she was warm and dry. Lottie let it wash over her, lulling her senses and creating a sense of calm in her. It reminded her of the morning Casey gifted her with her freedom. It felt like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it had only been a year.

Casey would be back at Fort Sutton by now, she assumed. Was he awake and working already? Perhaps Casey was supervising the guard rotation. Or maybe he was in his tent, also enjoying the sound of the rain. Was it even raining there? Lottie didn't know, but the idea of Casey awake in his tent at Fort Sutton, listening to the rain and thinking about her was a pleasant thought, and she relished the daydream about his strong arms tight around her and Greysen, keeping them both safe. It had been eleven days since they parted, and Lottie could honestly say she missed him more today than she did yesterday.

_Maybe it is love._ She pushed that thought aside and shifted uncomfortably as another sensation made itself known. A tingle edging toward pain was building low in her belly. It felt a bit like an upset stomach, yet not quite. With growing horror, Lottie realized what it was, and she hissed in anger.

Her period.

Great. Just great! As if this whole effing situation isn't horrible enough already.

She didn't even know if her army-issued menstrual cup made it into her bag. She hadn't needed it for so long. Lottie groaned. If she did have it, she needed to sanitize it before she could use it. A sharp pang had her lifting her head and moving her arm to her lower belly, where she rubbed at it. Would her period be like the ones before Greysen? She remembered reading that it changed after having a baby, but if it was the same, then she had a day or two before it started in all its irritating glory. _What if it isn't the same?_ She'd have to have something ready in case it started sooner.

The last thing in the world Lottie wanted to do was ask Truman for help, so she bit her tongue against the request, and to ease her discomfort, Lottie rolled over onto her side. She squeaked when her eyes met Truman's dark brown ones. "I need the bathroom," Lottie blurted in a loud whisper. His gaze sharpened on her, and she swallowed thickly. "Well, I do."

Truman gave her a slow nod—and did Lottie detect a sigh?—before he sat up and fished the key out of his pants. He unhooked her cuffs, and she rubbed her wrist, thankful she only wore the hateful things at night now that they were several days from Fort St. Louis.

It had been one thing to be restrained while they hiked the old paved roads, but once they began trudging through trees and underbrush regularly, she'd begged for her release. Navigating the hazards of the woods had been nearly impossible, and after a few falls, Truman had relented and granted her freedom of movement during the day. That didn't mean they didn't keep her in sight at all times, but Lottie didn't mind as long as her hands stayed unencumbered for her inevitable falls.

With feeling restored to her fingers, Lottie crawled over to the tent's exit, and after grabbing her coat, she let herself out.

Lottie stood and stretched, tilting her head back and let the drizzle wash her face, breathing deep. She loved the rain in the morning. It made everything smell so clean! But by evening? Not so much. By then, she was always fed up with the ever-present mud and being wet.

Lottie looked around the camp. She didn't see Ford anywhere, but she didn't doubt he watched her. He made her uncomfortable. He was way too observant.

Heading toward the designated bathroom, she walked around the campfire that burned despite the drizzle. It was the hub of their small campsite, and Lottie mused—not for the first time—that the arrangement reminded her of a wheel with each tent as a spoke. It was clear to her that these men made this trek regularly. They knew exactly where to find a campsite each night, and each one was not only the perfect size for their tents but also seemed to have the remnants of an old fire ring in the center.

A thought niggled at the back of her mind. If the facility was so secret, why did they leave behind campsites that would lead someone directly to them? She shrugged. It didn't make sense to her, but maybe it would help Javier keep up with them.

Lottie arrived at the restroom and used it. Her nose wrinkled at what she was about to do, but without toilet paper, she had no real way to know if she was spotting yet or not. Lottie checked. Sure enough, her fingers were slightly pink. Lottie didn't have a few days. She wiped her fingers on the grass and hitched up her pants before washing up in the creek. After she was clean, Lottie made her way back toward the camp. Truman and Ito sat next to the fire drinking something, while Ford, Ellington, and Taft were hastily striking tents, readying everyone for departure. Lottie knew that once everything was stored, they would eat a quick breakfast, destroy the fire, and then be on their way.

Finding her backpack near Ito, she knelt and searched inside for the cup. She almost gave up, but then found it in a side pocket. _Thank god!_ She didn't have any other equipment to take care of her period, and there were no spare blankets available for makeshift pads like at Fort Sutton.

Standing, she licked her lips and felt her cheeks warm. Lottie's gaze swept over the men and landed on Ito. His glare almost destroyed the minuscule measure of calm she had mustered, and her hands began to tremble. With a grimace, Lottie tore her gaze from Ito's and turned to Truman. _Now for the hard part._ She forced her embarrassment aside and stepped closer. "Truman?"

His gaze swept up her form. His expression was as impersonal as always, and Lottie wondered what he could be thinking. She knew his opinion of her was low, but he hid his other emotions so well, she didn't know anything else about him.

"Yes?"

Lottie focused on his trimmed goatee so that she didn't have to look him in the eyes. "I need to sanitize my cup before we leave."

"Cup," Ito interrupted.

She glanced at him and then back to Truman before returning her gaze to his chin. She swallowed hard and barely refrained from wiping her sweating palms on her cargos. "Men-menstrual cup," she stuttered over the word, knowing her face was as red as a Washington apple.

"Disgusting," Ito interjected.

_Disgusting?_ Her head whipped toward him so fast a pain shot down her neck at the motion, and she clenched her teeth. Turning back to Truman, she pleaded, "May I please use the cooking pot to sanitize it? Shouldn't take too long."

"Fuck no," Ito snapped.

Lottie ignored him and lifted her eyes to Truman's, hoping he would ignore Ito. "I promise I'll wash the pot thoroughly afterward and I can sanitize too. It won't add that much time to our day." He didn't appear swayed. Hoping to convince him of her need, she added, "And I heard you say we're making good time, so taking a few minutes for this shouldn't hurt your goals for the day."

Truman's eyelids narrowed as he studied her. She desperately wanted to take a step back, to put distance between them, but she refused to move. Lottie wasn't asking for anything unreasonable, just her health and wellbeing. "Please? I have nothing else."

"No," Ito again answered for Truman.

She chose to ignore him, as Truman seemed to be doing and waited in silence for Truman to make a decision. Truman's hard gaze softened slightly, and she was sure he was about to say yes when Ito once again denied her request.

Taking a deep breath, Lottie rounded on him, "I wasn't asking you."... _Because asking you is useless._

Shock rippled across his features, surprised that she would dare to talk to him in that way. "But _I_ am answering, asset," Ito said, drawing out the words, clearly angry. " _I_ outrank him—"

_Doubt it._ Lottie's eyes darted to Truman's. She noticed displeasure and irritation before Truman hid it again behind a mask of indifference. She didn't know what Truman's exact rank happened to be, but Lottie suspected it wasn't Lieutenant and his momentary flash of emotion all but confirmed it.

But Ito was speaking, "—and I said, no."

"But—"

"No buts. It's unacceptable," Ito barked.

Unacceptable?

She took a deep breath and then another. If finding another solution wasn't so much of a hassle, Lottie would have let it go and picked something else. "What is so unacceptable about it?" she pressed, frustrated.

"I don't want something that has been inside your body, collecting blood, cleaned in something _I_ have to eat out of." His lip curled. "It's foul."

Her anger was growing to match his unreasonable response. "It's not foul. It's natural. And the pot would be clean by the time we need it again. I would make sure of it."

"No." Ito snorted in dismissal.

"Don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die," Taft snarked from behind her.

_Great an audience._ "Shut up, Taft," Lottie whispered, tired of his constant harping.

Ito's eyes grew round a moment before they narrowed at her. "I do not tolerate insolence, Asset."

Lottie tried not to roll her eyes. "I wasn't insolent."

"She's right," Ellington murmured in response.

Ito turned to glare at him over his shoulder, and Lottie saw Ellington shrug out of the corner of her eye. After a quick count to ten, she tried again, "I don't understand the problem. You can use the pot for cooking. It's not ruined; it'll be sanitized. The whole point of being sanitized means it's clean and able to be used for something else."

The second she said it, she knew she'd overstepped.

Ito jumped to his feet, and Truman stood almost as quickly. Truman pressed a hand to Ito's chest and looked at Lottie with reproach. Her arms wrapped around her body, and she took a step back.

"Find something else," Truman said gently.

"If you _ever_ speak to me that way again—" Ito began, overlapping Truman's quiet response, and Lottie took another hasty step back.

"Sir," Truman said, cutting off Ito's angry retort. "She'll do something else, won't she," he added with a pointed look in her direction.

Lottie nodded and grabbed her pack from the ground. Continuing to back up, she found a spot within sight of the fire but well away from the men. She felt everyone's eyes on her as she rummaged in her pack, and she tried to ignore them.

What was she to do?

She sniffed. Without the option of the cup, she would have to cut up one of her soft cotton shirts to make pads. Her fingers found a spare long sleeve shirt, and she pulled it from the bag with tears in her eyes. She shoved it back in the bag, unwilling to use the one Casey gave her.

_Asshole._

Dragging her other army issued shirt from the bottom of her knapsack, she stood, and after dashing the tears from her eyes, she walked toward Ellington. She had to pass Taft to get to him, and she hoped he wouldn't say anything else to her. She was mad at him about his other ill-advised comment.

"Old enough to bleed. Old enough to breed," Taft whispered as she passed.

She stiffened her shoulders. _Fuck you._

Stopping in front of Ellington, Lottie pursed her lips a moment, trying to calm down and to work up enough nerve to ask for his help. Out of all of the men, he seemed the most likely to be sympathetic to her plight. She held the shirt out from her body as if it were a peace offering. "Please, Ellington, I need a knife to cut this up."

Ellington glared at the back of Ito's head before returning his focus to her and giving her a slight nod. He unhooked his knife from his belt and handed it to her. "Don't get any ideas," he warned, but it seemed half-hearted.

She cocked an eyebrow at him as she took the knife. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Walking away from the group and back to her bag, she spread the shirt out on the ground and studied it for a moment. She wasn't sure where to start, and now that she no longer had her tattered panties to help hold the pads in place, she had to come up with some other way to do the same thing. Men's boxers had a severe lack of form, and there was no way Lottie could tuck a pad between her legs and hike through the woods without it falling out. After a few minutes of thought, she came up with a belt-like solution with ties in the front and back. She would leave corresponding small tabs on the overlong fabric strips, and that would be how she'd secure the pads in her boxers.

Bowing her head, she got to work cutting the sleeves for the belt, and the body of the shirt became several pads. She hoped it would be enough and that she wouldn't make a mess. Her cheeks warmed. Messes were seriously embarrassing, and Lottie had always hated this part about being a woman.

With the deed done, she returned to Ellington and gave him back his knife. "Thank you," Lottie murmured and took her new supplies to the designated bathroom. She didn't care what any of them thought. There was no way Lottie would do this in front of them.

Upon reaching the bathroom spot, Lottie stripped out of her pants and donned her contraption. It wasn't comfortable, but it _did_ work, and with a sigh of relief, she did up her cargos and rejoined the men around the destroyed fire.

She glanced at it longingly. It would appear she missed breakfast.

Swallowing thickly, Lottie murmured, "I'm ready."

"Good. Let's go," Ito barked. 

# Chapter 22

Truman's favorite refrain of 'We'll stop here for the night' proceeded his unceremonious unshouldering of his bag, and he dropped it to the ground at their new campsite. "Taft. Ford. Ellington. You know what to do."

"Sir," they acknowledged. Taft and Ford began clearing a spot for the tents, and Ellington grabbed supplies for cooking dinner.

Lottie hooked her fingers around the straps of her backpack and spun around slowly, surveying their new campsite. It had to be the prettiest location so far. The clearing was small. Quaint. Homey. The weak post-rain sunlight filtered through the canopy of red, green, and gold, creating pools of light and shadow on the underbrush. On the edge of the clearing, about fifty meters away, was a small stone house. Its roof was missing, but otherwise, it looked in stable condition. She wanted to explore it, and couldn't help but imagine the dwelling at the center of several fanciful stories: knights in shining armor, dragons, and evil step-mothers. She smiled. Wendy would have loved this place.

Lottie breathed deep. The wet earth and decayed leaves emitted a smell that welcomed her even if she felt damp and uncomfortable from the prior rain. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her peace disturbed by her body, and Lottie grimaced. Her makeshift pad was bunching up and probably needed to be changed again. It would be the fifth time today. _Huge pain in my ass,_ she grumbled mentally.

She heaved a sigh and strode toward Truman. Lottie stopped in front of him and craned her neck to take in his towering form. Meeting his gaze, she asked, "Is there a stream nearby? I need to do some laundry."

Truman studied her for a moment before inclining his head once, and answered, "Yes. See that path."

Lottie glanced over her shoulder to where he indicated and nodded.

"Go through there, and it's on the other side of the hill."

"Thanks."

After entering the clearing, she didn't see the creek right away, but when she did, she was disappointed. It was barely a trickle at the bottom of a ditch. _It'll have to do,_ Lottie supposed.

Lottie looked left and then right, making sure no one was there to watch her. After confirming the coast was clear, she dropped her bag to the ground and rummaged around inside for her last clean pad. Lottie found it, and pulled it and the other soiled pads from her knapsack. Lottie set the dirty ones aside and then proceeded to change her feminine protection. Her cheeks burned, and Lottie knew she was blushing even though no one was with her. The whole process was awkward, and Lottie was thankful she didn't have an audience. Her fingers shook, and Lottie fumbled with the last tie. When it was secure, Lottie sighed in relief. No one had barged in on her—this time—to witness the horrifying ordeal. Standing, she did up her cargos before turning to the next task.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste, resenting the fact she had to deal with this mess. Lottie picked up all her pads and moved the last few feet to the creek. One by one she washed them and set them aside, when the last one was clean she collected them all, wondering how she could get them to dry. Lottie hissed in annoyance. She'd have to lay them out next to the fire to dry. She rolled her eyes skyward. _Ito will loooovvve that. Asshole,_ she thought, hating Ito and his childish refusal of her needs. If she'd been able to use her cup, none of this would be happening. It only needed to be rinsed at the very end and sanitized before its next use.

Setting each foot in front of the other, Lottie forced herself to head back to camp. Lottie stepped into the clearing, and five sets of eyes honed in on her. Flustered, Lottie firmed her shoulders. She would not let them see how much they affected her. Lifting her chin in defiance, she marched toward them. _I won't even ask!_ She groused to herself. _Ito would say no anyway. Jerk._

Upon reaching the fire, she searched for a place to put the cloth. Finding the perfect stone which was close, but not too much, Lottie began setting out her makeshift pads to dry.

"What are you doing?" Ito asked.

_Of course, he asks! As if he can't figure it out on his own._

When she didn't respond, he inquired again.

I'm not going to answer. I'm not going to answer. I'm not going to effing answer!

"Asset," he growled to get her attention. "I asked you what are you doing?"

"I heard you," she muttered. Lottie pursed her lips, refusing to engage with him further.

"Well?"

She bit back her nasty retort, that wouldn't get her anywhere and would only make him angrier. Schooling her voice and striving for calm, she said, "What does it look like I am doing?"

"It looks like you're trying to ruin my dinner," Taft grumbled.

Lottie shot him a dirty look and finished setting out the last item to dry.

"Why are you doing this here," Ito persisted, his tone conveying his disgust.

Sighing, wholly defeated, her shoulders drooped, there was only so much she could take. "They won't dry anywhere else."

"You need to move them."

"And where would I move them too?" She glanced at Ito and then returned her gaze to the ground. Why did he have to make her life so difficult?

"Your tent. Your ass. I don't care. I don't want to look at them while I eat."

"They need to be dry." She paused, then added, "For my health. They won't dry if I put them anywhere else."

"Not my problem."

_Not your problem? Is he serious?_ Lottie poked at the fabric, wishing the water would evaporate faster and hoping he would shut up.

"And another thing," Ito said, drawing her attention again. "I'm sick to death of your delays. Four piss breaks? Unacceptable."

"Sir," Truman interrupted at the same time Lottie said, "I—"

"No," Ito cut her off. "I don't want to hear excuses."

Lottie glared at him. _The nerve. Why is he so unreasonable! It's not like I wanted this._ "Those _delays_ are why I'm going to that facility," she snapped at him.

"Sir!" Truman barked, but it was already too late.

Her face whipped to the side, and she blinked in surprise. With tears welling, Lottie touched her lips; her fingers came away bloody. _He hit me. He effing hit me?!_ A second later, she registered the pain, and her breath hitched in her throat, turning her back on him, she pressed gently at her lips. They hurt. Bad. But she didn't want him to see her tears. She shifted her weight further away and tried to ignore him. A second later, Lottie squawked as a hand fisted in her hair and hauled her to her feet.

Her eyes met Ito's black ones. Fury like she'd never seen before greeted her. "Don't you _ever_ talk to me like that again, Asset," he said, his tone low and full of malice. "Do you hear me?" He punctuated his question with a small shake.

"Let her go, sir," Truman said.

Ito yanked her head back and turned his ire to Truman. "Stay out of this, Lieutenant."

"Sir," Truman tried again.

"As a ranked officer on this team, you had the authority to put her in her place, but you didn't, and if you don't discipline her for insolence, then I will," Ito snapped and began pulling her away.

"Sir!"

"Ten minutes," Ito growled. "Ten minutes, and you'll have a better-behaved asset." He spun her around, and, using her hair, he steered her toward the stone house across the clearing.

Her eyes watered, and she had trouble focusing. _No. No. No._ Her breath came in short frantic puffs of air that never filled her lungs. She felt like she was drowning.

They crossed the threshold, and Ito shoved her to the ground. "Give me twenty."

What was he talking about? "Twenty?"

"Pushups, but if you open your mouth again, I'll make you do burpees."

The gray cloud of fear, which threatened to pull Lottie into a void, receded, and she was able to roll to her hands and knees. Kicking her legs out, she lowered her body in a parody of a pushup. _Pushups. He wants me to do pushups. Okay, I can do those._ They weren't pretty, but she did manage to lift her body from the ground.

"Get your ass out of the air. Head and shoulders up. Flatten your back. Didn't you learn anything in Basic?"

Lottie lowered and tried again. With each attempt, Ito growled a correction. After five pushups, Lottie's arms shook, and she didn't think she could do another one.

"Another," Ito growled.

Mustering the last of her strength, she pushed herself up.

"Pathetic."

"What do you want from me?" Lottie whined through panting breaths.

"Respect. Obedience. Your behavior is appalling for an enlisted soldier."

"I'm not a soldier," Lottie replied.

Ito's fingers bit into her bicep, and he yanked her to her knees. "Yes, you are. And I better start hearing some damn respect out of you."

She swallowed.

His gaze swept her form, and his expression hardened. "Respect? Do you even know what that means?"

Lottie nodded.

Shoving her away, he pointed to the ground. "Again."

"I can't... sir," she whimpered. She hadn't done pushups in over five years.

"You haven't even done one."

_Not even one?_ She tried to reason with him. "I did six." There was no way she could do even one more pushup.

Ito looked at her coldly, then backhanded her, and she fell to the side. His knee landed in the small of her back, and she yelped.... _Get her. Hold her down..._ Thrashing, Lottie tried to pull away, a scream building in her throat.

Then... Everything went black.

Lottie awoke to arms wrapped around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides as if she wore a straightjacket. Her captor's legs were hooked around hers, holding her tight, like a sausage in a casing. She couldn't escape.

Lights danced behind her eyes, and she drew frantic breaths into her lungs. The smell of old sweat and masculinity enveloped her, and Lottie cried out as loud as she could. It was a garbled sound that held no volume, and she sobbed. Lottie had been screaming for a while, she thought, and her throat felt raw.

Lottie had to move, escape. Whipping back and forth in the man's arms, she shouted again, an agonizingly quiet sound.

Will no one help me?

"Lottie," a voice whispered in her ear. "I'm here. Hush."

She tried to scream again.

The voice whispered, "Lottie, please! He didn't touch you. You're safe, Huxley girl. You're safe."

Huxley girl? Javier?

She turned her head slightly. A familiar brown face gazed at her in concern. "Javier?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"Javier?" she asked again.

"Yes."

Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. "Javier!" she squeaked, her voice raspy from her cries.

Javier nodded and loosened his hold. "It's me. You're safe."

"Javier?" she whispered, her fear receding enough for her to register the kind expression in his eyes. Lottie rolled over, straddled his hips, and grabbed his shirt in her hands. The fabric bunched in her fists. "Javier?"

"Shh, Huxley girl," Javier murmured, his gaze darted around the small enclosed space before returning to hers, and Lottie burst into tears, burying her face in his chest. Javier's hand patted her back. She couldn't hold back the cries that tore from her throat, and he gently stroked her hair. "It's okay. You're safe. He didn't touch you."

She held on to him as she cried. _But he could have._ After several minutes, the fear of being hurt receded and a new worry made itself known. "You can't be here." Fresh fear made her already ragged voice tight when she added, "They can't find you here."

Javier repositioned them so that his back was against the building's wall, and she was no longer straddling him but was still in his lap. His arms held her tight. "They won't."

"But—"

"I'll be all right. Truman has Ito by the fire discussing strategy for the next leg of the journey. And the others will leave you alone. You're safe. I'm safe. We. Are. Both. Safe."

She nodded and sniffed.

Javier tucked her head to his shoulder and brushed the fresh tears from her face with his thumb. "Can you continue the mission? Do you need to leave? I'll take you away if you need to go."

_Abandon the mission? No._ Lottie hiccupped and shook her head. No matter how much the idea of the facility scared her, she couldn't leave Maddy or Zoe. "I have to stay. For my mom. For Zoe."

"Your involvement in the mission doesn't matter that much. We can find someone else to do it. It doesn't have to be you."

She shuddered. All of the mission's plans hinged on the fact no one would question her involvement. Who else could they get that would fit the requirements so easily? No one. She was the best choice for this task. "Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't."

"But, Javier, if I don't do it... It could be years before conditions are right to extract them. I can't leave them there." Lottie gulped. "I think... I think they force women to have sex there. I can't... I can't leave my mom or Zoe. I just—I just can't."

His arms tightened in a hug, and he rocked her. The sat quietly for several moments before Javier spoke again, "I almost killed that Ito fucker."

She sucked in a breath at both the venom in his voice and to what he suggested. _No!_ She shook her head. If he'd killed Ito?

Javier stroked her cheek. "Yes. If he had even... I would have killed him. He wasn't watching his surroundings. It would have been easy."

Lottie pulled away. "You can't!" If he did that? It would have ruined everything. Not to mention, she would have put up with all the abuse the past two weeks for nothing.

Javier continued as if she hadn't said anything. "The first time he popped you," Javier paused and took a deep breath. "I had my gun in my hand, safety off, and I was ready to pull the trigger. But then he pulled you in here," His voice trailed off, and he took another deep breath. Javier's voice was thick with emotion when he continued, "I can't do anything once you are in the facility, but I refuse to let any of them rape you're on the way there. I'd kill whoever did it. Mission be damned."

She shivered, and her stomach clenched, relieved that he was there, ready to protect her, but she'd willingly suffer more abuse if it meant she could get her mom out of that facility. "I have to do this, Javier. No matter what." She shuddered, thankful for the black void her mind used to protect her whenever she felt threatened.

Javier breathed deep, his arms tightening in another hug. "I'm watching you, Huxley girl. Every night. Can you take comfort in that?"

She nodded.

Javier sounded worried.

A rush of affection for the prickly man welled in her heart, and Lottie nestled her head into his neck and hugged him, knowing of his presence helped calm her. Javier's hand patted her on the shoulder a second before he returned the embrace.

They sat that way for a while, drawing comfort from each other. Finally, Lottie pulled away from Javier. "Thank you," she murmured. "For being here."

He gave her a tight smile. "Case'd kill me if anything happened to you."

A smile tugged at her lips, and Javier mock punched her chin. "You ready to go back?" he asked.

Lottie shook her head. "No. But I have to. If I don't, they'll come to collect me soon."

Javier nodded in agreement. He lifted her from his lap, and she stood. Getting to his feet, he pulled her into another hug. "Stop pissing off the high ranking asshole, okay?"

She nodded, and fresh tears leaked from her eyes, further wetting his chest.

He patted her back before stepping away. He cupped her face with his hand and looked her in the eye. "Remember, _you can never succeed in being compliant enough to satisfy people who don't think you're a person_."

"You're right," she whispered.

"I'm with you every night. Every morning. Every break. Know that."

The tight band around her heart loosened. "Thank you," she murmured again.

"Don't mention it, Huxley girl." Javier shooed her. "Now, go back before they come looking."

With one last look over her shoulder, she stepped through the threshold of the dilapidated stone dwelling and walked back into her mission.

***

Greysen Madison Townsend.

Casey's finger hovered over the enter button on his communication device. Hesitating. His obsessive need to check on Maddy and Zoe felt even more real today than it had in the past.

Lottie may be at the facility and may have met her mother.

What was the woman like? Nice? Bitchy? Depressed? Would she be understanding of Lottie's presence? Would she be thankful? Did she even want to be rescued? His finger pressed the button, and the file slowly downloaded.

Greysen Madison Townsend (RETIRED)

_Retired?_

Casey checked the active deployment log and noted the retired date at the top of the list, and he cocked his eyebrow. Her status changed almost a full month ago, and he had to wonder if Maddy was even still at the facility? He assumed so. No one—not even Noah—seemed to know what happened to the assets who'd outlived their usefulness to the facility. What if she was dead? Would her record say she was deceased, and not the pseudo-deceased status the Army assigned to Maddy when she went to the facility?

He exhaled forcefully and ran his hand back and forth through his hair. _What changed? Why is she retired?_ Other than her miscarriage of twins back in May, nothing jumped out at him as different. Casey was about to close her record when he noticed her birthday and thought maybe that was why. She had just turned forty.

Closing the file, Casey sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and wondered if he had done the right thing sending Lottie to Gates? For all he knew, Maddy had left. They could have given her a new identity when she retired and shipped her out of state. There was no way for him to know for sure. Lottie might very well be on a fool's errand. Casey rubbed his eyes, then wiped his palm down his face before growling to himself. _I should never have let her go._

If only he could send her a message informing her of her mother's status change, he would feel infinitely better about the situation. But wishing would only get him so far. _Damn._ Casey hated not having her near.

Brushing the thoughts of Lottie aside for the moment, he sat forward and initiated a new search. Zoe's record showed in the results window. Clicking on it, Casey waited for it to load, then began reading. There was a new picture of the twenty-nine-year-old woman. _Pregnant._

He sighed and closed Zoe's record, then brought up Lottie's file. He scanned down to the deployment log, noting the new image and her enlistment date as he did _._

"It's done. She's there."

Other than the new photo, there wasn't anything else of note in her record. Taking a moment, Casey stared at her picture. His gaze caressed her face, and his heart pounded. He longed to pull her into his arms, and his lips tingled in memory of their kiss. Casey wished they'd come up with a different plan. A plan that hadn't taken her away from him.

Casey shifted his weight forward and leaned closer to the screen. Studying the image, he drunk in the sight of her. She stood in front of a cinderblock wall. The overhead lights exaggerated the dark circles under her eyes and made her light blonde hair look completely white. He wanted to run his hands through the damp looking strands. He loved her long hair. It made her look more mature than the pixie cut from before she ran.

_She looks good,_ he noted, _a bit scared_.... _Is that a leaf?_ He smiled. She must have been so pissed. She hated being dirty, and Casey could see some dirt smudges under her eye. He snorted and dropped his hand back in his lap.

A knock at the door made him start in surprise, and he hastily closed the file. Turning off the monitor, he spun his chair toward the footwell of his desk and pulled the squad roster closer. He picked up a pencil and cleared his throat. "Come in."

"Case?"

"Yes?" Casey turned his head enough to see Paul poking his head around the door. The late afternoon sunshine at his back left his features in shadow.

"Some of the guys are getting ready to play Knaves and Knights, and we need another player. Want to join?"

"Who else is playing?"

"Lincoln, Ty, Jules, Adan, and the two FnGs."

_Brandon and Wade._ This opportunity would be an excellent way to learn more about his two new Privates. He'd been gone so often since their transfer into his squad that he barely knew them. "Sure. I'll play."

"Great," Paul said with a huge smile. "Grab your cards and meet us at Mess."

"Be right there."

Paul nodded and left. As soon as the door latched, Casey let out a relieved breath. The card game would be a perfect distraction. Casey pushed the roster to the side and exchanged his pencil for his well-used deck of cards. Casey locked his desk and made his way to the door, where he grabbed his coat before leaving. Securing the command shed, Casey pulled the edges of his jacket closer and headed toward the group of soldiers assembling around the fire pit at the center of camp.

As he approached, Brandon exclaimed, "Sir!" and jumped out of his seat. Ty and Jules shared a look, and Casey rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"It's 'Case'," Jules told Brandon.

Brandon swallowed hard, and, at a hand signal from Casey, he sat.

"Anyone bring the chips?" Paul asked the group.

"Here," Adan replied, and tossed them to Paul.

"Excellent," Paul said and threw them back. "Divvy them up, will ya?"

Adan grunted and dropped the bag of poker chips on the stump they would use as a table and began setting out chips for each player.

"Do you guys know how to play?" Paul asked, turning to Wade and Brandon.

"Knaves and Knights is a bit like Gin-Rummy. Every squad has their own house rules," Wade, the soft-spoken black man, replied. "Why don't you tell me how you play?"

"I never played," Brandon admitted.

Paul chuckled. "Okay, so here's what you do..."

"Case?" Lincoln asked as he settled on the log next to Casey. "You wanna go over status?"

Casey acknowledged Lincoln with a nod of his head, and Lincoln began his report while Paul continued to explain the rules of the game to Wade and Brandon. "The chicken coop is fine. It needs minor repairs after the last storm. Want me to assign a detail?"

"Go ahead."

Lincoln dipped his chin in acknowledgment, then continued, "The garden team harvested the last of this year's crop today." When Adan finished setting out the poker chips, Lincoln leaned forward and grabbed his and Casey's from where Adan had dropped them. Settling back, he continued, "We've started to process the raw lumber for the obstacle course, and we set aside the extra rope. We're ready to clear and build as soon as Tristan's back with specs."

"Good," Casey said, taking the chips Lincoln offered him. "I want to try to have it done before December."

"Any idea when Tristan'll be back," Jules asked as he pulled his seat closer to the stump.

Glancing at Jules, Casey cleared his throat, the tension growing between his shoulder blades. "Any day." _As soon as Noah's back..._ "He was to research ideas with an Anatomical Agility and Enhancement engineer in Fort St. Louis."

"Why couldn't he have come up with a plan here?" Jules inquired.

"Safety."

"But you don't send him to Fort StL for specs when we build new outbuildings."

Casey's gaze was drawn to Lincoln's, even though he was silent. His second in command was looking at him with narrowed eyes. "True," Casey replied to Jules. "But then we've built several over the years, and I'm not as concerned that we'll fuck something up with those."

"Oh." Jules shrugged, and Casey let out a relieved breath.

"I wish he was here for this. He plays well and always has the best stories," Paul interjected.

"We could retell the one where a snake slithered into your sleeping roll on your first decoy patrol," Ty joked, and Paul groaned.

"What happened?" Brandon asked.

Lincoln turned to Brandon. "During Hong and Paul's deployment, Paul learned the consequence of not listening to his superiors."

Paul threw a poker chip at Lincoln. It hit him in the chest and bounced to the ground. While Lincoln retrieved it from where it fell, Paul replied, "You and your _superiors_." Turning to address Brandon, Paul continued, "There wasn't a good reason not to set up there—"

"Except for the nest of snakes," Ty interrupted.

"—And contrary to what these assholes want you to believe, I did check the area first. It was clear."

A smile tugged at Casey's lips, remembering the story from Hong's perspective. If Paul had listened to Hong during the patrol instead of acting like a know-it-all green recruit, Hong _might_ not have put the snake in Paul's bedding at all. Then again, he might have. Hong was like that. "It was a vicious, man-eating, garter snake, right?" Casey asked.

"Fuck you, Case." Paul's lips thinned as if he was trying not to smile. "Hand me your damn cards."

Casey gave him the deck, and Paul began to shuffle. "Brandon, play a lot of cards in Basic?"

Brandon glanced at Casey. His eyes were wide, and his mouth opened and closed once as if he was unsure how to handle the conversation. Casey's lips thinned in amusement and inclined his head, letting Brandon know he could answer the question. Needing something to do with his hands, Casey grabbed the remaining two decks of cards from the stump and began shuffling them.

"Not really," Brandon answered, and shot Casey another look. "We spent most of our time trying to convince girls to visit our barracks."

Ty snorted.

_Who hadn't?_

Paul chuckled and began dealing the cards. "Did you succeed?"

There was a long pause between Paul's question and Brandon's answer, and when he did, it was hesitant and accompanied by another surreptitious glance Casey's way. "Once."

_Really?_ It was a surprise to learn about Brandon's success. There were so many rules in place—not to mention, the security measures implemented to keep the men and women apart—that Casey had a hard time believing Brandon's age-mates could have been successful. Besides, nothing in Brandon's file indicated he'd deviated from standard protocol, and a woman lured into the barracks would have warranted at least a mention.

Halting mid-deal, Paul studied him a moment. His eyebrow cocked in question.

After another careful check of Casey's reaction, Brandon elaborated, "Yeah. I think it was the only time a girl was in trouble instead of the soldiers."

"I call bullshit," Jules said with a chuckle. "There's no way she got past her barracks sergeant and yours."

"Didn't have too. She wasn't in Basic." Brandon's tone was carefully neutral, and he side-eyed Casey.

Casey wasn't sure if it was the whole 'deferment to his authority' or the fact Brandon kept checking for his reaction, but it was getting old. Fast.

"Nice," Adan murmured.

And then Adan opens his mouth.

Frustration had Casey clenching the two decks of cards in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white. He wanted to tell Adan that what the young men had done to the young woman wasn't 'nice'. It was horrifying. Casey had no idea what kind of repercussions she'd suffered for her actions, but he assumed they were severe. Forcing his fingers loose, he resumed his agitated shuffling. "What punishment did she receive?"

"Don't know. After that night, we never saw her again." Brandon shrugged.

"I'm assuming everyone got a turn." Casey heard Adan remark under his breath, and Brandon's pale skin turned pink with his blush.

Louder, Adan asked, "Did you even get her name?"

Brandon shook his head.

_Fucking hell._ Casey couldn't believe it.

Adan inquired, "How far down the line were you?"

Of course, he would want to know that.

Brandon's flush deepened. "Third. Right behind the two that convinced her to sneak in."

_Asshole._ But that answered why the indiscretion wasn't in Brandon's record. The ringleaders' files had that documentation. Casey hoped it ruined their budding careers, but he doubted it. Brandon's admission probably marked the only time a girl was in trouble instead of the soldiers.

Ty cleared his throat when Adan laughed and indicated Paul should keep dealing. _Good call Ty._ Casey would have done it, but he was too angry and not thinking clearly.

When Paul finished dealing, he laid the cards down on the stump, and flipped the first one over, creating the discard pile from the take one. Reaching for Casey's deck, he tucked it underneath the others, and said, "Lincoln, Adan, and Brandon, you're on my team. Knights. Everyone else, you're stuck with Case." He flashed a huge grin at Casey, and with a wink, he added, "Good luck. You'll need it."

Each individual retrieved their cards from the stump and spent a few minutes sorting their hands. Movements were careful as everyone kept their opinion of Brandon's story and Adan's reaction to it to themselves. Casey swallowed his irritation, not only was he angry at Adan and Brandon, but his Knaves and Knights hand sucked; Casey didn't have shit. "Wade, your move."

Wade glanced at Paul next to him and then to Adan. He plucked a card from his hand and held it out, face down, to Adan. "Knave slays a knight."

"Damn," Adan grumbled as he discarded and took Wade's card. Wade snagged a new one off the take pile and grimaced.

"I can pick any of you, right?" Brandon asked Paul now that it was his turn.

Paul nodded. "Yep, any Knave for capture or a kill. You can also send back, call up ranks, or you can challenge."

Tapping his finger against his lip, Brandon studied his hand. "Jules?"

"Yeah."

"Knight slays Knave."

Jules sighed and took the offered card after discarding his required knave.

With lips pinched together, Casey tossed two cards on the discard pile. "Knaves two."

Paul smiled and gave him two new cards. Casey tucked them into the rest of his hand. _Damn._ They weren't any better.

Next to him, Lincoln studied his hand. "Wade, the knight takes a knave," he said and discarded.

_Interesting strategy._ Casey watched Lincoln a moment. A knight taking a knave wasn't a typical move. Usually, it was a player on the knave team that captured a knight.

Wade scratched his temple before picking a card, which he then handed over to Lincoln before pulling its replacement from the pile.

They continue playing a few rounds, trading cards, and building their armies before the betting began. Casey figured they were close to the end of the game when Jules tossed in a ten-bet and discarded two cards. "Knaves two."

Casey barely suppressed his irritation. They are going to lose, no doubt about it.

Paul smirked at him from across the stump. "Clash," Paul said and chuckled at Casey's reaction. "Come on, Case, time to clash."

"I heard you." None of his cards were that great, and his only real playable move was a measly three of hearts. Casey tossed it in front of Paul.

"Booyah," Paul whooped and dropped his six of spades on top of Casey's card. He pulled the bets toward him and split the winnings between himself and his teammates.

Jules rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Case. You tryin' to lose?"

Casey shrugged. What could he do? He didn't have a better card.

"Whose deal is it?" Jules asked, huffing in irritation as he collected the cards from everyone.

"I did it last," Ty replied.

Adan grinned and grabbed the assembled deck from Jules. After shuffling, Adan dealt the next round.

"So, Wade," Jules began. "You're from Fort Ridge, right?"

Wade sat back, collapsed his fanned cards, and scratched his lower lip with their edges. "For all of my enlistment before August. Yeah."

"Sweet. What's it like there?"

Wade glanced at Casey.

Casey leaned past Brandon to murmur to Wade, "You don't _have_ to answer." It was always good to give the new guys permission to be private if they so wished. He then shot Jules a look. Jules nodded, acknowledging Casey's indirect reprimand, and grabbed his cards off the table.

After a pause, Wade's lips tightened in a parody of a smile. Fanning his cards, he said, "Fort Ridge is nothing like Fort Sutton."

"How so?" Jules prompted, warming to his subject now that Wade answered.

"There are more squads, for one."

"For two?"

"Completely formal."

Jules nodded. "Nice that Case isn't, isn't it?"

"It's an adjustment," Wade said thoughtfully. "I'm getting used to the lack of saluting, and the more sleeping on the ground, and the first names instead of lasts, part of being deployed here. But it's only for two years. Anyway, to answer your question, Fort Ridge is a compound of old houses. We maintain several of them. Some are barracks. One's a Mess hall that also houses some LPD. And one house is for the officers and guests."

"Guests?" Adan inquired.

"Evaders. Runaways. Brass."

"You get many Dodgers there?" Paul asked.

"Depends. We're south of the Missouri and north of the Meramec. We get more than you do here," Wade replied, answering Paul's question. "Or so I'm told," he added and looked to Casey for confirmation.

Casey agreed. He knew Fort Ridge's usual numbers from the reports he read.

Looking at Jules, Wade added, "The detention facility is near there. So we often house the UTR—"

"UTR?" Brandon interrupted.

"Unit Translocation and Retention," Ty replied.

"Oh," Brandon said.

"—in the guest quarters after they drop off their prisoners," Wade finished.

Across from him, Casey heard Paul mutter, "Something Adan knows _all_ about."

Casey's gaze zeroed in on Adan and Paul, but aside from glaring, Adan didn't respond.

"So. Detainees and hot evaders. Nice. What else did you do at Fort Ridge?" Jules asked as he started the next round of the game by discarding two cards.

Wade replied while Paul played his turn. "We did the usual. Perimeter patrols, retrievals, and hand-offs when necessary, but mostly we maintained the peace at the old amusement park. We had daily deployments there. It was a bit like your decoy details, only more stressful."

"Stressful?" Paul asked, and everyone turned to look at Wade again.

Wade paused, took a card from the pile, and added it to his hand. "It's full of dodgers, runaways, and retired. Our instruction is to leave them alone for the most part."

"When didn't you?" Jules inquired.

"When they spilled past their boundaries, fought excessively, attacked us, or had an asset in the camp that was the right age for enlistment, that's when we would receive orders to go in and retrieve the asset by any means necessary." Wade looked at Brandon as Brandon took his turn.

"Why didn't you guys do more? Ya'know? Like clean house? Shouldn't they have all been sent back to Fort StL to work?" Jules pressed.

"Too many of them, I think. It was easier not to care than to do anything about them. I hated 'the six' deployments. It was like infiltrating a rattler nest. But there were some on my squad who enjoyed it."

"Did they do that often? Attack Fort Ridge?"

"No," Wade answered. "I think it happened once. About eleven years ago. It was before my deployment that much I know."

The soldiers around the table were quiet for a few moments, and Casey, Lincoln, and Ty all took their turn before Jules interrupted the silence. "Anyone else have a funny story from Basic? One _I_ haven't heard before."

"We need to cater to you now?" Adan snarked.

Jules grinned, called out his move, and then said, "Yep. I'm the only one who matters here at Fort Sutton. Didn't you know that?"

A new smile tugged at Casey's lip. He would have been worried about Jules's statement if he hadn't already known about the young soldier's fun-loving, out-going side. Jules hadn't meant anything by it.

"Just for that, I'm gonna slay you next round," Paul said with a laugh. He didn't take Jules seriously, either.

"Try it!"

No one spoke after Paul's challenge, and Casey's thoughts drifted toward memories about his time in Basic. Casey figured that the conversation lapse was due, in part, to the same reason.

"One day, when I was close to graduating from the program," Wade offered. "Me and three other recruits snuck into the Drill Sergeant's room. We set out some bait and propped his window open. We locked his door and then waited outside for the inevitable squirrels to find the food. After a few had hopped in, we slammed the window shut and trapped them inside." Wade grinned. "The mess they made was incredible."

That was you?

"That was you?" Lincoln asked.

"Heard about it, did you?"

Lincoln's lips pinched together, and Casey tried not to snort at the look on Lincoln's face. _Bet he doesn't know whether to laugh or bitch._

"They installed new door and window locks in the sergeant's room because of you," Lincoln said.

"Did they?" Wade said with a chuckle.

"Our graduation prank wasn't nearly as good," Casey volunteered and motioned Adan to take his turn. It was almost time for the perimeter guard change, and they needed to wrap it up before Hong and Ethan arrived to start cooking supper. "We all called in sick that day." At the quizzical looks, Casey added, "We ignored Drill Sergeant Myer and stayed in our bunks. Pissed the day away, sleeping." With his next words, he pointed at each soldier on his squad. "We paid for it the next morning during drills. So don't get any ideas."

The men laughed and resumed the game. While Jules and Paul took their turn, Casey turned to Lincoln. "Didn't you guys slick up the hallway with soap and send each other down it like a giant slide?"

"Yes," Lincoln agreed with a little shrug.

Paul huffed. "Cliché."

"Maybe," Casey said, coming to Lincoln's defense. "But could you have topped the squirrel incident?"

"We did," Paul replied haughtily. "We hid every one of Drill Sergeant Hart's uniforms. Even his underwear and socks."

"Doesn't even come close to my graduatin' year," Tristan said from behind him.

A chorus of 'Tristan' sounded around the table, and Casey sighed in relief. _Finally._ He turned and acknowledged Tristan's arrival. It was good to have him back.

Casey sniffed. Tristan stank.

"We all showed up for roll call in our birthday suits. Pissed Drill Sergeant Cox off—"

"Seriously? His name was Cocks?" Jules interrupted.

Tristan smirked. "—Seriously. That was his name. We had fun with it whenever Cox wasn't around. Anyway, Sergeant Cox couldn't have us do drills naked. There were ladies present." Tristan winked at the group. "He sent us back to change. Only we never did. He was so pissed that none of us would get dressed that we single-handedly made him request a transfer." Tristan paused, before adding, "Or so, I've been told."

The odor around Tristan grew stronger. _What the hell is that smell?_ It smelled like... vomit.

"Well, he had transferred by the time I came through," Wade agreed.

Tristan dropped his hand onto Casey's shoulder. "Yeah, Jaesen was a year behind me, and he had Drill Sergeant Myer."

Casey turned his focus back to the game as Brandon played his hand. "Game's almost done," Casey told Tristan. Casey was eager to hear about the past week, and he was tired of losing at the game.

"Good," Tristan said. "I want to make my report before it gets any later. Who's winnin'?"

"Knights," Jules and Paul said in unison. Paul snorted and punched Jules in the shoulder.

While Jules smarted off to Paul, Casey looked down at his cards and debated his move. He dropped a twenty bet into the pile. "Lincoln, clash."

Lincoln studied his cards, picked one, and tossed it down. _Jack of spades._

"Fuck. I'm out," Casey grumbled and tossed his ten of diamonds at Lincoln's winning card.

Groaning, Jules tossed his cards to the table. "This is the last time I let you on my team!"

"Like I wanted to lose," Casey retorted.

"Hey," Adan smirked. "Losers clean up."

Wade and Ty rolled their eyes but began collecting the chips without being prompted.

"Gimmie the cards," Jules growled.

Casey grabbed his share of the four decks and began sorting them out. He combined his piles with Jules, and after a quick count to make sure each pack had fifty-two cards, he handed them off to their owners.

Grabbing his deck from the stump, Casey stood and turned to Tristan. "Command?"

"Lead the way," Tristan agreed and fell into step with Casey as they made their way back to the shed.

Glancing at Tristan, Casey asked, "Why do I smell vomit?"

Before he spoke, Tristan checked over his shoulder, confirming they were far enough away to avoid someone overhearing them. "Greysen barfed on me right as I left."

"Is he sick?" Not much Casey could do about it if he was, but he wanted to know.

Tristan grimaced and shrugged. "I don't think so. Noah said he was fine, and I didn't stick around to find out."

"Okay," Casey said and nodded. Pushing open the shed door, Casey inquired, "You come up with the plans as we discussed?"

"Sure thing, Case." Dropping his pack to the floor, Tristan knelt and fished some mechanical drawings out of his backpack and handed them to Casey.

Casey took them over to the desk and spread them out. He studied the drawings for a moment as Tristan gained his feet and joined him. The plans had all manner of obstacles; there were ladders, platforms, climbing walls, rope swings and bridges, gridlines in the tree canopy, pits, and traps, and Casey was sure he even saw a section dedicated to crawling on the ground under tripwire.

The plans looked excellent.

"Good job. These are exactly what I wanted," Casey told Tristan.

Tristan flashed him a grin. "Okay. So here's what we can do..."

# Chapter 23

"I outrank you," Ito growled and shook the strip of cloth at Truman. "And I say I won't wear a damn blindfold. We leave as soon as it is light enough to do so."

"Sir," Truman said. He looked bored as if he'd had this conversation hundreds of times. "You signed a contract agreeing to the blindfold. We won't leave 'til you wear it. That's final."

Truman's gaze caught Lottie's, and she forced herself to look at her hands wrapped around a mug of hot water. She sipped at it, letting the warmth travel down her throat and into her belly. _I wish I had Tristan's coffee._ The hot water warmed her blood but did nothing to wake her up.

"I refuse," Ito grumbled, but it sounded like he wasn't planning on fighting the issue for much longer.

"All right, sir. Then we will head back."

Lottie glanced at the two men out of the corner of her eye. She wondered if Ito would call Truman's bluff—if that is what it was. She supposed Truman could be telling the truth.

"No," Ito said after a moment's hesitation. "When do I have to put it on?"

"After we eat."

Lottie smiled, relishing the few times Ito had to bow to Truman's wishes. Her fingers played along the healed split in her lip. _It was worth it,_ she thought. After Ito had hit her and she'd rejoined the guard, Truman had set her up with a small fire well away from the others, but she didn't mind the solitude. Not having to deal with Ito every night for the past week and knowing Javier was out there watching her, making sure Lottie stayed safe, had made the segregation easier to bear.

She breathed deep. The steam from her mug warmed her nose, and the smell of burning wood teased her nostrils. Lottie picked up her morning ration and took another bite while she watched the men finish striking the camp. Lottie was relieved to see her appetite had returned, and although the travel bar was bland, she ate all of it.

After the tents were struck and stowed, Taft shouldered his pack and came toward her. Lottie stood and doused her small campfire. Taft took a moment to test the coals, before confirming it was out. He stepped behind her, and the fabric of her blindfold covered her eyes.

"You're allowed to see your feet, but nothing more than two feet in front of you," Taft explained as he adjusted the fabric.

"Why?" she asked. The men—especially Taft—treated her differently after her and Ito's fight. It wasn't like they cared for her more than they had before Ito smacked her, but? They were a little less mean about it.

"I don't want to have to carry you."

"Because I might fall."

"Exactly," Taft agreed. "We'll be hiking for five or six more days."

"And I have to wear the blindfold during daylight hours," Lottie added. That's what Truman had said when he explained it to her this morning.

"Yes."

"Will we be going as far each day?" She didn't like the idea of hiking for kilometers and kilometers blindfolded. Not that it was a long time. Late October nights came quickly.

"We'll go as far as we can."

Lottie nodded. She felt a little dizzy with the fabric over her eyes. Taft's hand steadied her at her elbow. She hadn't realized she was falling.

"You ready?" Taft inquired.

She heaved a huge sigh. "Yes."

"Good," Taft replied.

He stopped at the central fire pit and helped Lottie into her backpack. After it was on and settled, Truman ordered them to move out, and Lottie assumed she took her usual place next to Taft.

***

Lottie blinked awake and pushed herself upright _._

_Where's Truman?_ Lottie wondered since her shackle wasn't attached to his wrist. Then it dawned on her. _It's probably today_. She counted the mornings since she first wore the blindfold, and by her reckoning, they should reach the facility sometime today or early tomorrow.

She stretched and yawned before scrubbing her hand over her face, grimacing. Lottie's skin itched, and she could smell herself. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

_I stink. I hope the hospital has showers._

Dropping her hands to her lap, Lottie decided that would be the first thing she would request. She had to get clean.

"Get up," Taft called through the tent wall. "We need to get moving."

"Coming," Lottie replied and knuckled more sleep from her eyes. Crawling out of her bed, she mentally thanked Truman and Ellington. _They_ didn't require her to strip before sleeping. She hated putting on the cold clothes in the mornings after Taft's shift.

Shoving her feet into her boots, she tied them, and then made her way outside. Taft acknowledged her with a nod and pointed to the fire. She groaned. Ito was already there.

As she walked away, Taft ducked inside to begin striking the tent.

"Good morning, sir," she whispered to Ito and grabbed her breakfast ration from Truman's pack. Moving to the farthest side of the fire, she sat and ate her food in silence. After a few minutes, Truman and Ellington joined them.

"The hospital is a little over two hours away," Truman told Ito. "We should reach it by nine-hundred at the latest, sir. We'll leave when you are ready."

Ito nodded and sipped his hot water.

Lottie breathed a sigh of relief.

She didn't want to be there, but she was sick of walking with a blindfold. She kept getting pelted in the face with branches. Her fingers brushed along one of the scratches on her cheek and tried not to smile. That branch had caught not only her face but the mask too, and it had ripped off, giving her a clear view of the forest around them. Lottie swallowed a giggle. Ford had made a funny squeaking noise and clapped his hand over her eyes while Taft cussed and retrieved the mask from where it hung from the branch. She hadn't seen the point of why he covered her eyes—she hadn't seen anything. Woods here looked the same as woods everywhere else they'd been—but Taft had made a report of the incident to Truman anyway.

Ford and Taft dropped the bundled tents and packs next to the fire, grabbed their rations, and sat.

"Ford," Truman acknowledged. "Ellington and I did a perimeter check already, but I want you to do a final sweep and clear after we leave."

"Understood, sir."

"Meet us at the hospital."

Ford nodded as he took another bite of his travel ration. "Expecting trouble?"

"No." Truman glanced at her, and Lottie felt her eyes widen. She dropped her gaze to her feet. Why did he look at her?

"It feels like someone is surveilling this deployment," Taft said with his mouth full of food. "No one's ever out there, though."

"Agreed," Ford replied.

"Eliminate the threat, if there is one," Truman ordered, and Lottie had to force her muscles loose. Javier had to stay hidden.

"Yes, sir," Ford acknowledged, and then fell silent.

"You almost ready, sir?" Truman asked. Lottie assumed the question was for Ito. Truman only sirred one man in their party.

There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of someone brushing off their hands. Ito stood next to her with his pack on his shoulder and blindfold in his hand. "Ready, Lieutenant."

Truman nodded, and Taft popped the last of his ration in his mouth. His cheeks puffed out with the food, and a few crumbs fell. Lottie's nose crinkled, disgusted. But when Taft stood and beckoned her closer, she heaved another sigh and gained her feet. Joining Taft, she waited for him to put the hated bit of cloth over her eyes.

Smirking, Taft stepped behind her and proceeded to block her eyesight. "Cheer up, asset. In another few days, you can have all the sex you could ever want."

Lottie shuddered. "Great."

Taft chuckled and pushed her between the shoulder blades to get her moving.

Her first few steps were halting, hesitant, but she soon found her rhythm in this method of travel. Looking down her nose, Lottie watched the ground at her feet. It slowly came into focus as dawn found them. Gradually the underbrush gave way, and the grass grew taller, but it took the biting wind cutting through her coat to realize they'd left the woods.

She had no idea how far they had walked but guessed it was no more than two or three kilometers when someone—probably Taft—grabbed her by the arm and halted her progress.

The breeze kicked up and twirled her hair about her face. The strands whipped around her, and she searched for a stick at her feet. Spotting a suitable one to hold her hair, she knelt.

Just as her fingers closed around it, Taft said, "Don't bother."

Lottie tilted her head. Her ear turned his way. "Why not?"

"We're here."

_Oh._ Lottie licked her dry lips and stood. Inching her hands up and around her waist, she hugged herself tight. She didn't know how she felt. Fear, yes, but relief and excitement were also at war inside her. _I'll finally get to meet her._

A light rapping reached her ears. It sounded hollow, with a hint of echo, as if someone was tapping against some glass. One of the soldiers grabbed the back of her coat and pulled her backward right as someone else's boots became visible within her narrow band of vision. Lottie murmured her gratitude to whoever pulled her out of the way. Of course, no one acknowledged it.

The group waited for only a few seconds, and then a door clanked open.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant Truman. Ellington. Ford," a voice boomed.

"Cleveland," Truman replied. "Sergeant Major of Power Generation and Distribution Zan Ito and the asset, Charlotte Lindbergh Forrester, are reporting for duty."

"I see that," Cleveland replied. "I also see you brought Taft. Thought you were planning on ditching him out there."

Truman huffed a laugh. "He's like a booger you can't shake off."

"Ain't that the truth," Cleveland agreed.

Someone snorted next to her, and Lottie assumed it was Taft reacting to the teasing—at least she thought they were teasing. He wasn't a very likable man, so maybe they weren't. She shook the thought away.

"Come in, sir. Your rooms are ready for you."

The one who snorted next to Lottie also grabbed her by the arm and squeezed tight. She wondered why they felt the need to be so rough. It wasn't like she was going anywhere....Yet.

When it was her turn to enter, the person gripping her arm tugged her forward, and she watched her feet through the small gap of her blindfold as she walked over the threshold. The door behind her clanked shut, and the sound of a second door opening reached her ears. The person who guided her through the first door propelled her through the second. The second door clanked shut with an ominous bang, and the sliver of light at her feet changed from the bright white tinged with blue of fall to the dingy yellow of industrial bulbs. _Welcome to the Sandra and Horton Gates Research Hospital._ She swallowed her sigh.

The group paused inside the doors.

"FAP Private Keys has been alerted to your arrival and will be here shortly, Sergeant Major. He will escort you to your guest quarters in the north wing of the quad."

FAP?

"Excellent."

Lottie shifted her weight from foot to foot and rolled her head on her shoulders. She brushed her fingers over the soldier's hand, holding her arm. He grunted in acknowledgment of her touch, and Lottie cricked her finger in a beckoning motion. When she felt his body heat draw near, she whispered, "Can I take the blindfold off?"

"Yes," Taft replied, and he released her arm. A second later, his fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled the fabric covering her eyes away. She blinked rapidly. The light inside the hospital was brighter than she'd expected, and it took a few seconds for her to adjust.

Lottie glanced around. The group loitered near the doors of some sort of lobby. The first thing she noticed was an old curved wooden desk with the word _Information_ engraved into the side facing them. On top of it was a communication device. It looked older than Casey's, and Lottie wondered if it even worked anymore.

Dismissing the thought, she surveyed the rest of the room. It wasn't large, but it was more significant than the front office at Fort Fenton's jail. It was also plusher than the detention facility. The lobby had several faded rugs with upholstered armed chairs strategically placed in the room, and each pairing had a small round wooden table between them. The attempt at being cozy seemed out of place. Lottie wondered why they went to all that effort. The windows had an opaque gray paint, which diffused the light from outside, along with the view. The lobby wasn't a very inviting place.

Footsteps down the hall drew her attention and turned to watch a soldier headed their way. "Sergeant Major?"

"Yes," Ito answered.

_Must be Keys,_ Lottie thought. He resembled Truman in both height and skin color, but he looked? Friendlier.

"Follow me, sir," Keys requested with a salute and led Ito off down the hall.

Turning to Truman, Cleveland said, "Surgeon Underwood is on duty. He wants you to report for a debriefing."

Truman nodded to Cleveland, who saluted before stepping out of Truman's way. Lottie could hear Truman's steps echoing down the hall long after he disappeared.

"Difficulties?" Cleveland asked. His shoulders relaxed, and he rolled his weight to his right hip.

"Not really," Ford replied, also adopting a more at ease pose.

Cleveland's gaze raked over her. "She's prettier than the last one. Looks like Townsend."

"Yeah," Ford agreed. "Don't let that fool you, though."

"Oh?" Cleveland said and focused on Ford again.

"She ain't bitter, for one."

"Ah."

"Too polite." Ford paused and looked over at her before returning his attention to Cleveland. "I detached for back-guard sweeps several times."

"Really?"

"Yes. Possible pursuit. The retrieval—although smooth and without incident—didn't follow protocol. There was an air of possession about the hand-off."

Cleveland nodded in understanding. "Kept as a camp whore then."

"No," Ford disagreed. "Much more complicated. A reciprocated relationship." Ford shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The asset is here, and no one followed."

"Good." Cleveland was quiet for a moment, then added, "The cafeteria has some leftover breakfast. Did you eat?"

"Camp rations before dawn," Taft answered.

"Figured," Cleveland replied, lips twitching in a knowing smirk. "Hungry? I can stay here with the asset if you want to go to Mess."

"Sounds good," Ellington and Taft both agreed, but then Taft inquired, "Wait, what day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Damn," Taft grumbled. "I'll pass." Turning to Ellington, he held out his hand. "I'll take your pack, Brahman, and reconcile your gear."

_Brahman?_ Why had Taft called Ellington 'Brahman'.

Lottie curled her fingers around the straps of her bag. There wasn't anything of importance in her's—she wore what Casey'd given her—but she didn't want Taft to take it and disappear. Ellington, who had no reason to feel the same, eased out of his shoulder straps and handed the bag to Taft. "Thanks." He clapped Taft on the shoulder. "Later."

Taft inclined his head in acknowledgment, and while Ellington walked away, Taft asked, "Spider, want me to take care of your shit too?"

"Thanks, Wendigo," Ford answered— _Wendigo? Spider?_ —and after shrugging off the bag, he handed it to Taft. "I'll stick around 'til Big Red gets back, though."

_Who the hell was Big Red?_

"There's no need," Cleveland shrugged. "But do what you want."

Ford grinned and tugged at his ear. They turned to watch Taft as he marched down the hall. His shoulders hunched with the weight of the gear. As soon as he was out of sight, the two men burst into laughter.

"Damn, Spider. What did you guys do to him? He's so docile."

"He lost a bet on the way down," Ford said with a shrug. "Can't give us shit while deployed 'til the end of the year," Ford replied. "We stuck him with so much shit work! It was hard to keep a straight face."

"I bet," Cleveland chuckled, then sobered. "He still makes the assets strip down at lights out?" Cleveland asked.

Shaking his head, Ford replied a bit ruefully, "Yes."

"Damn. In October too?" Cleveland shivered. "Makes the good 'ole boys shrink up thinking about it."

"Yeah," Ford acknowledged.

Lottie's hand gripped her belly, needing to calm its nervous fluttering. At least Ford and Cleveland seemed to be ignoring her. She eased herself away. She couldn't go far, but having some space helped her breathe a little easier.

"He's an ass, but he gets the job done," Ford added.

"Ain't that the truth," Cleveland agreed. She froze when his gaze flicked to hers. "Ain't no hardship laying next to that, though, I'm sure."

When Cleveland's attention returned to Ford, she resumed her slow drift away from the men, heading toward one of the end tables. There she found someone had left a book out. She wondered what they had been reading.

Ford snorted. "Harder than you'd think."

"Bet it was h—"

Cutting over the last of Cleveland's statement, Ford asked, "—So, Ratter, what else we miss?"

"Nothing much," Cleveland continued without missing a beat. "Rockinelli officially aged out and Underwood's debating on sending her and Little Maggie's squaller back to Fort St. Louis even though you couldn't organize and deploy 'til December."

Lottie froze, her hand on the cover of the book. _Squaller? Little Maggie?_ Lottie blanched, sat, and stared at the men. A baby! They were callously discussing a baby and its poor mother. Lottie's nostrils flared in anger, and she vowed to meet this woman and express her sympathy. If she hadn't met Casey... Lottie quickly suppressed the thoughts of Greysen. They wouldn't help her right now.

"December?" Ford scratched the side of his nose. "Why not November before the snows?"

"New supply shipment," Cleveland said with a nod. "It's being dropped this week. You have to deploy for that before you can do anything else."

Ford groused, "They're early. I'd hoped we could resupply after the asset translocation."

"Ain't gonna happen. I know Underwood's pissed that the squaller's male and want's 'im gone, but even he can't justify sending out a two-month-old for relocation in December."

"It'll be April before we get another chance." Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Ford continued, "We'll have to pull the infant from the nursery, though, so Little Maggie doesn't form an attachment."

"Already done. As far as she knows, he's at his new home."

Ford wiped a hand over his face and then stretched. "Where'd the generator send him?"

"Indianapolis," Cleveland answered.

Ford nodded. "At least it's closer than the last one." He paused. "Care rotations set?"

"All done. Your shifts won't start 'til tomorrow. So there is that."

"Good," Ford grumbled. "Need a night where my nuts don't freeze off while I sleep."

Leaning back, Lottie's pack dug into her spine, and she slipped it off. Setting it on the ground next to her, she settled back into the chair and brought her knees up under her chin. Their conversation was so depressing that she didn't even care if she was getting mud on the upholstery. Her gaze drifted to the door. She stared at it longingly. She already missed the crisp smell of fall and the sound of leaves falling. Her chest felt tight.

Pinched.

Casey...

_I want to go home_.

Lottie dropped her forehead to her knees and took deep breaths to keep from crying.

"What about Townsend? She age out yet?" Ford inquired. "We could force deployment in December for the two of them. It'd be worth it then."

"Townsend ain't goin' anywhere, Spider. One's in the hopper."

Lottie froze mid-sniff. _What?_ She lifted her head and stared at Cleveland.

Ford huffed a laugh. "Eating for two again, is she?"

_Pregnant!?_ Lottie couldn't believe it.

"Underwood ain't confirmed it yet," Cleveland answered. "Hell, we updated her papers as retired already. But she's reacting in the usual way, and Underwood upped her anti-abort meds, so it's only a matter of time before he announces it, I'm sure."

"The meds _are_ working?"

"The anti-abort? Unknown. But the enhanced fertility's working like a fucking charm." Cleveland nodded. "Already we got Townsend, Hiltonhead, and Little Maggie—"

"Shit! Bradford again?" Ford interjected.

"Yep," Cleveland confirmed. "And you knew about Woodson before you left."

"No. It was speculation."

"Ah. Well. Woodson's official. She's ten weeks, so everyone is on alert." Cleveland waved his hand dismissively. "You know the drill."

Ford sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It'll all be on you and Blocks, Jo-Comm, and Sledge. We'll have our hands full with the infant and the supply drop."

"True."

They were silent a moment, and Lottie let her head fall back to her knees. Her mom was pregnant again, along with three others. She wasn't sure what upset her more, knowing her mom kept suffering or the fact Lottie was facing the same fate.

"How's our All-American?"

Cleveland snorted. "Fucking his way through the assets. He's up to four assets a day."

"What's he aiming for? An award?" Ford asked after whistling.

"Think so. That boy's got stamina. I sure as hell couldn't get it up that often." After a pause, Cleveland added, "Well, not anymore. Maybe I coulda twenty-five years ago when I was young like him, but not now."

"Don't think I ever could. Four in a day is a bit... enthusiastic," Ford agreed. "Why don't Underwood do something about it? Slow 'im down?"

"New experiment."

"Ah," Ford said and let the conversation die.

Ford and Cleveland were silent so long that Lottie thought for sure the conversation was over, and she uncoiled from the chair. Her breathing eased into a more natural rhythm, and she pulled the book on the end table closer.

_Aviation through the Ages._

She flipped open the cover and riffled through a few pages.

Lottie was admiring images of fighter jets when Ford's voice broke the silence. "How many do you think are his?"

"Little Maggie's for sure. She ain't been with any of the other dignitaries, but we won't know for sure on Woodson, Townsend, or Hiltonhead for a few more weeks. The likelihood is high that they're all his, though."

"They give him treatment?"

"Nope, not this time."

Ford harrumphed and walked over to the information counter and leaned against it. Cleveland followed and hefted his weight up until he sat on the surface. His feet tapped against the "f" and "o" engraved on the desk.

"Tell me about this new one?" Cleveland prompted. "He looks like a real winner."

"Don't let that pretty face fool you. He's a bastard," Ford replied.

"That bad?"

"Let's just say. I won't be sad when he leaves next September." Lottie gulped. Ito would be here a whole year? "He's a major asshole. A Sergeant Major Asshole," Ford acknowledged. His lips pinched tight with disapproval. "At least, All American is decent to the assets. Even if he is fuckin' his way through them as fast as he can."

"Damn, Spider," Cleveland paused for a beat. "What'd the Sergeant Major do to piss you off? What are we facing?" His foot smacked against the desk again and again.

The tapping was driving her insane. Lottie opened her mouth prepared to ask him to stop, when Ford continued, "I probably should save this for Blocks, but fuck-it. You know how Big Red likes to set the assets at ease. Doesn't dick 'em around. Tells 'em what to expect but also doesn't let them sit and stew or be afraid the whole time."

"Yeah."

"Didn't do it. Not once—Okay, once. With a separate fire. But nothing verbal and no other concessions," Ford added. "Big Red's been pissed at this guy since we picked him up at Fort Fenton, so pissed, that he flat out ignored the asset most of the trip in hopes the asshole would let up."

Cleveland whistled and glanced at Lottie. She hastily dropped her eyes to the book. _So Big Red is Truman._ She turned a page, pretending to read the book, but she twisted so she could hear them better.

After sighing, Ford said, "SMA throws his rank around whenever he doesn't get his way. Big Red had to threaten to head back to Fort St. Louis before SMA consented to the blindfold."

"He signed a contract—"

"I know," Ford interjected. "Didn't stop him from trying to weasel out of it. It burns when you can't tell them to piss off, especially when you outrank 'em, but 'course they don't know that."

"No doubt," Cleveland agreed.

"I kinda felt sorry for the asset."

Cleveland huffed in amusement and disbelief.

"Don't laugh," Ford said. "It's true. You remember how All-American and TDH acted when they got here? So damn excited that they wouldn't have to wait in line for pussy that they were willing to do whatever we said."

"Yeah," Cleveland agreed.

"Not SMA. Nope," Ford grumbled. "You'd think he'd feel honored not to have to use his hand anymore, but that fucker acted like it was about damn time we rewarded him for his service."

"They all act like that to s—"

"No, Ratter," Ford argued. "This goes beyond entitlement and privilege. I mean, it's at least a twenty-five-day trek, right?"

"Yeah," Cleveland answered, his voice hesitant as if he wasn't sure where Ford was going with this, and Lottie had to admit, she was curious too. Their hike had been pretty much what she expected. Cold and lonely. What had been different?

"You know how an asset will be on the rag at least once." Lottie's cheeks grew bright red, and she shook her head, hoping he wouldn't share her humiliation with Cleveland. "SMA wouldn't let her use her cup. Hell, he forced her to make pads—"

"Pads?"

"—out of her _own fucking shirt_ and then denied her the use of the fire to dry them when she needed too." Ford exhaled forcefully. "SMA fuckin' backhanded her when she tried. Split her lip open. Left bruises."

"But..."

Lottie shielded her eyes with her hand and kept her gaze focused on the book in front of her.

"Yeah, I know. Big Red had the gear all ready to go for the eventuality, but SMA wouldn't let us take care of her. Didn't even let us tell the asset about the supplies dedicated to her needs. And the one fuckin' time she stands up for herself, he drags her off."

"Where were you?"

"The mansion."

"Shit," Cleaveland said.

"Yeah." Fabric rustled, and Lottie glanced at the pair from behind the shield of her hand. Ford had pushed off the desk and had begun pacing. "We thought for sure the mission was fucked. Well and truly fucked. But then the asset went into a screaming fit—probably something to do with the weird relationship she shared with Staff Sergeant Huxley—and it scared SMA off. SMA refused to let us investigate—hence the not knowing 'why' bit—couldn't even go to her in that little house. Had to wait for her to come out on her own."

"Contract breach?" Cleveland asked as his feet rocked back and forth. Each tap against the desk made her cringe anew.

"No," Ford bit out. "Wendigo made sure of it."

"Good," Cleveland agreed. His legs stilled. "Well, she's here now. No one will hit her while she's here."

Ford glanced at her, and Lottie ducked her eyes again. He was quiet for several beats. "I don't know what happened at Fort Sutton—as I said, it was unusual—but I guarantee the FAR is gonna have trouble getting her to fuck."

She felt their eyes, and her hand shook as she turned another page.

"Not our problem," Cleveland replied.

They fell silent again. After a bit, Ford stopped pacing, and Lottie heard him join Cleveland on the desk. "What's taking Big Red so long?"

"You know, Underwood. Likes to hear himself talk."

"Yeah, I guess."

Again they were quiet, but Cleveland broke the lull in their conversation, "When's your next leave?"

Ford sighed. "I get a week when we take the All-American back in April."

"Counting the days?"

Laughing, Ford replied, "Not yet."

"Lier."

"Yeah."

"You gonna seek out—"

"Stop."

Ford's tone was sharp, and Lottie's hand fell away from her forehead as she glanced at the pair. They had their heads turned and were looking down the hallway. Her gaze followed theirs, and she saw someone walking toward them. She couldn't see who, but guessed it was Truman—or should she say Big Red? A moment later, she was proven wrong when Keys stepped around Cleveland and Ford and headed toward her. "Surgeon Underwood will see you now. Follow me."

She gave him a tense smile and stood. Grabbing her pack, she slipped it on, and locked her knees and clasped her hands around the shoulder straps of her bag to keep them steady.

Keys stared down his nose and huffed in irritation before turning on his heel. He marched her past Ford and Cleveland and then down the hall. As he led her around the corner away from the others, she looked about her with avid interest.

The building smelled like a hospital but looked more like a school. In addition to conference rooms, lobbies, and even a small theater, they passed several darkened classrooms. Some of them had large glass windows, and each had heavy dust on the sills. Lottie stopped to look inside. There were desks and chairs inside, piled every-which-way. "Keys?"

Keys stopped and turned toward her, snapping, "What?"

Lottie glanced up at him. Her question died on her lips, and her mouth closed. Keys started tapping his foot, waiting for her. She dropped her gaze and looked at the empty classroom one more time before mumbling an apology. He grunted in acknowledgment and resumed their march through the corridors.

Several twists and turns later, he stopped in front of a door and pulled it open for her. Flicking on the light, he said, "Have a seat. Surgeon Underwood will be with you shortly."

She nodded tersely and entered the room. Keys pulled the door shut behind her. The room was small, maybe ten feet by ten feet with a door opposite, a small desk against one wall, and a rolling stool pushed into the footwell. Lottie walked over to it and set her bag down. Rolling her shoulders, she looked through the small window in the second door. She could make out a medical bed and some equipment hidden in the shadows.

The sound of the entry door opening behind her made her whip around. She pressed against the medical room door. Its knob bit into her back.

A tall white man with gray hair and a large potbelly glanced at her before looking down at his clipboard. "Charlotte Lindbergh Forrester?"

Lottie gulped. Who else would it be? "Yes."

The man finished writing something on the notepad stuck to his clipboard before looking at her. Scowling, he said, "Why are you dressed?"

"W-what?" she stuttered.

Tucking the clipboard under his arm, he ordered, "Shoes off."

Lottie blinked at him in confusion.

He gave her a long-suffering sigh. "Shoes off and stand against the wall there," he said and pointed.

_Oh._ Lottie did as he requested, and made her way to a metal ruler attached to the wall.

"Heels back," he commanded and stepped up next to her. His white coat brushed against her arm as he brought the height measure down to the crown of her head. "One-hundred and seventy-five centimeters," he said and flipped his clipboard out to write something down. Lottie assumed he documented her height on a medical chart. "On the scale."

Lottie cast around for it and found it on the ground in the corner. Stepping on it, she grimaced.

"Fifty-five point thirty-three kilograms," he announced and wrote that value on the clipboard.

The man looked at her again, but unlike the first time, he seemed to see her this time. He shifted and began jotting down something on his clipboard.

Unsure what he wanted her to do, she stepped off the scale and wrapped her arms around her midsection.

When the man finished his notes, he shoved the clipboard under his arm and strode over to the desk. He tugged open a drawer and rooted around inside it for a moment. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he huffed and slammed it shut. Abandoning the desk, he marched over to the inner office door and pulled it open. "Strip down and sit there," he ordered and pointed.

Frowning, Lottie shook her head. Her feet felt frozen in place.

"Now," he barked, and she jumped.

The hardness of his tone unlocked the fear holding her prisoner, and she shuffled toward him. He stepped into the room when she was near, and Lottie followed him inside.

"I'll be back in a moment," Surgeon Underwood told her, and as the door closed, she heard him mutter something about his missing stethoscope.

Her eyes roamed the room. In addition to the usual exam bed and medical equipment, there were cabinets and a sink on the far wall. The only other thing of note was the wall-length mirror. Lottie gulped and made her way over to it hesitantly. She cupped her fingers around her eyes and pressed her nose to the glass. Shadowy figures moved on the other side.

One way mirror.

She yanked her head back and swallowed hard. At least two people were in that room if the shadowed movements had been any indication. Lottie stepped back hastily and cast around for an escape. She didn't have a single option, not if she wanted to rescue the women. She was doing this for them.

Inching her way into the corner, she let her hair fall forward to cover her face, and with shaking fingers, she began undressing. With furtive glances at the mirror, she slowly removed her clothes, and as each item came off, she folded it and set it on the ground at her feet. Finally, out of things to remove, she took a shuddering breath, covered her breasts with her hand and her crotch with the other, and hustled over to the exam table. She clambered onto it and settled, hunched over to hide her body from prying eyes.

There was a perfunctory knock on the door. Surgeon Underwood entered the room, followed by a second man. Lottie sucked in a breath and bowed her head, hiding her face, as her heart raced.

That isn't him. He isn't here. You're okay.

"This is Surgeon Wardell," the man introduced. "He will be your primary contact for all your medical needs." He then addressed Wardell. "Proceed."

Lottie lifted her head to look at Wardell, searching for something, anything, to prove he wasn't the same man. He was tall, had dark brown almost black hair—it was too short to know if it curled or not—, and slightly olive-colored skin. She took a deep breath. It hitched in the back of her throat. He saw her peeking through the curtain of her hair, and he smiled.

Bright blue eyes. _Thank the ever-absent God._

"Private Forrester," he said as a way of greeting. He turned and opened one of the cabinets. Pulling a cloth from inside, he unfurled it and handed it to her. "Please," he urged.

Fear that Surgeon Wardell had been Greysen's donor had pushed her discomfort at being naked to the farthest recesses of her mind, but as she took the sheet from him and her embarrassment resurfaced, and she was grateful for his kindness. He patted her leg and turned to the gray-haired man, letting her cover herself under the semblance of privacy. "Surgeon Underwood, did you take her blood pressure yet?"

"No," Underwood growled.

Wardell nodded and pulled open a drawer next to the sink. Turning back to her, he held a pressure cuff in his hand. He approached her, and after hooking his stethoscope into his ears, he proceeded to take her blood pressure. "One thirty-five over eighty-five," Wardell called over his shoulder, and Underwood made a notation on the clipboard. Wardell smiled at her again. _He has beautiful eyes._ "Your pressure is high, but under the circumstances..." He scrunched the side of his nose in a half wink, and then said, "We'll test it again in a few days."

Lottie nodded. She wasn't sure what he wanted from her.

He turned to Underwood. "Are the bloodwork vials ready?"

Underwood muttered a response that sounded affirmative and handed Wardell a tray. On it was several empty tubes, a thick looking hypodermic needle, and a strip of rubber.

"Private Forrester?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"I need to do your bloodwork tests now."

Lottie gulped. "W-what for?"

Wardell set the tray down next to her and picked up the rubber strip. Tying the tourniquet around her bicep, he manipulated her arm and tapped her inner elbow. "Blood typing. Sexually transmitted diseases. Current hormone levels. The usual," he explained. Over his shoulder, he addressed Underwood, "Can you ready the vaccines and warm up the ultrasonography machine?" Wardell sat and looked at her arm again. He tapped the vein, and after preparing the first vial, he flashed her another reassuring smile. "Ready?"

She shook her head.

"Yeah. Needles. Who likes them, right?" he said. Not waiting for her answer, he added, "I'll be quick. Promise."

Lottie tensed, sucking in a deep breath and held it. Wardell's gaze caught hers. "Breathe, Private Forrester."

She exhaled and took another shuddering breath.

"Good. Again."

After she did, Wardell said, "On three."

Lottie twitched her head up and down once in agreement. _On three._

Smiling, Wardell counted to three and pushed the needle into her skin. She flinched and then relaxed. It didn't hurt as much as she had remembered.

"Excellent, Private Forrester." He swapped out vial after vial. As he prepared the second to last one, he stated the obvious, "One more to go."

She nodded and gave him a tentative smile.

With the last tube of blood taken, Wardell removed the needle and pressed gauze to the puncture site. "Here. Keep your finger on it, and bend your arm to help hold it in place." He continued to speak as he turned and dealt with his tools. "We wouldn't want you to bruise." Wardell then handed the tray full of samples back to Underwood and took a new one from him. Over his shoulder, he continued, "A few more needles. Think you can handle that?"

"Why? What now?" She tried to hide the trepidation in her voice, but the words still came out high-pitched and squeaky.

Wardell turned to her, his expression chiding. "You missed your booster vaccines."

"Oh."

"We also want to give you an influenza inoculation," Wardell explained. Lottie reluctantly agreed. She'd been lucky not to contract anything worse than a cold these past few years.

"Lastly," Wardell added. "We need to rebalance your hormones and start your treatments."

"Rebalance? Treatments?"

Wardell scooted closer and leaned toward her. She shifted away from him and eyed his hand resting on her knee. "There have been great advancements towards solving the crisis."

"You've made progress?" she asked, her heart pounded. "Is it solved?" That would be great news. Then she wouldn't have to feel guilty when she left.

He shook his head. "No, not solved."

Lottie's shoulders drooped. "That's too bad." Fresh guilt—and resolve—weighed on her shoulders.

Straightening, Wardell plucked a syringe off the tray and stood. Coming around to her side, he swabbed her upper arm. "We have found that some immunotherapy does work. Couple that with the fertility boosters. We've noted an uptick in pregnancies."

"That is classified Surgeon Wardell," Underwood warned.

Wardell snapped, "She deserves to know what we are doing. They all do." He brought the needle up to her arm and jabbed her with it. "Besides, who is she going to tell?"

If he only knew...

Removing the needle, he placed it on the tray and grabbed a new one. After two more shots in that arm, he moved to Lottie's other side. "Boosters and influenza vaccine are done." Lottie watched as Underwood made a few notes. Wardell addressed her next, "Three more shots, and then we will move on to the final exam and your treatments."

Lottie wiped one sweaty palm on her thigh. She switched her hands to dry the other one.

"The first is the rebalance—I'm sorry, it will hurt—then the histamine blocker—which won't." Wardell brushed her hair from her shoulder, and she tried not to react. "Here," he said. "Let me take that."

She felt herself blush as he plucked the crumpled gauze from her fingers. She'd forgotten she was supposed to be holding it to her inner elbow.

He tossed it into a bin behind him. "Ready?" He didn't wait for her reply. Instead, he cleaned her arm and began the next round of shots. The first hurt, like he said it would, and Lottie winced. "Yeah," Wardell said, noticing her discomfort. "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay," she whispered. It wasn't like Wardell could control whether or not a shot hurt.

"Two more." He pressed the next injection into her arm. "Last one."

She sighed in relief and rolled her shoulders after the final needle slid from her arm. Wardell dropped it onto the tray with the other used syringes. "All right, Private Forrester. Lie back."

Her eyes widened, and she clutched the blanket tighter to her chest. Wardell winked at her. She supposed he meant it to be reassuring, but it didn't help. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and eased her back. Lottie pulled the sheet up to her neck, and he patted her shoulder.

"Laceration to the right labium oris, both the superius and inferius," Wardell said while he studied her face. "No signs of infection."

He brushed the hair from her cheek. Gripping her chin, he turned her head from side to side. Lottie flinched, but Wardell didn't seem to notice. "Slight laceration to the right buccae, also healing without infection."

Wardell's hand drifted lower, and he tugged the sheet from her grip. Lottie's hands clenched into fists, and she dropped them to her sides. Closing her eyes, she forced her breath steady and imagined she stalked a turkey to keep quiet. To keep still. Anything to drown out the feel of Wardell's hands touching her breasts and palpitating her stomach. "Striae evident. Old. Private Forrester?"

Lottie opened her eyes. Wardell gazed down at her. "Were you pregnant?" When she didn't answer, he asked, "Miscarriage? Stillbirth? To term?"

Before she could answer, Underwood spoke, "Private Ford speculates infanticide at Fort Sutton."

"That is unacceptable." Wardell's lips thinned, and his perfectly formed brows creased with a frown. "Disciplinary action?"

"No," Underwood replied.

Wardell sighed. "Will you be reporting it?"

_No!_ Lottie shook her head, and a single tear slid down her cheek before she could blink it back.

"It's against the law to kill an infant," Wardell told her. "If someone at Fort Sutton—"

"No," Lottie interjected. "No one killed my baby." _I left him behind._

Relief relaxed Wardell's features. "Good." Turning to Underwood, he said, "Note her file with prior stillbirth. We'll watch for the usual signs during her treatments." Facing her again, Wardell adjusted the sheet over her torso, and as he ordered her to put her feet in the stirrups, he asked, "When was your last menstrual cycle?"

She felt the flush creep up her cheeks, and her fingers clenched the edges of the sheet. Before she could answer, he urged her hips lower on the exam table. Settling on a stool at the foot of the bed, he adjusted the sheet that covered her. Catching her eye from between her bended knees, he quirked an eyebrow in silent reproach.

"When?"

Lottie licked her lips and tried to bring her knees together. His warm hands brushed her calves, stopping her. She swallowed hard. "I-I don't know," she stumbled. "Two weeks?"

He grinned at her and dropped his gaze. "No visible discoloration or discharge."

_Ever-absent God!_ Her cheeks flamed even brighter.

"Private Forester," Wardell said as he reached for something out of her line of sight. "Can you relax for me? I need to get your Pap and make sure you don't have anything out of place inside."

She nodded and closed her eyes again, distracting herself from Wardell's touch. He proceeded through the next steps, and Lottie sighed in relief when he finished and eased the sheet over her legs. "All done."

She felt another tear as it slid down her cheek. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Shortly," Wardell replied, and she opened her eyes to see him pulling a machine over to her. "We need to begin your treatments." He fiddled with straps, buttons, and levers for a few moments before turning to her. Lottie covered her breasts with her hands as Wardell once again pulled the sheet to the side. He dripped a cold goo on her belly, and, using the wand from the machine, Wardell spread out the glop. Looking at the screen, he said, "Everything looks good from here. No pregnancy. No cysts. No other concerns. Surgeon Underwood, do you have the first treatment ready?"

"Yes," Underwood replied.

Lottie blanched, and her eyes grew round at the sight of the needle Underwood held.

Her chest felt so tight.

"Proceed," Wardell said to Underwood.

"What's that for?!"

"Your treatments." Wardell's reply held notes of sympathy.

"But—" Lottie gulped, and she shook her head. The needle Underwood held was the largest she'd ever seen.

"It won't hurt any more than the vaccinations." Wardell rubbed her arm. His light touch sent a shiver down her spine.

"But... What does it do?"

Instead of answering, Wardell glanced at Underwood and asked, "Ready?"

"Yes," Underwood said and placed the needle on her stomach about an inch to the side of her belly button. Pressing down, he inserted the needle into her skin, and she flinched. The pressure was tolerable, and after the initial stick, the pain was negligible. A few seconds later, the needle appeared on the screen of the machine Wardell was using. Surgeon Underwood had to correct his manipulation of the needle twice, but finally, he was satisfied and pressed the plunger on his syringe. Lottie winced as he removed it.

"Here," Wardell said and handed her a gauze patch. "Put pressure on this while we do the other side." After she complied, they began the process all over again. Lottie tried not to cry out when the second needle pierced her skin. A few moments later, he extracted it and pressed a new piece of gauze to the entry wound. Only then did the ridiculously long syringe get set back on the tray.

Standing, Underwood said, "I'll let Staff Sergeant Goldin know we are finished."

"Excellent. Thank you, Surgeon Underwood." As Underwood left, Wardell turned to Lottie and told her to get dressed.

She nodded. Sitting up, she clutched the medical sheet around her and hesitated.

"You better hurry. Staff Sergeant Goldin has no qualms about escorting you to your room naked." Wardell looked at her pointedly. "But I assume you do."

Lottie nodded, and after a second to confirm Wardell planned on staying in the room, she hopped off the exam table. To his credit, Wardell busied himself with putting away tools and supplies and ignored her completely. Lottie shuffled over to her pile of clothes. How many soldiers watched her little exam? She refused to look through the glass. Dropping the sheet, Lottie hustled to dress, and wondered, _What's next?_

# Chapter 24

A sharp rat-a-tat-tat on the door drew her gaze, and before Wardell or Lottie said anything to the newcomer, it pushed open, and a tall black man with salt 'n pepper hair entered the exam room. "Surgeon Wardell," the man said in greeting. "Surgeon Underwood said you finished."

"We have, Staff Sergeant Goldin," Wardell replied and indicated Lottie in the corner of the room. "She has had her exam and initial medical treatment."

Goldin's gaze raked her form, and Lottie's arms wrapped around her torso, hugging herself close. "Come along, Asset."

"Private Forester," Wardell corrected Goldin.

"An asset, Surgeon Wardell," Goldin insisted. "A _runway_ asset. The worst kind." Lottie sighed and hugged her midsection tighter. At least she knew where she stood with Staff Sergeant Goldin.

Lottie glanced at Wardell and witnessed his eye roll as he turned to finish up his chores.

"Follow me," Goldin ordered, and when she didn't move immediately, he barked, "Now, _Asset_."

Jerking into motion, Lottie made her way toward him. Her heart pounded, and her palms grew slick. Goldin held the door open wide for her, and she slipped by him into the anterior room. From there, she exited the medical bay and stepped into the hallway. The musty, unused smell of the facility greeted her.

"This way," Goldin said as he pushed passed her and began stomping down the hallway. Lottie hustled after him, and he didn't speak to her again until they entered a guard room. Wrenching the door open, he guided Lottie through it, and said, "You'll receive your rotation schedule by the end of the month. You will find it posted on your door."

"Rotation?" she asked, her voice sounded reedy and breathless.

They walked down a hall, and Goldin continued, "You will be added to cooking and cleaning details, donor visitation time slots, and your scheduled visits for regular treatments with Surgeon Wardell." Goldin pinned her with a cold stare.

Lottie nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir." He reminded her of Ito. Cold and spiteful.

He gave her a single nod. His glasses slipped down his nose, and he adjusted them before continuing down the hall and leading her up two flights of stairs. At the top, he continued, "You will attend to your duties promptly, and when not otherwise needed, you are to be in your room."

"Will I—" Lottie swallowed hard. "Will I be allowed out at all?"

"The library is open for your use. Then, once a week—for two hours—you and the other assets will be permitted to socialize amongst yourselves."

_Two hours once a week?_ She shook her head in denial. That didn't give her much time to do her tasks. How could she convince her mom and Zoe to escape if they barely knew her? What if they liked it here? What if they didn't want to leave? "Why?"

"Why what, Asset?"

"Why so little time with the others?"

Goldin glared at her. "You will be permitted more socialization time with the donors. The rest of your time is for your treatment schedule or isolation in your room."

Lottie felt tears threaten. It was more of a prison than they ever expected. How did the other women stand it?

Stopping in front of a door, Goldin stared down his nose at her. He took his glasses off, and after pulling a cloth from his pocket, he proceeded to clean the lenses. "Starting November first, your schedule will be posted here." Putting his glasses back on, he pointed to a clip mounted under a plaque with the number two-seventeen engraved into it. He smiled. It was a cold and thoroughly unwelcoming smile. "You missed _ladies' night_." He turned and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, he added, "Your room." Goldin's eyebrow lifted as he waited for Lottie to enter.

She took a fortifying breath and stepped over the threshold, and Goldin closed and locked the door behind her. She leaned back against it and blew a strand of hair from her face. _Okay. I can do this._ A glance around confirmed she was alone.

Pushing off the door, Lottie took a step into the room. To her left was a small bathroom. She poked her head inside. There was a commode with folded towels resting on the tank, a sink with a mirror, and a full shower. _Thank the ever-absent God. Now I can take that shower_ , she thought, looking at her reflection and brushed the hair from her face. She scrubbed her thumb at a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She couldn't wait to be clean.

Lottie then went to remove her backpack, prepared to leave her few toiletries in the bathroom, and cursed softly. It wasn't there. She never grabbed the bag from next to the desk in the exam room. _Too late now._ She felt fresh tears threaten. It hadn't held much, but it had been hers. Now all she had was what was on her back. She hoped someone would see fit to return the knapsack to her.

Leaving the bathroom, she walked into a living room of sorts. It wasn't big, but the floor to ceiling window in the far wall made it look bigger. The sunlight filtering through the blinds cast the room in bright light. Curious, Lottie skirted around the two armchairs. She wanted to know if the windows were as clear as they first appeared or if they were opaque like the ones downstairs.

Upon reaching the blinds, Lottie used her fingers to spread them open enough for her to peek out. The view was clear of obstruction, and she had her first good look outside her new home. _Great,_ she thought sarcastically. Lottie had an excellent view of the north wing. _The donor wing. Awesome_.

Looking down, she saw an inner courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by the facility. It was full of mature trees and walking paths. _Wonder if 'ladies night' is ever held out there._ The idea held appeal. She could already feel the weight of the hospital all around her, and she longed to be outside. A quick study proved the window didn't open, but the blinds did. Sighing, she turned and looked at the rest of the room.

It looked like a miniature of the downstairs lobby.

Between Lottie and a bookshelf, which sat against the outer bathroom wall, there were two armchairs on a ratty throw rug. Between them was a small round end table that had a reading lamp on it. Halfway along the right-hand wall was another door, and she headed toward it.

Pushing it open, Lottie saw it had the same shape as the first room. Its floor to ceiling window was on the wall facing the courtyard, but instead of armchairs, it had a twin-sized bed against the furthest wall. Flanking it on both sides were the same ugly end tables and lamps like the one in the living room.

On top of the bed rested a set of fatigues. Lottie walked over to them and picked up the shirt. It was an Army uniform t-shirt. Underneath it was a pair of urban camouflage cargos. Both the cut and size proved they were women's clothes, and they looked like they would fit her. Completing the pile, were a pair of panties and a bra—a real honest to ever-absent, God bra. She hadn't had one of those in years. Lottie hoped it would fit.

Turning away from the bed, she noticed a companion bathroom that mirrored the placement of the one in the other room. "They must have added the connecting door later," Lottie mused. Sticking her head into the bathroom, she confirmed it was the same size and shape as the other one. This one, though, had a plush terrycloth robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door. "Nice."

Pulling her head out of the bathroom, she then inspected the only other door in the room. Opening it revealed a fully stocked closet with a dresser full of underwear, socks, and more bras. "At least I'll be well clothed," she murmured out loud.

She glanced around the room one more time. There was nothing else to investigate. Lottie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and considered her options. Lottie could shower, nap, or read.

"No contest." She stripped out of her filthy clothes and stepped into the bathroom. Turning the water on, she exclaimed in delight to find the water hot, and after climbing in, she couldn't believe her luck as she spied a bar of soap in the stall. After her shower, she wrapped herself in the robe and sat on her bed. She fingered the clothes and then looked around.

She felt at a loss. "Now what?" she asked the room.

There was no one around to respond.

***

A breeze rustled the topmost branches of the trees in the courtyard, and a few leaves were knocked loose. Lottie watched them float through the air as they spun and twisted before coming to a rest at the base of the tree.

Lottie's need to be outside, to smell the storm brewing, to feel the wind stir her hair, was so strong, and she sighed. If she'd been home—at Noah's home—she would have been outside hunting or playing with Greysen. Maybe even lit a campfire to keep them warm. They would sit around it tonight, telling stories and looking at the stars. Noah, Tristan, and Casey would be there. Maybe even Javier. _Yes. Especially Javier._ After all, he had been there for her in the woods. _I wonder what he's doing. Is he okay?_

She brushed a tear from her cheek and stared at the wetness on her fingertips. No words could describe her longing to be with them. Her family. Her friends. "You have a job to do," she reminded herself and squared her shoulders before dusting her hand on her new cargo-fatigues.

A sharp knock at her door pulled Lottie from her daydreaming, and she turned from the window right as the lock clicked open. Goldin stuck his head inside her room. "Dinner time, Asset," he barked, and her stomach gave a happy little growl at the news. Lottie walked over to the door, and Goldin gave her a full once-over with his cold black eyes and held the door open. As she walked through it, he ordered, "To your left. Down the hall. To the stairs."

"Yes, sir," she murmured and followed his instructions. Two flights of stairs later, he ordered her to turn right and then left again. She entered a standard looking cafeteria—an _empty_ one.

Goldin marched Lottie past several tables and up to a metal counter that had some sort of stew-like-mixture and some chunks of bread on warmers. Behind a cut-away, Lottie could see a modest kitchen and two women working like mad around the stove.

The older one was short, had brown hair pulled into a tight bun, and wore glasses.

The other woman was younger than the first and had left her light brown hair loose about her shoulders. Neither one stopped in their tasks long enough to even looked at her.

"Come on," Goldin prompted from behind her, and Lottie flinched. She'd been so relieved—so excited—to see these other 'assets' that she'd forgotten he was behind her. Lottie didn't want to admit it, but she'd begun to fear she was the only woman here.

Grabbing a bowl and plate from beside the warmers, Lottie ladled herself some stew and then snagged a piece of bread. With her meal collected and a drink in hand, Lottie picked the closest table to sit at, but before she could deposit her plate at her chosen spot, Goldin stopped her. "You'll eat in your room."

"My room?" She gripped her plate tighter in her hand, and the fork slid along the edge. She glanced down at the noise, and an involuntary whiff of stew made her stomach growl. The intensity of her hunger silenced her budding objections. She wanted to eat, and she no longer cared where. "Okay," she replied and headed for the door ahead of Goldin.

Gaining the hall, she turned toward the staircase, and Goldin held the door open for her when she reached it. She proceeded to climb the stairs, and as she rounded the first landing, the clang of a door and footsteps caught her attention. Looking up, Lottie saw a woman, maybe ten years older than herself, coming down the stairs. The woman smiled at Lottie before glancing down at the plate she carried. Her brows furrowed in apparent confusion, but the woman didn't give voice to her curiosity. As she drew near, Lottie slid to the side along the wall, giving the woman plenty of room. Lottie's gaze followed her as the woman finished her decent and exited the stairwell.

Lottie wondered who she was but didn't bother to ask Goldin. She assumed he wouldn't tell her. Behind her, Goldin cleared his throat. Lottie twitched. Some of her water splashed over the edge of her cup and drenched the cuff of her shirt. Hiding her sigh, she resumed her trek back to her room.

Arriving back at her quarters, she waited for Goldin to open the door for her. He obliged, and after she was safely ensconced inside, he locked it. She placed her plate on the small end table with a sigh, and after rearranging the armchair, she sat and ate her dinner. It wasn't until Lottie finished eating and inspecting her bookcase, that she realized that neither the woman in the stairwell nor the two cooking had had a guard.

***

Wednesday, Thursday, and then Friday came and went leaving Lottie lost and alone. Each day had been the same as the last. She rose with the early morning light, and, after a quick shower, she would stand at her window, watching the courtyard below. She only ever saw one person used it, a man with sandy brown hair—similar to Casey—cut high and tight, walking the paths with a relaxed gait.

_Not a care in the world_ , she noted when she spotted him below.

She envied him.

Lottie sighed and glanced at the clock. _Seven hundred thirty_.

She didn't know what to do with herself. There were only so many _The Army and You_ , _Enlistment Expectations and How You Can Achieve Them_ , or _What to Expect Now That You are Enlisted_ , books she could read before going crazy.

Her fingers pressed against the window, and a ring of moisture haloed them as her skin heated the cold glass. She longed to go outside. She wasn't lonely, she told herself, just bored. Even living with Noah involved more activity in a day than staring out a window. There was her son for one—

_Greysen._

Her breath hitched, and she shoved the thought of him away. She couldn't afford tears of self-pity, so instead, she deadened her feelings and watched the donor take his morning walk.

Lottie lost track of his progress each time he passed under a tree, only to resume when he reached the other side. Sometimes he would stop and look up at the windows. Other times, he would stare at the sky, and yet other times, he would hold still and tilt his head toward the sun. Lottie wondered what his job was outside of the facility. She suspected it had something to do with the outdoors. _Maybe farming?_ But like all good things, he eventually left the courtyard for duties unknown, and Lottie was left to observe the empty yard.

Thankfully time inched forward even without her active participation, and at nine-hundred fifteen, there was a knock on her door. She didn't need to voice the 'come in'—her guard would do it regardless—but she said it anyway. A moment later, the lock snicked free, and Lottie's door opened.

"Ready?" a man's voice boomed in the small space, making Lottie cringe.

_Cleveland_ , she knew it was him without even looking. He was the only one who seemed to yell no matter where he was or with whom he was talking.

"Yes."

"Excellent," Cleveland replied and stood to the side as Lottie exited the room.

By now, she knew the drill, and she headed to the stairwell. Pulling open the door, she made her way down the stairs, and, as she anticipated, the older brown-haired woman with a gentle smile was coming up the stairs. Lottie presumed the woman was coming back from breakfast. And, like every other time Lottie had seen her, the woman's movements weren't hindered.

She was guardless.

The woman glanced at Cleveland behind Lottie and then back to her. She smiled and nodded to Lottie as she passed. The whole encounter lasted mere seconds but was a highlight of Lottie's day.

After her encounter on the stairs, Lottie finished making her way to the cafeteria. There she found the same two women from the past three days sitting at opposite ends of the room eating their breakfast with the older Asian looking ARA guard, Bardeen, looking on.

Lottie walked down the space between tables toward the food line. Once there, Lottie grabbed a tray and piled some fruit, scrambled eggs, and bread onto a plate. Before turning, she grabbed some napkins and silverware and then made her way back to Cleveland, who waited for her at the door. He held the door open, and Lottie stepped through it, then proceeded to follow him on the return trek back to her room, where Lottie knew she would then eat her cold breakfast and wait for something to happen.

Anything to happen.

Lottie sighed again. It was going to be a long few months.

***

Monday morning started like all the others, but Lottie couldn't entirely subdue her excitement. If Goldin had been telling her the truth a week ago, today would be the day she met the rest of the women at Gates Research Hospital, assuming, of course, that they all went to Ladies' Night.

"I'm ready," Lottie whispered and tossed back the covers. Her feet landed on the cold tile, and she grabbed her terry-cloth robe from the foot of her bed and walked the few feet to her en-suite bathroom. Closing the door, Lottie hung the garment on the hook and turned on the water in her shower. By the time she stripped off her clothes and left them to lay in a pile on the floor, the water was hot, and she slipped in behind the curtain. Standing under the spray, Lottie moaned in appreciation; she would miss hot showers when she left, but leaving meant seeing Greysen and Casey, and she couldn't wait for that.

He loves me.

Her fingers drifted up to touch her lips as Lottie remembered Casey's kiss.

Had she reacted to his kiss? She feared she hadn't since Lottie could vividly recall his hurt expression when she hadn't returned his statement of love. She hated that fact, but she didn't know if she loved him or not, but she did miss his arms around her. Lottie hugged herself for a moment or two and then finished cleaning her body.

Done with her shower, she turned off the water and dried off. After slipping on her robe, Lottie completed her morning routine and then visited her closet. She pulled a clean uniform from one of the hangers and looked at the pile of dirty laundry on the floor. She sighed. Lottie would have to ask for permission to wash her dirty clothes. _I'll probably have to wash them in the sink,_ she groused. Closing the closet, Lottie made her way to the bed, where she then dropped her clothes on top of it and shed her robe to get dressed.

Once finished, Lottie left her bedroom for the living room and took up her post at the window. She searched the grounds for the donor, but he wasn't out walking yet. "Good." She liked watching him.

Glancing at her clock and then back out her window, she lamented the fact she had nothing better to do with her time than to observe the courtyard. After a bit, the donor rewarded Lottie's boredom by entering the yard from the north wing. He stood a step from the door, dressed in standard fatigues and a dark coat. His arms crossed his chest. He wasn't wearing a hat, and his sandy brown hair was visible from Lottie's perch in her room. She wondered if he looked as much like Casey up close as he did from a distance.

Lottie snorted and shook her head. It didn't matter if he was a replica of Casey, Lottie still wouldn't have sex with him.

After a visible shiver, the donor began his walk. "Must be cold," she mused out loud and smiled wryly at the sound of her voice. All those years on her own in the woods and she had rarely spoken when there wasn't someone to listen, but after one week at Gates, she found that she had full-length conversations—arguments and all—with only herself as the listener.

It took two circuits around the courtyard before the soldier's shoulders relaxed. He lowered his arms and now walked with his hands tucked into his pockets. Pretty soon, he looked like he genuinely enjoyed his venture outside, and Lottie once again envied him. Her fingers tapped against the glass in time to his steps, and she sighed, only to immediately squeal in alarm when the door to her suite opened abruptly. She spun around to face the newcomer.

Bardeen.

She should have known. Bardeen was the only one of the new guards who didn't seem to have issues invading her personal space without any kind of announcement first.

Standing inside her door, he barked, "Come on; let's go."

Lottie glanced at the clock. _Nine hundred fifteen._ She nodded and slipped into one of her armchairs and put on her boots. She did up the laces quickly and then joined Bardeen in the hall. He led her down to breakfast, and on her way back to her room, she noticed a piece of paper posted next to her door. She stopped to read it.

It was her schedule.

_Cleaning or cooking duty every day, except Thursday,_ she read. The document went on to say that her mealtimes had not changed, and she now had three mornings a week where she would meet with Wardell before breakfast and then with a donor right after eating. Lottie scratched behind her ear and tugged her hair over her shoulder. Teasing the ends of her hair into a short braid, she finished reading the schedule, confirming the 'asset socializing' timeslot was indeed on Monday nights at nineteen hundred to twenty-one hundred.

_Two full hours._ Lottie glanced at Bardeen.

Bardeen stood next to her, reading the chart over her shoulder. He made a noise in the back of his throat. "I'll be back to take you to lunch and dinner, and then again at nineteen-hundred to escort you to the meeting room."

"What about housekeeping duty at fourteen-hundred?"

"Tomorrow. Duties always begin on the first of the month."

Lottie nodded.

"This is your schedule for the foreseeable future," Bardeen added.

"Will it change?"

"Only when there is a new addition or subtraction from the asset pool."

"Okay," Lottie murmured. "I guess I'll see you at thirteen-hundred fifteen then."

Bardeen acknowledged her with a twitch of his head and pushed her door open for her.

Once in her room, he locked her inside. Squaring her shoulders, Lottie made her way to the armchair, sat, and took a bite of her breakfast.

"Six more hours," she murmured. She couldn't wait.

***

Lottie was sitting in an armchair rereading _The Army and You_ when her door opened. She tossed the book aside and stood, a smile tugged at the corner of her lip. It was time to go.

Bardeen barely looked at her and barked, "Finished?"

Glancing down at her half-finished dinner, she replied, "Yes."

"Good, come along then."

Smiling fully, Lottie followed Bardeen out into the hall.

"Left and down the stairs," he ordered. Lottie nodded and pressed a hand to her belly. Excitement made her feel ill, but she knew it would pass as soon as she saw them. _Maddy and Zoe!_

Exiting the stairs next to the cafeteria, she asked, "Where to?"

Bardeen grumbled his instructions, and Lottie passed the cafeteria for a door in the middle of the hall. Entering, she descended two levels. At the bottom, Lottie opened the stairwell door to another hallway. This one stretched as far as she could see with no doors or turns or anything to break up the monotony.

"What is this?"

"The sub walk system," Bardeen answered. "Go straight."

Like there was another option, she mused.

At the end of the never-ending hallway was another door with stairs leading up. At the top, Lottie entered a square room with harsh lighting, peeling light green paint, and chipped linoleum floors. There were three doors besides the one they exited, and Bardeen left her side to open the one on her right. He waved her through, and Lottie stepped into a modest-sized library. Her gaze swept over the floor to ceiling bookshelves full of books and felt her heart flutter. _Bet there is more to read in here than_ The Army and You, she thought.

So caught up in the moment, Lottie didn't notice the room's intense silence or the twenty or so women staring at her. An excited gasp caught her attention, and her eyes were drawn to the tiny woman headed her way. Her ultra-petite frame looked overrun by her unruly, curly, dark brown hair, cut so short that it frizzed about her head like a mushroom-shaped halo. The woman's face looked ready to break under the strain of her gigantic smile. "Hello! And you are?" she asked with her hand thrust out to shake.

Lottie blinked in surprise before muttering her name.

"Charlotte, welcome to Gates. I'm Maggie," she said.

Little Maggie?

Maggie turned and waved two women over. A pregnant woman with carrot red hair stopped in front of her. "This is Nyah," Maggie introduced. "Nyah, this is Charlotte."

"Hi," Lottie said.

Grinning, Nyah replied, "Welcome."

Looking up, Maggie put her hand on the shoulder of the next woman to join them. Lottie recognized her as one of the cooks from her first day. "Lisa, meet Charlotte. Charlotte, Lisa."

Again they shook hands as a way of greeting.

No sooner had Lisa let go of Lottie's hand, then Maggie bumped Lisa and Nyah to the side and looping her arm around Lottie's waist. Maggie dragged Lottie further into the room. "Over there"—Maggie pointed to a table—"you have Zoe and Valery."

Zoe! Valery... The smiling woman from the stairs.

"Then over there"—again Maggie pointed—"Amelia, Dawn, Dora, and Sadie."

The four women smiled at Maggie then resumed staring at Lottie. Lottie squirmed, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

"Natalie, Judy, and Erma Lyn are at that back table. Then right here"—Maggie pointed to the two women right in front of them—"are Ally and Kaylee. Lastly, over there, you have the gossiping hens."

"Maggie!" one of the women cried.

"That was Meghan. The others are Debbie, Gwen, Cleo, and Susan." Maggie continued and grinned in their direction. "Over there, you have Grace. She's standing in the corner. Hiding. She hates introductions."

Lottie's gaze followed Maggie's to the blonde woman glaring at her, and her heart stuttered and then pounded. _Grace... Maddy... Mom. She looks... horrible._ Lottie took a hesitant step forward, but Maggie pulled her back. She must have noticed Maddy's—no, Grace's—scowl, for she said, "Don't mind her. She's always grumpy with newcomers, but she's nice enough once you get to know her. Oh!" Maggie exclaimed. "Ashley and Kelly aren't here, so I can't introduce you to them. They opted for more time with the donors. And poor Sandra is sick. I have no idea what Jackie, Marybelle, or Lily are up to," Maggie continued. "Does anyone know?"

"Marybelle and Lily should be on their way," the woman named Meghan replied. "I think Jackie was tired and went to bed early."

"Oh, no," Maggie said, turning to Meghan. "Is it morning sickness again?"

Meghan shrugged. "I don't think so. She lost the one—what two months ago?—I think she just wants to be by herself some."

Maggie and Nyah both nodded, clearly sympathizing.

"It's hard to lose them," Nyah agreed at the same time Maggie said, "I'll stop by her room tomorrow to see if she's all right."

Stop by her room? Is she allowed to do that?

"I'm sure she'd like that," Meghan agreed, and then addressed Lottie, "Good to meet you, Charlotte."

"Thanks," Lottie replied in a daze. Her mom was in the room. She longed to walk over and introduce herself.

"Come on over here and sit with us," Maggie said, tugging on Lottie's waist and pulling her toward a table. Lisa and Nyah followed them. "When did you get to Gates?"

"Um," Lottie stalled as they walked. "A week ago. Tuesday."

"A shame it couldn't have been last Monday. We could have met you then."

"Yeah," Lottie murmured. As she sat, Nyah and Lisa took their seat across from her at the small table.

Touching Lottie's arm, Maggie began firing off questions. "Who was it? Was he cute? Do you miss him?" Nyah and Lisa grinned and nodded, leaning forward on their arms.

"I don't," Lottie trailed off. They couldn't have known about Casey. Not yet, anyway. "What do you mean?"

"Oh," Maggie replied, waving her hand in the air. "Anyone under thirty is here because of a man—usually a very _specific_ man—and I wanted to know about yours." Maggie wagged her eyebrows. "Was he... you know... good?"

Lottie shook her head. "I don't—"

"She's not here because she fucked a man and got pregnant," interrupted a bitter sounding woman from behind Lottie. The woman's words made the others at the table flinch, but Maggie appeared to force herself to smile and said, "Hi, Grace. Why don't you join us?" and Nyah offered, "This is Charlotte—"

"I know who the fuck she is," Grace snapped.

Lottie cringed, and Maggie gasped, "Grace!" Turning to Lottie, Maggie and touched her hand and said, "You don't have to talk to her, Charlotte. She's unhappy since she was supposed to go home and now can't."

Lottie waved a hand in dismissal. "It's okay. I know who she is too."

"You do?"

"Yes," Lottie answered and pushed her chair out from under the table. As she stood, she looked down at the three curious upturned faces and then out across the room, noting the bored-looking Bardeen standing guard next to the door. She turned to face the woman who gave birth to her. Lottie thrust out her hand. "Grace."

Grace looked down at Lottie's offered hand and then back to her face. "You shouldn't be here—"

"—I know—" Lottie replied over Maggie's weak, "Grace!"

"—I hadn't planned to—" Lottie said.

"—When you weren't here four years ago I... I'd hoped—" Grace continued.

"—That I would never show? That I'd run? That I beat the system?—" Lottie volunteered.

"—Yes." Grace finished.

Sighing heavily, Lottie replied, "I tried."

"Then why the hell are you here?"

Lottie wasn't sure where to even begin. "It's a long story."

At Lottie's statement, the air seemed to whoosh out of Grace, and her shoulders drooped. "Then tell me."

Maggie pushed her chair out and stood. Touching Grace on her forearm, Maggie invited her to take her seat at their table. Grace's eyes were downcast, but she nodded and sat, and Maggie moved to an empty chair next to Lisa.

"I see it now," Nyah remarked. "Maggie? Lisa?"

"Oh, God," Maggie breathed. "I do too."

Sparing a glance at the petite woman who was covering her mouth with her hand, Lottie nodded and confirmed their suspicions. "Grace is my biological mother."

"What happened?" Grace asked, her bitterness laced her words.

Lottie had expected—hoped—to meet Grace and Zoe privately, and not with a group listening. Regardless, she wasn't sure what she should say. Would they blab to her guards? Lottie spared another glance for Bardeen at the door. He didn't seem remotely interested in her, and she made her decision. She'd stick as close to the truth as possible.

"Your file. I worked at the facility, not the communal or gardens, or the required time with the toddlers and infants. Your file said you'd died giving birth to Skylar—who was cute as a button the last time I saw him—and I knew I couldn't do what you did. What any of you women did. Give up my babies? Nuh-huh—so I planned and planned and planned some more. Then right before my eighteenth birthday, I ran." Lottie paused. She was rambling, trying not to say too much but yet answer their questions, spoken and unspoken. "I was southwest of Fort St. Louis when captured, and here I am."

The women all sat back in their chairs, appalled, yet fascinated.

"You're how old?" Nyah inquired.

"Twenty-two."

"Four years. Just like Grace said," Nyah murmured. "On your own? I can't imagine!"

"How did you get caught?" Maggie asked softly.

Shrugging, Lottie replied, "Careless." Admitting that fact hurt, but she knew it was the truth. Putting her trust into that mobile home had been the best and the worst thing to ever happen to her. _Casey._ Her heart clenched, and she rubbed at her chest.

"Where did you get caught?" Maggie prompted.

"Fort Sutton."

"And you lived on your own in the woods that whole time?" Nyah inquired, seeming stuck on that fact.

Lottie nodded.

"Unbelievable," Nyah added.

"It wasn't that bad, really," Lottie offered. "I like the outdoors. I like hunting." She paused. "Winters were the hardest." She didn't want to go into more detail, so she changed the subject. "Who were your men, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Not at all." Maggie smiled sheepishly. "Mine was a cook—a very _bad_ cook."

Chuckling, Nyah reached across Lisa to nudge Maggie in the shoulder. "Weren't they all 'bad'?"

"Oh, yes," Maggie murmured and blushed. "But I meant he was a horrible cook. The food he prepared? Ick! Awful." Her voice turned whimsical. "Michael. He was so sweet and nice. Super tall, too."

"Honey," Nyah said with a laugh. "Everyone is tall for you. Even Amelia. And I'm not even sure she's five feet."

"She's five-three, thank you very much," Maggie said while laughing. "But you're right. I'm way too short. Michael, though? He was over six feet. I'd get a crick in my neck any time I looked at him."

"I remember him," Lisa volunteered, speaking for the first time since they sat down. Her voice was quiet, subdued. "Sandy brown hair. Dark blue eyes. Friendly. Always had a smile for you."

"Yep," Maggie confirmed. "It's one of the reasons why I like Jeremiah so much."

"That," Nyah agreed. "And a talented tongue."

Turning to Nyah, Maggie growled, "Nyah!"

Nyah laughed. "That's what you said the other day, anyway."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Maggie chastised, but her tone was light, without criticism. Lottie could see Maggie wasn't angry. "No one can compare to Michael, but at least Jeremiah tries. He listens. Learns."

"Has a talented tongue—"

Maggie rolled her eyes. With a thumb over her shoulder, Maggie said, "She's just jealous she hasn't tried him yet. Her man in Fort St. Louis was in WCD."

"There is nothing wrong with soldiers in WCD," Nyah remarked, clearly insulted.

"No, you're right, there isn't," Maggie acknowledged. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's all right. I forgive you. Besides, not everyone can land a FAP," Nyah added.

"Like Zoe." Lottie agreed.

Maggie shared a look with Nyah, and they both nodded. "Exactly," Nyah replied.

"I was out of the service by the time Nyah got with her trashman," Lisa said. "But I was enlisted at the same time as Zoe. Her FAP soldier—What was his name?" Lisa asked, looking at Maggie. "Tyler? Trever?"

Maggie grinned and fanned herself. "Tristan!"

"Yes. Tristan was... intense for such a young man—not much older than a kid. Barely out of Basic. But he was protective. Idealistic. With a good 'ole boy feel." Lisa took a deep breath. "He didn't talk to many of the women there. It was a rule for the FAP, I think, but the women he did talk to all fell in love with him."

"You included?" Nyah asked.

Lisa nodded. "Yes."

"Huh," Nyah said.

"You never met him, did you?" Lisa asked Nyah.

"No," Nyah agreed. "But I heard all the stories. Tall. Blondish hair. Blue eyes. Genuine."

Loyal.

"I didn't meet him either," Maggie added. "But, he sounds sweet."

_He is,_ Lottie thought, and homesickness hit her hard.

"I wouldn't say sweet," Lisa said with a chuckle. "But he treated everyone—women and the men—with respect. Like we were all equal. Not even the day-to-day medics did that." Lisa paused, thinking. "I'm not sure if they kicked him out of FAP 'cause of Zoe or 'cause they didn't like how he treated others. His small following seemed to make the COs nervous." Lisa flashed a tiny smile to the women at the table. "It sure seemed like the COs only wanted assholes to stand guard."

Lottie nodded in agreement. Her palms were sweating, and she had forced her expression into one of casual curiosity. It felt surreal to be discussing Tristan with these women, but it was nice to know he hadn't changed. "How did they meet? Zoe and Tristan?" She knew, of course, but they didn't know that.

"I don't know," Lisa answered, and Maggie added, "She won't talk about it." Nyah tacked on, "I think she still loves him."

"Who wouldn't," Maggie said with a sigh. "He was shipped out after she _died_. I didn't know at the time that she here, but I was glad to see she was alive once I arrived." Maggie paused then went on, "I never really thought about it, but I guess I 'died' too. I was too busy dealing with post-partum depression and the hike here to think about it much."

"Yeah, you did," Nyah confirmed. Her hand rubbed her belly distractedly. "Between you, Kaylee and Zoe, the rest of us were scared to death to have a baby. It's one reason why I was with 'randy' Randy." Nyah popped her knuckles on her right hand then her left before adding, "I figured, if I were gonna die having a baby anyway, I'd die knowing what real sex was like." Nyah's eyes sparkled with mischief, and her eyebrows wiggled. "It was as good as I'd expected."

"You and Kaylee are lucky," Lisa said. Her tone grew soft and quiet again, and four women turned to focus on her. "And you too, Grace. You all know who fathered your babies. I don't know who fathered mine, and I sure didn't want to be with him, whoever he was."

The women at the table grew quiet, and Lottie had to suppress her shiver. She may not have liked conceiving Greysen with that—donor—but at least she knew who it was that supplied the genetic material.

"I'm sorry, Lisa," Maggie said. "You're right. We were lucky, and it was rude of us to speak so casually."

Lisa waved away the apology. "That's not what I meant. It's good that you know, and have positive memories. I just wish I had a few of my own."

Lottie felt the blush creep up her neck. "Were you—"

"—In a State-run facility?" Grace interrupted. "Yeah, most of the women here were, and they don't really like remembering it."

"I like it here better. At least here, I have the option of never being with a man again," Lisa responded, sounding less despondent.

"You can say 'no'?" A tingle of relief traveled up Lottie's spine, and her limbs felt loose and weak at Lisa's confirmation. A small part of her feared she wouldn't be allowed to say 'no' to the donor times.

"I know of one or two women who have exercised that right. Personally, I'm glad I can pick the donors. It has made the whole process much more enjoyable," Lisa said.

"Yeah," Nyah said, clearing her throat, but it didn't help the awkward silence that took over the conversation.

Noticeably shaking herself free of the sadness that Lisa's story had created, Maggie asked Lottie, "Do you want to play a card game?" Maggie looking over Lottie's shoulder, she added, "We don't have time for Knaves and Knights, but we could play a few rounds of Golf or Poker. Or, we could talk to some of the other women. Meghan's been eyeballing me for the past few minutes, so I know she'd love to talk to you."

"Um," Lottie hedged. "Let's go talk to her."

"Great," Maggie said and jumped to her feet. "Come on."

Lottie glanced at the women at the table. They seemed back to normal, and Lottie gave them all a quick wave goodbye before following Maggie across the room.

# Chapter 25

Early morning light woke Lottie from a dreamless sleep, and she stretched. Rolling over, she pulled the blankets to her chin and looked out the window. The storm that had been brewing Tuesday night was finally here, and rain rivulets streaked her windows. Its gentle patter soothed her, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sound. Eventually, she grew bored and slowly sat up. Groaning, she stood and padded over to her en-suite bathroom, used it, and then took a shower. She dressed and was towel drying her hair when there was a knock at her door.

After tousling her hair one more time, she exited her bedroom and found Cleveland standing inside her door. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready for what?" She hoped it was breakfast.

"Surgeon Wardell and his team expect you," he said, smiling at her. "Treatment time."

A nervous flutter grew in her belly at his words and ran her hand through her hair, tugging it over her shoulder. Even though she'd seen her schedule stating she'd be with Surgeon Wardell this morning, Lottie had hoped she would have more time to adjust to her life here before facing the FAR and donors. "I did that already, though. Didn't I?"

"Nope," Cleveland replied.

When she didn't move, Cleveland made a motion for her to come with him. Turning, he pulled open her door and waited for her to pass through.

Lottie shifted her weight from foot to foot, unable to move. Cleveland's eyebrow lifted in an inquiry. "You don't want to be late," he prompted.

She jerked her head up and down in agreement. Goldin had stressed punctuality, and she had no desire to learn what the punishment would be for not obeying, yet her feet wouldn't move.

Cleveland's relaxed expression faded. "They weren't kidding," he muttered, frowning at her. "Now, Asset."

Her feet unglued themselves from their spot on the floor, and she took a hesitant step forward, her stride becoming surer with each step. In the span of a breath or two, Lottie reached and then past Cleveland, and she now stood in the hall awaiting his instructions.

"To your right. End of the hall. Down the stairs," he ordered. "The medical rooms."

Forcing her feet forward, Lottie retraced her steps from last week, heading toward the stairs at the end of the hall. Descending one level, she turned, and without Cleveland's prompting, she made her way back to the old guard station. There she waited until he pushed past her and pulled the door to it open. "It isn't locked."

"It isn't?"

He tsked her, and Lottie felt her cheeks warm. Thinking back, she couldn't remember if Goldin had used a key on the door or not.

"Go through there,"—Cleveland said, indicating the door opposite—"and then turn right. Room one forty-one."

Lottie nodded and followed his instructions.

Stopping in front of the door, she took a deep breath. Did she go in? Knock? The decision was made for her a second later when the door opened, bumping her toes when she failed to jump out of the way fast enough.

"Oh, there you are," Wardell said in greeting and held the door open for her.

Moving into the room, Lottie looked around. The room was stark with bare white walls, and aside from the table and chairs in the middle of the room, there wasn't any other furniture. Sitting on the table was a keyboard, notepad, and a communication device. The electronics looked newer than Casey's but were still really old. Behind the monitor was another man who worked on attaching the communication device to a contraption that looked like a printer yet wasn't. Nestled under the table were two lightly padded folding chairs and one stool that swiveled, and on the wall was another one-way mirror.

"Have a seat, and we'll get started," Wardell said and motioned to the chair facing the monitor. He walked around the table and sat, pulling the notepad closer. He made a few notes while he waited for her to take a seat. Lottie took a deep breath, and after a glance at the man fiddling with the cables, she dragged the chair out and sat. Once she settled, Wardell's gaze lifted from his page of notes to meet hers.

"Today, we will begin matching your preferences to our honored guests." Wardell's tone was displeased, and Lottie wondered why. "Surgeon Scarsi and I will be showing you a series of images and monitoring your reactions. Based on that information, we will then introduce you to the guest donor that most closely matches your interests." Wardell paused as if collecting his thoughts. "Should we fail to find a suitable match, this time, you will be given leave of the mandatory interactions and encouraged to forge your own connections. We evaluate your preferences on a regular schedule." Wardell stared at her, and Lottie wondered what her proper response should be, but before she could dwell on it too long, Wardell glanced at his notes. Flipping open a manila folder, he read for a moment, and then said, "Tell me about your pregnancy."

Lottie's gaze dropped to the table in front of her. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was talk about Greysen. What could she say? She assumed her pregnancy had been healthy. She didn't know for sure; she didn't have anything to compare it too. Her finger traced the wood grain on the table's surface. Around and around. Slowly spiraling in and then out.

"Private Forrester?"

Her focus snapped from the table in front of her to Wardell's blue eyes. She cleared her throat. "It was normal, I guess."

"Bleeding? Vomiting? Headaches? Pain?"

Lottie shook her head 'no' to each one of his questions.

"Hmm," he replied and noted something on a paper in the folder. "That's good to know, but I'm still troubled. How did your baby die?"

She tore her gaze from Wardell's and blinked. She had no idea what to say, and the tears were already threatening.

"Did you carry to term?" he asked and waited for her to respond. Lottie gave a small nod and sniffed. "Did you deliver?" Again she nodded. Wardell's lips turned down in a frown. "Live?" A tear trickled down her cheek, and she nodded. "Healthy?"

She inhaled a long shuddery breath.

"You said yesterday that no one killed your baby, so I need to know what happened to the infant." Wardell pressed. "I can't cater your treatments to your specific needs if I don't know what to watch for."

Why, oh why, hadn't she thought of a convincing lie to tell about Greysen? She sniffed. It was poor planning on her part, but Lottie hadn't expected anyone to know she'd ever been pregnant. In hindsight, she should have thought about the eventuality that someone would find out about him, but that didn't help her now. Lottie needed an answer that was both plausible and stuck as close to the truth as possible. It was far too late now to rehearse a better response. "I couldn't take him with me," she whispered.

"That's..." Wardell cleared his throat, sympathy clear in his expression. "That's unfortunate." He was silent for a moment. "How long ago?"

Lottie's foot tapped up and down in agitation. How should she answer?

Wardell glanced at his notes, looked at his comrade, and then scribbled something on the page. The scratching of his pen sounded loud and accusatory in the small room. Finishing his thought, Wardell caught her gaze over the monitor. His eyebrow twitched up, and he gave her a slight smile. "All right. We'll let that question go for now. But you might want to think about how you can have old stretch mark scars and yet recently lose your baby."

She twitched her head in response and licked her lips.

"Now, Private Forrester, tell me about the donor?" He stumbled over the word. "Or should I say, father, since your infant's conception was before your enlistment?"

Lottie's fingers intertwined, and her knuckles grew white with the strength of her grip. Wardell didn't seem to notice. "Donor," she replied. Lottie would never _ever_ think of her attacker as Greysen's father. That was Casey's job. No one else's.

"Donor," Wardell reaffirmed and jotted something down in her file. "What can you tell me about him?"

Her lip curled in anger and disgust. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Wardell's lips pinched together in disapproval, and he tapped his pen against the paper. After an agonizingly long time, he tossed his pen down and huffed. "Fine. We won't discuss him at the moment." Wardell took a deep breath and then tried to smile at her. He didn't take his focus from her, but addressed his fellow scientist, "Surgeon Scarsi, please hook Private Forrester up to the EEG machine." After indicating the printer with a wave of his hand, he added, "And I'll queue up some enlistment photos. We'll measure your responses, and then you will be free to go."

"Okay," she murmured.

Wardell reached forward and spun the monitor around to face him while Surgeon Scarsi approached her. Brushing the hair from her forehead, he placed a hat like contraption on her head and then adjusted the probes so that they touched her skin. All the while, Wardell was typing away on the keyboard in front of him.

"She's ready," Scarsi announced.

Wardell turned the monitor back around and began, "Please sit back and relax while we show you a series of images. There will be no need to say anything. The EEG will do the talking for you." He glanced at Lottie over the screen. "Understood?"

Lottie nodded.

"Scarsi?"

A pen in his hand, Scarsi nodded and rolled the stool around the table to sit where he could monitor the machine printout and watch over Lottie's shoulder. He clicked the back of the pen, extending the ballpoint's roller. "Ready."

"Excellent," Wardell replied.

He clicked a key on the keyboard, and the monitor jumped to life in front of Lottie. The screen flashed an image of a young brown-haired man smiling at the camera, but before Lottie could do more than identify those few details, the picture changed, showing another smiling man. The screen kept up a steady barrage of images with no discernable pattern. Every once in awhile, Scarsi would note something on his notepad before sitting back to watch. After his umpteenth note, Scarsi interrupted the process. "More from the Thirty-Forty, Charlie, Bravo-three and Bravo-four, Oscar."

"Understood," Wardell replied and typed a few things into the keyboard. A moment later, images of white men with dark brown hair began flashing on the screen with more frequency. With each image, Lottie felt her heart rate accelerate. She tried to control it, but her breath puffed from her in short erratic bursts. Right as Lottie felt like she would pass out from hyperventilation, Scarsi requested fewer images from that test group and ordered a new set. "Twenty-Thirty, Charlie, Bravo-one, and Bravo-two, Romeo."

"Understood," Wardell acknowledged, and a few clicks of the keyboard later, there were fewer images of black-haired men and more of the sandy brown to blond hair persuasion. Lottie breathed a sigh of relief.

"Try Thirty-Forty, Bravo, Bravo-three and Bravo-four, Bravo-two."

After Scarsi's request, there were fewer images of white men and more with warm brown skin tones of Hispanic and African-American descent.

"Interesting," Scarsi murmured.

"We have time for one last grouping."

"Try Twenty-Thirty Alpha, Bravo-four, Oscar."

Wardell began typing. A moment later, the program started adding images of soldiers with Asian ancestry. Lottie was sure she even saw Ito flash on the screen, but it was gone before she could confirm it. A few pictures later, the program came to a stop, and the screen turned black as the last image faded from view.

Scarsi stood and began removing the EEG headdress.

"Recommendation?" Wardell asked Scarsi.

Pulling the device free, Scarsi replied, "Master Sergeant Kenzie or First Sergeant Burkholder. But I'd try Kenzie first."

Wardell made a note on her file. "I will inform Surgeon Underwood."

Scarsi set the sensors down and pulled the printout from the machine. "Look at this," he said, pointing to something on the page.

"Ah," Wardell replied and glanced at Lottie. "That could be problematic."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You've gone this far."

"True," Wardell said and nodded. "No matter." He turned to Lottie and asked, "Do you know the meeting room location?"

Lottie shook her head. The only rooms she knew were the cafeteria, the library, the two medical offices, and her bedroom.

Wardell's lips thinned, but before he could say anything, the door to the medical room pushed open. "Is the asset finished?"

Turning, Lottie faced Goldin as Wardell acknowledged his presence. "She is."

_Goldin?_ It was odd. She couldn't remember a time when her guard changed, and she wondered why Goldin was here now and not Cleveland.

"Good. Come along," Goldin said.

Lottie gave him a tense nod and stood. Following him out the door, he led her back toward the main facility. Passing through the guard room, Lottie watched him closely and was pleased to note that, just as Cleveland had indicated, Goldin didn't fiddle with the door's lock in any way. After that, he brought her to the cafeteria. Pushing through the door, she stepped up to the food line and made her plate. Once finished, she followed Goldin to her room.

"Your ten-hundred to eleven-hundred duty is waived for the day. I will be back for your mid-day meal, and then either Cleveland or myself will be back to escort you to your fourteen-hundred duty."

She nodded once to acknowledge him. "I'll be ready."

"Good," he said. Clicking his heels together, Goldin pivoted and left Lottie to her breakfast. Lottie didn't even wait for the sound of the lock sliding home before she tucked into the meal. The eggs were a bit runny, but her growling stomach didn't care.

Swallowing the last bites, Lottie sat back and rubbed her stomach. She still felt hungry. Sighing, she stood, moved her plate to her bookshelf to get it out of the way, and then went to her bedroom, where she grabbed a book off her nightstand. One good thing about having the socializing hour in the library was all the books. She'd selected a few before leaving Monday night, and she eagerly opened the one she'd started.

Settling into her chair, she began reading, and hours later, Lottie was so deep into her imagination between the handsome hero and the spunky heroine that she didn't even hear her door unlock or the door push open. "Come along, Asset," Goldin barked, and Lottie squealed, snapping her head up and pressed her hand to her chest. Her book fell from her lap to the floor and made her jump again at its thump.

Goldin glared. "Now, Asset."

Lottie nodded at Goldin and scooped up her book with tingling fingers. Dropping it on the small end table next to her chair, she stood, grabbed her dirty dish from the bookshelf, and joined him at the door. As she slid past him, he ordered her to the cafeteria.

Once there, Lottie swapped out her old tray for a new and returned to her room, where she wolfed down the sandwich and the apple she'd taken for her lunch. As soon as she swallowed the last bite, Goldin ordered her to clean up and meet him in the hall.

Taking a quick bathroom break, Lottie splashed water on her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. She had housekeeping duty today, and she wondered who would be with her for the next two hours.

Unfortunately, yesterday had been quiet during KP duty with Zoe. Lottie had been unable to get her to talk while they prepared and cooked the meal for the fifty-some-odd souls at Gates.

Pushing her disappointment away, she joined Goldin in the hall. Arriving at the stairs, Goldin led her to the medical wing, where Lottie saw a familiar face.

"Hello, Grace."

"Charlotte."

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Goldin cleared his throat. "Get to work, assets."

Grace nodded once before turning and heading down the hall, leaving Goldin at the door.

"We'll be cleaning medical rooms one twenty through one twenty-five, and then if there is time, we'll continue on the rooms above twenty-five 'til time runs out."

"Okay."

"Go get the supplies while I tidy the first room."

Lottie watched her mother enter a room further down the hall. Lottie cast around. She had no idea where to find the supply closet. _Um._ She took a few hesitant steps, but before she went too far, Grace poked her head back into the hallway.

"The door at the end of the hall. Marked as Maintenance," Grace replied to her silent inquiry. "Door's not locked," she added and then disappeared again.

Now knowing where to go, Lottie strode to the door Grace had indicated and pulled it open to reveal a small walk-in custodial closet. Entering the enclosed space, Lottie inspected her options.

She hadn't been inside for more than a minute before a voice behind her startled her. "You caused quite a stir twenty-two years ago." It was Grace.

Reaching down, Lottie picked up the hand-held carrier of cleaning supplies from the lower shelf. Her fingers tightened around the wooden handle. The worn wood both pocked and silky smooth from years of use. She turned to face her mother. "Oh?"

Grace smiled tightly. The corner of her lip pulled higher on one side than the other, and Lottie bit her lower lip. _Her smile's like mine._ Taking the caddy from Lottie and placing it on a rolling cart filled with brushes, rags, and replacement paper products, Grace said, "Grab the mop and bucket, too, will you?"

"Yes. Of course." Goosebumps raced up her arms at her mother's voice, making her skin feel tight and oversensitive with nervous pleasure. She had no idea what to expect. Their first meeting two days ago had left Lottie confused and a bit wary, and their meeting today was not starting strong.

The mop and bucket in hand, Lottie followed Grace as she dragged the cart and backed out of the custodial closet.

As they walked, Grace spoke, her tone quiet and distant. "You were the first female infant of my enlistment class and my first baby."

"I know."

"After your birth, I held you in my arms. Nuzzled your nose. You were so tiny. Delicate. Beautiful. Perfect in every way."

Lottie felt her cheeks flush with pleasure. She could say the same about her son, and it warmed her to hear her mom talk about her the same way.

"I wanted to kill you."

The air whistled through Lottie's teeth as she sucked in hard at the pronouncement. "Why?"

Stopping in the corridor, Grace turned to look at her. "I didn't want you to have to do this,"—she said, her hand indicating their location—"I would have too, but they took you away before I could."

Glancing down the hall, Lottie noted Goldin hadn't moved from his post by the door. It prevented her from trying to escape, but it also meant he wouldn't be able to hear them from where he stood if they were quiet.

"An hour. That's all I had with you. And then the FAP took you from me. I didn't even get the customary eight weeks."

She sounded so sad, so defeated. Lottie didn't know what to do. She went to touch Grace's shoulder, but Grace sidestepped her hand, and wrenching the closest door open, she entered, dragging the supply cart behind her. Once inside, Grace continued, "I'd hoped they would assign you to an out-of-state communal. I didn't want to see you again."

Lottie stood in the threshold. Speechless.

"But there you were, in the nursery, taunting me with your every breath." Grace turned her tortured gaze to Lottie, and that's when Lottie knew, without a doubt, that her mom had given up. _I have to get her out of here._ "I'd hoped..." Grace took a shuddering breath, grabbed the mop and bucket from Lottie's hand, and then went on, "It wouldn't have been so bad—I guess—you being in the Fort St. Louis facility, but then I got out. Was _awarded_ to a General for my excellent _service_." Grace huffed a laugh. "And then... Here. And I knew— _knew_ —you would follow."

Falling silent once again, Grace turned and settled the mop handle against the cart.

Lottie couldn't bear the hurt look and broken words a moment longer. She had to say something. Anything. "I can't imagine how hard it was for you. Losing so many babies. The live births and the miscarriages..." Lottie said in sympathy. "Do you think you will lose the one you are carrying now—like the twins?"

Grace froze. Slowly her hand, which held the mop, dropped to her side, and she straightened. Turning to face Lottie, her eyes were wide. "How did you know about that?"

"What?" Lottie asked, confused, and then remembered Ford's words. They hadn't announced Grace's pregnancy yet. "Oh, Ford and Cleveland were talking about your current pregnancy when I arrived—"

"—Not that," Grace interrupted. "The twins. In May. How did you know about that?"

"What do you mean?" Lottie asked, but she had a sinking suspicion she knew.

"No one except FCO Aliprandi, Surgeon Nizzola, Surgeon Underwood, and I knew they were twins," Grace answered. "Yet, you do. How?"

Lottie could have smacked herself. This was an example of why she refused to talk to anyone after she ran away. She winced and stammered, "It... I..." Lottie hadn't planned on telling Grace the truth yet, but it looked like her mistake had decided for her. She looked away from Grace. There was so much anger in her mother already, and Lottie feared the truth would only make it worse. "I read it in your file." _Well, Casey did, and he told me about it._

"My file?"

Lottie nodded, her chest tightening, and a shiver traveled up her spine.

"You couldn't have," Grace whispered angrily. "Not if you've been on the run for four years."

_Uh-oh._ Lottie wrapped her arms around her torso to hide her shaking hands. There didn't seem to be anything left for her to do but to tell the whole truth. "I'm here to rescue you and Zoe."

"What?!"

"Shh," Lottie hissed, untucking her hands to pat the air in a 'not so loud' motion. "I know some... people... that have made my arrival here a possibility. I'm going to get you guys out. We're not staying here."

Grace stared at her, blinking, and not saying a word.

Lottie knew that look. It was a look of betrayal, and Lottie had to say something else. "Grace?"

Her mother didn't reply.

Fearing all was lost, Lottie added while trying to win Grace back, "You have a grandson. I named him Greysen. He's waiting for me—with those people—and I want you to come with me and meet him."

The blood drained from Grace's face so fast, Lottie was afraid the older woman would faint. Lottie didn't know what to do.

At last, Grace spoke, "You are insane. I am not going to stand here and listen to you." Grace pushed past Lottie and marched out of the medical room. Her voice raised to Goldin at the end of the hall. "I'm sick. I need to go lay down."

Lottie's throat tightened, and she felt tears threaten.

There was this one time—back before Basic training—when she had volunteered to help in the communal home kitchen before a celebration. That day Lottie had burned her hand on the heating element inside the oven.

There had been no pain at first, no immediate blistering. Instead, the skin had slid off the back of her hand, leaving a shiny pink, weeping mess in its wake. But then, as Lottie watched, her skin started to bubble and leak fluid, and her brain had realized what had happened. The pain had been intense. It had knocked the breath from her.

Lottie knew that her mother walking away felt like the burn. No pain. Not yet. But it was coming. Once her brain caught up to the fact her mother shredded her heart, Lottie would hurt. She would burn so much that it would be hard to function.

Swallowing against the growing pain, Lottie forced herself to begin cleaning the room. She needed to lose herself in the task, and afterward, she could mourn the loss of her mother.

***

At the end of her housekeeping duty, Lottie begged Goldin to let her take a walk in the courtyard, and he'd agreed. He led her to a door sandwiched between room one-hundred fifteen and one-hundred nineteen in the asset wing. She stepped through the door and made her way to the first bench she saw, and as she collapsed into it, Lottie had let her turbulent emotions run free.

Pain, sharp and insistent, burned in Lottie's chest, and she sniffed. Her eyes felt raw and itchy from holding back her tears.

_At least Goldin let me go outside. Alone._

Several minutes of crying later, Lottie wiped her eyes and looked around. The leaves that clung to trees were rust-brown, and the grass held a tinge of the vibrant green of summer. She supposed it was due to the courtyard's enclosure. It was as beautiful on the ground as it had been from her window.

She sighed.

It was so peaceful. Tranquil. Perfect.

Lottie shivered. Her long-sleeved uniform not up to the task of keeping her warm, but she didn't want to leave yet. She listened to the wind rustling through the branches overhead. It soothed her frayed nerves, and the crackle of leaves helped her feel isolated. Alone. In short, it felt good to be outside.

"Ma'am."

Lottie turned toward the voice.

A soldier stood a respectful distance away. Lottie knew him by the guards' nickname: _Mr. Movie Star._ Lottie agreed with their assessment. The man had a classic strong jaw, a defined nose, high cheekbones, light brown hair, and deep blue eyes. He was a handsome man. She let her gaze wander and take in the rest of him. He wore a regulation wool coat with several service pins attached to the breast of his jacket, and his name tag announced him as Major Sergeant Kenzie.

She wondered if he was the soldier she saw from her window every morning.

He took a step closer. "May I join you?" he asked, his voice betraying a slight southern twang.

She glanced behind him, and then back toward the door she'd used. No one was nearby. She didn't think he would try to hurt her, but being alone with him made her a bit nervous. She nodded and scooted to the edge of the bench in the pretense of making more room.

"Charlotte, right?" he asked as he sat down.

Again she only nodded. It didn't surprise her that this man knew her name. All the dignitaries probably did.

"The name's Leo. Leo Kenzie." He held his hand out.

No rank?

Lottie looked at his offered hand a beat too long, but before he could retract his friendly gesture, she grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Call me, Lottie." Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment. She didn't know why she'd asked him to use her nickname. She assumed it was because he looked a bit like Casey.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Lottie."

Lottie tucked her hair behind her ear. She didn't know what to say.

"Are you settling in well?" he asked.

She blinked.

Kenzie chuckled. "Yeah, me neither."

"What do you mean?" Lottie assumed the facility was pretty much every man's fantasy made flesh.

He shrugged and looked out across the lawn. "I'm not used to being... idle."

Boredom.

Lottie could relate. "What did you do before becoming a donor?"

Kenzie frowned and then snorted. "AHC. Husbandry." He took a deep breath and turned back to her, and she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap, unable to meet his eyes.

"I never expected to feel like a stud for hire." Kenzie's pronouncement fell heavy between them.

She asked, "You don't want to be here?"

"I never said that. I want to do my duty. To help my country overcome the crisis. Only," Kenzie paused and leaned forward, his hands rested next to his knees. His fingers curled around the edge of the bench. "I expected the experience to be a bit? Different."

"What did you expect?" Lottie asked, finally able to look at him directly.

Kenzie was quiet for a minute, collecting his thoughts. "Honestly, I don't know." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "The contract specifies we are to form connections with multiple partners, but I guess," Kenzie trailed off. "I guess I thought all y'all would want to be here for the same reasons I am. Honor. Duty. Because you want to do something positive for the country. But all y'all are like caged mares taken to a jack for his service."

His words surprised her. "Of course we're broodmares. We didn't ask to be here." Lottie bit her lip. _Liar._

He glanced at her and then looked away. "My contract stated that all of the female enlisted would be available for sexual activity. It doesn't say anywhere that you are brought here—quite probably against your will—and never leave. It's wrong, and I don't like it." Kenzie fell silent.

Lottie looked out at the courtyard grounds. It was nice to hear not all the donors at Gates felt the same as Ito.

"They didn't give you an option of coming here, right?" Kenzie asked, breaking the quiet that surrounded them. "No contract providing special compensation and promotions for donating your time and genetic material? Did they even tell you what to expect?"

"No," Lottie answered.

"What did _you_ expect?"

"To be raped repeatedly," Lottie whispered and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth.

Kenzie recoiled and shifted his weight to look at her. "Is that true?"

Lottie shook her head in denial, even as she'd spoken her truth. She couldn't believe she had said that to him.

His eyes narrowed, and he studied her face. "It is true. Is that why you were crying? Did one of the others try something?"

Again she shook her head.

Kenzie looked at her quizzically, and his head tilted to the side. "Then, why were you crying?"

Dropping her hands to wrap them around her torso, she shivered and took a deep breath. "My mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yes. Private Grace Townsend." Lottie pressed her lips closed. She didn't need to volunteer this information.

When she was quiet for too long, Kenzie prompted, "Your mother?"

_Must be my day for confessions,_ Lottie thought grumpily. "She's here. I just met her."

Kenzie sighed in understanding. "So... it didn't go well?"

Lottie huffed a laugh. It sounded weak and watery to her ears. "No. Not at all."

He nodded. "Bet she was pissed."

"Yeah, a little bit."

"I would be too if my daughter ended up here."

"But you would never know that."

Kenzie shrugged. "True." He glanced up at the trees. "So, she had you, and then at some point had a child naturally, which means they watched you, and once enlisted, sent here?"

Lottie gave a tight nod.

"Makes sense," he replied. "You're what, eighteen? You don't look old enough to have figured out that natural conception thing on your own." Kenzie ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his face. "Makes me feel like a perverted old man."

"Twenty-two."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"Only eleven years difference. That makes me feel _so_ much better."

She chuckled. "I'm not planning on doing anything with you anyway."

He threw his head back, laughed.

A sharp pang of homesickness twisted deep in her chest, and a flush inched up the back of her neck. "Sorry, Master Sergeant Kenzie. That was rude of me."

"God, no," he said, chuckling. "It's Leo. Please."

"Okay... Leo," Lottie whispered. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"No, no, no. Don't hold back now, Miss Lottie. Tell me how you really feel about being here."

"It's just—"

"I was teasing," he said, cutting her off. He stared at her, and after a beat, Leo added, "You're cold. Go inside. Get warm."

Lottie nodded, then stood. Leo was right; she was cold, and as she turned to walk away, Leo called out, and she stopped mid-step. "I promise it'll get better—with your mother—give her time."

Lottie nodded again and left the courtyard.

***

The muffled sound of laughter grew louder as Keys pushed the cafeteria door open, and Lottie glanced up at him for confirmation. Was she supposed to do her laundry in the kitchen? He nodded once and swept his arm behind her back to propel her forward. Her bag of dirty laundry twisted between her legs, and she stumbled. After righting herself, Lottie walked toward the voices hesitantly.

"Sadie, girl!" a voice Lottie believed to be Nyah's squealed, and another woman chuckled. "Your hair is a mess, and you're blushing." A beat later, Nyah added, "Does this mean you convinced hunky Burkholder to do the in-room-boom-shake-a with you?"

"Nyah," a woman said in a slightly scolding tone. "She doesn't have to kiss and tell for your entertainment."

Groaning, Nyah replied, "I know that Gwen. But look at her! She has the freshly fucked look about her and I—"

"Nyah," Gwen cut her off as Lottie drew close enough to see inside the kitchen.

The three women stood near the sink, and Nyah had her back to the large serving window. Her hand hovered over the tap, poised to turn the water on. "What?"

"You know I don't like that word."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—"

"Nyah!"

"What? Are you my communal home director?"

"Nyah," Gwen said. She sounded exasperated, and Lottie smiled. She'd felt the same way about Nyah on Monday, but despite her coarse and immature behavior, Lottie liked her a lot.

Dropping her hand away from the faucet, Nyah turned toward Gwen. Her hand rubbed her belly. "I'm sorry, Gwen." Lottie was surprised. Nyah sounded contrite. "I'll try to remember, okay?"

"That's all I ask," Gwen said with a smile.

Shrugging, Nyah grinned. "That rememberin' shit's hard. I ain't promising nutin'."

"Thank you," Gwen said and rolled her eyes, catching sight of Lottie lingering in the doorway. "Ah, Charlotte. Just in time. Come in! Come in!"

"Hi," Lottie greeted the trio.

"Put your bag over there." Nyah waved and pointed to the other canvas bags on the floor near the back of the kitchen. "We'll do linens first, right, Sadie?"

"Sure. Whatever you say, Nyah."

Lottie turned to look at the other woman in the room and greeted her.

"Hello, Charlotte," Sadie replied. "Come with me. We'll sort the laundry while Nyah and Gwen get the water ready."

"All right," she agreed and followed Sadie to the back of the room. Nyah was right. Sadie did have a freshly sexed look about her. Several tendrils of her light brown hair had pulled free of her ponytail, and close to the tie, her hair was tugged upwards in loose loops, almost as if someone's fingers had been buried deep within and had then pulled free. Lottie could picture several ways to get hair that messy, and each image made Lottie blush a little deeper.

"We weren't formally introduced on Monday. I'm Sadie."

"Glad to meet you," Lottie acknowledged as they pulled the bags open.

"I hope you're finding your way around, okay."

"Um. Sure."

"It's a big place. But luckily, there are only a few wings open for us, so you should learn where everything is in no time."

When Lottie didn't say anything else, Sadie turned away and began sorting the laundry into smaller piles. After separating the clothes, undergarments, and bedding, Lottie brought the first pile to Nyah, who stood at the sink, rubbing her lower back. Lottie remembered how much her back ached at this same stage of pregnancy. "Here, let me do the wash," Lottie said, gaining Nyah's attention. "You should probably sit down."

Nyah moved away from the sink and sunk into a chair Sadie brought her. "Thanks. You're a doll," Nyah said.

Taking her place next to Gwen, Lottie dumped the linens into the water. Pushing them under, she asked, "When are you due?"

"Any day now, thank God. But the end of November is the official date."

"Looking forward to it?"

Nyah shrugged. "As much as I can, I guess. Surgeon Phillip is cautiously optimistic."

Swirling the laundry, Lottie began to scrub it against the washboard Gwen handed her. "Optimistic? Why optimistic?"

"She's lost all her babies since she got here," Gwen whispered. "And most of the ones before."

But before Lottie could express her sympathy, Nyah spoke. "Yeah. He thinks Aliprandi's figured out what's been going on. I've been taking this nasty tasting medicine for the past few weeks." Lottie glanced at Nyah over her shoulder. The woman had her feet up on a wooden crate and was rubbing her belly. "This one feels good and strong, so I hope the med works." Nyah caught her looking. "You want to feel him?"

"Yes."

"Dry your hands, girl, and get over here then. God help me, he's active right now."

A flutter grew in Lottie's belly. Feeling Greysen move inside her had been magical, and she missed it. Missed him. In her opinion, it had been the best part of being pregnant.

Gwen handed her a towel, and Lottie dried her hands with it, then walked over and knelt next to Nyah. Nyah grabbed Lottie's hand and put it high on her stomach. "I think that's his foot. And over here," she said, moving Lottie's hand, "I'm pretty sure is a sharp-ass elbow."

Nyah's baby pressed outward against her belly, and Lottie felt the back of her eyes prick with unshed tears. _Miraculous._ She looked up and saw the three women staring at her. "What?" Lottie asked, concerned at what their expressions meant for her.

"Honey?" Nyah asked, her voice hushed and tentative. Lottie was sure she wouldn't like what Nyah was about to say. "I know that look. How many have you had?"

When had she become so easy to read? Lottie hoped she wasn't single-handedly destroying her mission's only chance of success with her apparent inability to keep her emotions hidden. She hung her head. She'd planned on telling one—maybe two—people about Greysen, but here she was, yet again, feeling pressured to mention him. "Just one."

No one said anything for several minutes, but eventually, Nyah cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Which surgeon did you get?"

Lottie sighed in relief at the safer topic. "Wardell," she answered and stood to rejoin Gwen at the sinks. "Rinsing?"

"Yes," Gwen replied at the same time as Nyah said, "Oh, he's dreamy. Much better looking than Phillip. Too bad we can't screw the scientists."

"Nyah," Gwen chided.

"What? I didn't say fuck."

"Nyah!"

Lottie snorted, and Sadie chuckled. Taking the freshly rinsed sheets from Gwen, Sadie then proceeded to wring them out. "Nyah, all you think about is sex," Sadie said.

"Not true."

"Liar," Sadie said with a laugh. "You'd be off having sex right now if it wasn't for that baby in your belly."

Lottie shook her head and fished the newly cleaned clothes from the sink and gave them to Gwen to rinse. Lottie then drained the dirty water, and while it was refilling, she grabbed the last pile of laundry from the floor. After dumping them into the warm water, Lottie began to scrub.

"If it wasn't for your pregnancy," Sadie argued. "You'd be off right now doing the dirty deed. Laundry, be damned."

"Gwen," Nyah called with a wheedling tone. "Sadie's swearing."

"I noticed." Sneaking a peek at Gwen, Lottie saw a smirk on the older black woman's face, and Lottie wondered if the cursing ban was more to raze Nyah than for any real objection to the swear words.

"Aren't you going to do anything about it?" Nyah whined again.

Lottie glanced over her shoulder, and Nyah winked at her.

"Nope. It's true. After," Gwen trailed off. Turning to face Nyah, she asked, "How long has it been?"

"Forever!"

"No, seriously, how long?"

Dropping the wet clothes back into the sink, Lottie moved to face Nyah. Nyah grinned at them. "Seven incredibly long months."

Gwen nodded. "After seven months, I bet you'd even take what's his name."

"Kemberton," Sadie offered.

Lottie had no idea who they were talking about.

"Yeah, him," Gwen said.

"God, no! I didn't like him," Nyah said with a groan.

Movement caught Lottie's eye, and she glanced at Sadie by the clothesline. She'd stopped hanging the bedding and was now gesturing toward Nyah. "You liked him enough for that."

Nyah snorted. "Not him. The sex."

Looking at Lottie and Gwen, Sadie pointed at Nyah and said, "See! Sex."

"Girl! You're one to talk." At the tone of her voice, Lottie snapped her focus back to Nyah in concern. But one look at the woman proved she was having a good time and not angry at all.

"Who said I had sex?"

"Please." Nyah drew the word out for effect. "Not only do you look like you just had sex, walk like you just had sex, you smell like it too."

Sadie grinned, shrugged, and turned back to the clothes on the line.

The dismissal had Nyah laughing out loud again. "Bitch!" she yelled through her chortles.

Lottie shook her head. Turning back to the sink, she plunged her hands into the rapidly cooling water and asked Gwen, "Is she always like that?"

Gwen nodded. "Worse, usually. I never met a woman who wanted sex as much as her."

"I can't even masturbate." Nyah sighed theatrically. "Might hurt the baby," she said mockingly. Nyah was silent a moment, but it didn't last for long. "Oh!"

At Nyah's exclamation, Lottie dropped the shirt she was washing, and the water splashed over the side of the sink.

Lottie murmured an apology to Gwen as Nyah continued, "Don't let the surgeons catch you getting off either. I had to watch porn for hours after that one time! It was pure torture!" Nyah fell silent again, and Lottie hoped Gwen wouldn't notice Lottie's blush. With another shocking statement, Nyah said, "But you _can_ do it in the shower."

Gwen's hands flicked water as she pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead and eyes.

"At least they've never caught me doing it there," Nyah said. "so I think jilling-off in the shower is safe from their prying eyes."

"Nyah," Gwen growled, and this time Lottie was sure Gwen was angry.

"Sorry, Gwen," Nyah murmured and quieted.

They worked in silence for a while, but before it could grow uncomfortable, Nyah resumed speaking. "Hey, Charlotte? Did you go to your donor time today?"

Lottie brushed the hair from her cheek and handed the last of the wash to Gwen, who began rinsing it. "You need help?" Lottie asked, and Gwen shook her head. "Mind if I sit?" Lottie inquired.

"Go ahead," Gwen said.

"Thanks," Lottie said to Gwen and then hopped up on the counter, facing Nyah in her chair. "I didn't have a treatment today."

"What about the Optional time? Didn't you have that?"

"It's optional," Lottie said.

"But don't you want to meet the donors?" Nyah asked. She genuinely sounded curious.

"Well, I met Leo—"

"Leo?"

Lottie scratched her cheek. "Um," she stalled, trying to recall Leo's rank. "Master Sergeant Kenzie."

"Oh, him. He's cute. His accent is annoying, though."

Sadie interrupted, "You'd have sex with him."

" _That_ goes without saying!" Nyah grinned and fanned her face. "I can't wait to try out Jeremiah's talented tongue." The statement caused Gwen to shake her head, but she didn't say anything. "Where's he from anyway?" Nyah asked.

"Who?"

"Leo," Nyah said in a sing-song.

Lottie couldn't remember if he'd mentioned it or not. "I don't know. We didn't talk for that long."

"Why not?"

How could she easily explain the emotional fallout from her meeting with her mother? "I had housekeeping duty with Grace. It didn't go well."

"Ah," Nyah said.

"Optional donor time is the best, though," Sadie added and sat down next to Lottie. "It's casual, and usually held in the game room, but really, you can meet anywhere on the campus that is open for use. You can even have them in your room if you want. No questions asked."

"That's encouraged," Gwen said, drawing their attention. She was drying her hands, and after indicating the wet lump of clothes in a pile next to the sink, Sadie hopped down to wring them out then hang them up. "The regular time after your treatments is a bit stiff and formal, and Surgeon Underwood found that if the donors are allowed to be at ease that they tend to make better connections with the women here."

"Better connections equals more babies." Nyah cracked her knuckles. "Besides, it alleviates boredom."

"That too," Gwen agreed.

"But it's optional, right?" Lottie asked, not wanting any kind of one-on-one time with the donors. "I don't have to be with any of them, do I?"

"No, you don't," Sadie and Gwen said in unison, and at the same time, Nyah exclaimed, "Why wouldn't you?!"

Lottie felt her cheeks grow warm as she blushed for the second time that night.

Nyah pushed herself out of her chair and waddled closer. Grabbing Lottie's cheeks between both of her hands, she looked deep into Lottie's eyes. Seeming to find a confirmation within Lottie's expression, Nyah shrieked, "I knew it! There was a man."

"Nyah," Gwen chided, and Nyah let go of Lottie's face to wrap her in a hug. The hard press of the baby in Nyah's belly pushed the air from Lottie's lungs in a whoosh.

"Let her go," Gwen ordered and tugged Nyah free from Lottie. Addressing Lottie, Gwen said, "You don't have to be with any of the donors. It's encouraged but _not_ required. You're allowed to do the standard artificial insemination or in-vitro for your treatments."

Lottie nodded. "Good."

She took a deep breath. Sex was something she wanted to avoid, but the topic of the treatments left Lottie curious. She felt sure that she knew how Nyah felt about the donors, and Lottie had a pretty good idea of Sadie's opinion too if her mussed hairstyle and goofy grin were anything to go by, but she didn't know Gwen's view on the issue. "Gwen?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you, um?" _Take? No. Avail? No. Fuck? No, not that... Sleep with?_

"Shack up with a donor?" Nyah supplied in the wake of Lottie's inability to find the right word to use.

Gwen shot Nyah a look but answered nonetheless. "No. I have not had sex with any of the donors. I won't be untrue to Victor that way, no matter how lonely I get." Gwen stopped speaking, clearly lost in thought. While the three women waited for Gwen to continue speaking, Nyah waddled back to her chair and lowered herself into it. After a bit, Gwen continued, "I was paired with Victor the year I retired from service. He was—is—a wonderful man. He treated me with respect and valued my opinions. I think he even grew to love me as I grew to love him." She paused to take a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was watery with unshed tears. "We had a son together."

"Did you ever have another?" Nyah asked. "In all my years here, I've never seen you pregnant."

"Yes. Twice," Gwen replied. She pushed off the counter and made her way over to a cabinet tucked near the back of the room. "Charlotte?"

"Yes?"

"Did you bring your cup for sanitization?"

Lottie grimaced and stammered, "N-no."

"You've had your initial treatment, though? The one with the sonogram and large needle?"

"Yes," Lottie said and nodded.

"You better go get it from your room then. You're going to need it before the week is out."

Both Nyah and Sadie were nodding vigorously at Gwen's statement.

"Oh, um..." Lottie wasn't sure if Keys would be okay with letting her go, but she took the women at their word and hopped off the counter, prepared to force the issue if need be, but Lottie explained what she needed to Keys, and he escorted her to her room without a fuss.

After she grabbed her cup, they headed back, and as she returned to the kitchen, Lottie caught the tail end of the women's conversation.

"Do you think you'll ever see Victor again? Like when you get out of here?" Nyah asked.

Gwen gave her a small, sad smile and shook her head. "No. I expect they gave him someone new by now."

"Then why be chaste for him if you know he's not waiting for you?"

"I don't want another man. Besides, I'm sure I wouldn't see him again regardless of if he's moved on or not. I'm pretty sure I won't be back in Fort St. Louis. Sandra said they reassigned her to New York. She's leaving this spring. As soon as the snows start to melt."

"They told her where she's going?" Nyah asked.

"Yes. Surprisingly," Gwen replied.

Lottie looked back and forth between Nyah and Gwen. They seemed to know a lot about the inner-workings of the facility. Maybe, if she needed help planning her escape, she could ply them for details.

"Oh, you're back," Gwen said when she saw Lottie lingering in the doorway.

Holding the feminine hygiene product up, Lottie gave it a little shake and said, "I've got it."

"Great. I've got the water ready for you."

"Thanks," Lottie said and dropped the cup into the pot of water before turning on the stove.

"Usually, we leave the laundry to dry overnight, and the breakfast crew folds it up for us."

"Do you have any breakfast KP," Nyah asked.

"No," all three women replied almost in unison. Lottie tried to recall all of her duties. "I have KP. Lunch on Tuesday and Thursdays. Then dinner prep on the weekend."

Nyah made a sound of regret. "I have breakfast duty." Nyah winked at her. "I guess I'll be folding your unmentionables tomorrow." Turning to Gwen, she asked, "You need me for anything else?"

"No. We got the rest of this."

"Thanks, Gwen," Nyah said and yawned. Hauling herself out of her chair, she waddled over to the older woman and kissed her on the cheek. "You're a doll."

"I know," Gwen agreed amiably and patted Nyah on the shoulder. "Now, go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Nyah said and saluted Gwen.

A moment later, they heard Nyah greet Keys, who sat near the door, but the rest of Nyah's conversation with him was lost. Gwen's eyebrow twitched up in silent inquiry, and Lottie wasn't sure what the older woman was asking. Shrugging, Lottie decided she didn't want to know, so she changed the subject, "What else do we do tonight?"

Gwen pointed at the boiling water. "That."

"Good," Lottie said with a stretch. Her back hurt, and she desperately wanted to head to bed, but the sanitation cycle for her cup wasn't complete, and she had five more minutes to wait. Setting the timer next to the stove, she turned back to Gwen and Sadie, who were already talking about something else.

"Was Burkholder courteous?"

"Yes, Gwen."

"Good. That's important," Gwen said. She leaned against the counter and rubbed her eyes. "What do you think of the new donor?"

"Something something Ito?"

"That's the one."

"He's an ass. I don't like him."

Lottie snorted, and both women turned to her.

"You arrived when he did. Was he that bad the whole trip, or did the entitlement attitude manifest once he got here?" Sadie asked.

Thinking about it for a moment, Lottie decided it wasn't prudent to tell them about Ito's attack at the clearing, mentioning it might get her in trouble. She could give them details about some of his other behavior, though. Glancing out the open serving window, Lottie checked on her guard. Keys sat near the door where she'd left him earlier. His attention looked to be firmly in the book in his hands. She took a deep breath and then whispered. "I don't know what Ito's like here, but out there, Truman almost turned us around to take him back. Ito refused the blindfold. Repeatedly."

Sadie sighed. "I'm not surprised. He's the worst I've ever met."

"What happens if all the women avoid him?" Lottie knew Ito expected to have his pick of the women here—he'd told her so often enough—and she didn't know if he'd succeed.

"Someone will work with him—Nyah will, at the very least," Sadie replied. "There are a few other women here who would also put up with his shit in the name of duty."

"Oh." _Not me._

Sadie opened her mouth to say something else, but Lottie's timer went off and interrupted her. Lottie left the two women to handle her business. Fishing out her cup, she dried it off and cleaned the pot with hot water and soap. Once she finished, the two other women collected their things, and they made their way out to the hallway. After a quick goodbye, Gwen and Sadie turned the other way and headed down the hall, leaving Keys to lead Lottie back to her room. Once in her room and locked inside, Lottie grabbed her pajamas and washed up in the bathroom.

Her heart ached. Talking about Greysen with the women had been a mistake. Now, she missed both him and Casey fiercely. Her hands dropped to the sink and curled around the edges. She hung her head.

At least Nyah, Gwen, and Sadie hadn't pressed her for more. Lottie felt sure, though, that Nyah would ask for more details later about 'her man' as Nyah put it. Lottie didn't know what she'd tell the other woman, but probably the truth or at least close to it. All Nyah would care about were the juicy details—not that Lottie had any—but that wouldn't matter to Nyah all that much.

Grinning, Lottie stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed Casey's shirt from the closet. Climbing into bed, she tucked it under her chin and stared out the window, letting her mind drift over the events of the day. After a bit, her mind settled, and she fell asleep watching the stars.

# Chapter 26

Rocking back on his heels, Casey surveyed the construction site of his obstacle course. He expected it would take another two or three weeks of building continuously before his squad could begin using it. _Not too bad,_ he thought with pride, pleased at the speed of the course's development. It was an ambitious project, and his team had exceeded all of his expectations.

Especially Tristan.

Where is he?

Checking on the placement of his current crew, he noted Wade and Jules were in the trees working on one of the many platforms, and Ty and Brandon were sitting on the ground, building a webbed ladder. Unable to find Tristan, Casey detoured to check on their progress.

Drawing near, Casey said, "So, who's the asshole who thought that building an obstacle course in winter was a good idea?"

Ty chuckled, but Brandon jumped to his feet with a stiff salute. "You, sir!"

Casey cocked his eyebrow at the young soldier. He wasn't sure if he felt more amused or annoyed at the exuberant insult. "At ease, Brandon."

"Yes, sir."

Shaking his head, he peered over Ty's shoulder. "How's it coming?"

"Good," Ty replied. "Should be done by the end of today."

"Excellent." Casey straightened. "We'll mount it then—if it's not too dark—tomorrow's crew can start on the last one."

"What else is there to do, sir?" Brandon asked.

"Plenty," Ty answered for Casey. "We also have..."

As Ty began explaining what else was needed, Casey's focus drifted away. _Where is he?_ Scanning the trees, Casey looked for Tristan again but couldn't see him anywhere. Laughter drew his gaze, and he saw Wade shake his head. A small smile tugged at the man's lips, and Jules was grinning from ear to ear, making Casey wonder why.

"I said, are we doing the slide for life and the barbed wire?"

"Huh?" Casey dragged his attention back to the men in front of him, and it took a minute for Ty's question to register. "Oh, yes. Planning on it. Why?"

"Just confirming." Ty bent his head back to his task, and as he did so, he said, "Tristan's at the top of Everest."

"Am I that obvious?"

Ty snorted. "Na. Tristan said you'd be looking for him, and I figured that's why you came over."

Dropping a hand on Ty's shoulder as a way of saying thanks, Casey headed off in the direction of the sixty-foot-tall multi-level tower that acted as one of the hubs for the obstacle course. The structure used a towering Pin Oak as a base for its five alternating levels, each one spiraled around the trunk and sported several methods of ascension. One floor had wooden knobs nailed into planks and used as handholds, another had large holes cut into the planked wall, and then there were the climbing ropes, ladders, steep inclines, and even a narrow set of stairs.

Hoisting himself to the first level, Casey walked over to the central ladder that went all the way up the tree. Grabbing hold, he began to climb. As his eyes crested the top platform, he spied Tristan's boots near the edge. Pulling himself over the lip and onto the platform, Casey asked, "Permission to come aboard, sir?"

Tristan laughed and offered Casey his hand. Clasping it in his, Casey accepted Tristan's assistance in standing, and after helping him up, Tristan said, "Bit of a hike, isn't it."

"That it is," Casey answered, dusting his hands as he joined Tristan at the edge of the observation deck. Looking down, he whistled, thankful he wasn't afraid of heights, unlike a few of his men.

As if knowing Casey's thoughts, Tristan said, "Wu's not going to like it up here."

Casey made a noise in the back of his throat. "He'll have to get over it."

"We can put in a guardrail."

"Do it," Casey ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Tristan said, his tone was mocking, and Casey punched him in the arm.

Tristan grabbed his bicep and mouthed, 'ow.'

Snickering, Casey said, "I get enough of that 'sir' bullshit from Brandon, Lincoln, and Javier, so don't you start."

"Brandon won't quit, huh?"

Casey sighed. "Fuck no. He keeps doing it no matter what I say."

"Want me to talk to him?"

"Won't do any good, but feel free."

Tristan made a noise in the back of his throat, indicating acknowledgment then fell silent.

Taking advantage of the lapse in conversation, Casey surveyed the project's progress. Since each of the obstacle course platforms required mature trees for their stability, Casey's team had to place the platforms quite a ways from each other. This distance made the obstacle course span over half a kilometer in some instances. Casey didn't mind the sprawl. The platforms would serve the dual purpose of being both landing pads for training and deer stands for hunting.

Connecting each platform to the central towers were rope bridges, horizontal ladders, and in some cases, single logs acting as balance beams. The remaining sections, not already connected to the tower hubs, would have zip-lines and other ways to leap-frog across the empty spaces. __

_We'll need to add some cover over there,_ Casey noted. _And an observation point up here._

"Damn fine treehouse, Case," Tristan said. "Damn fine."

Casey smiled. It was. "You outdid yourself again."

Tristan grunted, managing to sound both self-deprecating and smug.

"It is what I wanted when I asked you to design it," Casey said.

After Casey's words of praise, they grew quiet. Casey relieved of his usual requirement to always be alert and on duty, felt his shoulders relax for the first time in a long while. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the sky, checking on the time and the weather, before broaching the topic that had been bothering him. "Maddy's been reinstated."

"Reinstated?" Tristan asked and sat, his legs dangling over the edge. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"That she's pregnant again? Yep. And on her fortieth birthday."

"Damn."

_You're telling me,_ Casey thought and sat next to him.

"I hope Momma's successful in gettin' them out."

_Lottie._ The reference made his heart skipped a beat. The sense of longing Tristan's words evoked surprised Casey with its intensity.

"Any news?" Tristan asked.

"No, but then I didn't expect any."

"I hate not knowin'," Tristan admitted.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Casey nodded in agreement.

"Hey," Tristan said, changing the subject. "I forgot to ask, how're the blocks comin'?"

Casey grinned, recalling the twenty-six small blocks he'd made, each needed to have a letter of the alphabet carved into them. "Good. I have half a dozen or so letters left to carve."

"Which ones?" Tristan asked

"The ones with curves."

"Need help?"

"No," Casey answered. Greysen's solstice present would be made entirely by Casey this time. "I'll have them done in time."

Tristan smacked him on the back. "Good. Hate to disappoint the kid—what with his dad not able to carve a few fuckin' blocks, an all."

"Asshole."

Tristan snorted, trying to hold back his laughter, and Casey felt his cheeks warm. His last attempt at carving a toy for Greysen ended up looking more like a lump of wooden shit than the gun he had intended it to be.

Casey rechecked the sky. It was getting late, and he needed to finish some paperwork. Standing, he helped Tristan up. "I'll catch up to you after Mess."

"Sure," Tristan said and flashed a grin at Casey before hopping off the platform to land on one of the balance beam logs one level below. Running toward Wade and Jules, Tristan leapt the last few feet and land between the two men, startling Jules. Casey could hear the men's laughter from where he stood. Glancing down and then to the ladder, Casey wished they'd already installed the ropes. It would have been a faster descent, but there wasn't a thing he could do about the missing lines, so he turned and made his way down the ladder to the ground below.

***

A not so gentle push between her shoulderblades propelled Lottie through the door and into an empty hallway.

"Thanks," she muttered to Bardeen. He didn't hear her—Lottie hadn't meant for him too—but that didn't stop her from feeling better for having said it.

"Move it."

Lottie silently grumbled as they headed toward the supply closet at the end of the hall. Stopping at the door, she checked the schedule, confirming the rooms that were slated for housekeeping this afternoon. It looked like this wing would be done today, and Lottie looked down the hall, first one direction and then the other. _That is if I have help._ "Who's with me today?" she called down to Bardeen, who had taken up his post at the door leading back to the main facility.

Bardeen ignored her.

"Nice," she grumbled. She hadn't expected a response—not really—but would it have killed Bardeen to give her one? "Well, get going," Lottie ordered herself. "The rooms won't clean themselves." She sighed. "Right."

Pulling the door open, she collected the same cleaning tools from the last two times she had housekeeping duty and dumped them on the rolling cart. Dragging the cart from the closet, Lottie headed down the hall to the first room on the list. She propped the door open, grabbed a rag from the stack of clean cloths, and wet a corner. Wringing it out, Lottie snapped it open and set to work on dusting all the surfaces she could reach.

Lottie finished up dusting the first room when fast-moving steps in the hall drew her attention. The footsteps were light and without long pauses between footfalls. _Not a guard._ Lottie turned to greet the woman arriving late to her duties and was pleased to see a breathless Maggie in the doorway. Maggie squealed and ran over to hug Lottie.

"Sorry! I'm late!"

"That's okay. I just got here."

"Good," Maggie said, releasing Lottie from her embrace. "I have the last lunch, and I never get here on time." Maggie stepped back and grabbed the broom from where Lottie had leaned it against the wall. "I'll finish in here. You want to start on the next one?"

"Sure."

They worked that way for several rooms before Lottie remembered Maggie's pregnancy. The woman was so full of energy that it was easy to forget, and once Lottie remembered, she felt ashamed. Dusting was an easier task than sweeping, Lottie didn't want Maggie to overexert herself. They should trade duties, Lottie decided and stopped to wait for Maggie to catch up to her, but as the minutes ticked past with no Maggie appearing, Lottie grew more worried. What if Maggie was ill? Lottie had made up her mind to go back and force the chore swap when Maggie reached the same room as Lottie.

"Why did you stop? Are you sick?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Me?" Maggie said, her eyes wide in surprise. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Aren't you... pregnant?" Lottie asked. Her cheeks felt warm.

Maggie blinked once and then smiled brightly. Her free hand pressed against her lower belly. "It's not official," she replied. "But yes, I am."

"Then, let me sweep." Lottie held out her hand for the broom.

Maggie looked down at Lottie's hand, her eyebrows furrowed, and with a little shake of her head, she asked, "Why?"

Lottie cleared her throat. "So, you can take it easy."

"Take it easy? Oh! It's all right. I don't mind sweeping."

"I insist."

Maggie handed her the broom in exchange for the dust rag. "Okay. But only if you insist."

"I do."

There was a long, awkward pause in the conversation before Maggie said, "Seriously, you don't have to sweep. I'm perfectly fine."

Lottie's eyebrow twitched, the only indication of her skepticism.

"Truly! Pregnancy doesn't bother me like it does some of the other women," Maggie said.

"It doesn't?"

"Nope," Maggie replied with a giant smile and glanced around the room. It became clear a moment later that she'd been looking for dusty surfaces. "Since you've done this room already, I don't suppose you'd mind if I sit down for a few minutes?"

"No! Please. Sit," Lottie said and waved her hand toward the chairs stacked near the frosted windows.

Maggie pulled one of the chairs off the stack and sat.

Once Maggie was settled, Lottie asked, "What do you mean by 'pregnancy doesn't bother you'?"

"I don't get tired. I don't hurt. Heck! I don't even get morning sickness," Maggie said with a chuckle.

A twinge of envy stole through Lottie. She'd been so sick in the afternoons with Greysen. When she focused on Maggie again, the woman was smiling at her wryly. "Yeah, that fact doesn't make me popular with the other ladies. The surgeons don't like it much either." She shrugged. "They always worry that I'll miscarry due to a hormonal imbalance. Apparently, you're _supposed_ to be sick. I have never been, though. And never miscarried either."

"You haven't?" Lottie assumed all the women here had at some point. That was the worst part of the fertility crisis, after all. Well, that, and all those boys!

"Nope."

"How many have you had?"

"Five," Maggie replied. "All of them are boys." She rubbed her stomach. Her expression turned inward and grew soft. "I'm hoping for a girl this time."

"Why?" Lottie said flabbergasted. She couldn't imagine why any woman would want that. "You'd doom her! To this!"

Maggie's smile slipped. "Yeah, but we _need_ girls."

Uh...

Not knowing what to say, Lottie started to sweep. Her thoughts were ragged and sore, like a torn nail. What Maggie had said was true. The United States—no, the world—needed females. It didn't make Maggie's statement any less painful for its brutal honesty.

They were quiet, lost in their thoughts, while Lottie swept, and then mopped the room. It wasn't until they were leaving for the next that Maggie spoke, "How did you know about Zoe and Tristan?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Last Monday," Maggie said. "When we were talking about our men? Lisa mentioned Tristan, and you knew about the connection to Zoe already. How?"

"Oh." Lottie studied Maggie out of the corner of her eye. "I," she stalled.

"You can tell me, you know. I won't say anything."

Lottie glanced down the hall to Bardeen. He hadn't moved from his post and wasn't paying them even the slightest amount of attention. Lottie nodded once to herself. She'd tell Maggie enough of the truth. "Tristan was—is—stationed at Fort Sutton. Where they captured me." Then on a whim, Lottie decided to embellish. "He talks about her. I heard him before I left."

"You think he still loves her?"

"He seemed to." Lottie didn't know that for sure, but why else would he have wanted Zoe rescued?

Maggie sighed wistfully. "That's so romantic. I wish Michael had been like that."

"What? Don't you think he'd pine for you? You did say he was sweet."

Laughing, Maggie shook her head vigorously. "Oh, he was sweet, all right. Too sweet by far!" Maggie smiled up at her. Tugging on Lottie's sleeve, Maggie motioned down the hall, and they made their way to the next room, where Lottie began sweeping.

Maggie began, "Frankly, I don't think that man had a faithful bone in his body. I wasn't the only _asset_ he was romancing. But I didn't mind."

"You didn't? Why not?"

"Because I can't."

Pausing mid-sweep, Lottie stared at Maggie.

When Maggie noticed, she gave Lottie a tight smile. "Think about it. Women're outnumbered three to one. Sent to be whores after enlistment 'cause there are too many soldiers and not enough of us, and the Army's trying to keep the boys sated and happy. Ya'know? Preventing riots, general male asshattery, and whatnot. It would be completely hypocritical of me to hold Michael to a standard I can't keep." Maggie shrugged. "Besides, with two successful pregnancies already recorded, I knew I'd be married off to someone else. Not Michael. The Army would never award a breeder"—Maggie sneered at the word—"to a lowly cook." Maggie paused, but before Lottie could think of a response, Maggie went on, "No. I'd be given to one of the higher-ranked officers once my service ended. I couldn't do that to him. Or myself. So yeah, I didn't mind Michael seducing others. He was good at it."

Images of Casey's smile turned toward another woman made Lottie's skin burn and twitch. The room grew hot, too hot, and she pushed the sleeves of her shirt up to her forearms. "Weren't you jealous, though?"

"Sure, I was. Didn't change anything," Maggie replied. "And, of course, so was he."

Lottie twitched and returned to sweeping to disguise her startled reaction.

"He _knew_ I had carried other men's babies. That's a hell of a blow to any man's ego. Even sweet Michael's. And then once I was here?" She took a deep breath. "I'm under orders to have sex with as many men as I want. As many times as I want. Any place that I want. Think about how the donors feel—coming here—knowing they aren't the only men to have sex with you. That you aren't with them because you want to, but 'cause of an order? Or if you're Nyah, knowing that they might not be her only man that day!"

Maggie took a freshly dampened rag and began to dust the window sills. "They've read the same history books as I have. Read the same stories of men and women marrying for love and not because of their length of service or how many live births they can claim on their record. I couldn't give Michael fidelity. There is no reason for him to try to be faithful to me."

The concept of not minding Michael having sex with other women and also admitting to jealousy about it seemed to contradict what Maggie had said, and Lottie called her on it.

Laughing, Maggie agreed, pausing in her efforts to look at Lottie. "It isn't the same thing. When you get down to it, knowing you have to share and being accepting of that fact has little to do with the emotional ties you might have for a man. That's part of the reason why all the women get along so well here at Gates."

"I wondered at that," Lottie admitted.

"It's a matter of survival, Charlotte," Maggie said and grinned. "Can you picture the catfights if we all laid claim to a donor?" She giggled. "There's only ever four of them here at one time. We'd kill each other if we had to fight for them." Maggie turned back to her dusting. "It's an unspoken rule to get along here, not to get attached to the men. We don't have much here—the surgeons keep us isolated pretty well—and we all know that. Without each other? Um, we'd have nothing at all."

_That's cheery,_ Lottie thought. Her lips pursed in distaste at the notion, but it did make her curious. Did Casey harbor jealousy, knowing without a doubt that Lottie would be propositioned, and quite possibly have sex with another man while at Gates? Did he mind? And if the reverse happened, and he was the one here, able to have sex with any woman?

Lottie was woman enough to admit it.

She'd mind.

***

Lottie could see Zoe through the pass-through window as she worked in the kitchen. She was vigorously cleaning something in the sink, and the motion had her tight curls bouncing to and fro like tree branches in a thunderstorm.

Zoe was one of the most physically striking women Lottie had ever seen. The black woman's Caucasian heritage defined the bones of her face, gave her delicate freckles on her nose and cheeks, and colored her irises with a rare brown tinted with blue. Zoe also had hair the color of deep auburn. It highlighted the warm brown of her skin. Zoe practically glowed with beauty.

Grinning, Lottie pushed open the door. Lottie hoped that today, she could finally make progress on her task to win the woman over, but when she entered the kitchen, Zoe's lips pinched together in a tight frown, and she looked away. The frosty reception was perplexing. Even though they hadn't talked last week, the lively yet quiet woman had at least smiled at her in greeting. Lottie shook her head. She had no idea what she could have done in the intervening days to make Zoe react so coldly today.

"Afternoon, Zoe," Lottie said as she glanced at the menu and then the recipe Zoe had tacked beside it. They were to prepare some sort of dish with peppers in it. She'd only been at Gates for—Lottie stopped to count—three weeks. It seemed as if it had been a lot longer than that, and the breadth of recipes employed by the facility continuously surprised her.

Lottie stepped out of the kitchen and into the tiny walled, open-aired, space that housed the solar-powered, industrial-sized refrigerator. Pulling the heavy door open, she entered the cold locker and searched for the items required.

Cheese. Peppers. Onions. Garlic. Potatoes. Wilted collard and mustard greens. Lottie piled the items into a basket the women kept in the fridge for transporting ingredients more efficiently. Stepping back into the warmth of the kitchen, Lottie detoured to grab the dried meat rations and plunked everything down on the counter next to the sink. She then methodically washed all the vegetables that required washing and set them aside.

Pulling a cutting board from the rack on the wall, she set to chopping. Her knife pierced the skin of the red pepper in front of her, spraying its juices across her hand. The sharp bite of capsaicin tickled her nose, and she sniffed back a sneeze. Slicing the rest of the way through the pepper, she separated the top from the body and discarded it. After cleaning out the soft membranes in the center, she rewashed the peppers and moved them out of the way. Her hands knew what to do, and her mind wandered, eyes unfocused and unseeing as she worked. But slowly, Lottie's gaze sharpened.

_A seed,_ Lottie thought and went to brush it from her skin.

But, then, a seed!

Lottie startled into awareness.

She could harvest the seeds from the food she prepared. It would augment the settlement's supplies.

Lottie cast around alighting on the basket of fall fruits. He hadn't had apples or pears either.

She brushed the seeds from the membranes of several pepper tops and stuffed the seeds into her pocket, knowing even as she did so, that she would need a better way to store them. She could save all of the seeds from the fruits and vegetables she encountered while cooking and bring them with her to the settlement. A tightness in her chest eased. She could do more for their survival than rescuing her mom and Zoe.

_Zoe_.

Lottie glanced up from the peppers. Her gaze met Zoe's from across the kitchen. Zoe was looking at her peculiarly, and Lottie felt her ears warm. Had she seen Lottie stuffing the seeds in her uniform pocket? Lottie hastily dropped the pepper top she'd been holding and turned back to her task. Lottie would save the seeds when the women who shared KP duty with her, weren't looking.

Returning to the comfort of preparing food, Lottie didn't immediately hear Zoe's labored breathing from across the room.

"Charlotte," Zoe whispered urgently, her voice conveyed her panic. "Charlotte!"

Lottie looked up. Zoe had taken a step closer to her. Her eyes were wide. Frantic. Her face was pale, and she was holding her stomach in both hands. "Help!"

Lottie's heart skipped a beat and then began to pound a sharp staccato that made her inner ears throb with each pulse. Her knife clattered to the counter, and Lottie ran to the other woman, screaming, "Cleveland! Oh, ever-absent God! Cleveland!"

The crotch of Zoe's pants was dark with blood, and Lottie caught Zoe as she fell.

"Cleveland!" Lottie screamed again.

In her arms, Zoe panted and gasped for breath. Whimpering.

"What?!" Cleveland barked, sounding annoyed. Spotting Zoe in her arms, he growled, "Shit! Where's her anti-histamine shot?"

"Her what?"

"Her anti-histamine shot. She's supposed to have it on her."

"I don't—I don't know!" Lottie screamed.

"Aw fucking hell!" Cleveland yelled and turned on his heel and was out the door before Lottie realized it. His footfalls pounded on the linoleum as he ran through the cafeteria and burst out into the hallway. The cafeteria door crashed against the wall in his haste, rattling in its frame like a gong.

"Zoe!" Lottie yelled at the woman in her arms. She grabbed Zoe's fingers, squeezing them tight. Zoe's mouth opened and closed, unable to pull enough air into her lungs. Her eyes were closing. "Ever-absent Goddammit, don't die on me, Zoe!"

Zoe was pale and listless in her arms. "Don't die, please. Oh please, don't die. Tristan needs you." Lottie's tears splashed on Zoe's face. She didn't know what was more alarming, Zoe's shallow, panting, or the rapidly spreading pool of blood beneath her.

It felt like an eternity before help arrived.

A cascade of sound assaulted her ears, and the floor shook.

Footsteps.

Legs.

Knees.

Hands.

Everywhere.

Stillness.

Nobody moved.

Why isn't anyone helping!

At long last, someone pulled Zoe from Lottie's lap. Lottie didn't know who it was, but he looked intent, determined, but not scared. Someone else gripped Lottie around the biceps, lifting her to her feet and pulling her from the melee. Lottie screamed something unintelligible. She felt the prick of a needle in her arm and looked down. The metal gleamed, winking in the light, momentarily blinding her.

She couldn't be bothered by that now. _Zoe!_ Lottie struggled. She had to get back to Zoe, but a warm calm stole through her limbs, and she collapsed into someone's arms, completely woozy. The man who caught her sat her down on a chair, then squatted down in front of her. Their features were fuzzy and indistinct. "Who?" Her words were as thick as the confusing mass of humanity that writhed around her, but the person's features began to coalesce out of the indiscriminate fog that clouded her vision.

Surgeon Wardell? Why was he here?

His lips moved, but Lottie didn't understand what he said. He tapped her face with the fingertips of his open hand. "Private Forrester. Can. You. Hear. Me?"

"What?" she asked, blinking against the too-bright room, trying to regain her focus.

"What happened, Private Forrester? Can you tell me?"

"I was..." What had she been doing? Oh, yes, lunch. "Making lunch," Lottie slurred. What on earth had Wardell given her? She felt both light and heavy at the same time. Her head drooped forward.

"And?"

She snapped her head up, eyes wide, trying to pay attention. "Zoe..."

"Yes," Wardell urged. "What happened to Private Woodson?"

"She..." What had Zoe done? "She cried out. Held her stomach and..." There was something else. It had been scary and surreal, and? "She couldn't breathe." Yes, that was it. "Zoe couldn't breathe."

Wardell tapped her face again with his palm.

"Private Forrester?"

Lottie lifted her head. When had it fallen?

"How did you get Cleveland?"

She shook her head and let it fall to her chest again.

"Private Forrester. Charlotte!"

"Huh?" Why wouldn't Wardell leave her alone? She was so desperately tired.

_Wait?! Zoe!_ Her thoughts returned to the activity behind Wardell. Surgeon Underwood, Cleveland, Bardeen, and another man were hovering around Zoe. _Get away from her! No... Wait... Help her! Don't die, Zoe. Don't die. Tristan._ A sob welled from somewhere deep, and Lottie choked it back with difficulty. Tristan. Casey. She wanted Casey so bad her lungs hurt.

"How did you get Cleveland?"

"Huh?" Why did Wardell care about Cleveland?

"How did you get to Cleveland so quickly?"

"Oh," Lottie trailed off and then rallied, "He was here already." Her head fell back. The lights from the ceiling blinded her, and Lottie closed her eyes.

"Why?" Wardell said and shook her.

Her head rolled forward on her neck. Her chin bounced against her chest. Lottie's thoughts danced in front of her like crystallized ice, like tiny snowflakes falling from the sky, softly, oh so softly. She could see each of them. Could pluck it from the air. Hold it in her palm.

"Private Forrester, why?" Wardell prompted.

She opened her fist and held it out to him, serving him the answer on her open hand. "He's my guard today."

"What?!"

She nodded her head, closing her fingers tight about the thought. It dissolved in her hand. "He's my guard today," Lottie reiterated, but now she wasn't so sure. He was her guard today, right? She shook her head, attempting to order her thoughts, to make them make sense. They drifted away.

It didn't matter.

Her gaze shifted to Zoe on the ground. Zoe looked alert. She was staring at her, and tears were pouring from her eyes. Lottie's eyes misted in sympathy. It was so sad, with Zoe lying there on the ground, dying. Lottie sniffed. _Poor Tristan._

"Private Forrester," Wardell said, interrupting her thoughts. "Why was Cleveland guarding you?"

"I always have a guard," Lottie replied.

"What? Why?"

"Because I ran, I guess." She shrugged. "I don't know."

Wardell cursed softly and glanced over his shoulder.

"Surgeon Phillip," a woman's voice called from the door.

Lottie's head turned toward the sound. Her head wobbled on her neck. Who was that? Her brain grasped for a name. She knew she knew the woman, liked her even. Who was it? Then the answer came to her.

Nyah.

Nyah was clutching her stomach, and her face contorted in pain.

_Not her too!_

"Surgeon Phillip!" Nyah called.

The man Lottie didn't know looked up and cursed. Rising, he went to her and helped her to a chair.

Someone screamed.

Wardell turned to her. His expression showed pity and worry.

_Whoever that is, stop fucking screaming,_ Lottie thought uncharitably. Everything was too much, and the shrill screeching didn't help in the slightest. She clapped her hands over her ears. _Shut up!_ Lottie looked around. Nyah was panting, and Zoe stared at her with alarm, but neither of them was making the infernal racket.

Who the hell was it? Lottie looked around, trying to find the source of the squalling. Her gaze found Surgeon Underwood. "No," he said.

"She needs it," Wardell argued.

"Don't," Underwood commanded. "Too dangerous. She could die."

Wardell said something to Lottie, but she couldn't hear it. Why wouldn't that person stop screaming? The sound grated on her nerves.

"Surgeon Wardell," Underwood warned.

Wardell hiked Lottie's shirt up, and pinched her belly skin in his fingers, getting a good grip. Lottie looked down at the syringe Wardell held. He slid it into her skin and depressed the plunger. The hysterical screeching came to an abrupt halt, collapsing in on itself like a tent without its support poles.

_Thank ever-absent God they finally shut-up,_ Lottie thought with gratitude, and her world went black.

***

Lottie moaned. Her head hurt. Her hands fisted in her hair at her temples, pressing hard, trying to suppress the constant pounding.

"Roll her over."

_No._ Lottie groaned.

The throb in her temples pulsed relentlessly.

"You don't want her to aspirate."

"I know that!" someone barked, and hands grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to turn her gently.

She whimpered. Her head hurt so badly.

Lottie rolled to her side. Her head hung over the bed.

"She's going to vomit."

She tried to shake her head but then changed her mind. Yes. Yes, she was going to throw up.

"I got it," a man replied, right as she retched.

She heaved again.

Lottie took a deep, shuddering breath, but she felt a bit better. She cracked one eye open and noted with considerable detachment the receptacle conveniently placed right where she'd puked.

"You finished?" the man asked, and she nodded. As he helped her to lie back, she saw it was Wardell.

"I told you not to use a double dose."

"You heard her screaming," Wardell replied to the voice. "What else could I have done?"

"Slap her."

She looked past Wardell to see Underwood behind him. His lips were pinched together in disapproval.

"You're damn lucky she didn't go into cardiac arrest," Underwood said.

"I know what I'm doing, Underwood," Wardell replied, his tone clipped in irritation. "I'm handling the consequences, aren't I?"

Underwood harrumphed.

"I have it under control."

"I'll _note_ this in your record."

"Fine." Wardell shrugged and wiped her face with a wet towel. The cool cloth felt good on her overheated skin. "How are you doing, Private Forrester?"

"Better," Lottie answered, her gaze followed Underwood as he harrumphed again and left the small room. "Where am I?"

"Infirmary."

That explained the lumpy cot; her bed was more comfortable.

"Rest. I'll be back in a little bit."

She closed her eyes. Her eyelids felt insanely heavy.

"Private Forrester?" Wardell called.

_What!_ Opening her eyes and glared at Wardell sitting by her side. "How do you feel?"

Hadn't they done this a few seconds ago? She tried to think. Her pulse no longer pounding in her ears and stomach. Had she slept? She didn't feel like she had, but maybe?

"Better."

"Good," Wardell replied. He patted her hand and then took it in his. She wanted to pull away but couldn't find the strength to do so. "Do you want to head back to your room?"

She shook her head. Lottie didn't think she could move yet, and the cot felt fine.

"Rest for as long as you need. When you feel ready, you can head back to your room. You're excused from duties today and tomorrow."

"What day is it?" her voice rasped in her throat, and Lottie tried to smile. Her lips cracked, and she grimaced.

"Thirsty?"

Licking her lips, Lottie nodded. Wardell reached across her and grabbed a cup. Holding it to her mouth, he helped her drink.

"It's Wednesday."

She couldn't believe it. She'd slept a whole night. "Who's my guard?"

"No one."

"Okay." It made sense. No reason to have her guarded today, she thought. With the way she felt, she wasn't going to be doing much of anything. "Tomorrow?"

"No one."

No guard tomorrow, either? That didn't make sense.

Wardell must have seen her perplexed look, for he answered, "I had them removed. There was no reason for them."

No guard? That was great news.

He patted her on the shoulder. "Rest, Private. And unless you need me sooner, I'll see you Friday."

"Okay."

Wardell stood and made to leave, but Lottie called him back. She had to know. "What about Zoe. Did she die?"

He looked taken aback. "No. Private Woodson is fine. She's in the other room. Recovering."

Lottie's shoulders relaxed. Zoe was okay. "What about Nyah?" Nyah had been sick too.

"She had a son late last night," Wardell said with a smile. "She's recovering in her room."

They were both all right. Relief flooded through Lottie, and she said, "Thank you."

Wardell flashed a grin at her and then left.

They were all right. Lottie heaved a mighty sigh and fell back asleep.

***

Lottie awoke, refreshed, dehydrated, and quite hungry. Slowly she sat up, swung her legs to the side, and pressed her feet flat to the floor. Once the room stopped spinning, she looked around. The infirmary room held a cot and an end table and nothing else. There wasn't even a door. Just an archway that led to a small waiting room beyond, where Lottie could see several other entrances from her perch.

Pushing to her feet, Lottie swayed gently to and fro as her balance gradually came back to her. Once steady on her feet, Lottie left her room. She wondered if Zoe was still here. Lottie checked each alcove.

To Lottie's surprise, she found Zoe.

When she knocked on the threshold, Zoe rolled over to look at her. Zoe's face was pale, and her hair hung limply about her face. An IV in her hand connected her to a stand that, Lottie assumed, held a saline solution. "Can I come in?"

Zoe nodded. She brushed the hair from her cheek, flexed her hand, and let it come to rest on her stomach over the blanket. Lottie saw she'd been crying. Her eyes were red, and her face was puffy.

"You all right?" Lottie asked.

A tear rolled from the corner of Zoe's eye, but she nodded gamely.

Lottie stepped closer and sat on the edge of the cot near Zoe's knees. Grasping Zoe's hand in hers, she squeezed. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Zoe shrugged. Her breath hitched on an inhale, and she looked away from Lottie.

They sat there quietly for several minutes, but before Lottie could decide if the silence was uncomfortable or not, Zoe spoke, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Getting help so quickly."

"Don't mention it." What did Zoe expect her to do? Let her die?

Zoe chuckled. It was a harsh sound deep in her throat. "I'd forgotten my antihistamine dose in my room," she said, her tone full of reproach. "You're not supposed to go anywhere without it. They hand you one the second your pregnancy test comes back positive." During the crisis, Cleveland had demanded Zoe's medicine, but Lottie hadn't known what he wanted.

"I recognized the signs, and I knew I'd never make it to my room in time to get it. I thought that maybe I could send you to get it. I turned to ask, but then, I was afraid you wouldn't make it back in time either. And... Well... I ended up waiting too long." Her slender fingers pulled from Lottie's grasp, and she wadded the fabric of the blanket tight in her hands.

"What does it do?"

"It?"

"The antihistamine."

"It slows—and often stops—the allergic reaction. The miscarriage."

"It helps?"

"Only if you get the shot in time."

"But you didn't."

Another tear slipped from the corner of Zoe's eye. "No. I didn't."

"Did you want this baby?"

Zoe gave another harsh, guttural bark of a laugh. "No, but I wouldn't have let myself miscarry either."

"How many have you had?"

"Miscarriages?"

Lottie nodded.

"I don't know," Zoe replied. "Too many."

"And babies?"

"Three."

Lottie didn't know what to say. The pregnancies. The miscarriages. The forced breeding. It was so... barbaric.

Zoe hiccupped once, twice, and then asked, "What did you mean by 'Tristan needs me'?"

Lottie's cheeks flushed, and she looked at the floor. She couldn't remember when she mentioned him, but maybe Maggie had said something about her knowing Tristan to Zoe. "Oh, um," Lottie hedged.

"Charlotte, look at me," Zoe commanded. Lottie lifted her gaze and met Zoe's. "Did you mean Tristan Bell?" Lottie nodded, and Zoe closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. Her chest and shoulders shook with effort—or was it fresh sobs? "Tristan," Zoe whispered, her voice tinged with such longing. "How do you know him?"

Lottie plucked at the knee of her pants. "He's stationed at Fort Sutton. Ya'know? Where they caught me."

Zoe swallowed. "He... You said he needs me?"

There was a lump in Lottie's throat, and she ached for them. "He does."

"He still... He still thinks about me?"

Would now be a good time to tell Zoe about the rescue? As good as any, Lottie supposed. "Do they monitor these rooms?" At the blank look, Lottie stood and stuck her head out the archway and confirmed no one was near. Coming back in, she knelt next to Zoe and whispered, "The guards. Do they know what we say in here?"

"I—I don't think so."

"Good." Lottie took a deep breath. "You know about my capture, right?" Lottie waited for Zoe's confirmation. "What you don't know is that it was on purpose. I'm here to get you, Grace, and anyone else who wants out, out." Zoe opened her mouth to say something, and Lottie shook her head sharply. "A year ago last August, the commander of Fort Sutton found me. I was eight and a half months pregnant. He helped deliver my son. Protected me—us—from his squad."

Lottie shifted her weight from her knees to her bottom so she could sit on the floor comfortably. Her arms wrapped around her bent knees, holding them tight. Talking about Casey and Greysen was hard. but they were fresh in her mind, and she forced herself to continue. "At the end of my maternity leave, I thought I'd lose my son and my freedom, but Ca—the staff sergeant"—she corrected—"surprised me. He adopted my son as his own. Then he hid us."

Zoe's eyes widened. "Treason?" she whispered and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Treason," Lottie said, and then repeated in a whisper, "Treason." Such an ugly word, but stated so baldly it was too late to turn back. She needed to finish this quickly, or she'd lose her nerve.

Her arms relaxed, and Lottie plucked at a loose thread on her cargo-pants pocket. "Our hiding place was discovered by a"—Lottie stopped speaking and looked at the wall, thinking. What would Noah prefer? Not an 'operative of RAC' that much she knew—"a drifter. He moved us—my son and I—to his cabin, and we stayed for a year. My son lives there. Waiting for me."

Lottie held up her hand to stall Zoe's response and sighed. "Anyway, over that year, Tristan and another soldier learned of my existence." Lottie looked back at Zoe. "The staff sergeant and Tristan knew about you and Grace here at Gates from the database. Out of all the plans we came up with, me coming here was the fastest and most assured of success. So," Lottie said, drawing out the word. "Knowing I was guaranteed a placement at Gates, the staff sergeant turned me in. And here I am."

After studying her for several minutes, Zoe asked sarcastically, "How do you propose we escape? Just"—Zoe waved her hand—"walk away?"

"Yes."

Zoe snorted. "Won't work."

"It will." Lottie stood and rechecked the waiting room. Her skin felt tight, and her uniform brushed her skin uncomfortably. She longed for a shower, fresh air, her son. Tapping her finger against the archway, she said, "That other soldier I told you about..."

"Yeah," Zoe replied. Lottie's head thumped against the wall above her hand. Zoe's tone said it all. She didn't believe Lottie. "He's in the woods right now. Waiting for us."

There was a sputtering noise from Zoe, and Lottie turned around worried but sighed in relief. Zoe was okay, only suspicious. Lottie understood perfectly. It was a lot to believe.

"He followed me here. He knows where the secret settlement is, and he'll lead me—and whoever I can get from here—to it."

"A secret settlement?" Zoe scoffed.

A small lopsided grin tugged at Lottie's lip. "Yep, a settlement far from guards and facilities and breeding hospitals, where we can keep our babies. Our families."

"And you've seen it? This settlement?"

Lottie's smile slipped a little. "No," she admitted. But she knew Noah, Casey, and Tristan had been taking turns trying to ready the site for their arrival, clearing space, setting aside supplies. It would be ready for them.

"It won't work. They won't let us leave." Zoe's initial spark of interest had flared and gone out.

"The guards won't stop us. They can't."

Zoe harrumphed, and her arms wrapped around her torso.

"They don't have the resources. The drifter?" Lottie nodded absentmindedly. "The drifter knows all about this place. Who can chase and who can't. No one will pursue us—at least not when it matters—and once we're at the settlement, we'll be safe!"

Hope, disbelief, and anger warred in Zoe's expression. Lottie decided to play her highest metaphorical Knaves and Knights card, "Think about it. You'll be able to see Tristan again like he wants to see you."

Zoe's look hardened, growing ugly, and Lottie flinched, but the flash of hatred and despair faded, leaving only sadness. Zoe's lower lip quivered, and new tears coursed down Zoe's cheeks. Her hands moved from her sides to press against her abdomen. Her voice was thick with tears when she spoke again. "We had a son, Tristan, and I." Zoe paused, her lips pinched tight, clearly holding back her sobs. "I never got to tell him," she whispered on a shaky breath.

"Well, now you can."

Now you can.

# Chapter 27

Lottie pushed the edge of swaddling away from the baby's face and studied his tiny features. Robert's skin was soft, smooth, and a deep brown, a darker shade than Nyah's. Her knuckle brushed his cheek, and he turned toward it. His tiny mouth puckered. He was getting hungry. "Nyah?"

"Yeah?"

"He is so beautiful."

Nyah glanced at Lottie over her shoulder and said, "Yeah, he is" before turning back to her wash. "But don't let that fool you. He's a little poo machine."

A small chuckle bubbled in Lottie's chest. "I bet." Greysen had done his fair share of excessive pooping. Poor Casey had sacrificed three Army issued wool blankets to the cause of keeping Greysen's ass clean and dry.

Greysen.

She wiped a tear from her cheek and pulled Robert closer. He was so tiny, so helpless. Lottie had forgotten how small newborns were, and a yearning tingled in her fingers and toes. She wanted another baby, but not just any baby. She wanted Casey's baby. A baby with intense hazel colored eyes and brown hair. A baby that he didn't have to adopt as his. Lottie swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. She hadn't expected it, and it wasn't like she could act on it, either. "You almost done?"

"Uh-huh." Turning, Nyah leaned against the sink. Water trickled down her forearms and made small puddles at her feet. "I'm glad you're here to help take care of him for a while. I dreaded doing all that laundry while trying to hold him too. Needy bastard." The sink gave a loud sucking sound as the last of the water drained away.

"It's no trouble," Lottie reassured her.

With an unladylike snort, Nyah returned to her wash. She wrung freshly washed diapers out and spread them on the makeshift clothesline that stretched across the kitchen. Finally finished, she came and sat next to Lottie.

Wiping a hand across her brow and cheek, she asked, "He hungry yet?"

"Soon." Lottie offered to hand him back.

Looking down at Robert in Lottie's arms, Nyah shook her head, "Can you keep him for a bit longer? He's a sweet baby, but I need the break."

"Of course."

Shifting Robert from her arms to her lap, Lottie propped him against her knees. His dark irises were visible past the drowsy slits of his eyelids. Nyah kissed her fingers and brushed them across his forehead before returning them to her lap.

"Can I ask you something?" Lottie asked.

"Sure," Nyah replied and hooking an elbow over the back of her chair.

"Would you want to keep Robert if you could?"

They sat in silence for several minutes. Nyah stared at Robert, and Lottie stared at Nyah, wondering if Nyah would answer Lottie's question. "I don't know," Nyah replied. Her voice sounded tight, and she cracked her knuckles one finger joint at a time. She shook her head. "No. No, I wouldn't want him. He's a lot of work—too much work. I remember what it was like in the nursery back home. And I don't want that."

"Are you sure?" It sure looked like Nyah wanted to say yes and was only saying those negative things to convince herself that she didn't want him. Lottie added, "There's something special about holding them tight to your chest each night when you sleep."

A non-committal sound from Nyah greeted her statement. "I'm sure," she said and stood. Nyah poked her head out the kitchen door, and muttered, "No guard," before returning to the chair next to Lottie. She took a deep breath, and in a tone that brooked no-nonsense, she said, "Okay, spill it."

"I-I'm sorry?" Lottie sputtered, the demand seemed so random, so unexpected.

"What's your deal? Why are you here?" There was an excited gleam in Nyah's eyes.

"What are you talking about? I'm here because they caught me."

"No, you're not," Nyah said. "Not really."

Lottie licked her lips. "What do you mean?"

"Okay. We can play this game." Her expression turned serious. "One, you've admitted that you've had a baby, but you also said you don't have a man. Two, you were never in the system—not if you were living on your own for four years. Three, you know all about Zoe and Tristan—which you shouldn't. Without being enlisted, there is no good way for you to have heard the stories." Nyah paused, her eyebrow cocked in question. Lottie didn't know what to say, and when she didn't answer, Nyah added, "Four, you are full of contradictions. 'Til today, I've only ever seen you with a guard—which never happens—and you're..."

"I'm what, Nyah," Lottie said, putting as much steel into her voice as she could.

"Edgy."

"Edgy?" Lottie questioned.

"Yeah, Honey, edgy. You know on edge. What's going on, Doll?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

Lottie's eyes stung, and she looked at Robert in her lap. First, Grace, then Maggie, then Zoe, and now Nyah, knew she was up to something. How many other women thought the same?

Nyah sighed. "Fine. Don't tell me." After a beat, she added, "Tell me about him, instead."

"Who?"

"Your baby."

Lottie huffed a small laugh.

"Don't tell me you don't know," Nyah argued. "You just told me you cuddled him—him, right?"—Lottie nodded—"to your chest at night."

Stalling, Lottie adjusted the blanket lower around Robert's shoulders and took his fingers in hers. "I had a son a little over a year ago. I named him Greysen."

"Greysen?! Seriously? Why?"

"For my mother. I thought she was dead at the time." Lottie stared down at Robert. His fingers clenched around her own.

"See! You say shit like that." Nyah bumped her shoulder with her own. "I know you know more than you're letting on. You can trust me, you know."

"It's not about trust." Nyah snorted in apparent disagreement. "Okay, it is. A little bit. And yeah, it's..." Lottie brushed her thumb down the bridge of Robert's nose and watched as he squeezed his eyes shut. "It's complicated." Robert's nose scrunched, and his limbs grew rigid. His belly made an ominous gurgle, and he passed a large amount of wet sounding gas. Lottie laughed and quickly handed him to Nyah before he began to smell. "You can have him back now."

"Thanks," Nyah muttered, but graciously took Robert from her. Standing, Nyah moved to the makeshift changing station at the back of the kitchen. After taking care of Robert, she returned to her chair and situated him at her breast. Her palm cradled his head, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

Lottie chewed on her inner cheek. No matter what Nyah had said earlier about not wanting Robert, it was clear she did, and a tightness squeezed her lungs. Nyah would never be able to keep Robert, not even if Nyah left. But would she want to go? Maybe Lottie should trust her. She had told Zoe she'd take any woman who wanted to leave. "Pinky swear?" Lottie asked abruptly and held out her littlest finger. It was something Wendy had always done, and it felt appropriate in this situation.

Nyah didn't glance up. "To what?"

"To not tell a soul what I'm about to say."

"Nope."

The air whooshed out of Lottie's chest, and her hand dropped to her side. _No?_ She'd been ready to tell Nyah everything. "Whaa-why not?"

"Because if it's what I think it is, then there's more than just me who'd want to go too, and I couldn't in good conscious not tell them about it."

Lottie's mouth opened and closed. Nyah wanted to escape. Lottie had no idea what to say.

"I put two and two together and came up with you're here for Zoe and Grace," Nyah said. "I don't know how you managed it or why you are bothering, but I know I want in on it."

"How many others?" Lottie squeaked.

"Maggie, Lisa, and Kaylee." Robert squirmed in Nyah's arms, and Nyah lifted him to her shoulder for burping. After he complied, she put him to her other breast. "Sadie and Dora, too. But I'm not one hundred percent sure about Sadie. Not anymore."

Lottie gulped and shifted her weight in the chair, itching to get up and pace. She settled for bouncing her leg. "Why haven't you tried before?"

"How? Where would I go?" Nyah asked. "Wander around aimlessly, with no supplies. Not even a tent?"

"Yes." Lottie had done almost that exact thing.

Nyah chortled. "Some of us"—she used her chin to point at Lottie—"might be able to do that, but others of us like to assure our success." Nyah took a deep breath. "Frankly, I like regular meals. But clearly, you're here with a plan, and I want to know all about it. So you see," Nyah whispered, her hand brushing across Robert's back. "You can trust me."

***

"God, then what happened?" Nyah asked.

Lottie glanced around the small table, marveling at the relaxed atmosphere of "Lady's Night" now that her shadows were no longer present. "We were standing on the slide, holding the guard rails with one hand and our stick swords in the other when Communal Director Higgins walked up," Lottie said.

Nyah shook her head in denial, and Maggie groaned in sympathy.

"I didn't see her," Lottie said and bit her lip. "I swung my sword and smacked her right in the face. Knocked her down, and shattered my sword."

Maggie inhaled sharply. "Was she all right?"

"No. Not at first." Lottie shivered, remembering her knee-knocking fear of the incident. She shook her head. "Higgins had a gash close to two inches long on her forehead—near her hairline," Lottie said, using her forehead to indicate Higgins's injury. "and one in her hair above her ear. There was blood everywhere!"

"Stitches?" Meghan asked.

Lottie nodded and felt herself warm in embarrassment, remembering her punishment. "I heard it took at least sixteen to close up the gash above her eye and another ten or so for the cut near her ear. I felt horrible!"

"That sucks," Nyah agreed.

"But she was okay later, right?" Maggie asked again.

"Yeah, no permanent damage, but she never forgave me."

"How old were you?"

"When it happened?" Lottie clarified.

Meghan nodded.

"Wendy must have been about eleven. So I guess I was about nine, nine and a half," Lottie replied.

"And she never forgave you?" Nyah inquired.

Lottie shook her head. "She glared at me for years afterward." Lottie didn't think Director Higgins would ever forgive her, where ever she was now.

"Were you punished," Zoe asked.

Lottie nodded. "I gave Higgins a formal apology. I had to do it in front of the whole communal while wearing a shirt that said _violent tendencies_. I had to wear that shirt all summer."

"A shame shirt," someone murmured.

"And lines?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah, lines, and I wasn't allowed out on the playground for two weeks."

"Brutal," Nyah said, and the rest of the women at the table nodded in agreement. "What do they expect of a nine-year-old?"

"Not to hit the director with a big stick," Lottie joked. Her statement earned a few chuckles amongst the assembled. "Okay, someone else's turn!" Lottie said, eager to transfer the attention from herself.

Maggie squealed, then begged, "Nyah, tell the spaghetti story again."

"Nah, everyone's heard that one," Nyah replied at the same time as Lottie asked, "Spaghetti story?"

Lisa reached across the table to pat her hand as Zoe answered, "You know that red splotch on the ceiling in the gym-slash-cafeteria—the one used for Mess during Basic?"

"Yeah," Lottie replied.

Zoe smirked and pointed to Nyah. "She knows how it got there."

Turning back to face Nyah, Lottie leaned forward on her hands. "How _did_ it get there?" Everyone in her class had speculated, but no one had known for sure.

Shaking her head, Nyah said, "Don't look at me."

"Nyah!" Lottie said, exasperated.

"What?"

"Don't hold out on me," Lottie said. "How did that stain get on the ceiling?"

"I don't know," Nyah replied with a big smile.

Zoe laughed. "Tell her already."

"It's at least forty meters to the rafters. How did you do it?"

"I didn't," Nyah replied. "Truth is, no one knows how it got there. But I know _when_ it happened."

"The suspense is killing me," Maggie playfully whined, and batted her lashes at Nyah, making Lottie giggle.

"Oh, hush, goof-ball," Nyah chided. "You've heard this story before."

Maggie pressed her hand to her heart. "Nope. Never heard it. First time. I swear!"

"Maggie," Zoe, Lisa, and Nyah cried in mock annoyance. Maggie dissolved into giggles and shared a conspirator glance with Lottie.

"Anyway," Nyah interrupted and sighed lightly. "It was the night before my official enlistment day, and three of my friends and I sat at one end of the room. Jenny—the little snot—leaned over the table and whispered, 'bet you I can land this bread on Sarah's plate from here'—Sarah sat three tables behind us and toward the middle of the room—Jessica told her she was full of shit, but Josie giggled and said, you're on."

"Let me guess," Lottie said. "She succeeded?"

"Nope." Nyah smiled. "That roll landed on Tami's plate. Spaghetti sauce and noodles splattered everywhere. She squawked, knocked over her water, which in turn, landed in Catherine's lap. Catherine fell backward off the bench, her foot catching on her tray. The tray flew up and over and landed on Amanda. Amanda yelled some obscenity at Catherine, blotted her shirt, huffed, and then grinned. She ripped her roll in half and threw the piece across the room. By then, Catherine had pulled herself from the floor, plucked a couple of noodles off her shirt, and flung them at Amanda. After that, heh," Nyah grinned and sat forward. Her elbows rested on the table. "No one knows who threw what next, but it was war. And boy was it on!"

"And the stain?" Maggie prompted.

"So, sometime during the ensuing chaos, someone wadded up their entire plate of spaghetti and launched it to the ceiling. Where it splattered sauce, noodles, and god knows what else into the stain that is still there."

Nyah brushed her hair from her cheek and tucked the errant strand behind her ear. Leaning back in her chair, she popped her knuckles. "Frankly, I didn't know it was physically possible to throw spaghetti that high. Think about it... How much force would you need to apply to that wet mass to, not only get it forty meters high but also to get it to stick on the ceiling for several minutes? That's a lot of force, and we all watched it in amazement—eyes trained on the ceiling. Our mouths gaped open, waiting for it to fall. First, one noodle dangled. Then another. Then still more started to come loose, and that, my friends, is when Communal Director Marion Klasson walked in and stopped. Right. Under. Said. Spaghetti." Nyah stopped speaking and smirked.

"Oh, no," Lottie said.

"Oh, yes," Nyah's smirked morphed into a toothy grin.

Lottie had a pretty good idea what happened next but waited breathlessly for Nyah to finish her story. But before Nyah could, Zoe said, "If you guys hadn't done that, maybe Klasson wouldn't have been such a bitch two years later."

Nyah shrugged, unapologetic.

"The spaghetti?" Maggie asked and giggled again.

"It fell." Everyone at the table except Nyah groaned. "Yep. Right on Klasson's head. It was glorious." She laughed. "Noodles. Sauce. Bits of bread. And there was this one noodle—" Nyah snorted. "—that flopped down her forehead—like a worm cut in half. Flop. Flop. Flop." Nyah mimed. "Before succumbing to gravity. It gave one more mighty flop and landing on the bridge of her nose. The tip dangled above her lip."

"Her nose—Oh, God!—her nose," Maggie gasped and wiped tears from her eyes. "That poor woman."

"Poor woman, my ass. She was a bitch, and I am not sad that she ended up covered in spaghetti," Nyah said, then added, "I plan to take to my grave, that image of an overcooked noodle slowly making its way down her forehead and onto her nose."

They spent the next forty-five minutes telling stories about their lives in the communal home or their enlistment at the Fort St. Louis facility. They talked about the friends they lost and the new ones that they gained and were only interrupted twice. Once when the other table broke into raucous laughter at something outrageous during their card game. _Probably a ridiculous bet,_ Lottie thought. She'd seen the women playing Knaves and Knights while taking turns holding Robert.

Lottie's gaze had been drawn to Valery, Grace, and Sandra leaning against the wall, talking and looking at her. She wondered what they were saying. Grace had shunned her since Lottie's big revelation about Greysen, but Valery and Sandra spoke to her whenever they crossed paths.

The second interruption had been when Robert needed feeding. Nyah had excused herself and made herself comfortable in an armchair at the back of the library while the rest of Lottie's table murmured amongst themselves. When Robert was full, Nyah handed him off to one of the women—Dora, Lottie believed—before joining them at their table again.

"So, Nyah," Maggie greeted her as she came back. "We were talking about jobs. What would you be doing if you weren't here popping out little Americans?"

"I'd be a State-worker."

"No, silly," Maggie scolded. "I mean if you could do anything, anything at all. What would it be?"

"I'd be in RTC," she replied without hesitation.

"As a clothier? Making clothes?"

"Making Textiles. Running the machines that made the fabric. And if needed, making our uniforms. But it's the weaving that intrigues me."

"You?" Nyah asked Maggie.

"I'd be a writer."

"A writer?"

"Yeah," Maggie answered a bit breathlessly. "I think it would be fun to craft stories. Write a best-seller classic and join the pantheon of greats like Hemingway or Verne."

"HG Wells," Zoe said.

"Hawthorne," Nyah added. "I love me some _Scarlet Letter_." She pursed her lips, her expression turning reflective. "And you, Charlotte?"

Lottie opened her mouth to answer, but one of the women from the other table called out, "I'd be a surgeon." That statement seemed to be a catalyst for the other women to abandon the card game and join Lottie's table, for they began tossing down their cards and heading their way, calling out other professions as they came.

"I'd be a meteorologist."

"A five-star general."

"Nice."

"Thanks."

"Farmer."

"Journalist."

"Historian."

"I'd be a trophy wife." Nyah's voice rose over the din. "Or a groupie."

"You're already that," Lily called out.

Several women laughed, and Nyah replied, smacking her lips. "True. A donor groupie!"

The women laughed and crowded closer. Lottie looked around but couldn't see past the crowd who were now pulling up chairs to their table.

"What about you?" Nyah asked. Lottie turned to see who Nyah addressed, and Nyah snickered. "I meant you, Charlotte."

Lottie pointed to her chest. "Me?"

"Yeah," several women said in unison. "What would you be?"

Nyah repeated, "What would you be?"

Lottie's thoughts conjured images of her sitting by Noah's fire, wrapped in a blanket, with Casey smiling at her as he held Greysen in his lap. Or to Casey holding Greysen's hands as he learned to walk. Or when she leaned against Casey while they watched the stars. Or the splash fights they shared with Greysen at the river. Or Greysen's laugh when Casey tossed him in the air. Or the way his arms felt warm, heavy, and secure around her waist as they slept side by side.

Nyah snapped her fingers. Lottie shivered as the memories fell away and felt a blush creep up her neck. "I'd raise a family. Have a garden. Maybe even a goat."

Lottie heard a couple of awws, but the "A goat?" drowned out the other exclamations.

"For the cheese!" Someone yelled. Lottie thought it was Cleo, but it could have been Erma Lyn. Lottie groaned and rolled her eyes in mock ecstasy. "I miss cheese!"

"I'd be a President," Kelly said when the chorus of agreements about cheese died down.

"Like Rionach?"

"No, President Piatek."

"Nice," Meghan said. "She was one of the best."

"Yeah," Kelly agreed. "But poor, Rionach!"

"To be the last president elected through official campaigning methods," Valery added. "I can't imagine being her." There were several murmurs of agreement around the table. "To willingly construct the Five-Star Law, knowing that to do so, you are giving up all chances of ever having another female president. Who thought voting in presidents selected from the five-star generals was a good idea?" The sentiment was a common one, and Lottie didn't have anything to add.

"The generals," Susan snarked, earning a laugh and a collective sigh by the group.

"The reason she did it makes sense—no matter how much we don't like it," Valery said. "We were facing a total population annihilation at the time." Valery shuddered. It had been pretty bleak. Lottie couldn't remember exactly, but she thought the textbooks had said the world population had already declined by twenty-five percent by the time Rionach was elected.

"Still are," Kelly interjected.

"Yes, but now we know why!" Dora exclaimed, and started bouncing Robert in her arms when her loud voice made him cry.

"No, we don't. Not really," Nyah chirped.

"Yes, we do."

"No," Nyah argued, but Valery spoke over her, "Well, we didn't then. But then, neither did the rest of the world."

"Did they needed to disband congress and the senate, though?" Kelly asked.

"How else would they prevent government shutdowns?" Valery countered.

"But... To put laws in place to remove these checks and balances—these debates between Congress and the Senate—well, it was the death of democracy. The death of what made us Americans!" Kelly groused.

"True," Valery replied. "I don't argue that. But with the stalemates removed, the president-generals were able to save us. Otherwise, Congress would be sitting in their gilded hall, debating about how to fix the crisis and trying to repeal the female draft."

"It's unconstitutional," one of the women in the back grumbled.

Lottie wondered if Valery had even heard the remark when Valery continued as if the other woman hadn't also spoken. "They were already building the contingency plans in Rionach's term for the voluntary recall of citizens, ammunitions, fuels, and setting the stage for everyone's mandatory military service."

"Don't forget, wholesale loss of freedoms," Kelly said.

"Freedoms," Lisa echoed.

Valery sighed, and Lottie wondered if this was a typical conversation on Lady's Night. "They didn't do it lightly, you know."

"Doesn't matter. They're gone," Lisa grumbled.

"And you sound like you approve, Valery," Kelly muttered.

Maybe this wasn't an everyday conversation for the group. If it was, wouldn't Kelly already know this?

"I do, to some extent," Valery agreed. "They had to do something, and I can see why the powers chose the method they did, even if I don't like it or even agree with it."

"You agree with the sentiment?" Lisa asked, sounding less bitter.

"Yes," Valery replied.

"But not the execution?"

Valery nodded again. "That's right."

"What about the female draft, though," Kelly asked, reaching past Valery to take Robert from Dora. "That law wouldn't be enacted for another forty years after Rionach's term."

"Never should have been turned into law in the first place," Dora groused.

"But without it, we wouldn't have hot one-on-one donor action," Nyah said, and Lottie frowned at the inappropriateness of the statement, but maybe Nyah was only trying to defuse the tension.

"They wouldn't have needed it at all if it wasn't for the bad air and water being the root cause of all our problems." Sadie's voice from next to Lottie made her twitch in surprise. She'd been so focused on the impetus of Nyah's comment, that she'd forgotten Sadie at her side. "If our ancestors' had laid off the pesticides—"

"—The damage had been done long before the nineteen forties and fifties," Valery interrupted. "Humans have been poisoning their air and water for centuries."

"Water treatment?" Sadie interjected. "Air purification? Solar power?"

"Too little too late," Valery said.

Dora reached back across Valery and took Robert from Kelly, and then edged out of the circle with him in her arms. Lottie wondered why they didn't hand him to Nyah. Didn't she want to comfort Robert when he cried? Lottie would have to ask Nyah about it later.

Returning her focus to the group, she heard Cleo ask, "...the name slips?"

What had she missed?

"I've got them here," Ally said from the back. Her slender brown wrist appeared between Erma Lyn and Valery, and in her hand was a small bag. Valery took it from her and opened it. "Dora, you want to pull a name?"

"Nah. You do it for me."

"I'll keep track of who gets who," Sadie said. Valery nodded and produced a small notepad and pencil from the bag. She handed both items to Sadie, closed up the bag, and then shook it.

Lottie looked back and forth between the women. No one else seemed confused, but Lottie didn't know what was going on. She leaned across the table toward Maggie. "What are we doing?"

Maggie moved toward her and whispered, "Picking names for the private Solstice parties."

"Solstice parties?"

"Every year, we plan four winter solstice celebrations—one for each donor—where we split up into teams and try to give our randomly assigned donor a good time."

The edges of Lottie's vision dimmed and saw flashing lights. _Good time?_ Her expression must have looked alarmed, for Maggie hastily added, "Good God, Charlotte! I meant a party, not group sex."

"Too bad," Nyah remarked, her tone deceptively casual. "I wouldn't mind some group sex."

"Why?" Lottie asked, then amended, "Why not one big party instead?"

"Oh, we do that too," Erma Lyn said at the same time as Maggie spoke.

When Erma Lyn finished, Maggie tried again, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "It's a nice thing to do for them. They're as isolated here as we are. Shouldn't they be made to feel welcome? Giving each one a small party, just for them, is one way to help them feel special."

"I guess so," Lottie reluctantly agreed, then asked warily, "What do these celebrations entail?" Maggie did say no sex, but that left a lot of room for interpretation.

"We have limited supplies, so sometimes it's a game night," Zoe answered.

"Other times, it's a themed skit or a cook-off," Jackie added. "It's up to the team and what we know about our assigned donor that dictates what we do for them."

"A personalized party... For them?" Lottie clarified.

"Yep," Maggie nodded. "We give our donor a private party, and then after a few hours, we meet at the cafeteria for dinner, carols, and our white elephant gift exchange," Maggie finished.

Lottie's thoughts flit from one fact to another before settling on the white elephant gifts. A gift for who? "Gifts?"

"Yeah," Susan said. Lottie had to look over her shoulder to see the woman. "It was all Maggie's idea. After we draw a donor name from the hat, we put our names on the back of that slip and return it to the bag for another draw. We then pull new names, but this time, the name is for who gets our gift."

"Why on the back? Why not new slips of paper?"

Valery answered Lottie's question. "Limited resources. We have to reuse the paper, or we'd run out."

"Oh."

"After we determine our super-secret gift recipient—" Susan continued. "—we then try to give them something special."

Lottie's stomach fluttered with nerves. How would she ever come up with a gift? "Like what?"

"If you're crafty, you can make something," Jackie said. "Or you can cook something in the kitchen. One year someone took over my duties for a week." She paused; her expression turned reflective. "That had been nice."

It did sound nice, probably caused a headache in the rotation, but Lottie felt herself embracing the idea anyway. She could do that. Give one of the ladies a day off.

"There's twenty-seven of us this year," Valery said, interrupting Lottie's musing. "There'll be one extra name at the end, and that donor will be short a participant, but we can't help that."

"Better than the two, like last year," Erma Lyn said.

"Hope I get 'talented tongue' Jeremiah," Nyah said with a lascivious grin.

Valery ignored Nyah. "Let's begin. Dora, you and I both got Burkholder," she said and began passing around the bag. As it made its way around the room, each woman pulled a name and called it out while Sadie diligently kept track of which woman had which solstice team.

"Why pull names, though?" Lottie asked Maggie. The bag was at the far end of the room, and they had a few minutes before it would be their turn.

"Most fair way to do it," she answered. "Prevents favoritism. There is always at least one donor here that no one likes."

Lottie thought of Ito, and she shuddered. She hoped she didn't pull his name.

"Here you go," Susan said and handed Lottie the bag. Lottie reached in. Her heart was pounding. What if she was stuck with Ito? His comments from their trip to the facility were fresh on her mind. She touched her cheek, remembering his knuckles as he backhanded her. The small slip of paper felt hot. Incendiary. Rather than yanking her hand from the bag as she desired, she pinched her choice between her fingertips and drew out the name.

Taking a deep breath, she looked down.

Kenzie.

_Thank ever-absent God. Kenzie._ Lottie exhaled forcefully. She could do Kenzie. "Kenzie," Lottie announced and handed the bag to Sadie.

"Ito."

Lottie winced. She'd half hoped Sadie would pull Burkholder's name. Before she could think too deeply on her assignment, Susan handed her a small pencil. "Here. Write your name on the back so we can do the second half."

"Okay." Lottie hastily scribbled her name on the back of her paper with Kenzie's name on it and then handed it to Valery, who had her hand out to receive it. Valery put it into a pile with the other slips and waited for the last few women to pull their donor names. Once done, the process started all over again, but this time, the women did it to determine who would receive their white elephant gift.

Then, it was her turn. Lottie plunged her hand into the bag, eager to see who she had pulled for a gift recipient. Her fingers closed on a name, and she extracted her hand. Lottie passed the bag to Sadie before looking down at the slip of paper in her hand.

Jackie.

Lottie would be making a solstice gift for Jackie.

***

Frozen on the communication device in front of her was an image of a twenty-something, blond-haired, blue-eyed soldier saluting the camera and looking smart in his dress uniform. Lottie's attention drifted from the picture to Scarsi, who was staring at the printout from the EEG and scratching his chin. "One more time through Twenty-Thirty, Charlie, Bravo-one, Bravo-two, Romeo."

"Specific range?" Wardell asked.

"Forty through sixty-five."

The screen turned black, then reloaded with more enlistment photos of soldiers eligible for the donor program. Lottie shifted her weight in her chair. Her tush was tired, and she couldn't wait to leave. Wardell and Scarsi wouldn't let her go yet. She had a few minutes left on her treatment hour.

At least looking at images specifically chosen to find her perfect donor match was less painful than the porn or the medical procedures. Lottie had her fill with being poked with needles, having doctors inspect her nethers, or having vile turkey basters shoved into her womb. Yes. Looking at potential donors was preferable even if it was boring. It wasn't like she'd find a match in these pictures. Lottie snickered to herself. _What do they use to entice lesbians?_

Before she could examine that thought in full, Wardell restarted the program, which began scrolling quickly through new images, and Lottie felt her eyes glaze with boredom. She snapped back to attention moments later, when a young man with tan skin, hazel irises that sparkled with mischief and intelligence, and short brown hair, flashed on the screen and then off again.

Casey!

Lottie's pulse spiked. _Can't be._ The picture had come and gone so quickly, she couldn't be sure, but her heart knew. Casey's image had been on that screen. Her skin felt hot, then cold, and sweat beaded on her brows. The thought of the Gates facility inviting Casey to this place made her feel ill.

"Interesting. Queue back to fifty-eight through sixty-two." Scarsi ordered. "And slow it down."

Wardell nodded once, and the screen turned black for the fifth time that morning. Then the constant scroll of photos began again. The first man was unremarkable, the second, the same, then it was Casey. Lottie bit her lip. Her heart pounded erratically, and she glanced at Scarsi out of the corner of her eye.

"Who's on sixty?"

Glanced at his notes, Wardell said, "Staff Sergeant Huxley."

Scarsi muttered an acknowledgment and made a notation on the printout.

"Don't bother." Wardell shook his head. "False lead."

"Why?"

"He's the soldier that reclaimed Private Forrester," Wardell said and flashed her a knowing smile. What Wardell thought he knew, Lottie wasn't sure, but she doubted it had anything to do with the truth.

Defending his original assessment, Scarsi argued, "With these readings, it'd be worth pursuing."

"No. It's a false lead and not worth our time," Wardell insisted.

"But..." Scarsi tapped his finger against the printout. "According to this, you'd have a hard time keeping them apart."

Lottie bit her lip to keep from reacting. No matter how much she looked forward to seeing Casey, having Casey at Gates would be a nightmare. For one, who would take care of Greysen? And then there was her newly found jealousy. If he came here, he'd be encouraged to be with others, and the thought of him sleeping with Nyah or Maggie made her feel sick to her stomach. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lottie closed her eyes. She hated how helpless she felt.

"It's worth investigating," Scarsi added. "At a minimum, put forth the recommendation to Surgeon Underwood."

"Fine," Wardell said, and after a pause, he continued, "Private Forrester, please turn your attention back to the screen."

Rubbing her forehead, she felt her shoulders lift to her ears. Lottie knew what was next and positively hated the porn segment of her treatments. Opening her eyes, she caught Wardell's gaze over the top of the monitor. Maybe he'd let her skip it today. "Can I be excused? Please?"

Wardell's lips pressed together into a thin line, and he stared at her for a moment. She felt sure he'd deny her request, but finally, he said, "Only if you promise to attend the optional time with the donors all next week."

"Sold," Lottie agreed, readily, eager to do anything besides watch the beast with two backs with two scientists looking on.

Holding his hand up to silence Scarsi, Wardell sighed and nodded. "See you on Monday."

"Yes, sir," she murmured and bolted from the room.

Standing in the hallway, rubbing at the ache in her chest, trying to shake her disorientation at seeing Casey, Lottie took a moment to decide where to go. It was a little early for her breakfast. She had another fifteen minutes before her scheduled time, but she didn't think anyone would stop her.

_Food. Then outside,_ Lottie decided. She'd sit on her favorite bench, eat, and then afterward, she'd go to her mandatory donor meeting at the library with the six other women who'd also had their treatments this morning.

The formal meetings were irritating but not as bad as Nyah let on. Typically a guard, usually Goldin and Surgeon Underwood, supervised the session while the women mingled with the four donors for an hour. The interactions always felt off, forced, and unnatural. Lottie supposed Optional time was better. It couldn't be much worse.

Her decision reaffirmed, Lottie made her way from the medical wing to the cafeteria where she grabbed some fruit and toast, before leaving for the courtyard. Standing in the bright sunlight, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then another. The air was crisp but not as cold as it could be for early December, and for that, Lottie was grateful.

She only had a few more minutes to enjoy the great outdoors before she had to go in. Turning her face to the rising sun, she took another bite of her toast and chewed. The courtyard—no matter how cold—was her refuge, her quarter. Her one place to feel connected to the life she left, to Greysen and Casey, and the one place where the walls of Gates didn't seem to close her in. It helped that she sometimes met and talked with Leo. He was quiet, polite, and friendly, and after the past few weeks of getting to know him, she now felt comfortable in his presence.

Sighing, she finished her toast and opened her eyes. "Best to get it over with," she muttered under her breath, turned and went back inside.

Upon reaching the door to the sub walk system, Lottie pulled it open and descended the stairs. The door clanged shut behind her with a finality that sent shivers down her spine, and Lottie walked faster. She hated being underground.

Popping out of the tunnel at the other end, Lottie hustled up the stairs and pushed open the door. The weight of the facility over her was less oppressive, and she took a deep, fortifying breath. Once steady, she made her way to the library and entered. The usual sight greeted her. The men were talking amongst themselves at one side of the room, and the women were on the other, shooting the men furtive glances, and Lottie was struck anew by the difference between Lady's Night and Donor Time. Actually, the whole thing reminded Lottie of the dances the Communal Directors organized for the teens: awkward and insecure.

Lottie dismissed the donors and sought the women on the other side of the room, confirming who was in attendance. Lisa and Meghan were standing off to the side, chatting quietly. Lottie's shoulders relaxed to see her mother sitting at one of the tables with Gwen and Valery. Maybe today would be different. Perhaps today, Grace would talk to her.

She'd taken no more than three steps into the room when Leo detached himself from the cluster of soldiers and headed her way. "Private Forrester."

"Master Sergeant Kenzie," Lottie replied as formally.

"How are you doing this morning?"

_Narrowly escaped the matchmaking clutches of Scarsi and Wardell, thanks,_ she thought, but said, "Good. You?"

Leo shrugged, sniffed, and glanced around the room. "The usual." He sniffed again.

Looking closer, Lottie noticed his nose was red, and his eyes were a tad bloodshot. "Are you sick?"

"A cold," he said, waving away her concern. "I'll live."

A cold? Cleo had the sniffles on Monday, and Lottie wondered if Leo had contracted it from her, not that it was any of Lottie's business how he came down with a bug.

"And how were treatments?" he asked.

She grimaced, remembering the image of Casey and how Surgeon Scarsi had pounced on her reaction to seeing his photo. "Fine."

"Still regaling you with videos of couples _in flagrante delicto_?" Leo's question was serious, even if amusement colored his tone.

Lottie shook her head. "Not today. I begged off in exchange for going to Optional time next week."

"Oh?" Leo's eyebrow lifted questioningly. He knew how she felt about the videos, donors, and what was expected of her here at Gates.

"Would you want to watch porn while attached to an EEG?"

Leo snickered. "No."

"Exactly. The rest of the treatments are bad enough. But to add that? It's embarrassing." Lottie pinched her lips together. Usually, she'd suffer through a full treatment session instead of spending any more time than necessary near Ito, but she couldn't do it this morning. Not with Casey on her mind. It was hard enough to disassociate her body's responses when the male actors didn't look like Casey. It didn't help that Lottie knew—just knew—Scarsi was scouring their collection of porn for more videos featuring men who would resemble Casey, and that felt? Wrong.

She sighed.

Leo kindly dropped the subject and instead leaned close to whisper, "Has your mother talked to you yet?"

Lottie shook her head. "No." _But I hope today is different._ She wished every day was different, but so far, that hope had been in vain.

He clasped her by the elbow and gently led her away from the other donors. Murmuring in her ear, he asked, "Want me to say something to her?" His thumb rubbed back and forth against the sensitive skin on her inner arm at the crease with her bicep. It was distracting and vaguely unpleasant.

"No. No, thank you," Lottie said, tugging her arm from his grip, and Leo looked at his hand in surprise as if he didn't remember holding her arm. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try right now."

Leo nodded and straightening. "Good luck."

"Thanks." _I'll need it._ Squaring her shoulders, she left Leo's side and made her way across the intervening space.

As Lottie approached, she heard Grace tell Valery, "No matter what happens, this is my last one."

"Good."

"Yes," Grace replied and fell silent when Lottie stopped in front of them.

"Hi," Lottie said to the women at the table.

Gwen and Valery replied with a warm greeting, but Grace glared at her.

"Can I join you?"

"Yes," both Valery and Gwen replied at the same time as Grace said, "No."

Trying to ignore Grace's hostility, Lottie pulled out a chair and sat. Valery and Gwen sent her pained smiles, which Lottie returned. She didn't know what to say to break the awkward silence—it was always this way with her mother—and she ended up blurting the first thing that came to her mind. "Wardell's planning to invite to Gates the soldier that turned me in." Valery and Gwen gasped, and Lottie nodded. "Apparently, I 'reacted strongly' to his image, and they think I want him here."

"Don't you?" Grace asked, making Gwen give her a peculiar look, one that blended irritation and curiosity, before turning back to Lottie.

"No. I don't want him." _...here._

"Are you sure?" Grace asked, her tone flat and dispassionate. "Their research is rarely wrong. Besides—"

"I'm sure," Lottie interrupted

"—he's your baby's father, right?"

"No!" The question caught Lottie off guard, and she grimaced at the intensity of her reply. Where in the world did Grace get that idea? "No," she repeated. "Greysen's biological father is a donor." Lottie had to bite back the rest of her sentence.

"Tell us about him?" Gwen prompted with a gentle smile.

"Greysen's donor? Why?"

"No," Valery said. "Your baby."

"Oh." Lottie bit her lower lip as she thought about how to answer the question. They knew she had a baby, and they knew she ran, but maybe they hadn't figured out the rest. Lottie had no intention of enlightening them about how she came to be pregnant with Greysen.

Brushing a hand through her hair, Lottie stopped to scratch an itch behind her ear. "Well, he looked nothing like me, so he must look like his donor." Valery gave her a tentative smile, and the look in her eyes invited Lottie to continue. "He had dark curly hair and bright green eyes. And he loved playing in the water."

"Aw," Valery said under her breath.

Lottie nodded and opened her mouth to say something else, but the skin between her shoulders began to twitch as if someone watched her. She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, the soldiers appeared to have marshaled their courage and were heading toward them with Ito leading the way. Standing abruptly, Lottie leaned forward and pressed her hands to the table to steady their slight tremble.

"I have to go," Lottie whispered, pushing away from the table.

She would escape via a library aisle. Lottie had no intention of visiting with any of the donors today, no matter how much Wardell wanted her to. Instead, she'd kill time browsing for a few new books to read.

# Chapter 28

Lottie inched her way down the aisle. Her fingers touched each book's spine as she read the titles. Lottie had already found two light-hearted fantasies and was now perusing the non-fiction section in a quest to replace her lost flora and fauna books. The idea had come to her the other day when she'd been discussing escape plans with Nyah, and Lottie figured she could filch a book or two. Or three without anyone noticing.

A few promising titles made themselves known, and she grabbed the first one, _Sustainable Living: Gathering Your Harvest._ As she read the back, the sounds of subdued conversation at the table where the women and men were sitting, faded into indistinct tones. She flipped the book open but quickly determined it wouldn't help her. Placing it back on the shelf, she plucked the next possibility from the shelf: _Urban Gathering: What Your Grandmother Knew but Didn't Tell You_.

"You think that will help?" someone whispered near her ear, and Lottie snapped to attention.

Turning toward the voice, Lottie answered, "Yes."

Grace looked at the title and then to her. "What do you need to do more? Gather or farm?"

"I..." She blinked, her mind completely blank. Grace was talking to her! Politely!

"I would think something about herbal cures would be a better fit," Grace said, conversationally. "Keep that grandson healthy. You probably already know everything you'd need to about gathering and farming,"—she said, indicating the book in Lottie's hand with a twitch of her head—"Especially since you already lived in the woods for several years without them."

"I... uh," Lottie stammered.

"How about one that does both?"

"Both? Yes."

Grace nodded. "Put that one back and follow me. I have what you need."

Lottie shoved the reference book on the shelf, not caring where it landed and took off after her mother. They rounded the corner made by the shelves and walked two aisles down before turning down the new row. They walked a quarter of the distance of its length and stopped. Grace searched for a title. Finding it, she pulled it from the shelf and handed it to Lottie. Glancing down, Lottie read: _Common Herbal Cures_. A second book dropped on top of the first: _Nutritional and Medicinal Applications of Commonly Found Plants_.

Tearing her gaze from the books, Lottie studied Grace. A tiny smile tugged at her mother's lips, and Lottie felt her heart lurch. Could today be the day? Grace held up a book. It was titled: _Can I Eat it? An Encyclopedia of Edible Plants._ She added it to Lottie's stack with an apology. "I'm sorry."

"For-for what?"

"For everything." Grace paused. "For not listening. For storming away." She paused again. "But I'm here now."

Sucking in a deep breath, Lottie impulsively pulled Grace into a fierce one-armed hug, nearly dropping the books she held in the process. Her mother froze, arms limp at her side, books pressed between them, but after a moment, she tentatively returned Lottie's embrace, whispering, "Can you tell me what you are you planning? How we're going to do this? Is it open to more than Zoe and me?"

Lottie nodded vigorously. Releasing Grace, she looked down the aisle toward the dignitaries. She counted four of them, but where were Goldin and Underwood? "Nyah, and I need to know how many want in, but other than that, the only plan I have is the one I came here with."

"Private Forrester. Townsend," Goldin said from behind them, making Lottie jerk guiltily, and she swallowed hard. How much had he heard?

"Playtime's over."

"Yes, sir," they both replied and headed back to the group mingling in the common area of the library.

***

"Bawwll! Bawwll!" Greysen cried.

Scooping Greysen up into his arms, Casey tucked the child's head against his shoulder to further muffle his tears and stepped off the path leading to Noah's home. Casey knew full well, that stealth was nearly impossible between Greysen's noises of fatigue and the sound of Casey's boots crunching through the leaf clutter, but Casey had to try. If he didn't, he'd never hear the end of it from Noah. Especially if Noah was out hunting him.

A few moments later, Casey was close enough to peek into the clearing through the screen of trees and dormant honeysuckle that lined the clearing. A man stood a few feet from Noah's door with his back to Casey, his backpack on the ground at his feet, and was scratching Bix behind the ears.

_Good._ Noah was back.

"'Oah?" Greysen asked the word muffled by Casey's shirt.

Casey sniffed the air again, hoping to smell mint, all the while wondering if that was how Greysen knew Noah was back, but Casey couldn't detect anything besides a dirty diaper. It made him curious, though. How did Greysen do that? Lottie often told him that Greysen would cry for him long before she knew he was near, and Casey'd witnessed the same behavior whenever Noah came home. It was uncanny. How did Greysen always know? Casey shook off his curiosity.

"Yes, Noah's back," Casey whispered in response.

"Up. Up."

"Down, Greysen. You mean down," Casey corrected as he set the toddler down.

Greysen wobbled for a moment, but then he took off through the trees. His steps were high, and Casey bit his lip to keep from laughing at the sight of Greysen running at full speed. "Doesn't get very far," Casey muttered to himself, grinning. He had no idea when Greysen would figure out stride length over stride height, but Casey hoped it was soon. At this rate, it would be morning before Greysen reached Noah.

Draping the blanket over his arm, Casey followed Greysen, determined to rescue him from his fate of running practically in place. Emerging from the trees, it only took Casey a few strides before he'd caught up with the toddler. Grabbing Greysen at the waist, Casey spun him in a circle. Greysen squealed and threw his hands out like a human airplane. Casey knew the game Greysen wanted and obliged him by mimicking the sound of an old engine Casey had once heard and swooping Greysen low to the ground before lifting him high in the air.

Noah smiled at their antics.

"Welcome back," Casey said as he flew Greysen in a tight formation around Noah. "Everything went according to plan?"

"Yes," Noah answered, and held his hands out for Greysen.

"'Owwn. 'Owwn, 'Oah!"

"Tired, are we?" Noah asked Greysen as he took Greysen from Casey.

Greysen nodded and promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth before resting his head against Noah's shoulder.

Noah patted Greysen's back and addressed Casey, "I finished the main clearing, central fire pit, and ground leveling for their three tents. Next trip, I'll finish the smokehouse and outhouse."

Casey nodded and tugged Greysen's poncho over his rump. "I should be able to get out there in March or April to build the chicken coop and prep the garden."

"You need a storage shed, a butchering, and tanning station, and it would be good to have some benches in addition to the table and chairs you have there already," Noah said.

"I'll get Tristan to work on the benches. We need a few at Fort Sutton, too, so it won't look odd if he's building a few more."

"Are you planning a cabin?" Noah asked.

Casey glanced at Noah's abode and grimaced. He'd much prefer Greysen and Lottie to have solid walls instead of a tent to live in, but he didn't see how he could accomplish that level of construction in the time they had left. As it stood, if nothing unexpected happened, Lottie would be back—and in his arms—by the end of April. That left him four cold winter months to finish the settlement. Between his limited time in the cold months ahead, and Lincoln's continued suspicions, Casey didn't see how he could accomplish it. "I'd like to, but it will have to wait."

Noah patted Greysen on the back and said, "Well, there's time for that later. I should have at least one ex-soldier—hopefully two—stationed at the settlement by summer. One of them can work on constructing the shelter."

Casey frowned. He didn't like the idea of trusting Greysen and Lottie's security to someone he didn't know, but every time he asked Noah about these mysterious ex-soldiers, Noah would brush him off, saying it would be fine and to not worry about it. Casey knew that asking Noah again would be futile, so instead, he said, "I have a rabbit stew simmering inside. Hungry?"

"Yes."

"Go on in, then," Casey said. "It should be about done. I'll grab your bag for you."

Noah twitched his head down once in a clipped nod, which Casey assumed was a form of thanks, opened his door, and held it open for Bix and Mira before going in himself.

Sighing, Casey grabbed the backpack from the ground and followed. Inside he found Greysen sitting on the rocking chair with an upside-down book in his hands and two dogs at his feet. Bix had his muzzle pressed tight against Greysen's thigh, keeping him steady on the chair, and Mira lay with her snout buried under one paw. Casey ruffed the fur behind her ear, and she wagged her tail.

"Do you want some?" Noah asked from the other end of the room, where he bent over the soup pot serving himself.

"Yes."

Straightening, Noah brought Casey the larger of the two mugs and handed it to him. Noah took a sniff from his cup. "Smells good."

Casey grunted an acknowledgment but declined to comment. "You hear anything from the facility? About the mission?"

Noah's lips turned down in a momentary frown before smoothing back to his neutral expression. "No. Read anything on their files?"

"No."

The two let the conversation lapse while they ate, each taking turns feeding Greysen from their mug, but eventually, they all finished, and the end-of-the-day chores arrived, needing completion.

"I'm going to go get water for Greysen's bath," Casey said. "Want me to get enough for you, too?"

Noah rolled his shoulders and tilted his head side to side to popped his neck. He nodded and massaged his tight muscles.

Casey stood and left the cabin. When he returned with the first two buckets of water from the river, he found Noah had prepared the large washtub. Casey set the containers down on the grate in the fire and left to get more water.

As he walked, he thought about a better way to get wash water into the cabin. A rainwater cistern on the roof coupled with some stolen PVC pipe from one of the homes nearby could give Noah some rudimentary plumbing, and he wondered why Noah hadn't done it yet. Noah didn't appear to be lazy. Maybe he just didn't find it necessary to have that much water on hand, but Lottie would appreciate it.

Turning his focus back to the settlement and what she might need, Casey decided to ask Tristan to make something similar for her. Of course, Tristan had made a few wash stations already, but he could easily make two more. Casey admitted it would be harder to hide these from Lincoln.

Scooping water into the two buckets he'd carried, he turned and headed back, pondering how to disguise the new construction from Lincoln. Casey entered Noah's cabin a few minutes later with the two full buckets but no new ideas on how to get Lottie the things she needed without Lincoln noticing.

Casey swapped out the fresh buckets with the ones warming in the fire and poured the heated ones into the waiting tub. Pushing the washtub closer to the flames, Casey hoped the water would stay warm while he got the last of what they needed from the river.

Hustling back to the cabin after his third trip, he found Greysen splashing in the tub and Noah doing his best to wash the squirming child. Casey put the new water on the grate and turned to Noah, "Here. Let me."

Noah nodded and slipped out of the way. "Thanks, son. These old bones need a break."

Casey swallowed back his retort. Instead, he sat on the floor and resumed washing Greysen. A moment later, the cold air from outside swirled in, and Casey knew Noah had left. The man's destination became evident a minute later when Casey heard the dog pen open, and the juvenile puppies began barking and baying in excitement.

"'Oogie!" Greysen yelled and then yawned fiercely.

"Close your eyes," Casey told him and dipped Greysen's head back to rinse out the soap from his hair. Casey brushed the water drops from Greysen's brow and then sat back on his heels. He'd let Greysen play for a minute or two more, and then he'd get him ready for bed.

When the time limit expired, Casey plucked Greysen from the water, and after drying him off, Casey dressed Greysen in a fresh cloth diaper, leather bloomers, and his woolen smock. Once Greysen was ready, Casey took him over to Noah's rocking chair, where he fussed with Greysen until they were both comfortable and then wrapped them both up in the throw blanket from the bed.

Picking up the book Greysen had been playing with earlier, Casey read the title, _The Awakening._ Opening it, he began to read aloud. Slowly the words captured Casey's imagination, and Casey lost himself in the story. It was sometime during chapter three when Noah came in and set up the privacy screen so that he could wash. Casey did his best to ignore the sound of Noah's bathing and continued to read to Greysen.

It was several hours later that Casey awoke with numb legs and an aching arm where he held Greysen tight to his chest. The book Casey had been reading rested on the floor, spine up with several pages bent under it. He mentally apologized to Noah for damaging his book, then shifted his weight. Standing slowly, Casey walked to the bed, careful not to bump Noah, who was currently sleeping on the floor next to the fire. Casey wondered how he could have slept through Noah cleaning up after his bath, but decided it wasn't worth the effort to figure out.

Turning back the blankets, he placed Greysen next to the wall under the window and climbed in after him. Pulling the covers up to their chins, he wrapped his arm around the warm toddler and let himself fall back to sleep.

***

Clutching the folded blankets closer to her chest, Lottie took a deep breath. "Lottie," she scolded. "The party is for Leo. You can do this for him," she said, trying to settle her nerves. "Make him feel welcome. You want him to feel welcome, don't you?" She sighed. She didn't know why the party made her uncomfortable, but Lottie would rather have stayed in her room than to come out here and celebrate the solstice with Leo and the other women.

While she stood there immobile in the hallway, the door to the courtyard opened, and Ashley poked her head back inside. "Good. You're here. We were worried."

"No need." Lottie smiled at her. At least Ashley hadn't heard Lottie muttering to herself. "I have the blankets." Ashley's eyebrow arched upward in response to Lottie's statement of the obvious, and Lottie felt a blush heat her cheeks. "I hope Leo likes his party."

"I'm sure he will," Ashley said and held the door open. "It was a great idea. I'm glad you thought of it."

It was amusing, Lottie thought, how on board with this party Ashley had become. Team Kenzie had spent their entire Ladies' Night the week before trying to come up with something special for Leo, and Ashley'd shot down everyone else's ideas. To be fair, Marybelle's poetry reading suggestion gave Lottie the shivers, and Meghan's advice of Knaves and Knights was trite. In the end, Zoe had turned to her and asked, "You spend the most time with him. What do you suggest?" Lottie knew Leo loved being outside and told them as much. The other women agreed with her campfire stories idea and eagerly set to planning.

Shrugging away Ashley's thanks, Lottie stepped into the courtyard and stopped abruptly. The other women had done a marvelous job bringing her campfire party to life.

Somehow Zoe had convinced one of the guards—or maybe all of them—to lug in stones. Zoe had set them in a circle for their fire pit. It looked like Marybelle succeeded in finding enough wood, for there was a significant stack of logs next to the firepit. On the other side of the fire, Natalie and Meghan finished setting the chairs.

"Wow!" Lottie whispered. "It looks great. He's going to love it."

"It looks like you envisioned?" Ashley asked her.

"Yes. It's perfect." Lottie couldn't have done better herself.

"Good," Ashley said, took the blankets from Lottie, and began walking toward the fire. "Why don't you go get him, then?"

Lottie swallowed hard and then nodded. She could do this. Turning away from the women, Lottie went back inside and made her way down the hall to the donors' wing. There she found Leo conversing with Burkholder. She came to a halt in front of them, and when Burkholder finished speaking, she greeted him with a polite "Sir" then addressed Leo, "Master Sergeant Kenzie? Are you ready?"

"I am." Returning his attention to Burkholder, he said, "That idea you proposed about moving water into and out of the fields is an excellent one. Can we discuss making it a reality tomorrow?" After Burkholder replied in the affirmative, Leo faced Lottie. "Shall we?" Without waiting for her answer, he took her hand in his and looped it under his arm. Once arm in arm, he patted her hand and led her down the hall as if she were some princess, and he a courtly gentleman. "Where to, Miss Lottie?"

"Cafeteria."

"Cafeteria?" he asked, sounding surprised. "I thought it was set up for the Solstice dinner already."

"Oh, it is. We're not stopping there."

"Ah." He nodded his understanding and leisurely strolled toward their destination.

When they arrived, Lottie looked up and said, "Okay. Cover your eyes."

Leo smirked at her but then did as she requested.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Ten," Leo replied.

"Wrong. Fifteen," Lottie said with a chuckle. "Now, no, peeking!"

"No, ma'am," he agreed amiably.

Once she was sure he couldn't see, Lottie grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door to the courtyard. "Wait here," she ordered as she opened it, and a blast of cold air blew past her, and she knew it ruined the surprise. Retaking Leo's hand, Lottie brought him out of the building and into the courtyard. "Careful," she said and guided him from the path. As they drew closer to the fire, the warmth began to seep through her clothes. Sighing, she said, "You can look now."

She watched as his hand covering his eyes dropped away, and a grin lit up his face.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes." He turned toward her. "Your idea?"

"Yes."

"It's perfect."

Lottie beamed with pleasure, truly glad to have given him something he liked. "Come on then. I think Natalie even made marshmallows for roasting."

"Really?"

"She claims they aren't too hard to make."

While they were talking about marshmallows, they'd come close enough for the other women to hear them, and Natalie said, "No, they're not too hard to make, but they do take a lot of time and sugar. Lots and lots of sugar."

Ashley made a sound like strangled bliss. "I can't wait! I haven't had roasted marshmallows since you made them two years ago for our Fourth of July celebration."

"If you can't wait, why don't pass around the bag then," Marybelle chimed in.

"Sure, where are they?"

"Over there, by the spare blankets," Natalie answered, and Ashley moved off toward them.

Lottie said to Leo, "Why don't you grab a seat while I get you a blanket."

"All right."

Lottie walked over to the pile Ashley had taken from her earlier, grabbed two covers, then returning to Leo's side, she gave him one.

"Here," Ashley said at the same time and handed Leo a roasting fork and the bag of gooey, misshapen marshmallows.

He dumped the blanket in his lap and took the offered items from her. "Thanks, Miss Ashley."

"Don't mention it." Ashley smiled and took a seat next to Leo.

_Huh._ Did Ashley want to be with Leo? It looked like it. Not wanting to get in their way in case they hit it off, Lottie moved to the other side of the fire and grabbed a free seat next to Meghan.

Leo caught her eye across the flames and smiled at her before turning back to Ashley. "Besides the marshmallows, what do all y'all have planned for tonight?"

"Well," Ashley said. "Charlotte told us you have several funny stories about your service that you could share, and we all thought we should do the same."

Leo glanced at Lottie across the fire again, and she felt her cheeks warm, hoping he wasn't angry at her for sharing that information. It wasn't like she'd told them the stories, only that he had them, but maybe he'd felt that information was private, and she shouldn't have said anything to the other women.

"All right," Leo said. He didn't sound upset, so maybe it was okay.

"I'll start," Meghan volunteered. "One year our communal director wanted us to make items to swap at the annual Fourth of July fair, so she orchestrated the things we'd need—ya'know, supplies and such. She said it was about time for us to learn how to get what we needed at the fair. I was excited! I spent many nights after my studies, making trinkets—dolls, bracelets, and such—I was proud of them." She took a breath. "The big day loomed, and all of us went to the market grounds to see what we could get for our labors." Megan glanced around the fire, catching everyone's eyes before continuing. "I found this beautiful sweater. It was purple, pink, and cream. I had to have it." She glanced at her hands, and Lottie wondered if she saw the sweater in her lap. "Anyway, the woman who made it must have had a deal with our communal director, for she took all my trinkets in trade and gave me the sweater." Megan glanced up, seeming to catch the eye of Leo. She smiled, then continued. "My communal director regretted that decision that first cool day. I took out my sweater—my adult-sized sweater—and I figured it was long enough to pass for a dress." Megan snorted. "So, I wore it to class as such."

Natalie gasped, "You didn't!"

"No pants or anything?" Ashley asked, chuckling.

"Nope," Megan said, grinning. "The instructor had to call my communal director down to the school. Boy, she was pissed. After taking my sweater, she made me change into the warmest uniform I owned. I was sweating buckets by the time I got back to my bunk and could change." Megan's grin diminished. "I never saw that sweater again."

"I'm sorry," Natalie responded.

Meghan shrugged. "It was my fault. I knew better but tried it anyway."

Ashley spoke up, "Well, I have one. I didn't get caught either."

"Go ahead," Megan prompted, appearing to be relieved at the change of topic.

"You know how the Fort St. Louis facility has all these motivational posters hanging up in the Barracks?"

There was a chorus of agreement from the other women around the fire.

"Pass the marshmallows," Marybelle said with her hand out.

Ashley handed her the bag and began, "One year, the night before April Fool's day, I went around and changed all the text on the posters to demotivational ones." Ashley paused then added, "I put statements like: 'Pain is just weakness leaving the body and taking the soul with it' for the 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' poster and instead of the 'hang in there' cat doing chin-ups on a rope, I posted: 'Give up! It's not worth it'." When no one laughed, Ashley sighed. "I thought it was funny even if you all don't."

"What happened? Did anyone find them?" Marybelle asked.

"That's just it! No one noticed for three whole days."

"I'm not surprised. Those posters were so stupid," Natalie said.

"I guess," Ashley replied. She sounded a bit down.

"It was a clever idea, though," Natalie said. Lottie didn't think anyone agreed, but she didn't want to hurt Ashley's feelings by saying so.

"So, what about you?" Ashely asked Leo, seeming to shake off her disappointment at their reactions to her story. "Have any funny barracks stories?"

"Can you tell the horse barn one," Lottie asked. She loved that story.

"The horse barn?" he asked. "You sure?"

"Yes," Lottie nodded her head. "It's a great one."

"All right," Leo agreed. "I was a Private when it happened."

The other women leaned forward, eager for his story.

"We had a small work crew of PGD on-site to install some solar panels at our stables to run the lights and the fans. It can get hot in the barns." Leo paused to bite into a marshmallow. "These are good, Miss Natalie."

"Thanks," Natalie replied.

"Anyway, the PGD worked all day up on the roof, installing these panels. Finally, they came down and reported to my CO that they had finished."

Leo chewed his last bite of marshmallow and then reached for the bag at Marybelle's feet. She hastily handed it to him.

"The CO went to test the install. He walked to the end of the barn and flipped the light switch. The lights flickered once. Twice. Then turned on. Then he flipped the switch on the fans." Leo stopped to snicker under his breath. "All of a sudden, there were these loud whomp whomp whomps, and we all looked up." Leo was grinning. "One by one, the fans lifted off their moorings and took to the air—much like a helicopter, I'd expect, though I've never seen one. They flew upwards until their wiring yanked them back. They pulled loose from their tethering, spinning end over end down the roof."

Leo was trying not to laugh, and Lottie bit her lip to keep back her giggles. It was too easy to picture.

"Bang. Bang. Bang,"—he said, flinching with each word for emphasis—"and then a moment of silence as each fan falls off the edge of the roof. One right after the other." He loosely closed his fist and popped his fingers open in front of him repeatedly, adding explosion noises with each flex. "All eight fans crashed to the ground."

Lottie bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Continuing, Leo said, "I can see the CO's face! Pale at first and then growing red as he grew more and more pissed. Slowly, he pivoted on his heel and pinned the PGD with his glare."

"Ooh," Zoe said.

Leo appeared to feel the need to explain further, for he added, "One of the privates on the PGD crew inadvertently reversed the polarity on the fans when they installed the panels."

The woman shook their heads in dismay.

"The CO chewed the PGD out for over a half-hour," Leo said. "And we all had to stand there at attention as witnesses. We were out eight fans and had to move the horses to other barns while replacement fans were sent for and received. A new crew had to come for the install. It was a mess."

"How long did it take before the project completed?" Zoe inquired.

"Start to finish?"

"Yeah."

"Over six months."

"Damn," Zoe said.

"I haven't had to deal with anything like that." Leo tapped a log near the fire with his booted toe. "But, I have had my share of issues."

"Like what?" Ashley asked, batting her eyelashes at Leo.

"Panicked soldiers."

"Panicked soldiers?" Lottie asked.

Leo caught her eye across the flames and smirked. "Have you ever seen a sow?"

She shook her head.

"Just under a thousand kilos of pure-rage, held together by some sinew and skin." Lottie's eyes widened, and Leo nodded. "Some dipshit private—beggin' your pardon, ladies—decided to push the patience of my sweetest sow, Lucy. She'd farrowed five weeks before and had a full litter of piglets." Leo glanced around the fire, catching everyone's eye. "He said he wanted her to change pens so he could give her fresh food—we have the troughs at the edge of the pens for a reason. No need to move Lucy at all. Anyway, he grabs a piglet and makes off with it, figuring she'll follow."

Leo paused to shove a marshmallow on his roasting stick. Leaning forward, he put it close to the coals.

"He didn't expect her to charge him. See pigs will get out of any pen, but our sows are generally fine with staying near the food unless you threaten one of their piglets. "

He checked the cooked status of his marshmallow, clearly deciding it wasn't done yet and shoved it back into the flames.

"Lucy's no exception. So my private's heading down the row of stalls in the nursery and Lucy busts free."

He pulled his marshmallow from the flames.

"She's charging after her squealing piglet, and I have privates climbing pen fences left and right to get out of her way. That in itself was funny—grown men diving for cover from one sow—to be fair she will bite—but one of the privates found himself with the goats." Leo shook his head. His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Want to hear a grown man giggle like a little girl? Put him in with curious goats."

Leo blew on his cooling marshmallow and took a bite.

"The critters had made a hole in his uniform at the knee and were licking his shins. He couldn't take their raspy tongues, and he was dancing back and forth, trying to get away." Swallowing, he added, "I've never seen anything like it before nor since." Leo fell silent, and the group chuckled.

They then spent the next hour telling stories and laughing, but the party drew to a close when Valery came to get them for the Solstice dinner. Lottie shooed the rest of them inside, volunteering to clean up the mess from Leo's party.

Leo hung back, and Lottie smiled at him. "You had fun?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Lottie responded. "I'm glad you liked it."

Leo touched her forearm, halting her. "It was perfect."

Lottie felt her cheeks warm in a blush of pleasure. "Good."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead. Straightening, he helped her clean up, and they both went inside for dinner.

# Chapter 29

Her fingers deftly plucked a ripe raspberry off the bush and popped it into her mouth. She bit into it and moaned. The berries were plump and perfect, their juices rich and sweet, and the seeds crunched delightfully between her teeth.

She shifted her backpack off her shoulder and pulled a small fabric bag from its depths. She worked quickly to collect as many of the small ripe berries as she could for dinner tonight, knowing that she could only have enough for one meal. For without a proper way to store the harvest, the fruit would be bruised and mushy by the next morning.

She'd plucked half a bag's worth when her shoulders tensed, and a shiver made its way down her spine.

Someone watched her. The weight of the gaze felt heavy, settling about her shoulders like arms hugging her, keeping her close. Slowly, she stuffed the bag of fruit into her pack, shouldered the bag, and turned.

A shirtless man stood at the edge of the clearing.

He leaned against a tree carelessly, with his booted feet crossed at the ankles, and he had his hands shoved into the pockets of his threadbare camouflage-cargos, thumbs hooked loosely into his waistband.

She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the raspberry stuck in her throat.

"You lost?" he asked.

His voice reminded her of a creek bubbling over rocks, some patches dry and disused, whereas other sections gurgled with the flow.

She shook her head.

She was not lost.

His gaze traveled down her body, and she took an involuntary step back. His appraising look reminded her of a Fort St. Louis soldier on personal-leave, standing at the threshold of a State-run facility contemplating which retiree he would hire for the night.

"You hungry?"

Her throat made a strangled 'eep' sound, and she shook her head. The few pieces of fruit she'd eaten felt heavy in her stomach.

"No, I don't suppose you are," he said and shrugged. "Seeing as you're eating my berries."

Pushing off the tree, he straightened.

Her gaze traveled upward.

He was taller than he'd first appeared, well over six feet and very thin, but not emaciated. No, he had the leanness of a man who worked hard for a living. His arms and chest were strong, easily strong enough to haul a deer home for dressing, and if he caught her?

Feeling uneasy, she looked around the clearing, planning her escape.

"But that means I'll be hungry. What do you propose to do about it?"

"S-sorry." She took another step back. Maybe if she gave him the fruit he felt she stole, he'd leave her alone. She hadn't meant to take his food, but she could understand why he'd be angry that she had, especially if he made a home nearby and needed it to survive. She'd been on the run for over a year, and other than the settlement of men near Fort St. Louis, she never encountered any other group who lived off the land, though, she figured they existed.

He stepped toward her and into the light. "Sorry isn't good enough."

"It-It isn't? Okay, then... uh..." Her hand fished in her bag for the berries, finding it, she tossed it toward him. "There," she said. "You can have them back."

His eyes widened in surprise, and he caught the bag of fruit. He looked down at it.

She pivoted, took a step to run, and bumped into another bare chest. Arms closed in tight around her, and she squealed in alarm, elbows flying, and feet flailing, trying to hit her attackers.

It didn't work.

"Thanks," that brook like voice said.

The chest rumbled under her cheek, then the body's owner spun her about, straightjacket-ing her arms and hooking one of her legs behind his to hobble her.

She couldn't move.

The first man had come closer and was now less than a foot from her. She had to crane her neck to see him. His black curly hair fell across his brow, and he shook his head to shift the tendril from his eyes. He had the most incredible green eyes she'd ever seen.

He held the bag in the palm of his hand. "This settles part of your debt," he said, shaking it. "But what about the few you ate?" His thumb brushed her lips as if he wiped them clean of residual juice. "What will we do about those, hmm?"

Her pulse jumped, and she felt a hysterical laugh building.

"You think your debt to me is funny?"

She swallowed and shook her head.

The bare-chested man gripped her wrists tightly.

The green-eyed man's expression turned cold. "I think you need to come with us to work off that debt."

"No!" she yelled.

"Get her arms! Hold her legs!"

And she screamed...

The echo of Lottie's cries ricochet off the walls in her room, and her eyes flew open. She had to get away from their grasping hands and naked bodies. She whimpered. Flailing about, kicking and screaming, she broke free of the blankets holding her down, and Lottie tumbled from her bed to the cold hard floor.

_What?_ She glanced around, bewildered. The soft winter lighting shining into her bedroom dispelled the vision of summer trees, leaves curled upward in search of moisture, floating cottonwood seeds, and the iridescent shine of dragonfly wings. Her hands gripped the leg of her bed, and her forehead dropped to the cold tile. Deep hiccupping sobs choked her, and tears fell unchecked from the corner of her eyes.

Lottie sucked in a ragged breath, trying to get control. She hadn't dreamed of the attack in months, not since Casey decided to save her. "You're safe. They're gone," she chanted over and over again. It took a while, but eventually, her body believed her, and her tears ceased. "They can't hurt you, not ever again."

As her fear eased, awareness of her surroundings grew, and with it, the reason for her dream became evident. Coming from the speakers embedded in the light fixture over her bed were the unmistakable sounds of sex. _But not pleasurable sex,_ she thought. Porn sex. The sex that is real but still faked. Just like the videos, Wardell had her watch the other day, trying to entice her to seek out a donor. "It won't work!" she screamed at the speakers hoping Wardell and Scarsi or even Underwood could hear her. "I'm not having sex with a donor. Ever!"

Ever!

Standing, she marched to her closet and yanked out a fresh uniform. Once dressed in her warmest clothes and her heavy coat, Lottie stormed from the room and ran down the stairs. She burst through the door and into the courtyard and began walking.

"They can't make me," Lottie said to herself. "They can't." Her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, trying and failing to hold back her whole body shudders. "Breathe. Just breathe." She had to keep moving, if she didn't, the darkness at the edges of her vision would take over, and blacking out during a panic attack was last on her list of things to do today.

"If it were only the women putting on a moaned show, it wouldn't be so bad," Lottie muttered to herself. It was the heavy breathing, fake groaning, and sighing of a man finding satisfaction that genuinely bothered her. She couldn't stand the thought of those men— _his_ men—using her. Lottie swallowed back bile, remembering his green eyes, his hot breath on her neck, his muscles tensing as he came deep inside her. Her stomach roiled again, and she feared she might vomit.

Lost in her thoughts, Lottie didn't hear the sound of a woman climaxing until Lottie was nearly upon the copulating couple. Lottie's knees locked, and fear froze her to the spot when she heard the sound of a man close to orgasm, and her gaze jerked toward the noise.

The couple stood in a sheltered corner of the courtyard near Lottie's favorite bench. A blanket was haphazardly wrapped around them and lightly dusted with snow. Slender brown fingers gripped the edges of the wool tight, holding it closed at the man's nape, but it still gaped open, showing off the woman's ankles locked around his waist. The bottom corner of the blanket covered the man's partially bared ass, and the dangling pant leg of the woman's uniform hung indelicately from her ankle. The fabric rocked with each thrust of the man's hips. He uttered a strangled groan, pressed forward one more time, and then stopped moving.

Their harsh breathing sounded loud to Lottie, and she shivered in disgust. If it hadn't been for her dream, she probably wouldn't have thought much about their coupling other than embarrassment at having witnessed it. But concern for the woman's welfare fluttered in Lottie's chest, keeping pace with her rapidly beating heart, and she had to know if the woman was all right, if she had wanted it.

Looking away from the man's incredibly white buttocks to the woman pressed against the brick wall, she noted the wild, curly auburn hair which framed a face slack with satisfaction, and Lottie relaxed. It was Zoe, and she wasn't in any distress. Truthfully, Zoe appeared to be completely blissed out. Confident Lottie could leave the pair, she took a step back, but as she did so, Zoe's brown-blue eyes lost their clouded, lusty haze and focused on her.

_Shit._ "Sorry!" Lottie mouthed, feeling cheeks warm. She hadn't meant for Zoe to see her and would have preferred to slink away unnoticed. Then the man stirred. Lottie didn't know whether it was Zoe's lack of attention on him or a natural feeling of being watched that alerted the donor to her presence, but he turned his head. Leo's eyes widened in surprise, then immediately shown with concern and sadness, bordering on apologetic.

Lottie put her hands up and whispered, "Sorry." She hadn't meant to intrude. Turning on her heel, she hustled away.

It wasn't long before she arrived at the opposite corner of the courtyard, where she collapsed onto a bench and let her head fall back in relief. Alone at last. She closed her eyes. Snow caressed her heated cheeks, and she sighed. The fresh, crisp air a balm to her frayed nerves, and slowly, her fear, resentment, and memories erased, leaving only a calm resolve in their wake. "I won't do it," she whispered, reaffirming her desire to not have sex with one of the dignitaries.

"Miss Lottie?" Leo called tentatively.

"Morning, Leo," she replied, keeping her eyes firmly shut.

When he didn't reply, she cracked open an eyelid and glanced at him. Leo stood rigidly, almost at attention, and his expression shown with contrition. "I'm sorry," he said once she was paying attention to him.

"Whatever for?" Lottie asked, his apology was unexpected.

Leo took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. She didn't think he could stand anymore rigidly, but he accomplished it. "For what you saw."

"No." Lottie waved her hand, dismissing his words. "I'm the one who owes you an apology. I walked in on you, not the other way around." She closed her eyes again. "I'm sorry I interrupted."

Leo was silent a moment. After a while, he moved, and his weight settled on the bench next to her. He took her hand in his, and Lottie's eyelids flew open. Sitting up abruptly, Lottie tugged her hand from his and looked at him. His expression was a calm mask, but his eyes told her he was far from relaxed. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Leo, it's fine. I'm not upset."

"It's just... Zoe approached me after the party and..."

"I get it, Leo." Lottie glanced down at her clasped hands. "And really. It's okay. I'm glad you hit it off with Zoe. She's wonderful."

"Miss Lottie?" Leo said, covering her fists with his hands.

Lottie's gaze traveled from her lap and along his arm, only to have her attention snag and linger on Leo's coat lapel, where there was an impressive array of service pins displayed there. After perusing each accolade, her gaze rose enough to see his lips. His tongue darted out and swept across his lower lip.

_He hasn't shaved._ The blond stubble shimmered in the cold January sunlight.

At last, her eyes lifted enough to catch his gaze. His expression held such tenderness, such desire. It reminded her of something or someone. She tried to remember the last time she'd seen anything like it. Before she could dwell on it too long, Leo leaned forward and brushed his mouth against hers. Leo's lips were warm and soft, and he teased at her mouth with his tongue, trying to deepen their kiss.

Casey!

Surprised, Lottie tensed. Casey had looked at her that way—kissed her that way—right before telling her he loved her. _No! Leo can't!_

Leo released her lips and touched her forehead with his. "Who is he?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Who is he?" Leo asked again, speaking in a whisper.

How in the world did he know about Casey? She felt the tears well in her eyes, and she clenched her eyelids tight, hoping to prevent them from falling.

"It's all right, Miss Lottie. You can tell me. I promise I won't say a word."

"Casey."

"Casey?"

Lottie sniffed and tried to pull away, but Leo held her closer, and asked: "Is he a soldier or a drifter like yourself?"

"Soldier," Lottie replied.

"Childhood sweetheart?"

She smiled at the memories of Casey and her time together. "No."

Leo held his silence for a few moments, as his thumb brushed her cheek in small circles. His breath mingled with her own. "I know it is none of my business, but if he isn't from the communals and you were a drifter long after you should have enlisted, then how did you meet him? Fall in love with him? Does he return your feelings?"

Lottie took a deep, shuddering breath. She'd told pretty much every woman at Gates about Casey and Greysen, but could she open up to a soldier about him, too? Someone as high ranking as Leo? Leo could ruin their efforts and destroy Casey's career with a few well-placed words.

Leo chuckled, low and deep in his throat. "I wish I could say I deserved to know. That I had any right to your thoughts or feelings, but I don't. I do know you are not the only one here at this facility, who has loved and lost. And I _am_ curious."

"He's the Staff Sergeant at Fort Sutton," Lottie answered. She had no reason to tell Leo anything at all, but some small part of her felt connected to him. He was a confidant, a supporter in ways the other women could never be, and although Lottie had no reason to tell him about Casey, to trust him with that part of her heart, she did. He was right about one thing. Lottie loved Casey. She'd suspected so before today, but Leo's kiss proved it without a doubt. "He's protecting our son"—She felt Leo twitch in surprise at her words, and she rushed to add—"and he waits for me."

"Your son... together?"

She nodded, even though that technically wasn't correct.

Leo straightened, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the bench. Draping his arm around her, he pulled her closer, practically in his lap. Lottie squirmed in his embrace, not wanting to be there.

"Shh," he whispered in her ear. "We are being watched." She stopped struggling, and Leo continued, "You did say they were pushing you harder to form connections with the donors, right?" Lottie shuddered, recalling the sounds from this morning. "We can talk more freely this way, Miss Lottie, and the FAR will lay off, assuming their efforts are making progress."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, "Okay."

He took a deep breath, his nose pressed into her hair. Lottie watched as the snow fell around them.

Leo turned his head to the side; his cheek rested against her crown, and he began speaking, "You've said several troubling things. Let me start with the first. It is common knowledge in the barracks that you were found and immediately turned in. How can you have a son with the Staff Sergeant?"

Sighing, Lottie replied, "It's a long story."

"We have time."

Lottie spent the next few minutes telling Leo her story even though it put her even further at risk.

"Come early spring, you are stealing away several women from here and going to a secret settlement?"

"Yes. Javier knows where it is, and Noah will have my son there."

"And, Casey."

Her lips cast up in a small smile as she nodded. "And, Casey."

Leo grew quiet again, and Lottie wondered what he was thinking.

"You'll have to leave the week after First Sergeant Cobb," Leo said, giving away the direction of his thoughts. "There is significant upheaval when a donor leaves." He scratched his cheek. "You can sneak away then."

"Thanks."

His shoulder lifted then dropped. "You'll want to be far, far away before they get back."

"Yeah."

Leo fell silent, and after a while, Lottie made to get up, but he tugged her back down. "We can no longer meet regularly."

"What? Why?" She valued their time together, especially now that everything was out.

"Think about it," Leo said. "If they get used to us being together—as they already are—then when you disappear?"

"They'll notice right away."

"Exactly."

"But," Lottie paused. She couldn't believe what she was about to say. "Won't it look weird if we stop talking?" She motioned to the lack of personal space between them. "After today?"

Leo didn't reply immediately, but when he did, Lottie wasn't sure she liked what he had to say. "If we meet for an assignment, then it wouldn't look odd."

"I'm not having sex with you."

"They don't have to know that."

Lottie's mouth snapped shut.

"If we meet in one of the empty rooms—one without monitoring—then they won't know for sure, and we can separate knowing your plan is safe. They're happy. You're happy. Everyone wins."

Nodding, it didn't escape her notice that he didn't include himself in that assessment. "Okay."

"Good," Leo replied. "We'll meet at—" he checked his pocket watch

Lottie volunteered, "Sixteen hundred."

Leo's gaze snapped to hers.

"Optional time," Lottie answered his unspoken question.

He gave her a slow nod.

"Maximum impact."

"True," he replied. "Arrive late. A public announcement of sorts."

"A big, bold statement."

"Yes," he agreed, stood, and helped her to her feet. Leo pulled her into another embrace, his warm lips brushed hers, but he did not linger. "Goodbye, Miss Lottie. May God keep you in his sights—safe from harm."

"Thank you, Leo," Lottie whispered, turned, and left him standing in the middle of the cold courtyard alone.

***

_Ready? Set? Go!_

Casey pushed off from his starting line and threw himself toward the obstacle course. His worn leather boots struck the frozen ground, jarring him with each step. The thick layer of decaying leaves providing a little cushion for each one of his pounding footfalls, but the discomfort of hard ground barely registered as he ran.

He ran as if one of the great enemies of old—Napoleon, Alexander the Great, or even Darzi Nejem—were chasing him. Leaping, Casey caught the rope above his head and swung his legs up. Hooking his knees over the swaying rope, he dragged himself hand over hand toward the first platform. Upon reaching it, he grasped the edge and hauled himself onto it.

Without pausing to plan his next move, Casey jumped from the platform onto one of the tall tree stumps, a topped tree that was no more than a pole held upright by the ground and wide enough for him to stand on. It acted as a stepping stone of sorts, spanned the gap from this platform to the next. Casey hopped these pole-stones and landed neatly on the platform at the end.

He then ran down the attached log, one of the many access points for the platforms, and, skipping the last six feet of the trunk in his haste, Casey jumped to the ground. Landing hard, he tucked and rolled, coming to his feet again in one fluid motion. Without waiting to regain his balance, he ran toward Everest, where he planned to climb to the third level and use the rope bridge.

Gaining the desired platform, Casey ran to the end. His hand closing over the top guideline of the rope bridge, and he hesitated. The obstacle swayed alarmingly, and he swallowed hard. The lump in his throat choked him, and his palms grew slick with sweat. Out of all the features built into this course, the tight-rope bridge unnerved Casey the most.

Casey forced the air of his lungs out through his nose. Stepping hesitantly onto the walkway, Casey shuffled his way across. He had to stop halfway across to dry his palms on his coat. Screwing his eyes shut, Casey took another deep breath to master his shaking arms and legs. In control again, he continued toward the safety of the next platform. Once there, he dropped to his belly, breathing heavily, and looked over the edge.

There were several deliberate blind-spot built into the course, and even though no one was here with him, Casey didn't wish to run around one unawares. It was a bad practice. Besides, it would be his luck that one of his men would have snuck in, preparing to ambush him while he trained on the course.

After determining no one from his squad hid on the other side ready to attack him, Casey leapt to the ground and dove under the provided cover. Glancing around its corner, he confirmed the path was clear, and Casey crouched low, inching his way toward the simulated barbed wire. At that obstacle, he dropped to the ground and began to worm his way through the web of rope, careful not to bump the lines overhead.

One elbow in front of the other, Casey army-crawled himself through. At the edge of the obstacle, he looked up to find a pair of boots. Freezing in place, Casey followed them upward and found Tristan gazing down at him. His skin looked tight across his cheeks, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes brimmed with worry. "Case," Tristan said.

Casey scrambled to his feet. Tristan practically vibrated with concern.

"We have a problem," Tristan said.

Grabbing Tristan by the shoulders, Casey barked, "What?" His breath formed a thick white vapor in the cold air, obscuring his vision. "What's wrong?"

The scent of mint reached him a moment later, and Casey spun. Noah grabbed Casey by his bicep and pulled him toward the cover of dormant honeysuckle bushes that lined the edges of the obstacle course's clearing.

Greysen!

"Is he all right?" Casey demanded. He couldn't imagine any other reason that would bring Noah to his base.

"Greysen's fine."

"Lottie?"

"As far as I know, she's fine."

_Dammit!_ Casey yanked himself from Noah's grip. "Then, why are you here?" Casey looked around but didn't see Greysen anywhere. "You didn't leave Greysen alone... Back at your cabin... Did you?" When Noah didn't respond, Casey demanded, "Did you?"

"He's at Shelter Six," Noah replied at last.

"With who?!"

"That isn't important."

"Like hell it isn't," Casey ground out between clenched teeth. "Who's with him? He better not be alone."

Noah sighed. "Mira and Bix."

Casey clenched his fist. _I'm going to hit him. I. Am. Going. To. Hit. Him._ "You left my son _alone_ with just your dogs for protection?!" A drip of sweat slipped from Casey's hairline and found a path down his temple to his jaw, and he wiped it away in annoyance.

"Yes," Noah replied. "He is perfectly safe. If anything happens, Mira will protect him while Bix comes to find you."

"He's going to freeze to death!" Casey could envision it now. _Casey! I found a frozen toddler stuck fast to a big ass dog's back._

"No, he's not," Noah said and turned to stare out at the empty woods. "I have a mission. My orders arrived over a week ago, and I've run out of time. I have to go."

"What about—" Casey began.

"—I already tried, but my CO was adamant."

"How about—" Casey tried again.

"—Ayers? Drake?"

"Yes," Casey agreed.

"Ayers is deployed. Drake can't get here in time. And before you ask, Hopkins is in Fort St. Louis on leave, and Ross's deployment is with me." Noah's shoulders curled inward, surprising Casey. He would never have expected to see the stoic man slump his shoulders in what appeared to be defeat. "I can't even take him with."

Take him...

"Wait," Casey interjected. "Take who?"

"Greysen."

Casey stepped forward, fully prepared to shake some sense into Noah. "Take him where?!"

"With me, of course," Noah said, and stepped around the stump to look Casey in the eye. "He's gone with me before. But this mission—I'm afraid it's impossible."

"You've taken him with you before?" Casey's knees felt weak. "Anything could have happened to him!"

Noah lifted his brow but did not respond.

"Jesus," Casey muttered under his breath. "You're serious. Aren't you."

Once again, Noah declined to reply.

Tristan stepped closer, his hand dropped onto Casey's shoulder and squeezed before taking control of the conversation. "When do you leave?"

"Immediately."

"When do you get back?" Tristan asked.

"A week. Maybe more."

Casey felt lost. What was he supposed to do with an eighteen-month-old baby? How would he hide Greysen from his squad? Casey turned and sat on the stump, his legs no longer able to support his weight.

"I will be back as soon as I can," Noah assured him.

Casey waved the statement away, his mind already trying to solve the logistics of caring for a baby, his men, and keeping his secret.

Dimly, he was aware of Tristan talking with Noah, but eventually, the clearing grew silent, and Tristan dropped to a crouch in front of Casey.

He could keep Greysen at Six for the time being. Casey would need to adjust the schedule, fix it so that no one but Tristan or Casey went there. He dropped his head into his hands and scratched at his scalp at the back of his head.

_That won't be enough._ Greysen needed twenty-four-hour supervision, and he couldn't provide that with just himself or Tristan. He'd have to tell someone else on his squad about the baby. More than one person. But who?

"What do you want me to do?" Tristan asked, prodding Casey from his thoughts.

"Right now?"

"Yes."

What did he want Tristan to do? What did Casey need? He needed to get to Shelter Six right away. There was no way two dogs could keep Greysen safe—warm, maybe—but not secure.

_Fuck! How could Noah be so stupid?_

Casey felt his heart skip a beat and then race. What if Greysen tried to eat something poisonous? Or what if he choked! _Dogs can't do the Heimlich maneuver._ Casey cursed again and jumped to his feet. His stride lengthened, and with seconds he was jogging south, Tristan keeping pace next to him. Casey barked, "Go get my tent, a uniform change, and my coat. I'll need rations for two for at least twenty-four hours."

"You got it."

Casey dug in his pocket and fished out his keys to the storage shed and command center. He handed them to Tristan. "Meet me at Six." Casey paused, then added, "Don't let Lincoln see you."

Tristan nodded and turned to crash through the woods toward the path back to the Fort. Casey increased his speed. He didn't have time to dawdle. Greysen needed him, and he was as far away from his son as he could be while still on Fort Sutton's grounds.

_Dammit!_

No one could see him either. Running full out across his Base would raise a few eyebrows, not to mention a few curious followers. That would be a disaster. Instead, Casey would have to circle the Base to avoid his soldiers, adding time and distance to his already impossible mission.

Stupid motherfucking... How could he do it? How?

_Focus!_ Casey could curse Noah, and his gross stupidity after Greysen was safe. In the meantime, Casey had a problem to solve. While he ran, he thought about it.

_Two people,_ he decided. Two other soldiers would be the bare minimum he could use and keep his Base—and most importantly, Lincoln—ignorant of Greyesn's presence. But who could he trust?

Tristan and Javier, obviously, but they already knew about Greysen and Lottie, and couldn't be tapped for further use. Of the remaining men, Lincoln, Ty, Ethan, Teo, Wu, and Adan were out. That left Paul, Brandon, Hong, Jules, and Wade. _No, not Hong,_ Casey thought, recalling what Hong had said during his account of the fight over Lottie and whether or not she should pay in sexual favors for her care in Casey's camp. Casey also discounted Brandon and Wade. He knew virtually nothing about the two men and wouldn't—couldn't—trust his son's welfare to them.

_Paul or Jules?_ Casey chuckled. It was no contest. Jules cared for Lottie. Maybe even loved her. But, at the minimum, Jules was Lottie's friend. He hadn't judged her and had treated her well. He was an obvious choice.

Casey wiped his hand across his forehead and flung the sweat from the back of his hand as he ran. He needed one more soldier to help. Maybe Tristan would know who to ask. For the first time since Jaesen retired from his squad, Casey wished he was back. _"'ll support you one-hundred percent,_ Jaesen had said. If Casey had to trust someone else, he would have preferred it to be Jaesen.

Glancing to his left, Casey could just see the top of the roof of Shelter Two as he ran by it. He had several hours of travel yet before he could reach Shelter One and cut east.

_No_ , he argued, he could cut east sooner.

He bent his head and ran on.

And on.

And on.

Casey pushed himself to the edge of his endurance. His breath wheezed in and out, and he felt nauseous.

_Blue dark._ Casey was well north of One, but if he turned east now, he could be with Greysen sooner. _Damn you, Noah! How could you do it?!_

Casey whimpered. Fatigue shook his limbs, and he didn't have the energy to grouse at Noah any longer. Instead, Casey turned his head and bent at the waist to gag and vomit as he ran. Righting himself, Casey wiped his hand across his mouth and pushed his legs harder. He had to get as far as he could before night fell. Darkness would force Casey to a walk, and that was unacceptable.

His unsettled stomach heaved again, and Casey barely turned in time to puke into the bushes next to him.

_Dammit!_ He hated throwing up.

In the distance... That noise... What was it? Off to his left?

It took a moment for him to identify the sound, but when it did, Casey slammed to a stop, breath heaving in his chest.

Laughter!

Jules and Ty on patrol.

He had to avoid them.

Casey pursed his lips in agitation and to slow his panting. He didn't want them to hear him. It was bad enough he'd been retching loudly only moments before, but they did not indicate that they had heard him. That didn't mean Casey didn't need to be careful.

It wouldn't matter if Jules saw him—since Casey wanted his help anyway—but Ty couldn't see him. Stepping off of the path and into the woods, Casey inched his way southeast. He hoped he was far enough from them that the occasional sound of crunching leaves under his feet wouldn't alert the two men to his presence, but it might. If they did find him, he guessed he'd say he was checking on them. It was a plausible excuse, at least.

While he worked to avoid his men, darkness had fallen, and with it, a renewed fear for Greysen. Anything could be happening to the baby.

Casey had a new litany of curses for each step took. It was impossible to resume running, but Casey pushed on at a fast walk, no longer taking care to be quiet. His lungs ached, and his thighs burned. _Another hour, maybe two,_ he thought, willing his legs to move faster. _Be safe, Greysen._

Intuition tingling in his chest had him turning north. He was close to Shelter Three—had to be. If he timed it correctly, the deer path to Six would be a few klicks ahead, and with luck, Decoy Six would be less than ten kilometers away.

His step faltered, and he tripped over a root. Catching himself against the tree, Casey came to another complete stop. A fresh wave of fatigue threatened to bring Casey to his knees, and he gagged. He swallowed convulsively, trying to settle his stomach. There was nothing left to vomit. But he had pushed himself too hard, and now he feared he wouldn't reach the shelter at all without a long break first. His stomach growled ominously, and he gagged again.

"Come on," Casey murmured and forced his feet forward. He had to get to Greysen.

Tired beyond reason and worried sick, Casey stumbled up the path to Shelter Six. He spun around. Searching. No 'woof' of greeting. No wail of 'daddy!'. Casey thought his heart might stop. Where was Greysen?

"Ever-absent God dammit Noah! You fucking bastard! If he's hurt, I swear to ever-absent God, I will kill you."

Casey spun around again and stumbled toward the old mobile home. Collapsing onto the porch, Casey put his head in his hands. Tears threatened, but he forced them back. Casey had to find Greysen. He had to!

_I'll circle the shelter._

Casey looked over his shoulder into the dim confines of the building, noting the decaying couch and three-legged table. And the infamous corner. _Lottie hid there,_ he thought with the warmth of memory, then frowned. "I was doing my job," he murmured, embarrassed at how he'd treated her. _She was so scared. So determined._ He smiled wryly. She'd made an impression.

"I miss you. Come back to me. To us." The pain of Casey's need overshadowed his fear for Greysen's safety, and he ran a hand through his hair, then shuddered.

Lottie was going to kill him.

Kill.

Him.

The muscles in his legs twitched, and his stomach gave an unpleasant heave. Casey needed to keep moving, keep trying, but he was so tired. Forcing himself to his feet, he began investigating the area. It was too dark to see tracks, but a systematic gyre should work, and he set to it. Every few feet, Casey called out, "Bix? Greysen? Mira?" He received no acknowledgment from either the dogs or his child.

_Surely Greysen hasn't gone far. Not with Mira and Bix to slow him down. But what if a wild animal took him? No! You'd see evidence of a struggle. Blood, at least. Maybe shredded clothes._ Casey continued along that vein of thought, alternating between death, doom, and destruction, and potentially misplaced faith in two highly trained animals to keep a baby safe. Accusations of his inadequacy haunted each step, and Casey shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his eyes scanning for signs.

He didn't know how much longer he could search. Casey shivered. The dark of night obscured too much. He could be missing any number of markers.

The air and his fear provided a chill that went bone-deep. Casey couldn't give up, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep at it without a break. He had to sleep. He needed daylight.

_Soon! Just a little longer,_ he urged. _You'll find them._

He was a hundred meters from the shelter when he heard a slight growl to his right. _What?_ Casey turned toward the sound: a shuffling, snuffing noise, deep in the underbrush, as if a dog lay on its belly, inching forward in greeting even though it was forbidden to move. _There... There it is again._ "Bix?"

A soft 'woof' greeted him, and then Casey was moving. There in the trees, he spotted a small fire and his tent, already pitched and ready for him.

He blinked.

_My tent?_

Casey took a few hesitant steps forward, believing it an apparition and not there. But it was his tent. He was sure of it. A moment later, a shadow loomed in the dark, the shadow's eyes reflecting the light of the fire. Finally, the shadow coalesced out of the surrounding night and took form.

Tristan!

A piercing pain, so strong it brought tears to Casey's eyes, lanced his chest.

Relief.

Tristan. It made sense, but he hadn't thought of it as a possibility.

Casey's thighs shook with renewed adrenaline and remembered fatigue. _Tristan's here. Thank ever-absent God._ Tristan had set up his tent and had started a fire. "How long have you been here?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from dehydration, and he licked his lips, grimacing. They tasted like vomit.

Tristan twisted toward him. "Case!"

"Yes," Casey said and stepped from the trees. "Is Greysen here? Safe?" Just because the tent was up and the dogs were present and accounted for didn't mean Greysen was here and all right.

Smiling, Tristan gave him a brief nod. "I came as soon as I could." Tristan paused and glanced over his shoulder to the tent. "I fed him and got him put into bed."

Casey sucked in a breath and dropped to the ground gratefully. He crossed his legs under him and covered his face. His throat was tight with gratitude, and Casey needed a moment to get control of himself.

"How long have you been here?" Casey asked through his hands.

"Before gray-light. Close to sunset."

"And how is he?"

"Good... Now."

Looking up, Casey asked, "Then?"

"Quiet," Tristan replied. "Scared."

Casey snorted. _Made two of us._

Without further comment, Tristan moved to the fire and pulled the cooking pot closer. Dipping out some broth, Tristan handed Casey the mug. The heat warmed Casey's hands, and they began to shake.

"I didn't think Bix would let me near," Tristan added. "Damn near took my hand off when I reached for Greysen."

Casey didn't see any blood or injury to either of them. Bix settled on Casey's feet with a sigh. Tristan chuckled and then took a sip of his broth and sat down across from Casey. "I growled at Bix, and that did the trick. Mira sniffed my fingers, and after a quick lick, they both seemed to accept my presence."

"And Greysen?"

"Cried for you for a bit, but calmed down after."

Casey nodded, placing his mug down and returning his head to his hands. His stomach lurched. The soup smelled good, but Casey wasn't sure he could keep anything down yet. "Thank you," he said, the words muffled by his fingers.

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Casey reflected on his good luck at having Tristan here when he couldn't be, but he'd need to send him back to camp soon. He opened his mouth to tell Tristan to leave, but a sniffle from the tent halted the words in his throat.

The sniffle intensified, and a plaintive "Da?" came from the shelter.

Casey cleared his throat, unable to respond to the summons. He didn't trust his voice.

Standing, Tristan unzipped the tent and called to Greysen inside. An excited squeal of "Da-da-da!" answered, and a second later, a pale face with bright green eyes and black curly hair that stood on end peeked around the tent flap. "Da! Da! Da!" Greysen cried and stumbled out of the tent on short stubby legs. His balance upset, he landed on his hands, but the miss-step didn't slow him for long. He was on his feet again and launching himself at Casey.

Scooping him up, Casey plunked him into his lap and hugged the child to his chest. His nose buried in Greysen's neck, where it joined his shoulder. "You're all right. I got you," he murmured to Greysen and took a shuddering breath.

They sat intertwined for a while, but eventually, Greysen squirmed and looked up imploringly. His hand tapped Casey on the cheek. "'Gree, daddy. 'Gree."

Casey chuckled and picked up his mug. "Hungry?"

Greysen pulled back and nodded. "'Gree."

He put the mug to Greysen's lips and helped him tip it up. After the baby drank, Casey asked, "Better?"

Greysen nodded. "No 'ore 'gree."

"Good," Casey said and laughed again, hugging Greysen close.

Looking up, Casey caught Tristan's gaze from across the fire. Tristan's expression held such tenderness and longing that for a moment, Casey thought the look was for him. Casey discounted that idea. Tristan made no secret to wanting a family of his own even though he could never have one. "Are you jealous?"

Tristan dragged his attention away from Greysen, and a smile lifted the corners of his lips. "A little."

Not knowing what to say, Casey averted his eyes and hugged Greysen closer. The toddler smelled like sleep and a soiled diaper, but it didn't seem to matter to Greysen, so Casey ignored it. He could change him later.

"I left your key in the pack in the tent. Side-Front pocket."

Casey nodded and sipped the broth. His stomach gurgled and lurched, but it was a digestion sensation unlike earlier, and he relaxed further. "You have any trouble?"

"None," Tristan replied. "Snuck in. Snuck out. Easy-peasy"

"Good."

They let the conversation lapse. In the lull, Casey alternated between feeding Greysen more broth and organizing his thoughts. He didn't note when the mug emptied, but Tristan had, and he had refilled it for Casey.

Casey held the cup aloft and clinked it against Tristan's in a mock toast. "I figure we need four of us to survive Noah's absence and keep Lincoln from finding Greysen."

Tristan made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like assent and amusement, which Casey ignored.

"We'll alternate who is out here during the day—dawn to dusk—and I'll come out each night. That, plus a schedule change to keep anyone from coming to Six, should be enough to keep our little secret." Casey hugged Greysen, who made a soft noise of protest and grew lax again. Casey glanced down and smiled. Greysen's eyelids were drooping and almost closed. He rocked Greysen gently. He loved it when the toddler fell asleep in his arms. Always had.

Clearing his throat, Casey returned to the conversation. "I think it is safe to bring Jules on, but I don't know who else. I'd have picked Jaesen or possibly even Matt, but now?" He caught Tristan's gaze from across the flames. "Any ideas?"

Tristan's fingers tapped against his thigh as he thought. "Let's ask Jules."

"Really?" That hadn't been the response Casey'd expected.

"Yes," Tristan said. "He spends an inordinate"—Casey snorted at the descriptor—"amount of time chattin' with all of the men. He'll know who else we can trust."

Casey thought about it but didn't see any other alternatives. "All right," he agreed. "We'll ask Jules who he'd recommend." Pausing, Casey shifted Greysen before resuming. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes?"

"I'll hide Greysen with Bix and Mira, and I want you to bring Jules. Leave base at dawn. When you get here, I'll explain what I need him to do." Tristan twitched his head in a nod. "I'll then go and get Greysen. Reveal him. But I want you to be ready to take Jules down if he looks even remotely likely to turn tail and tattle."

"Understood." Tristan cleared his throat. "What will you do if he does?"

"No idea," Casey said with a sigh and rubbed his thumb across his brows. "Go AWOL with Greysen, I guess." This whole enterprise was a disaster in the making. One wrong move from any of them, and they'd all be hauled away for treason.

Casey ran his free hand through his hair. Tristan and Javier were a liability—though small—but adding two new soldiers? Casey cursed. Why couldn't Noah have given him more warning? He could have come up with some excuse to hide out at the cabin for a week. In any case, there was nothing else he could do until morning. "Go. Get some rest. I'll see you when you get back."

Putting the mug to his lips, Tristan drained it and stood. He stepped around the fire and dropped his hand onto Casey's shoulder. "Get some rest. You look like hell."

"Thanks," Casey said and snorted. He felt like hell.

And with that, Tristan stepped into the shadows and disappeared, his footfalls swallowed by the silence of the forest.

"Well, kiddo," Casey murmured to Greysen. "Let's get you cleaned up and into bed."

"Da," Greysen whispered in sleepy agreement.

Casey gained his feet, lurching to the side in the process. His arms tightened around the child in his arms. He couldn't believe how sore he felt. Moving slowly, he climbed into the tent and zipped the flap closed.

A small bag Casey recognized, rested next to his backpack. He opened it and pulled a fresh diaper from its depths. Laying Greysen down on the bedroll Tristan had so graciously set up, Casey quickly changed the baby. After tucking Greysen under the covers, Casey stripped down to his boxers. It was freezing out, but body warmth would heat them quickly. Climbing in after Greysen, Casey curled himself around the tiny warm body. He kissed Greysen on the cheek and rested his forehead against Greysen's and fell asleep. 

# Chapter 30

Waves of pain rolled through Casey's limbs, and his overworked muscles twitched. The sensation brought fresh tears to his eyes. At least, that's what he told himself as he let himself cry. After a bit, Casey's inner turmoil slackened, and he fell into a heavy sleep, only to wake a few hours later to the ungentle patting of a hand against his cheek.

"Da! Da-da-da," Greysen chanted.

"What kiddo?" Casey asked, his voice dry and husky from sleep.

"'Gree!"

"Hungry? Again?"

Casey cracked an eyelid open. Greysen's bright green eyes were inches from his, and the toddler was wiggling fiercely. "'Gree! 'et!" he yelled and pointed to his diaper.

Rolling to his back, Casey wiped a hand down his face and swallowed his aggravation. He felt like he hadn't slept a wink, but the ambient light in the tent was brighter, and he was sure dawn had already come and gone. "Right, kiddo. Let's go see if Uncle Tristan left some soup."

"'Oup. 'Gree."

Casey's stomach growled.

Greysen heard it and asked, "Daddy 'Gree?"

Laughing, Casey sat up and pulled Greysen closer. After poking a finger in the waistband of Greysen's diaper, Casey confirmed the origin of the stench as coming from his son. "Yep. Daddy's hungry too. But let's get you cleaned up first, okay?"

"'Gree," Greysen growled in token protest but submitted to the process of getting a clean diaper before squirming away from Casey's grasp. He ran to the tent flap, his little legs pumping in steps that brought his knees up high but gave him no distance, and Casey chuckled. Rolling from the covers, Casey pulled on his frigid clothes and let them both out of the tent.

Making his way to the fire, Casey poked at it. There were a few hot coals under the ash. "Good." He wouldn't have to work too hard to make a fire, which was a relief. He didn't think he had the energy to work hard at anything this morning.

Casey checked for left-overs in the cooking pot. The remaining soup had a thin layer of ice over the top but would heat quickly enough, which was perfect. He was starving. His stomach roiled, making Casey clutch his belly at the intense pain, and an earthshaking growl rumbled under his hand. He laughed, pleased to see his appetite back after his over-exertion yesterday.

Keeping an eye on Greysen, Casey tended the fire by adding the wood Tristan had collected. Casey blew on the coals until the new logs caught, and then he sat back on his heels, enjoying the growing heat that warmed his chest and hands.

A squeal of delight from the toddler drew his eye. Greysen was crawling over a patient looking Mira while Bix licked his smiling face. The baby's hair stood out in every direction, made worse by the laborious efforts of Bix to lick him clean. "'Oggie. 'Oof. 'Oof!" Greysen shouted, and Bix barked in agreement, licking Greysen from chin to temple.

Casey grinned and turned back to the fire. Using a stick, he separated a few refresh coals from the writhing mass of flames and set the cooking pot on top of them. It didn't take long for the coals to heat the leftover soup. Casey scooped out a mug full of broth for both of them. Sitting down, he called, "Come 'er, Greysen. Let's eat."

"'Gree!" Greysen yelled and extracted himself from Bix and Mira.

Two stumbles later, Greysen reached Casey's side and planted his dirty, slobber covered hands-on Casey's knee. Casey wiped Greysen's hands with the edge of his coat, plucked the toddler up and settled him on his lap.

"Here ya go, kiddo," Casey said.

Greysen's fingers closed over his own as Casey put the mug to Greysen's lips. Tipping the mug, he carefully fed Greysen some soup before returning to his own small mug. Casey gulped down the lukewarm contents and set the cup aside, his thoughts switching to future meal logistics. The closest source of water was fifteen minutes away. He'd make a trip to the creek after the meeting with Jules. Tristan would need it since he'd have to be the first one to stay with Greysen. Jules, having just come off of rotation, needed a day at camp before he could spell Tristan. Whichever soldier Jules recommended would have to be the day after Tristan.

"Case?"

Casey's arm tightened around Greysen, who startled. _Tristan._

"He's here?" Casey asked.

"Yes."

Casey nodded and said, "Minor change of plans."

"Oh?"

Extracting Greysen from his lap, Casey set the toddler on the ground and nudged him toward the dogs. "Play with Bix and Mira."

"'Oggies!" Greysen squawked and wobbled away.

"What changed?" Tristan asked.

Casey pulled his gun from the holster at his thigh and checked it. "I'm not leaving Greysen alone. You'll keep him with you 'til I'm ready to reveal him." Standing, Casey handed his gun to Tristan. "I'll go talk to Jules. You find a spot within firing distance, but far enough away that we can't hear you," Casey told him. "Shoot Jules in the leg if he even remotely looks like he'll run away to tattle."

Tristan's eyes widened, but he took Casey's gun and gave it a cursory inspection. Finished, he caught Casey's gaze over it and cocked an eyebrow in question. Declining to answer, Casey turned and headed toward the shelter.

He'd been thinking about what to say all morning but failed to find inspiration. Casey took a shaky breath and stepped from the tree line. Jules caught sight of him and strode toward Casey. "What's going on? Tristan said there's an emergency?"

Holding his hands up to forestall more questions, Casey ordered him to sit down. Jules visibly swallowed, nodded, and marched to the lip of the shelter, where he then sat. Casey dragged a hand through his hair and followed him over. He didn't speak, didn't look away, and eventually, Jules' shoulders drooped. "Case, did I do something wrong?"

"No."

Perking up at the response, Jules squared his shoulders and opened his mouth. Casey held up a hand to stop him. "I never did ask. What is your opinion on evaders? Draft dodgers?"

Jules closed his mouth with a snap and tilted his head. Casey cooled his gaze and waited. After long deliberation, Jules inquired, "Assets?"

"Yes."

Jules nodded, looked to his hands in his lap, and took a deep breath. "I guess. Technically, I think it's wrong for them to run. They shouldn't do it." Glancing up, he asked, "Why?"

Casey glanced off into the woods. Jules's answer wasn't what he expected. "And Bean?"

Shrugging, Jules said, "Chica was different."

"How so?"

"I don't know," Jules answered. "She just was."

Casey snorted.

"Case, what's this about? What's going on?"

Sighing, he needed to come out with it already. This conversation wouldn't get more comfortable the longer Casey stalled. "I need your help."

"You got it, man. Whatcha need?"

Looking into the forest again, Casey twitched his head in a 'come here' motion and turned back to Jules, waiting for his reaction. Casey knew when Tristan emerged from the trees, for Jules's eyes widened, and his gaze locked onto Casey's. A small smile grew into a grin. "I knew you couldn't do it. Couldn't send them back. Where's Chica? Is she here? I want to see her."

Casey shook his head. "She isn't here."

Horror slowly replaced the excitement and eagerness on Jules's face, and Jules lurched to his feet, fists clenched at his sides, but by then, Tristan was next to him. "That's fuckin' low, man," Jules growled. "You kept her baby but sent her back?"

"Sit down," Casey barked.

Jules looked to Tristan and then back at Casey. He gave a brief nod and sat. "This better be good, Asshole."

Greysen, picking up on the tension, bleated plaintively, "Da?" and reached for Casey. Taking the toddler from Tristan, he faced Jules. His heart hammered in his chest. _Here we go._ It was bad enough that Tristan, Noah, and Javier were committing treason on his behalf, let alone knowing Casey had to willfully convince another two of his soldiers to join in his wrong-doing. It felt evil. Villainous. Forcing the words he needed to say past clench teeth, Casey said, "A year and a half ago, I set her up with a nice little campsite a day's run from Base, and I go to see her and my son—"

"Your son?"

Casey continued as if Jules hadn't spoken, "—once every six weeks, but she's on a mission, and I need more help watching Greysen while she's gone."

"Mission?"

Casey shook his head. "The less you know—"

"—The better," Jules finished.

"Yes."

"Gotcha." Jules studied Casey for a moment, keeping most of his thoughts from his face, but Casey saw when he made his decision. "What do you want me to do exactly?" Jules asked, his tone lightening as his anger faded, and his gregarious nature reasserted itself.

"Several things," Casey answered. "First, keep quiet about what you know, what you don't know, what you might know, what you think you know, what you think you might know, what you think you don't know, and about anything you might learn." Casey gave him a pointed look. "I don't have to tell you that Greysen here"—Casey hugged the child closer and kissed him on his crown—"is against the Army's rules. You can't mention him or Bean to anyone. I didn't want to involve you, but I didn't see any other choice."

Jules glanced at Tristan and then back before nodding slowly.

"Second," Casey continued. "Be a part of the rotation to keep Greysen from harm during the day. I'll be with him each night. Third, I need one more soldier's help. Someone with discretion. Someone I can trust with a secret like this. Someone who would feel as I do, or at least, would understand. I don't know of anyone else on the squad that fits and hope you do."

"Wade," Jules replied without hesitation.

"Wade?" Tristan and Casey asked in unison.

Jules nodded. "I'd have said Javier, but he's not here."

"He's with Bean," Casey said and then regretted it. The less Jules knew...

A renewed grin lit Jules's face. "So she is all right? You didn't turn her in?"

"She's fine." _...I hope._

"Good," Jules said and studied Greysen in Casey's arms. "Damn. He's gotten so big. Can I hold him?"

Casey clutched Greysen closer but reluctantly agreed.

Struggling against the hand-off, Greysen whimpered and clung to Casey, but when Jules pulled something from his pocket and offered it to the toddler, Greysen yielded to Jules's request. With a delighted squeal, Greysen lurched the remaining distance from Casey's arms to Jules and clawed for the object. Enclosing it in a tight fist, Greysen waved his captured prize around with glee. It was a small green toy soldier, Casey saw after Greysen's initial elation wore off, and Casey wondered where Jules got it. The three men watched Greysen play with the toy soldier, but eventually, Greysen grew tired of Jules, his lap, and the toy. After Greysen had clambered down from Jules's lap, he amused himself with rocks and twigs a few feet away.

Jules sat, rolling the small green figurine between his thumb and forefinger. After a bit, he said, "I'm amazed, Case, that you kept this,"—he said, indicating Greysen playing at their feet—"quiet for so long."

Locking his knees against their shaking, Casey resisted the urge to sit. "No one knows?"

"Nope. No one," Jules confirmed.

Casey heard Tristan sigh in relief at his side. He wanted to sigh as well but refrained. "You're sure?"

"Yep," Jules affirmed. "Early on, Lincoln was suspicious, and there _were_ guys who thought you kept Chica for yourself. But after weeks of normal routine..." Jules looked away, tucked the toy into his pocket, and rubbed his hands on his knees. Looking up and asked, "When do you want to talk to Wade?"

"Now," Casey said.

Jules nodded and stood. He took a few steps toward Base when Casey called to him, halting his progress. "He's not on Mess duty today, is he?"

A crease formed between Jules's brows as he tried to recall the schedule. Shaking his head, Jules said, "No. I don't think so."

"Good." When Casey didn't elaborate, Jules turned and left.

He disappeared into the woods, and Tristan stepped closer. Murmuring, he asked, "You think we're doin' the right thin'?"

Unclipping his gun from its holster, Casey handed it to Tristan again. "Yes. But if this convo with Wade goes pear-shaped? Kill him."

From the corner of his eye, Casey caught Tristan's twitch of surprise.

"What?!"

Casey ran his hand over face. "Fine, shoot him in the leg," he said, capitulating. Pointing at his gun at Tristan's side, he added, "But if either of them rat, we're all going down, and I'd rather go down for murder than treason." Casey took a deep breath. His voice caught when he said, "I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I should have gone AWOL instead."

Tristan made an inarticulate, strangled noise deep in his throat, which Casey ignored. "I should have run. Cross the border. Maybe found a hideout in Kansas or Illinois. Let the heat die down." Casey felt light-headed, disconnected from the world around him. "I could have taken care of her."

Regarding Tristan standing at his side, Casey said, "Instead, I let this"—he waved his hand to encompass everything around him—"happen. Now she's up north risking her life while Greysen's here. And then I've managed to convince another of my men to break the law and?"

Casey sat on the lip of the mobile home, his hands clasped between his knees, and he took a deep breath. "She tried to run that night. I could have let her go. I should have let her. She would have been better off."

Tristan touched his shoulder, his fingers squeezing gently. "No, Case." Glancing up, Casey caught the look of concern and denial in Tristan's gaze.

"I ruined her life, Tristan. She would have been better without me."

"You don't know that." Shaking his head, Tristan said, "What if she came to you for a reason?"

Casey snorted. "I don't believe in fate, faith, God, or other supernatural forces. And neither do you."

Sitting next to Casey, Tristan looked across the clearing and then down to Greysen, playing quietly. "I wouldn't say that. Not now... She has a purpose in your life....And in mine."

"To bring Zoe back?"

Tristan didn't answer right away. But after some thought, he gave Casey a tight nod. "Even if that purpose is only to bring Zoe back to me." They were quiet again for a few minutes. "Last August, I re-enlisted for five years," Tristan said, breaking the silence. "When my service's over, I'm not comin' back."

The pronouncement didn't surprise Casey in the slightest. "What will you do?"

"I'm'a gonna go to the settlement."

Casey choked on the spit he inhaled.

Pounding on Casey's back, Tristan continued, "You and Noah are gonna need guards to keep the women safe. Men to help provide food and strength for the thin's the women can't do. They'll need buildin's. Labor. Huntin'. I'm volunteerin' now."

"You won't get a chance to volunteer if we're court-martialed for treason. We'll end up in prison camp. Executed."

"Won't happen."

"It could, and you know it," Casey said. "All it will take is one word from either of them—"

"Won't happen," Tristan said, cutting him off. "Jules is solid, and I know Wade has to be too."

Casey wasn't so sure. He stood and began pacing. "How do you know?"

"Jules."

Pivoting, Casey walked the other direction, his teeth clenching tight.

"I trust Jules," Tristan reiterated. "There's a reason why he believes in Wade. We don't know why... Yet."

"Yet," Casey echoed.

He stopped pacing and looked into the forest, blind to the trees. Lottie was trusting her life and her son to him, to the facility, to Javier and Noah. He'd have to place his trust in others as well. The feeling made him uncomfortable.

A risky business, trusting others.

Picking up Greysen, Casey faced Tristan. "There's no reason to wait here. Let's go back to camp."

Tristan agreed, and they made their way back to his tent.

***

Casey's gaze met Tristan's over the fire, and Casey stood. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he was positive Wade was waiting for him at Shelter Six. "You know what to do?"

Setting down the wood he was carving, Tristan stood and went to get Greysen from the tent where he was napping. "I'll be right behind you."

Nodding, Casey turned and left Tristan to his tasks and made his way to the shelter. Stepping from the forest, he acknowledged both men. "Jules. Wade."

Jules smiled, but Wade said a wary, "Sir."

_So he knows something's wrong,_ Casey thought and glanced at Jules. Had he warned Wade in some fashion? Jules shook his head. No, he hadn't.

Casey's gaze held Wade's captive. Where to start? He knew so little about the man. "How do you feel about dodgers? Evaders recaptured in the field?"

"It's wrong, and they should be returned to the nearest major Fort for processing and to perform their duty to the nation," Wade responded by rote.

Casey's eyelids narrowed, and he studied Wade intently. The man's statement had been quick, decisive, and bordered on glib. Something wasn't right, and it took a herculean effort for Casey to not glare at Jules. "Let's try that again, Wade," Casey said. "How do you _really_ feel about assets that draft dodge?"

"It's wrong," Wade said, his lips pursed, returning Casey's look with one of his own.

_Interesting,_ Casey thought, and his gaze slid from Wade to Jules and then back to Wade. _Why would Jules recommend him then?_

Acting on a memory from the interviews, had Casey shifting his weight, widening his stance, and putting his hands behind his back. The fingers of one hand clasped his other wrist, and Wade's expression eased as Casey forced himself to relax. "Speak freely. Today is fully off the record." _...I have so much more to lose than you._ A corner of Casey's mouth twisted up in a wry smile.

Wade's eyes twitched to and fro as he scanned Casey's expression for any form of insincerity. Finding none, he took a breath, but before he could put his words to voice, Jules interrupted. "Tell him about the tree." Wade tensed, and a succession of emotions clouded his expression. Many were fleeting, but betrayal and resignation remained when all the others were gone.

Curious, Casey waved his hand toward the shelter. "Have a seat."

Scowling at Casey and then Jules, Wade nodded and sat where Casey indicated.

"Tell me about this tree," Casey said.

Wade's shoulders rose and fell with his breath, and he resettled his coat on his back as he situated himself into a more comfortable position on the ledge. He schooled his features, clearly mindful that Casey was his ranking officer, but a glower remained, albeit in a diminished state.

Stalemate. Casey wouldn't budge, and it would appear Wade was unwilling to elaborate either. Finally, Jules leaned over and murmured in Wade's ear. All Casey caught from the exchange was a simple "You can trust him."

But whatever else Jules had said seemed to do the trick as Wade relaxed and drew another deep breath, evidently ready to speak. "My biological father is Former Surgeon General Lombardi," Wade began in his deep baritone.

Casey's back tensed, and he rocked back on his heels. _Surgeon General Lombardi?_ Casey wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the fact Wade knew the name of his donor or by the donor himself.

"My donor fathered fifty-seven children—myself included—before retiring from both the service and from the list of available donors. I can name each of my half-siblings, their parents, and their children."

Casey struggled to maintain a straight face. He didn't know a single person, other than Lottie and Noah, who knew anything at all about their biological family, and here was Wade. He not only knew but could also recite the names of others related to him through his donor. It was completely unheard of, and Casey understood why Jules had recommended him.

"My biological mother currently resides in Oklahoma—transferred after my half-sister was successfully born. My mother had no additional live births." Wade glanced down to his hands, resting on his knees. "My youngest half-brother is ten, and, as of the last time I checked, he was the last one of my siblings at Eads communal home in Fort St. Louis."

"You had other siblings in Fort St. Louis?"

Wade looked up, met his eyes, and then stared over Casey's shoulder to the woods behind him. "Just one. But she's dead now."

A shiver of premonition clawed its way through Casey's chest. He cleared his throat. His voice was husky when he asked, "Her name?"

Wade's gaze grew distant, and Casey knew he was reliving a memory, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Zoe Woodson."

_...came to you for a reason._ Did Tristan's sentiment extend to the soldiers too?

"We were allowed to be friends... at Eads," Wade continued. "Close enough in age, they said. The director didn't keep us separated and ignorant of each other. Zoe was a good friend. I miss her."

Casey swallowed hard.

"But, to answer your original question, sir, it's wrong. The whole damn process. What we do here. What they force women to do? She might be alive if it wasn't for the facility, and that is something I can't," Wade trailed off, unable to finish his statement, but it didn't matter. Casey understood completely. He felt that way himself.

Now.

"Jules," Casey called.

"Yeah, Case."

"Twenty meters due east, you will find Tristan and the... package," Casey began and then ordered, "Retrieve it and bring it here. But if there is difficulty with the package, trade tasks with Tristan."

"Will do," Jules replied.

Casey pulled his gaze from Wade to pin Jules with his 'don't disobey me' expression. Jules visibly paled, his lips pressing together into a thin line. "All of Tristan's tasks," Casey reiterated.

Pulling himself straight, Jules nodded and then saluted before following Casey's orders. As Jules disappeared into the tree line, Casey turned back to Wade, who flinched as Casey's full focus rested on him. Casey silently studied Wade for a moment before asking, "If you feel it's wrong of the army to require such service of the assets, then why did you become ARA?"

"I didn't choose it. Not consciously," Wade answered. "But once I was ARA,"—he twitched his shoulders in a small shrug—"I didn't see any reason to transfer out."

Casey acknowledged Wade with a grunt and glanced at the woods where Jules had disappeared. _Any moment now,_ Casey thought. His palms were slick with sweat, and Casey felt a drop trickle down his ribs. The next few minutes would be crucial to everyone involved. Wade's revelations about his genealogy, did ease some of Casey's concerns, but he didn't look forward to the upcoming conversation.

"Da!" Greysen yelled from the woods and burst into tears. "Da. Da. Daaaddy!"

Wade looked to where Jules had disappeared, to Casey, and then back to the woods. Casey watched as Wade's eyes widened and flashed with alarm. Greysen was in the clearing. Casey would stake his life on the fact Wade had seen the toddler. Wade stood abruptly. His attention ping-ponged between Casey and the woods. It would have been comical if there hadn't been so much at risk.

The wail grew louder, and Casey stooped to catch his son as he stumbled his way across the clearing and into Casey's arms. Greysen's keening silenced at once, and Casey shot a curious glance to Jules coming across the clearing. He looked relaxed. Tristan didn't. Tristan held Casey's gun at the ready and steadily advanced toward them. Stopping close enough to be seriously detrimental to Wade's welfare, Tristan stood, hands steady with Casey's gun aimed at Wade's thigh.

Facing Wade, Casey said, "Wade?"

Wade swallowed, looked to Greysen, and then back to Casey.

"I'd like you to meet Greysen." Casey paused, took a deep breath, and then added, "My son."

Casey didn't think it was possible, but the tall black man paled and looked a bit sick. "Your son?"

"Yes," Casey said.

"You're his donor?"

"No."

"Then—"

"He's my son," Casey announced firmly. Wade didn't need to know the details.

Licking his lips, Wade asked in a tone that was high and breathless, "Why am I here?"

"I need help watching him while his mother is on a mission."

"His mother?" Wade cleared his throat. His mouth opened and closed twice before he was able to force out, "What do you need me to do?"

The atmosphere around Shelter Six slowly relaxed as Casey explained what he expected of Wade. "I'm asking a lot of you, I know, but I need you to promise this secret—my secret—is safe. A lot of lives and several soldiering careers rely on your circumspection. You will not talk about Greysen to anyone else and nowhere where anyone may overhear."

"Of course," Wade said and placed his right hand over his heart. "You have my word."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good." Casey hugged Greysen close.

"'Gree," Greysen said, interrupting the conversation.

"Just a minute, kiddo."

"'Gree, daddy."

Casey didn't know why he continued to stare at Wade, but he felt unable to look away. After a few tense moments of weighty silence, Tristan dropped his hand on Casey's shoulder. "Maybe they should head back to Base? It's gettin' late."

Shaking himself free of the uncomfortable need to keep Wade in his sights, Casey nodded and told them to go. As they faded from view, Casey asked, "Will it be all right? Will he keep quiet?"

"Yeah, Case," Tristan said in reassurance. "He's only got a year and a half to go. Anyone can keep their trap shut for that long."

"And after?"

Tristan shrugged. "Prison camp and execution, I guess."

Casey swallowed hard and hugged Greysen tight to his chest.

I guess.

***

_No_ , Lottie thought in dismay. _No. No. No! I can't be._ But the tiny beating heart on the sonogram machine's screen indicated differently.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant.

Wardell grinned at her, turned off the machine, and removed the ultrasound transducer. She could still see the peanut-shaped image in her mind.

Pregnant.

She wanted to cry.

Wardell picked up her hand and placed a small plastic tube into it. She looked down. There were instructions printed down the side. It said, 'In case of miscarriage, inject into the thigh or upper arm.' She now had an antihistamine shot.

Lottie swallowed hard, afraid she was about to throw up.

"Congratulations, Private Forrester." _Don't say it, Wardell. Do. Not. Say. It._ "You're pregnant." _He said it._

Lottie pinched her lips together and tried to hold back her frown.

"You need to keep that"—Wardell indicated the syringe in her hand—"with you at all times." He followed that statement with a list of the signs and symptoms she needed to look for, but she ignored him.

Pregnant.

She'd known it was a risk. Accepted it. But Lottie had hoped, with every fiber of her being, that she'd be able to avoid it.

Lottie sighed.

Wardell patted her hand. "Head down the hall and to the left."

Wait? "I'm sorry," Lottie interrupted. "Down the hall? What for?"

"Your updated status photo."

"Oh." _Right._

"I'll meet you there in a few minutes," Wardell said. "I need to finish up my notes and clean up in here."

Lottie nodded, eased off the exam table, and began dressing. When finished, she let herself out of the exam room and into the hall.

***

Lottie opened the door to the main supply closet and stepped inside. Other than knowing its location, she'd never bothered to seek it out. It made her feel a bit like an intruder. Besides, until today, she had everything she needed for her escape.

But, today, she needed a bit more.

She walked along the metal shelves, looking at what was available. It was easy to ignore the uniforms. It wasn't like she could take her standard issue with her when she ran. None of them could. Ten garments were too bulky and heavy to lug through the woods when food and other supplies were more critical. _Like this sewing kit._ Should she grab enough for everybody? Lottie decided against it. The guards might miss that many sewing kits. Instead, Lottie grabbed two from the shelf. She could have used a sewing kit back when she was making Greysen's baby clothes.

Lottie wondered if the supply closet stocked items for newborns. She knew there was something here—little Robert had something other than a wool blanket-turned-sack held together with ties for his clothes. It took another minute, but she found the shelves with cloth diapers, oilcloth bloomers, and one-piece cotton outfits. The labels under the stacks showed three different sizes. Lottie picked one of the smallest ones off the top and held it up. It was so tiny! She'd forgotten how little Greysen had been.

She pulled it to her and rested it over her belly. She couldn't believe she needed baby clothes.

"Charlotte?"

Lottie yelped and pressed her hand to her pounding heart. She couldn't believe someone caught her stealing from the supplies. Spinning around to face the newcomer, Lottie blew out a relieved breath. "Zoe!"

Zoe saw the baby clothes held against Lottie's stomach, and her eyes widened.

Lottie wadded the little garment up and tossed it back on the shelf.

"I was going to ask 'What are you doing in here?' but I guess I know that answer," Zoe said. Her gaze softened with sympathy. "Just found out?"

"Yes," Lottie whispered, unable to find her voice.

Stepping forward, Zoe took her in her arms and hugged her tight. "I know how you feel. What with the upcoming excitement..." Lottie figured Zoe was right. Zoe paused, took a deep breath, and added at almost a whisper. "I'm late, too."

"Late?" Lottie asked, her eyebrow raised in confusion.

Zoe nodded. "With the treatments, we're never late. Didn't you notice that? Every twenty-eight days, like clockwork."

Lottie nodded. She'd _had_ noticed, and she was still trying to get used to it.

"I'm late—only a day—but still late."

_Oh... Oh!_ Lottie finally caught on to what Zoe was trying to tell her. "Leo's?"

Zoe nodded. "They'll announce it in two weeks. Guess I'll be getting a new antihistamine shot."

"I'm so sorry," Lottie said. She wasn't sure why she was, but it felt like the right thing to say.

"It's okay. At least Master Sergeant Kenzie is a nice guy. I'd rather carry his baby than Sergeant Major Asshole's." They stood there, holding each other for a few minutes before Zoe tactfully changed the subject. "I came up with an idea on how to get us all backpacks."

Lottie pulled away from Zoe. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Zoe replied. "I think I can make a blanket into a bag with straps and also leave it as a usable cover for when we sleep." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "I don't mean collecting the edges and tying them off, either. This way, we can use it as a pack, store a second blanket in it, or on it, along with the food and other things we may need."

"That's great news," Lottie said. "Do you have one made yet? Can I see it?"

Zoe shook her head and held up some scissors. "That's why I'm here. I need a blanket."

Smiling with renewed excitement, Lottie stepped away from the shelves of baby items—she'd come back to them later—and walked with Zoe over to the relevant shelves. "I can't wait to see it."

"It won't be pretty, but it should be serviceable."

"Anything will be better than dumping our supplies in the middle and folding up the ends like a floppy pillowcase sack."

"Yeah," Zoe agreed. Pulling a blanket from the shelf, Zoe tucked it to her chest and wrapped her arms around it.

Lottie added, "I've picked up a few sewing kits, plenty of socks for everyone, and you knew about the seeds and the books. Do you think we can steal some silverware and cups to make a mess kit of sorts? Oh! And we all need a way to carry water. I think I'm the only one with a standard-issue canteen."

"Have Nyah work on the mess kit and canteen problem," Zoe supplied.

"I will."

The stood in awkward silence for a few moments. After a bit, Zoe nodded and said, "Have fun shopping."

A rueful smile tugged at Lottie's lip. "Sure. You too."

Zoe bobbed her head in acknowledgment and then left.

Lottie stood there, quietly contemplating, but eventually turned and resumed her quest for suitable settlement supplies.

***

The door to the command shed burst open. "Where the hell have you been?" Lincoln demanded as he slammed the door closed, his hands landing on his hips.

Casey lowered his pencil to his desk, closed his journal, and slowly stood. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leveled a flat stare at his second in command. "Here. Working."

"Bullshit," Lincoln said emphatically.

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't been _here_ working," Lincoln said. "I want to know what is going on."

"Nothing."

"Fuck that, Case! You're lying."

Casey's eyebrow rose slowly. He hoped it conveyed sardonic amusement and not the mild panic he actually felt. Did Lincoln know something? Once again, Casey wished Javier was here. He could have used Javier's unique skills at misdirection right now.

"For the past five days, I've watched as either Wade, Jules, or Tristan disappear at dawn only to show up again at dusk. I see neither head nor tail of you for hours, and then mid-morning 'poof" you appear at camp as if conjured. You work," Lincoln added air quotes around the word work. "Then disappear again before nightfall. I know unequivocally you aren't sleeping in camp." Lincoln's gaze hardened. "I've looked." Lincoln stood there, glaring at Casey, clearly daring him to respond, and when he didn't, Lincoln added, "You've altered everyone's schedule, keeping anyone but you four away from Shelter Six. Why? What's so special there? What are you hiding? I should go take a look."

Contrary to the accusations being thrown at him by Lincoln, Casey felt relief and his shoulder's relaxed. This verbal attack—though damning and alarming—really wasn't about Casey or his team's absences. Casey knew Lincoln to well. Something Lincoln couldn't handle must have happened in camp while Casey had been away, and his second had grown flustered in the face of this unknown issue. Otherwise, Lincoln would not be this worked up about Casey's men off doing unnamed tasks, or Lincoln would have questioned the men's random deployments over a year ago.

Facing the issue head-on, Casey said, "One, I don't have to justify myself to you. Two, it's none of your damn business what the men on my squad are doing when not deployed with you. And three, I'm not breaking any rules—at least no worse than I normally do—so you need to let it go."

"I'm your _second_ , Case. Your business is _my_ business. That's the very definition of being your Second!"

"What's this about, Lincoln?"

"Are you laying a trap for that Asset Adan saw stealing eggs from the coup?"

_Asset? Stealing?_ Casey frowned. Why hadn't he heard about this before today? "There's new proof?"

"You aren't hiding an asset at Six?"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Hell if I know," Lincoln said, his temper cooling. "But it wouldn't be the first time you did."

"Huh?"

"Two years ago..."

Leaning back against his desk, Casey interrupted Lincoln with a roll of his eyes. "This about that pregnant Asset again?" _Lottie._ Ever-absent God, he missed her. Casey rubbed his sweaty palm on his shirt and hoped Lincoln didn't notice the movement. "I told you, I took her back to Fort St. Louis by myself for a reason. Simplicity."

Lincoln huffed. "It was against the rules. You should have taken a team."

"True," Casey agreed readily. "But in case you don't remember, I do a lot of shit here against the rules."

Relaxing further, Lincoln gave him a curt nod. "And I advise you against it."

"And right, you should, Second." Lincoln flashed him a tense smile, proving that Lincoln was still upset, but it looked like the worst of Lincoln's anger was over. Needing to know more about this asset his team had spotted, Casey asked, "What did Adan see this time?"

"It was dusk, so he didn't get a good look," Lincoln replied.

"Then how did he know it was an asset?"

"Shut-up, and I'll tell you." Casey waved a hand, indicating Lincoln could continue. "Adan was patrolling near the gardens and saw a small form slip out through the coup's door—If you remember, last week, Tristan told us he noticed the hens were laying less, and here was walking proof about why our egg yield is down. Following protocol, Adan went to get you, but when he couldn't find you, he came to get me. By then, it was too late. She was gone."

"Tracking?" Casey asked.

"Tried it, but the ground is frozen solid. The asset didn't leave any footprints, and the undergrowth is sparse there, so no broken vegetation to mark the asset's passage."

Rubbing his fingers across his forehead, Casey said, "I'll double the watch near the coop at dusk and dawn. If the asset's hungry enough to steal from our Base, then we'll catch her." And then what? Casey didn't know. "Hold the Fort while I'll go see if I can find any tracks."

Lincoln nodded his approval. "Good."

"Good," Casey echoed.

***

Casey woke and tightened his arms reflexively around Greysen.

He waited tensely. Something was different. He slid his gun from the holster, flicked off the safety, and eased himself from his bed. As he did so, he identified part of the problem. He could only hear one dog.

Slowly, in an attempt to make as little noise as possible, he unzipped the tent. Once the flap was open enough to let him escape, Casey slipped out.

It was right before dawn, and the sky a dark blue, infinitesimally brighter than twenty minutes ago. The difference was slight, but enough to show the surrounding landscape as lighter shadows superimposed over the darkness beyond.

"Bix? Mira?"

A form padded around the tent softly woofed in greeting, and Casey reached down to pet Mira.

"Where's your partner in crime?"

Mira licked his fingers.

Casey patted her muzzle and straightened. It wasn't entirely unusual for Bix to disappear, but it wasn't usual either, and Casey wondered where the dog had gone. With a sigh, he redid the safety on his gun and sat by the embers of last night's fire. Stoking it, Casey brought it back to life and fed the dying coals fresh wood. "Might as well get up," he told Mira. "Make some breakfast."

A muffled woof was her answer, and she made herself comfortable at his feet.

After a quick smile for the dog, Casey grabbed some provisions from his bag. He dropped them into his soup pot and added the last of his water. Casey would get new when Wade arrived, and if Casey were lucky, he'd secure a squirrel or two for his and Greysen's dinner later. Although Casey hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Noah had said a week maybe a little more, and it was already ten days since he left.

"You know when your master is getting back?" he asked Mira.

She lifted her head from her paws, swallowed a bark while looking at him expectantly.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

She returned her head to her paws and gave him a forlorn look.

About the time his breakfast began bubbling, Greysen woke with a plaintive cry. "'Oah? 'Addy?" He sniffled, and a moment later stuck his head out the tent flap. His face lit up with a grin. "Daddy!"

Casey chuckled at the sight of the tent flap hanging over Greysen's forehead and obscuring one of his eyes. "You hungry?" he asked Greysen.

Greysen nodded solemnly, his eyes wide. "'Gree, Daddy."

"Then come here, kiddo."

Tumbling out of the tent, Greysen pushed to his feet and wobbled his way over to Casey.

Scooping him up, Casey hugged him close, grimacing at the smell. "Can't wait 'til you can piss behind a tree instead of your pants."

"I'd prefer shitting in the outhouse, myself. Piss stinks, but it's a hell of a lot easier to clean up."

Casey flinched. He hated how—even after a year—Noah could still get the drop on him. "Welcome back, Noah."

"Thank you."

It was a relief, though, to have Noah back. Casey's base—Tristan, Wade, and Jules, especially—were suffering from Noah's absence. "You back for good?"

"For now."

Of course.

"We were about to eat." Casey tilted his head in invitation toward the cooking soup. "Want some?"

"Yes."

Casey waited for Noah to retrieve his mug from his backpack and serve himself before Casey grabbed his and Greysen's helping. Casey set his cup to the side to cool. "Successful?"

After blowing across the top of his cup to cool the contents, Noah replied, "Yes." He took a sip. "I also took the liberty to check on the settlement."

"Oh?"

"A storm knocked down some branches and a tree, but none of the debris damaged any of the structures."

"Good," Casey said, his tone clipped, annoyed at Noah's delayed arrival due to his side-trip vied for the irritation Casey felt towards the potential storm damage he didn't have time to fix. "Anything else?"

Noah took another sip, and after swallowing, he sighed. "Have you checked Lottie's file in the past week?"

Sweat pricked Casey's skin, and it felt as if hundreds of needles were stabbing him repeatedly. "No. What's wrong?"

After glancing at Casey across the flames, Noah brought the mug to his lips for another sip. Swallowing, he said, "She's pregnant."

The air left Casey's lungs in a whoosh. His chest felt too tight as if someone had punched him in the solar plexus. "What?"

There was sympathy in Noah's eyes. "She's at least eight weeks along."

"Ever-absent, God..." Casey's gaze dropped to Greysen in his lap. He hugged Greysen close. _Lottie's pregnant._ He did the math. She'd be due in September. "Is she okay?"

"Nothing in her record said to the contrary."

"Good." _Pregnant_. Greysen was going to have a brother! A smile grew on Casey's face, and pleasure so intense it bordered on pain bloomed in his heart. He would have another son. Excitement tingled through his veins. He couldn't wait to see Lottie again, to share with her his joy in the news.

"The other two women are pregnant also."

The prior warmth in Casey's chest cooled as the weight of Noah's statement registered. Three women. Three infants. No, help at the settlement. "I hope that ex-soldier you promised is ready to work. They're going to need all the help they can get."

"I'll send a message. He'll be ready."

The thought of not returning to his post crossed Casey's mind again, but he dismissed it. For the time being, he'd do more good at Fort Sutton than in the settlement. But soon. He'd join her soon. "And the other?"

Noah tilted the mug back and swallowed the last of its contents. "I'm working on it."

# Chapter 31

Lottie clutched the stems of the origami bouquet that Maggie had helped her make and peeked her head around the corner. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. There was no one in the lobby to stop her from visiting her mother in the infirmary. And it wasn't like she couldn't be there, she told herself, but she felt a little odd moving around the facility unattended and expected Bardeen or Goldin to pop out of the cinderblock walls to detain her at any moment.

Inching into the infirmary, Lottie looked into the first medical bay. It was empty. And so was the next one. But in the third, Lottie found Meghan. She was curled on her side and hooked up to an IV. She had a blanket tucked up under her chin, and her arm was wrapped around her stomach protectively.

"Meghan?"

After a mighty sniffle, Meghan lifted her head to look at Lottie standing in the archway. "Yeah."

"You okay? You need anything?" Lottie asked, stepping into the room.

Megan watched her a moment. Her eyes shown with unshed tears. "No," she said, her voice wobbling on the word.

Crouching down, Lottie placed her hand over Meghan's. "Miscarriage?"

A tear slipped down the bridge of Meghan's nose and splashed on her pillow. "Yes," she whispered.

Lottie didn't know what to say, and Meghan was unable to hold a conversation, so after a few minutes of despondent silence, Lottie patted her hand and stood to leave. Glancing at the paper flowers in her fist, she pulled half from the bunch and set them on the small table next to Meghan's cot.

Backing out from Meghan's room, Lottie resumed her search for her mother. She found her in the last nook on the other side of the infirmary, diagonal from Meghan.

Lottie gave her a tentative smile.

When Grace returned it, Lottie let herself enter the small room. "How are you feeling?"

Grace grimaced. "Been better."

Lottie wasn't sure how to respond. Their budding friendship was tentative at best. Glancing down, she spotted the flowers she'd forgotten she'd brought. Thrusting them forward, she said, "Here. Maggie helped me make them."

Grace's expression warmed further as she took them from Lottie. "Thank you." She touched the carefully folded paper. "What book did she use this time?"

"A field manual. I think something about weapons training or maintenance."

"Fitting."

"I thought so, too," Lottie said, lapsing into a self-conscious silence. She gazed around the room, searching for something to say. "So, how far along were you?"

"Twenty-one weeks. Female. Just like the twins."

A sister.

She'd lost another sister. Lottie brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. Her mother's harsh words about her birth sprang to mind. "Are you glad you lost her?"

Grace sighed and looked away. "No. Not really. I'm not sorry that she won't live through this,"—Grace said, waving her hand to indicate the room before looking at Lottie again—"but I am sad she's dead. She was healthy. Perfect. I got to hold her before Surgeon Nizzola took her away. I think that's what is the hardest. Almost all of them are healthy."

Surprise rocked through her. Lottie had always assumed there was something wrong with the babies, and that was why the women miscarried so often. She must have looked shocked, for Grace added, "Didn't you know that?"

Lottie shook her head.

"It's true. It's our bodies that reject them and not a defect of the fetus," Grace said in a detached tone. "She breathed her last breath in my arms."

Fresh tears slipped past Lottie's guard.

"I watched her die, and there was nothing I could do." Grace sighed. "There was a time, long, long ago, when they could nurse premature babies. Keep them alive against all the odds. They can't anymore. Not even for females."

"Grace," Lottie's voice broke on her mother's name. There was nothing to say, really, and she let the word hang between them, and as the silence grew, it felt thick with unspoken words.

Regret. Loss. Hope.

Grace spoke, "I'm so tired, Charlotte. So tired."

"I know, Mom." There wasn't anything else for her to say. She wanted to put her arms around Grace. Comfort her. But she didn't think it would be welcome.

When the silence became oppressive, and Lottie was about to say her goodbyes and leave, Grace stopped her. "Tell me about this soldier of yours. The one that helped you."

"Casey?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to know?"

"Does he love you? Do you love him?"

Lottie felt the blood rush to her neck and heat her cheeks. "I guess he loves me—at least, he says so—but I know for sure that he loves Greysen." She paused and smiled at the memory of Casey, staking his claim for Greysen. "He adopted him."

"And you're fine with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Grace didn't respond to Lottie's question and instead asked, "What does he look like?"

"Greysen?"

"No, Casey."

"A soldier," Lottie said with a shrug.

"A soldier," Grace repeated wryly.

"Yes." Lottie wasn't sure what Grace eluded too. "He's taller than me by a few inches. Has brown hair and the most intense hazel eyes I've ever seen." Grace smiled at Lottie's admission. "Oh, and he's only ever been ARA."

"And he saved you?" Grace said matter-of-factly.

"Yes."

"Incredible. And you don't have to give him any kind of sexual favors in exchange?"

Lottie ducked her head and looked away. "No. He's never asked."

"Would you if he did?"

"I don't know." The question caught Lottie by surprise. Would she have sex with Casey if Casey asked? Probably. If he wanted her to. "Maybe."

"You should figure that out before you see him again."

Lottie's gaze snapped to Grace's at the implied threat in her tone. "Why?"

"All men want it, and most aren't afraid to go and get it."

Lottie was shaking her head no before the denial left her lips. Casey knew her. Knew what she had experienced. "He would never do that to me."

Grace made a small huff of disbelief. "For your sake, I hope not."

"He wouldn't!"

"Regardless," Grace said. "You should think about it. Determine if you're willing."

"I will." At least, the idea of being intimate with Casey didn't fill her with dread.

Grace seemed to take pity on her and changed the subject. "And this settlement?"

"What about it?"

"Tell me more," Grace asked.

"There's nothing more to tell."

"That's okay," Grace replied. "I don't mind hearing it all again."

"All right," Lottie said and leaned against the wall. "Noah and Casey..." Lottie spent the next several minutes telling Grace everything she knew about the settlement. It wasn't much, and all too soon, she finished.

"Unbelievable. And they really think we can get away with it?"

Lottie nodded and shrugged. "That's what Noah said. He seemed pretty confident."

Grace seemed to think about this for a while. "What do you need for the escape?"

"Well, Nyah hasn't solved the canteen issue yet, but Zoe came up with an ingenious backpack contraption made from a single blanket."

"Have you searched the rooms?"

"The medical rooms?"

"No," Grace replied. "The classrooms and labs. This building was a school. It might have something useful tucked away."

How could the classrooms help her?

"They never cleaned out the college. Not even when the mandatory population recall went into effect—surely you've noticed that part."

Lottie nodded. She'd seen rooms full of old furniture or other classroom supplies.

"I wouldn't neglect the rooms as a resource."

After a moment of thought, Lottie nodded. She'd take a look around. Besides, she needed to scout out an exit for the big day. A shiver traveled up her spine, and her arms erupted into goosebumps. Escape! They had about a month left to prepare.

Eager to get going, Lottie stood, but Grace stopped her with a touch to her forearm. "Please don't go. I don't want to be alone."

"All right," Lottie said. She couldn't deny Grace more of her time. Settling on the floor, Lottie asked, "What else would you like to know?"

"Tell me more about Greysen."

And so Lottie did.

***

Lottie closed her eyes, put her hands against the push bar of the door, and took a deep breath. Maybe if she tried it again, it would magically open.

Nope.

She let her head fall forward and tapped her forehead against the frosted glass of the door leading outside and to freedom.

"The women can walk right out, my ass, Noah," she whispered before opening her eyes and glaring down at her hands. "How in the world am I going to get them out?" Lottie dispaired. Every exit she'd tried was locked.

Frustrated, she dropped her hands to her side and backed away from the door. Plopping into one of the armchairs strategically placed around the open room, she contemplated her next move. Lottie had to solve this particular riddle for getting outside.

All their lives depended on it.

Lottie drummed her fingers on the armrest and glared at the door.

How am I going to do it?

She sat for a few minutes, thinking, but then stood. She was expected in the kitchen for laundry duty and had to abandon her search for the time being. Lottie didn't like admitting it, but she'd have to enlist help in finding a way out from some of the other women. There didn't seem to be any other options.

Squaring her shoulders, Lottie left the lobby and marched off to the cafeteria.

***

"She's done it again," Tristan said as soon as they were alone.

Casey stifled his irritation and tossed another log on the fire, shooting sparks into the air. "Seriously?" He'd just come back from watching Greysen at Noah's while the man was scouting for Lottie and Javier's arrival. _It's not even March yet_ , Casey had argued, but Noah ignored him—like usual—and had spent two days away, leaving Greysen to Casey's care. Not like Casey had those days to spare or anything.

"Yes," Tristan replied. "She's stealin' upwards of three eggs a day. Sometimes as much as six, if the hens are cooperatin' that day."

"Ever-absent God—" Casey swallowed the rest of his curse with an inarticulate noise. He had to catch this asset and fast.

"If she took one, we might not notice, but she seems to take a whole week all at once," Tristan explained.

"Which pulls from our daily ration, leaving us short," Casey finished for him.

"Exactly."

Casey pinched his nose. He did not need this headache now. "And no one's seen her?"

Tristan shook his head. "Even with the double watch, she's sneakin' in and out without bein' seen."

"How is that even possible?"

"I don't know."

Casey sighed. He needed to catch the asset before Adan, Ethan, or Teo, but if she continued to elude his guard, he might not succeed. "Hear anything..."

"Nefarious?"

"From Adan, Ethan, or Teo?"

"No, Adan hasn't said a word about it. And neither have Ethan or Teo."

"Good," Casey remarked. "At least she isn't hidden away and being raped repeatedly."

"That's not proven," Tristan cautioned.

"True," Casey retorted. Although Tristan was right, he knew as well as Casey did, that it was highly probable. Adan's past held at least one unconfirmed instance of sexual assault against an asset. It was the unofficial reason for his relocation from Pennsylvania to Missouri, after all.

"Until he does somethin' wrong," Tristan said, trailing off.

"I'm stuck with him."

"Yeah," Tristan acknowledged. "Unfortunately."

Not for the first time, Casey wished Javier was here. Javier had done an excellent job keeping the dastardly trio in line and out of Casey's hair, and he might have had an idea on how to catch their little interloper.

"I question her intelligence. Stealin' from a military base," Tristan said.

"She's either extremely stupid," Casey replied.

"Or desperate."

"Or desperate..."

"What're you gonna do?" Tristan asked.

And that was the crux of the matter. Casey wasn't sure. He frowned. "We have to set a trap."

"A trap," Tristan stated.

"Yes, a trap. Now how are we going to lure her in?"

"Fuck if I know, Case. That's why you're here."

"Thanks."

"What about a note wrapped around an egg? Tellin' her that we're watchin'?" Tristan volunteered after a long silence.

"She'd flee."

Tristan nodded in acknowledgment.

"We need to catch her. Not chase her away," Casey replied.

"How about a hobble hole?" When Casey didn't respond right away, Tristan added, "Dig a hole near the door to the coop. Trip her."

Frowning, Casey shook his head. "What if she falls? Gets hurt. We don't have a medic, and I can't set a broken bone."

"True. You didn't know how to birth a baby, either."

They were quiet while they both tried to come up with a new solution.

"I thought about a snare disguised under a blanket, but it has the same potential for injury. I can't treat a serious wound. So that idea's out," Casey said. "So is using Bix or Mira."

"Why not? The dogs could track her. Easily. We'd catch her in no time."

"No." Casey couldn't explain it fully even to himself, but he didn't like the idea of asking for Noah's help any more than he already did. "Just... No."

"All right. How about this," Tristan began after a second pregnant pause. "What if someone hides in the coop?"

"Hides in the coop?" Casey wiped a hand over his face. He needed to stop parroting everything Tristan said. It made him sound ridiculous.

"Yeah, it smells," Tristan agreed. "But not any worse than the guys after a hot summer day. _And_ , we know about when she'll be back. We can leave the standard guard in place on the nights she's not expected, and then you or I can lie in wait on the days she is."

Casey picked up a long stick and poked at the fire while he thought. The idea had merit. One of them could surprise her. Subdue her. She'd be caught. And most importantly, not hurt. "As much as I hate that idea, it's brilliant."

A grin grew on Tristan's face. "Thanks."

"You're full of them lately, aren't you?"

Tristan laughed. "Na. Given time, you'd have come up with it on your own."

"Doubt it." Casey shook his head. He was too consumed with thoughts of Lottie coming home to give his job much thought. It wasn't right. It wasn't proper. But he couldn't muster up enough effort to care whether or not he was a decent Staff Sergeant. Not anymore.

He tossed the wood poker aside.

"How's Greysen?" Tristan asked.

Casey smiled. "Good." Pausing, he glanced at Tristan before returning his focus on the flames. "I've been prepping him for Lottie's return. I'm afraid he's forgotten her."

"Nah," Tristan said. "Babies never forget their mommas." After another minor break in the conversation, Tristan added, "Speakin' of Momma, when do you expect her?"

Lifting his gaze to the dark sky, Casey replied, "More than a month at least. She can't leave the facility for at least two more weeks. Too dangerous to travel until mid-March. After that? No clue. It could be a month. It could be two. Or more." A shooting star flew across the sky, and Casey made a wish for her safe return. "We don't know how far away she is. Or what their escape entails. Or how quick they'll be pursued."

"Javier will lead the trackers on a merry little chase."

"Yep," Casey said.

"You'll need me at Noah's at least once more."

"At least," Casey replied. "Probably more than that. And after she gets back, I'll need you at the settlement some too."

"Understood."

They sat quietly for several minutes. Finally, Tristan said, "It's gettin' close to time, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

***

"Mmm," Lottie moaned as she tilted her head, letting the heat of the sun warm her cheeks whenever it valiantly peeked around the clouds.

She loved March. Not as much as April and May, but it was still one of her favorite months. Technically, it was a horrible weather-wise, bitterly cold one day and then balmy and almost hot the next, but Lottie wouldn't trade it in for anything in the world, except maybe to see Greysen and Casey again.

An excited shiver traveled down her spine.

Soon.

Soon she would see them both. She couldn't wait!

Shrugging out of her jacket, she folded it up into a lumpy pillow and situated it on the edge of the bench and settled back onto it. Lottie rested there, letting the warmth of the weak early spring sun sink into her bones as she contemplated how to get out of the facility. So far, all her attempts at finding an unlocked door were in vain. And finding a key had proven impossible, but she refused to despair. She'd figure it out!

"Miss Lottie."

She would know that slight southern drawl anywhere. "Hi Leo," Lottie greeted, sitting up. Squinting into the sun, she asked, "Join me?"

Leo crossed the path and dropped down to the bench beside her. "Don't mind if I do."

It was nice having him next to her. She'd seen him at the cafeteria occasionally and at required donor time, but they hadn't talked since early January when they staged their assignation. Who knew when she'd get another chance?

"It's days like today that make me long for summer." He paused and breathed deep as if he were tasting the air. "You can almost feel the future humidity. And if I listen hard enough, I swear I can hear the echo of last season's cicadas calling to each other."

Lottie grinned in agreement. It was one of the reasons she liked March so much. It promised warmth. Something she dearly craved after a long winter. "You like spring and summer?"

"Best time of the year, ma'am."

"Yeah," she agreed, resting her head on the backrest of the bench. Her face again tilted toward the sun. "It is."

They sat in companionable silence for a long time before Leo said, "You're leaving soon." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

"I'll miss you."

She didn't know what to say. "I'll miss you too."

After a beat, Leo changed the subject to the one Lottie had been expecting. Their upcoming escape. "Cobb leaves next week," he told her, exactly like he promised he would.

"Yeah, I heard," Lottie replied. "They're taking Sandy but not Grace." _...Thankfully._ "Grace will be cleared for travel the following week. I don't know why they aren't waiting for her, though."

Leo slid her across the bench, pressing his side against hers.

"Don't get me wrong," she said. "Them not taking her is better for us. I'm surprised is all."

"Cobb didn't want to wait. He said he had to get back to his new duties."

"Did you have a hand in this?" she asked. Leo had sounded a bit smug.

"Ma'am, I _am_ appalled. Appalled! How could you accuse me of such a thing?! _Me_ help _you_? Pshaw! Never. I am above such villainous actions!"

Lottie laughed at his blatant teasing and bumped him with her shoulder. "Thank you, Leo. For everything."

"Don't mention it," he replied, squeezing her in a one-arm hug. "I didn't want you to panic and do something rash."

Sighing, Lottie had to agree. She would have rallied everyone for a rushed departure, and when Grace didn't show at the appointed time, they most assuredly would have been pursued by the guards.

"Have you found a way out yet?" Leo asked.

"No," she said, sighing. "Every door I try is locked, and I can't find a key. I guess if it comes down to it, I'll bust a lock open or something. Not sure how, but I'll figure something out."

He was quiet for a moment. "Why don't you use the donor wing? If you leave late enough, no one will see you."

Lottie turned her head and opened her eyes to look at him.

Leo cracked an eye open, acknowledging her, and then closed it again. "Our wing butts up to the woods, and the door is usually unlocked."

"They don't keep it locked on you?"

He lifted his arms and hooked his hands behind his head. Lottie quickly scooted away from him. She liked him and felt comfortable around him—mostly—but being under his arm felt a little too casual, and she needed a bit of space.

"They might—normally—but First Sergeant Burkholder smokes," Leo said. "The FAP leaves that door open for him. It's not like if we went outside, we'd magically know where we are. Or that being in the quad keeps us from figuring out which direction we're facing. If we needed to, we all could make it back to Fort St. Louis without too much issue. Just head south and slightly east. So, in that regard, our little door to the big bad world doesn't pose much threat."

He opened his eyes to look at her. "Besides, the damn building—beggin' your pardon, Miss Lottie—is shaped in a square with each wing sitting in a cardinal direction. I know the Army doesn't want us to know the exact location of the facility, but I think once a soldier is promoted to Captain, they don't care anymore."

Leo shrugged and then winked at her. "I'll let you know after my promotion."

"You want to be a Captain?"

"Sure do. I want to be a Five Star General if I can." He closed his eyes. "Be President. I'll leave here with a new secured rank as part of my contract. Several steps closer to my goal."

"Do all four of you want to be General?" Lottie never thought about ranks or promotions much since she was female and had no possible chance of rising above being a private. The Army didn't promote women.

"Sergeant Major Ito—technically he isn't a Sergeant Major anymore, but an officer candidate—plans to be a General. But not Burkholder." Leo stretched and sat up, then scratched his cheek. "First Sergeant Cobb might as well. Never asked him, though. Truth be told, Miss Lottie. I never asked Sergeant Major Ito, either, but he's been plenty quick to volunteer that information," Leo added with a chuckle. "Every chance he gets."

Lottie pictured it easily. There was a reason everyone—even the guards—called him Sergeant Major Asshole behind his back.

"Who all is going?" Leo asked.

The question surprised her, but she answered with the truth since Leo knew everything else about her plan. He might as well know this too. "Me, Nyah, Maggie, Zoe, Grace, Valery, Lisa, and Judy," Lottie answered after a wary glance in his direction. "No one else wanted to risk it."

Leo tapped his thigh with his hand. "Three pregnant women—one heavily."

"Four," Lottie corrected him.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Four?"

She felt a blush creep up her neck. Of course, Leo knew about Maggie, Zoe, and herself—Underwood always made a formal PA announcement the day after the women received their antihistamine shots—but there was no reason why he'd know about Nyah. No one had confirmed her pregnancy yet. "Nyah doesn't have her new antihistamine shot, but she's pregnant too."

He grunted in acknowledgment. "Not surprised. For her sake, I hope it isn't Ito's."

"Yeah. Me too."

"I don't envy you, Miss Lottie. It's going to be hard." Leo rubbed his thigh with the flat of his hand and stared off into the distance. After a while, he turned pain-filled eyes toward her, and revealing the direction of his thoughts, Leo asked, "Help Zoe take care of my baby, will you?"

Lottie reached for his restless hand and grasped it in her own. Squeezing it, she said, "We'll care for her and her son. I promise."

"Good." He was quiet, again, lost in his thoughts. "You know, she is the only one I know of who has ever carried my child. I'd do more for her if I could."

"I know you would, Leo. You're sweet and caring." _...And I hope you find someone worthy of your love._ But she couldn't tell him that. At best, he'd receive a retired asset for his service—someone the Army picked out for him and not someone he'd chosen. At worst, Leo would never have anything more than the occasional comfort of a woman from one of the many State-run brothels. Lottie shuddered. No woman should have to do that job. "And when you become President, you can revoke the law that forces us to do this. Make it so we can have _families_ again."

"I will, Miss Lottie. I promise."

Lottie didn't doubt his sincerity, only his ability to follow through.

***

"This _so_ isn't going to work," Casey murmured, making the hen next to him twitch at the sound of his voice. "Sorry, Isabel," he muttered and patted her on the back of the head, hoping to calm her. She shifted on her box and clacked her beak at him threateningly. Casey put his hands up. "Sorry." Isabel appeared to accept his whispered apology, for she settled back into her box to sleep.

Leaning back against the wall, he wiped a hand across his eyes and rubbed his brow for a moment. All Casey wanted to do was go to bed, but it was his night to stand watch in the coop, and so he stood, talking to himself, in a vain effort to stay awake.

"She's moved on. I know she has." He swallowed a groan. "She is _not_ going show." But, he also knew that the moment he left his hideout in favor of his bunk, she would pop up like a specter to steal more eggs.

Casey needed to catch her. Or Tristan did.

He sighed. "This isn't going to work."

***

Casey yawned. He hadn't caught up on his lack of sleep from his failed reclamation mission two nights ago, but he had nearly finished documenting those said events in his journal when something caught his attention. He cocked his head toward the door, straining to hear what had disturbed him.

Voices.

Excited voices.

Lots of them.

Casey put his pencil down, closed his journal, and returned it to his lockable desk drawer. After securing it, Casey stood and strode across the room, denying his impulse to throw the door wide open, he paused, hand on the knob, ear pressed to the door, listening.

There was definitely a commotion outside. A big one, but the timbre was all wrong. It wasn't a fight. So, what was it?

Concentrating hard, trying to pick up who was outside and what was going on, Casey barely breathed.

Then a fearful yelp.

Female.

Lottie!

Casey yanked the door open, not sure what he would do if Lottie had been recaptured and brought into his camp, but he was determined to put a stop to whatever was happening to her, regardless.

He stopped in his tracks.

There was a woman outside of his command shed all right, but it wasn't Lottie.

In hindsight, he should have known it wouldn't be her. For one, it wasn't even April yet. As far as he knew, she was secure in the facility, and for two, if Lottie were nearby, Noah would have said something.

Turning his attention from the woman—a very young woman, Casey amended—he noted Adan, Ethan, and Teo along with Paul, Tristan, and Jules. Casey couldn't follow the disjointed conversation as each man talked over the other in a heated argument.

"Enough!" Casey barked, making his soldiers fall silent. The young woman 'eeped', and he focused on her again. "What's going on?" he asked no one in particular.

"I captured our thief," Adan drawled, clearly pleased. "I'm here to turn her over to you... Sir."

Casey's eyelids narrowed in speculation. Ethan, Teo, and Adan appeared a tad too self-satisfied. His focus returned to the asset caught in Adan's grip. She gazed back at him with an expression of betrayal, anger, and resignation.

Interesting.

Casey quickly assessed the rest of her appearance. Adan's six-foot frame towered over her by at least one foot, and Adan had his hand at her nape, pinching the skin close to her ears. Her hands were bound in front of her, and her hands were clasped so tight, her knuckles showed white.

Afraid?

"Thank you, Adan," Casey said, though it galled him to be so polite to the man.

"Sir," he acknowledged.

Adan's thumb brushed the skin along the young woman's neck in a tender caress at odds with his grip. The woman paled noticeably and swallowed hard, making Casey frown. He didn't like the way Adan touched her. "Adan," Casey said, his censure evident in his tone.

With a smirk and a light push, Adan freed the woman, and she stumbled forward. Casey caught her elbow, steadying her. She shivered at his touch but didn't try to pull away.

Facing his men, Casey snapped, "Dismissed."

There were a few grumbles from Ethan and Teo, but nothing articulate as they disbursed. Adan, on the other hand, let his gaze linger a bit too long on the woman's backside before lifting his lip in a renewed smirk. Casey opened his mouth to reprimand him, but Adan saluted, turned on his heel, and left before Casey could get a word in edgewise.

Casey sighed. That left Paul, Jules, and Tristan to stand around and await direction. It made sense that they would hang back. Paul wasn't a part of Casey's treasonous acts, but that didn't mean he would stand by and tolerate the mistreatment of an asset in the camp. His action in the fight over Lottie almost two years ago proved that.

"Go ahead and go back to KP, Jules, Paul. I've got this. Tristan, I need you to stay," Casey commanded. Army procedure dictated that the reclamation of an asset ought to be done in the presence of a witness, preferably the second in command of the squad, but since Lincoln was out on patrol Tristan would stand in his place.

"Sure, Case," Tristan readily agreed and held back as Jules and Paul left.

Changing his mind, Casey called, "Jules," then rubbed his free hand over his eyes. He'd been doing that a lot lately. _When did I get so tired?_

"Yes?"

"Heat some water." Casey paused to look at the young woman whose bicep he still gripped. It was clear she had Asian ancestry if the epicanthic folds were anything to go by, and her irises were so dark the pupils all but disappeared. The woman also smelled. Not as bad as Lottie had—it wasn't the height of summer—but she wasn't fresh as a daisy either. Not to mention, her straight black hair had leaves and twigs embedded in it, and there were numerous smudges of dirt on her olive-toned cheeks. "A couple of pots worth. She needs a bath."

The woman tensed at his words.

"Will do," Jules replied.

"Come on," Casey ordered and maneuvered the woman into his command shed with Tristan following. Casey pushed her over the threshold, and let her go, leaving her next to Tristan. "Watch her," he demanded, then swung his chair away from his side desk to turn on the communication device. It would take a few minutes to warm up and establish connections to headquarters—assuming, of course, that it would turn on at all. Casey had his doubts some days.

While the communication device did its thing, Casey swiveled around to face the asset. She was so young. Almost a girl. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

His eyes widened in surprise. The dodger was older than he thought. "What's your name?"

"Katie."

"Full name," Casey pressed. He had to look her up. If she was WHITE like Lottie... Casey shook his head to dispel the thought.

"Katriona Regina Tam."

"Thank you." Turning back to his desk, Casey saw that the program he needed was loaded, the cursor blinking in the input field. "How do you spell, Katriona? With a C or a K?"

"K."

Casey typed in his best guess and hit submit. After an agonizingly long wait, the search returned some results. Casey clicked on the file that matched her name. When it loaded, he read: Katriona "Katie" Regina Tam — Priority GREEN.

Birthdate: June 8, 2197

Surprised, Casey glanced back at Katie. She barely looked the seventeen she claimed, let alone, old enough to be turning eighteen in less than three months. Casey read further. "Disciplinary fine plus arrest and confinement to quarters," he muttered under his breath. There were—Casey paused to count—twenty disciplinary actions listed.

Damn

"What on earth did you do?" he asked rhetorically. He didn't expect her to answer.

"Ah," Tristan said. "Hold still."

At Tristan's reprimand, Casey turned and ordered, "Lock the door."

Standing, Casey moved closer to Katie. He stopped before breaching her personal space and leveled her with his best don't-mess-with-me stare. Katie flinched, and Casey was pleased to note he hadn't lost his touch. Lottie usually gave him a lopsided grin and rolled her eyes.

"There are twenty disciplinary actions against you. Why?" Casey asked, his tone said he wouldn't tolerate an evasion of his question. He needed to know what he was facing. How much of a troublemaker was she?

"Wrongdoing," Katie said, her tone insolent.

"You aren't enlisted yet. What could you possibly have done in Basic or before to warrant twenty disciplinary actions?"

Katie pursed her lips, clearly planning to be uncooperative.

"Cut her bonds," Casey ordered, stepping into her space to provide the necessary intimidation.

"Damn, Case," Tristan growled. "They're tight."

Casey kept his face impassive as he watched her. He knew the exact moment her hands became free. Pain and relief morphed to wariness.

"Now," Casey began. "What did you do to earn twenty disciplinary actions?"

Rubbing her arms, Katie glanced away. After several moments, she appeared to come to a decision. When Katie faced him again, her eyes shown with resolve, and Casey braced himself. She was planning something. With shaking fingers, she reached toward him. He caught her wrist right as her fingers made contact with his waistband.

"What are you doing?" Casey growled.

Katie's eyes welled with tears. "Your second said if I... If I serviced... you"—she looked at Tristan over her shoulder—"and your friends, you'd let me go."

Casey's eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. "He did?"

She nodded miserably.

Casey caught Tristan's eye and noted their shared disbelief. Lincoln would never proposition an asset for sex. He always obeyed the rules. It was Lincoln's most significant weakness and his best strength. It also made him unfit for improvisation in the field. Casey repeated, "My second said that?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "I didn't... don't want to. But..." Katie shrugged. "He'd already made me do it with him and his friends several times before he brought me to you."

"Adan," Casey growled.

A restraining hand landed on his forearm, and Casey started. Looking down, he saw Tristan's hand grasped him. "Knock it off, Case. You're scarin' Katie."

Glancing at Katie, still in his grip, Casey saw fear and fresh tears pouring down her cheeks. Casey hastily released her and took a step back. "Are you all right?"

She whimpered but nodded, sniffing.

"Here," Tristan said, offering her a handkerchief.

Katie blew her nose in loud, honking blasts, but the break seemed to steady her.

"You said you've been with Casey's second for almost two weeks?" Tristan asked.

Casey didn't remember her saying anything of the sort, but if Tristan asked, then she must have said it. Most likely, while Casey fumed about Adan.

_Adan._

Fresh fury burned through Casey's veins. Adan, Ethan, and Teo would regret ever laying hands on Katie. He would make sure of it.

"Once a day for the past week or so. I've lost track."

"Just so you know," Casey said, interrupting any further questioning by Tristan, and needing to defend Lincoln's honor—even if they were at odds personally. "Adan is _not_ my second in command. Lincoln is. And no one else will touch you while you're here. Especially not that low-life, _muther_ —," Casey trailed off into another inarticulate grunt. "And how did you come to be outside Fort St. Louis?"

Katie looked at him as if he were an imbecile. "I ran."

Tristan caught his gaze, and they shared a look of irritation.

"Yes. But why?" Casey asked, focusing on her again. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know so badly. He assumed it was due to Lottie and her desire not to have children, and that being the reason she ran.

"I wanted to be a scientist, not a baby factory."

"Let me guess," Casey said. "You tried to get out of it twenty times?"

Katie nodded.

"What did you do?"

She looked at Tristan over her shoulder before answering. Squaring her shoulders, Katie said, "I snuck into the boy's barracks."

Casey's thoughts spun, and he felt a bit dizzy. _It couldn't be..._ The facts were too coincidental. Too perfect. _The only time a girl was in trouble instead of the soldiers? She wasn't in Basic. We never saw her again._ "Do you know Private Brandon Gillespie?"

Katie's eyes widened in surprise, and she paled. "Is he... Is he here?"

"I'll take that as a yes that you do know him. Is the story he told us about how you earned those disciplinary actions true?" Casey asked.

A new tear leaked from the corner of her eye and slipped down her cheek. "I thought if I ruined myself, the Army wouldn't take me into the program." She sniffed. Her tone, when she spoke next, was bitter. "Ended up, they didn't care."

"That's not how it works," Tristan said. "The FAR only attempts to preserve female virginity. It makes testin' easier. A sterile and controlled environment for the treatments. Not because they give a shit whether or not you are a virgin."

"I know that now!" Katie whined, emphasizing her youth. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd known."

"I don't suppose you would have," Casey agreed. "Except here you are... again... trying to buy your freedom with sex."

Hanging her head, Katie scuffed the toe of her shoe against the rough floorboards.

"Did you think that would work?" Casey asked.

She nodded and brushed a fresh tear from her cheek. "Not that I wanted to. Sex is gross. But your soldier promised me it would work."

Casey sighed, not only did Adan take advantage of an asset, but he also fed her false promises of freedom. "You don't think things through, do you?" he asked her, but before she could answer, there was a knock at his door.

"I have your water," Jules called through the door.

At a signal from Casey, Tristan unlocked the door and opened it. Jules glanced at Katie, flashed her a quick smile then addressed Casey, "Where do you want it?" he asked, indicating the wooden tub the men used for laundry and hygiene during the winter months.

"Right there is good," Casey said, pointing to the corner of the command shed where his coat hung on the wall.

Jules came in and put the tub down. "I'll be right back with the water. I didn't want it to cool while I got the tub ready."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Case. Glad to help."

After Jules left, Casey fished in his pocket for his keys. Handing them to Tristan, he said, "Grab some rope, towels, soap, a few blankets and anything else you think of that she may need to get clean, and then report back to me."

Tristan acknowledged the order and pulled the door closed behind him.

Dropping his hands on his hips, Casey turned to Katie and said, "What the hell am I going to do with you?" She flinched, and he swallowed back a new curse.

Jules popped his head back into the room. "'S'okay to come in?"

"Yeah," Casey said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Just talking to myself."

"Warn me when you start answering, m'kay?"

"Hardy-har-har," Casey grumbled but smiled anyway. "Let me get the door for you," he offered, pulling it open further.

"Thanks," Jules said. The muscles in his arms flexed, straining as he lifted the heavy buckets full of water.

"How many pots did you heat?"

"Ten."

That would explain why he was straining. Casey rarely filled the pails that full. Usually, it was easier to make more trips to the river than to lug that much water up the trail.

"Need me to heat more?" Jules asked as he dumped the second bucket into the tub.

Casey glanced at the level and shook his head. It wasn't quite half full, but it would have to do.

"Anything else?"

"At the moment, no," Casey said. It was then that Tristan returned, ladened down with the requested items and shouldering his way past Jules with a muttered 'excuse me' to his fellow soldier. "But stick close. Guard the door."

"Will do, Case."

"Where do you want these?" Tristan asked.

"Set everything on the table. Bring the rope. We'll string it up here,"—Casey said, pointing to a hook on the wall—"to here."

"Understood."

They worked quickly to string a line across the one corner of his command and then tossed a few blankets over it to provide Katie some privacy while she washed up. It was one of the things Lottie mentioned during those first fourteen days of her freedom, and although he hadn't agreed at the time—because he was an ass—now, his conscious demanded that he offer assets a bit of privacy.

Casey shooed Katie behind the curtain while the two of them stood around in a staggered guard. After about ten minutes, the sounds of splashing slowed, then stopped. A few minutes after that, Katie peeked around the curtain. She looked more relaxed, dressed in clean fatigues.

"Jules," Casey called. When Jules stuck his head back into the shed, Casey ordered, "Escort her to my tent and then stand guard until I get there."

Jules mock saluted and beckoned Katie closer. Looping his arm with hers, he dragged her out of the command shed. "Come on. Case's tent's this way."

From the doorway, Casey and Tristan watched their retreating forms. "What the hell is Lottie going to say to me when she knows I had another woman in my tent?"

Dropping a hand on Casey's shoulder, Tristan squeezed. "Probably nothin'. She knows what your job is." After a pause, he added, "But if you think it will be an issue, put Katie in with Lincoln. He'll be as pleased as a green recruit that you trust him. And you know for sure he ain't gonna touch her. That man's a fuckin'ate-up."

Casey thought about it and decided Tristan was right. It was the best solution. "True."

Chuckling, Tristan smacked Casey on the back. "You know you can't send her back to Fort St. Louis, don't you?"

Sighing, Casey nodded. "At least she's not 'Priority white.' One asset of that classification at Fort Sutton is more than enough for my tenure."

"She 'green' then?"

"Yep." Casey stepped away from the door, and Tristan closed it behind them. After Tristan flicked the lock, Casey ran a hand through his hair and said, "Damn. Twenty recruits."

"Wouldn't have thought it possible," Tristan agreed.

It was hard to believe, but field records never lied, unless you conceived naturally and the Army listed as dead, that is.

"You'll be on my relocation detail. I'll need Jules and Wade to stay here in case Noah makes an appearance."

"Understood."

"What a cluster-fuck." Casey walked to his chair and collapsed into it. "You think she'll try to run?"

Tristan shrugged. "Maybe. But if she knows what the settlement's for?"

"Yeah," Casey said. "That's what I'm hoping."

He ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends near his nape. He needed a new haircut.

Casey added, "All right. Go. Get Lincoln and let him know where he can find Katie. If he questions you, send him to me."

"Sure thin', pup."

Rolling his eyes, Casey gave Tristan the finger. He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him that.

"Anything else?" Tristan asked.

Casey shook his head. "No."

Now, what?

# Chapter 32

Wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, Lottie poked her head around the door jam and into the hallway. Where were they? She took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart. It ignored her silent pleas and galloped harder. So hard, Lottie thought her heart might explode from the force of it.

"Like a man having sex," Nyah whispered. "They're gonna come, Charlotte. Trust me."

Lottie slapped her hand across her mouth to smother her laugh. Thank the ever-absent God for Nyah, she thought, choking back her snickering. The other woman's outrageous statements and unflagging support kept Lottie sane, and Lottie nodded in silent agreement to what Nyah had said. At least she hoped Valery, Lisa, and Judy would join them.

Glancing over her shoulder and into the darkened room where the rest of the women were hiding, she caught Maggie's eye. Maggie gave her a thumbs-up signal and returned to her whispered conversation with Zoe and Grace. Their motions were jerky, and they kept looking over at her and then away. Lottie hoped it was their nerves getting the best of them and not a whispered plan to abort their part of the escape attempt. If they backed out now... Lottie didn't know what she would do. Taking another shaky breath, Lottie turned back to Nyah. The tension made her face tight. She was so nervous.

Nyah flashed her a small smile of support and grabbed her hand. "They'll come. I know they will," she reassured.

After a quick nod, Lottie disengaged her hand from Nyah's and stuck her head out into the hall again. She hoped Nyah wasn't lying. If they squandered this chance of escape by waiting for the delayed women?

Nothing.

Lottie swallowed back a groan. _Where are they?_

A gentle tap on her shoulder drew her focus, and Maggie pulled her into an awkward one-armed hug. Her tiny size and her baby bulge kept her from doing it with both hands. "They'll be here. I know it."

"Thanks," Lottie whispered back. "I hate waiting. What if something went wrong?"

"It'll be fine." Maggie nodded and patted her on the back. "I can't believe you convinced Master Sergeant Kenzie to help us."

Lottie shrugged. Leo was her friend, and friends helped each other. "I hope he hasn't gone to bed, though."

"We'll find the door even if he has," Nyah assured her. "It can't be that hard."

Sighing, Lottie agreed. "But it will be quieter and faster with him showing us the way."

"And then we'll find this Private Javier," Nyah murmured.

"More like he'll find us," Lottie corrected. She wasn't sure where Javier had his camp, but she knew he'd be watching for her.

"Fine, and then he'll find us, and we'll be on our way." Nyah sighed. "I can't wait to leave this place." Her arms wrapped around her torso, hugging herself.

There were several murmurs in agreement with Nyah's statement, and then everyone fell silent again.

Lottie stuck her head out the door.

Were those footsteps?

She strained to hear. After a moment, she shook her head. No one was coming yet. "How long do we give them?" Lottie whispered to Nyah.

"Zero hundred. Oh-two hundred." She cracked her knuckles and then stretched her neck.

Lottie heard it creak ominously and blew out the air she'd been holding. If she had to wait until two am for the women, she'd never keep her sanity.

She put her hands on the door jam and leaned forward, looking out into the hallway for the umpteenth time to see if she could hear one of the women.

Nothing.

Argh!

Pushing off from the jam, she paced.

Lottie didn't know how long she walked back and forth, but her legs were beginning to ache when Nyah started to moan and pant as if approaching coital ecstasy. It only took a moment for Lottie to realize what Nyah was implying with her breathy sex noises. Nyah heard Valery, Lisa, and Judy in the hall.

Rushing to the door, Lottie looked out again.

There, in the dark. Three forms headed their way.

They were coming.

Yes.

"Come on," Lottie urged quietly.

The women increased their pace and soon slipped into the room. Moonlight from the window illuminated their faces. "Good, you made it," Lottie began but stopped abruptly. _Valery. Lisa. And Ally?_ "What happened to Judy?"

"She's not coming," Valery answered. "And we're not either." There was a chorus of what and why but Valery ignored the questions. Instead, she pulled Ally close into a hug and then pushed her toward Lottie's small group. "Take Ally, please!" Valery whispered urgently. "She doesn't want to stay."

"Of course she can come," Lottie said, grabbing Ally's hand. "But why aren't you coming. We have everything ready!" The fact they were backing out made Lottie's chest feel tight.

Lisa grabbed Valery's hand. "We birthed girls," Lisa said as if that explained everything.

Lottie frowned. "I don't understand."

"While enlisted," Valery elaborated, pointing to Grace and then Lottie. "If what happened to you two will happen to us, then we want to be here when our daughters arrive."

At her words, a tingle of tears built behind Lottie's eyes. It made sense, and she could understand completely. "And Judy?"

"The same," Valery whispered.

"We're going to miss you!" Maggie wailed, and Nyah shushed her. "Sorry," Maggie whispered. "Maybe you can follow... later... after we're safe."

Valery and Lisa nodded, but Lottie could see the resignation in their eyes. They didn't believe they would ever leave. Lottie hoped they wouldn't be too depressed to function after her team was gone. But it did make Lottie wonder, would she have done the same if she had a daughter in the system? She thought of her love for Greysen and decided that she would. "I don't know how, yet," Lottie began, "but I'll find a way to get you and your daughters out. I promise." At the very least, she'd ask Noah for help in liberating them.

Lisa and Valery backed from the room, generating a few more sniffles from the gathered women. "You better hurry," Lisa murmured. Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "Just in case one of the FAP are on their way."

Lottie wiped her eyes. She hadn't realized these women had such a firm hold on her heart, but Lisa was right. They had to go. The sense of urgency was growing, and Lottie feared discovery at any moment. "Come on," she whispered to Nyah, Ally, and Maggie. "Let's suit up."

The trio made their way over to Grace and Zoe. Lottie left Ally to get one of the now free backpacks made from Zoe's genius design and grabbed her old pack, which leaned against the wall. It was silly, but she didn't want to leave it behind. Besides, she was used to it and knew just where to put Casey's old clothes, and the few souvenirs Lottie wished to keep from her stay here at Gates.

After her pack was on her back, she grabbed one of the missing woman's bags and shouldered it. The knapsacks couldn't be left behind as evidence. Grace joined her. "Let me get the last one."

"Okay," Lottie said, picking it up.

Grace took it from her and attached it to her other pack. "We ready?" Grace asked the group.

"Yes," several whispered in response.

"Good," Lottie replied and inched her way out the door, checking to make sure no one was in the hallway waiting to pounce on them the moment they left the security of the room.

Waving Grace forward, Lottie whispered, "You know the way."

Grace nodded and stepped out of the room. "Yes."

Ally stepped into her place and flashed Lottie a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"Glad to have you," Lottie murmured. When Ally didn't move for several beats, Lottie urged her to go. Ally swallowed visibly, then nodded and hustled after Grace. Maggie and Nyah followed on Ally's heels. _Four down._ Zoe stepped into the line and gently squeezed Lottie's shoulder before she too disappeared out the door. _Five. Here we go._

Taking a deep breath to prevent her shaking, Lottie stepped from the room. She waited until Zoe turned the corner before following at a brisk but quiet pace. Walking softly, Lottie moved through the shadowed hallways, turned the corner, and slunk through the guard room that connected the asset wing to the medical one. On the other side, she counted the doors, stopping at Wardell's assigned medical office to touch the door, surprised at the tight feeling in her chest. It was a strange combination of nostalgia, fear, and hope. Dropping her hand, she hustled the remaining distance to join the other women in the guard station that joined the medical wing to the donors.

Lottie looked around. Everyone was there except Leo.

Should she continue?

Deciding that, yes, she should, Lottie pulled open the door. She squeaked, "Leo!" in surprise when she found him on the other side. A woman—Lottie thought it was Ally—twittered in nervous amusement.

"Private Forrester," he greeted. "Shall we?"

"Yes, please."

Leo inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Follow me," he murmured, turning on his heel and walked down the hall.

As Lottie followed him, she heard Ally whisper to one of the women behind her, "Can we trust him?"

"Yes," Lottie and Kenzie said in unison.

In a few seconds, they'd transversed half the hallway, and Leo stopped at a nondescript door. It had a room number plaque with the requisite clip for holding paperwork. It appeared to be a bedroom door for a donor. He pushed it open, revealing a thin corridor. Lottie peered down its length, and a white 'exit' sign coalesced out of the gloom. Lottie wondered how many other exits had disguises like this one.

"As promised," Leo whispered in her ear.

Lottie took a deep breath and reached for his hand. Pulling him into a hug, she whispered, "Thank you. I'll never forget this."

"Just take care of my baby."

"I will. Zoe will too, I promise."

"God speed, Miss Lottie," Leo murmured and then kissed her on the lips. Hard. Lottie's eyes widened in surprise at the amount of unrequited passion in his kiss. She'd thought he'd given up on his desire to be with her, but his kiss said otherwise. It made her uncomfortable, and she pushed against his chest, breaking the connection between them. A second later, he loosened his grip around her waist and dropped his forehead to hers. "I will never forget you."

She didn't know what to say. She wouldn't either, but she feared it would be for entirely different reasons. "Goodbye, Leo."

"Goodbye, Miss Lottie."

Pulling from his embrace, Lottie waved the women forward. One by one, they filed down the hall and out the door. As she stepped away, he pulled her back into another hug. This one was quick. Releasing her, Leo stepped away, leaving her alone in the hallway when he closed the door behind him.

She stared after him a moment but then shook herself free of all the emotions he stirred in her. "Time to go," Lottie said quietly, turned, and then fled down the short hall and out into the moonlit night.

"Miss Lottie?" Nyah whispered.

"If I'd known," Zoe said at the same time. "I never would have—"

"I don't," Lottie said, cutting her off. She looked around the tiny clearing to get her bearings.

"But it's clear he loves you," Zoe added.

"We talked about this already, Zoe. I don't love him, and he knows it," Lottie replied distractedly.

They'd need to walk north a bit before cutting around the facility. _How big is it anyway?_

"Besides," Lottie said and glanced at Zoe, really seeing her for the first time since Lottie joined them outside the facility. Zoe's eyebrows were drawn together in a deep frown of worry, and she was rubbing her belly. The action stopped Lottie from finishing her sentence. Zoe was genuinely anxious about her response.

Lottie grabbed Zoe's hands. "I'm not jealous. I'm not! If you found even a moment of peace and happiness in his arms and with his baby, then good! I'm glad. Now stop worrying about my feelings. It's sweet and all, but I don't need it."

"Okay," Zoe said at the same time as Nyah parroted, "Yes, Miss Lottie" behind them.

Lottie rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking to you."

"But Miss Lottie?"

Unsure what Nyah was implying, Lottie turned and asked, "What?"

"Why does he say 'Lottie'?"

She felt her cheeks warm, thankful that it was too dark for Nyah to see her blush. "It's my nickname. I blurted it out to him that first day."

Nyah cracked her knuckles and looked into the distance behind Lottie. "But we're friends, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well," Nyah hedged. "He was a friend,"—she said with air quotes—"and we are friends. Don't friends get to use nicknames?"

Lottie's embarrassment doubled. Of course, her closest confidant in the facility would feel hurt by the omission. "I didn't want the guards or other donors to know it or use it, and Leo was good about not using my name in public, so I never felt the need to do anything about it," Lottie said as a way of explanation. "They had no business calling me that, but of course you can, Nyah. You all can," Lottie added to the group at large. "Now that we aren't in there," Lottie said, indicating the facility.

"Speaking of 'not in there'," Grace said. "We might not want to discuss the finer points of our identity right under their fucking noses."

Lottie glanced back at the building and gulped. "You're right. Let's go," she said and shimmied her way past the five other women. Pushing into the woods, she cringed as branches snapped and leaves crunched under the force of her movements. They would leave a clear trail of broken underbrush for anyone to follow, but there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. "Come on."

They had to escape. And quickly.

She disappeared into the gloom. "Hold onto me," Lottie whispered and felt someone clasp her hand. "We need to stick together. If we separate, they'll catch us for sure."

"We're following," Grace said behind her.

Ignoring the panic growing in her breast that urged her to run, Lottie set a pace that would push Maggie and Ally but not stress them unduly—hopefully—but with both of them six months pregnant, their energy would flag quickly. Everyone else would suffer too. The first trimester was hard on everybody.

Lottie sighed.

When she thought about it, only her mother, Grace, was exempt from the hassles of growing a baby. Everyone else was pregnant.

Javier would be so pleased. Lottie swallowed a groan.

It was what it was, but if it were up to her, she would burn herself out in her effort to escape.

Not everyone was like her.

Checking the placement of the moon, Lottie adjusted their path. They would travel due north for a bit and then cut east. If they found a creek or shallow river, she'd walk the team in it for a bit, even if it meant they went the wrong way.

Eventually, the labored breathing of her companions filtered through Lottie's consciousness, and she slowed her pace. They weren't more than a kilometer—maybe two—from the facility, and it pained her to stop, but someone needed a break already.

Waving a hand to Grace behind her, Lottie detached from the group and checked their surroundings. They were in dense woods, but the slope had increased. Should she keep going north? If she knew where Javier was, that would help.

"Where's your friend," Nyah whispered. "Shouldn't he be here to meet us?"

"How would he know where we came out?"

Nyah shrugged and cracked her knuckles one at a time. "Magic."

"We'll keep walking," Lottie told her. "He knows to look for us."

"I hope so." Nyah's tone wavered.

"Trust me," Lottie whispered. "He'll find us. I promise."

Nyah nodded, but Lottie feared Nyah didn't believe her.

"I think we should head west," Grace said, coming up behind them.

Lottie shook her head. "No. East."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Lottie said. She had a feeling west was wrong. "But we need to go east."

After a deep breath, Grace acquiesced and said, "Ready?"

Rechecking the sky, Lottie nodded. "Yep."

As each woman partnered up, Lottie resumed their trek, and within minutes the terrain became more comfortable to navigate. One last push through the underbrush, and they popped out of the woods and onto a road. Relief chased the adrenaline in Lottie's veins. They'd make good time now, and the pavement would hide their tracks.

They walked for several hours, but at the approach of dawn, Lottie called them to a halt. They would take refuge in the woods and rest for a bit before continuing.

"How far do you think we went today?" Nyah asked after sitting on the ground next to Lottie.

Yawning, Lottie replied, "Everyone is out of shape, so I say we managed about five, maybe six klicks tops."

Nyah groaned and leaned back on her hands. "That is _so_ not what I wanted you to say."

Grimacing, Lottie agreed. She had wanted to make it twenty kilometers at least, but Ally and Maggie couldn't do it, not to mention the path they had to take was a giant circle. It meant they hadn't made it that far.

Lottie decreed, "We'll sleep for a bit and then keep going."

"You know there is a town south of here, right?"

She didn't, but it made sense. Gates Hospital had been a school at one time.

"You think they'll look for us there?" Nyah asked. Her question drew Maggie and Zoe closer to hear the answer, and they sat on the ground with a groan.

"I don't think they'll look for us at all, but I'm not taking any chances," Lottie replied. "Besides, after that many years, those old buildings in that city are death traps."

"I'm not saying we'll use a house. Just the streets. We're supposed to go south and west, right?" Nyah pressed.

"Yes," Lottie agreed, but it didn't feel right. Shaking her head, she said, "Not yet, though."

"How long are we staying here?" Zoe asked.

Lottie looked to the horizon where the sun was tinting the sky a bright orange. "Two hours. Then we have to keep moving."

Zoe nodded and yawned.

"We going to set a watch?" Grace asked from a few feet away.

Lottie wasn't sure how beneficial a watch would be since none of them had any real weapons to speak of and no skill in their use even if they did, but she supposed it was better than being completely defenseless. "Yes." She glanced at the others. "I'll start. Then you," she said, pointing to Grace. "Zoe. Then Nyah," Lottie said, deciding to let Maggie and Ally sleep if they could. They had to be exhausted, carrying all that extra weight.

The women acknowledged her order, and everyone settled down to rest. As each woman quieted, the stress of the night before caught up with them, Lottie included, and she yawned deeply, popping her jaw in the process. Half an hour of guard duty looked insurmountable. It was funny, she thought, how her soul felt overused and thin, like the tenuous connection Casey complained about between his com device and ARA headquarters.

"Go ahead and sleep," Grace murmured to her, drawing her attention. "I'll watch for danger for an hour."

"You should sleep if you can," Lottie countered. Her argument was lost as she yawned again.

"Really. I'm not tired. Not like you are." Grace patted her shoulder. "Sleep. I got this."

"You sure?"

"Very."

Lottie nodded and let her head drop back against the tree she used as a backrest. Barely any time past before she felt someone shake her awake. A spasm of pain shot up her neck as her head fell forward.

"We didn't want to wake you," Nyah told her. "But it's been two hours."

Glancing around, Lottie saw all the women were awake, and if not alert, they weren't far from it.

Nodding, Lottie gained her feet.

Reaching down, Lottie helped Ally to stand. She smiled at Lottie and rubbed her belly in the way all expectant mothers do when their babies kick them repeatedly.

"You sleep?" Lottie asked in a whisper.

Ally nodded.

"Good. Need a bathroom break?" Lottie asked.

"Yes," Ally replied at the same time as a few others.

Splitting the group up into pairs, Lottie watched as the women disappeared to do their business and then rejoin the group. Once everyone was ready, they continued heading east. After about an hour of travel, Lottie angled them southward.

The sun was high overhead, heating the air around them to uncomfortable levels when Lottie called another halt. They'd eat and wash at the small runoff creek and then continue south. While she ate her travel bar, she wondered when Javier would show. She expected him at any moment and had caught herself staring at shadows, thinking it was him.

When lunch wrapped up, Lottie urged everyone up. They traveled for a few more hours when Ally hustled up to Lottie and tapped her on the shoulder. "I can't go any farther. I need a break."

A glance at Ally and then the others, told Lottie the whole crew was exhausted. None of them—especially Maggie and Ally—could go further today.

"Okay. We'll stop. Let me find a good hideout," Lottie said.

A soft moan of relief made its way through the group, and Lottie had to suppress a smile. She'd hoped for more distance but felt they'd made good time so far.

After surveying her options, Lottie picked a likely spot and led the team to it. Once inside the dilapidated building, the women sank to the ground in grateful heaps.

Stationing herself at the entrance, Lottie watched for movement outside. They had boxed themselves in, but as long as any threat came through the one door, they would be able to protect themselves. "Cold rations. No fires," Lottie cautioned. In her opinion, they were too close to the facility, and a fire would announce their presence. Not to mention, where would the smoke go?

No one contradicted her orders, and within a few heartbeats, the sounds of heavy breathing filled the air. Checking over her shoulder, Lottie confirmed all, but Grace slept already.

Grace smiled at her tentatively and then made her way over. "You should rest."

"So should you," Lottie replied. "I rested earlier. Did you?"

"Yes," Grace said. "During Nyah's watch." She stopped speaking to look outside. Lottie wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she appeared to be satisfied, for she turned back to Lottie with a fuller smile in place. "You think your contact will find us here?"

"If not here, then soon, yes." Lottie felt it in her bones. Javier would be here by daybreak. "He knows the plan, but we didn't have a solid idea of which door I'd come out of or the exact time. Otherwise, he'd have been there to meet us." Lottie kept herself hidden in the shadows but looked out the door again. "It'll take a bit for him to catch up."

_Especially since we tried not to leave tracks,_ Lottie thought.

Her mom's warm hand on her shoulder disrupted her thoughts, and Lottie looked over at her.

"Go rest," Grace whispered.

After a nod, Lottie left Grace at the door and found a spot near the back corner of the room where she could watch the door and prop herself upright between the walls. Within moments she was asleep.

The sound of gagging and retching woke her and made her a tad queasy. Lottie glanced toward the sound, her stomach roiling. There Lottie found Ally with the back of her hand pressed against her mouth. Lottie noted the tremor in Ally's fingers from where Lottie sat. Maggie didn't appear bothered. She hovered next to Ally and had the woman's long brown hair pulled back from her face. She was stroking Ally's head and crooning, presumably to calm the other woman. Ally's body heaved, and Lottie looked away right as the poor woman vomited again.

It was worrisome. Was Ally sick?

When Lottie glanced back to them, Maggie had resumed her mothering, but now Grace and Zoe were with Ally as well. Pushing to her feet, Lottie joined their group. When she came close enough, Ally was waving them away and weakly protesting that she was okay. "Just stressed," she said. "I'm okay."

"You sure?" Maggie questioned.

"Yes." Ally wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Give me a minute, and I'll be all right."

"Okay," Maggie replied, stood, and tugged Zoe and Grace from Ally's side. "Come on. Give her air."

Walking the last few feet, Lottie stopped and crouched down next to Ally. "You sure you're all right?"

Ally's lips turned up in a half-hearted smile. "Yes."

"What happened?"

Ally shrugged. "I always puke when I'm nervous. Director Thomas hated it. She used to punish me by making me perform songs in front of my barracks mates." Ally's smile faltered, and her gaze grew distant.

"At first, the punishment would make me so sick..." Focusing back on Lottie, she added, "Anyway, I learned so many songs, I could recite them all in my sleep. Her plan kinda backfired in the end, though." Ally grinned. "I got so used to performing, it stopped bothering me, and now I don't mind singing for a large group of people. Especially if I know them."

Lottie's lips twitched. She didn't know if it was in amusement or commiseration. "You gonna be able to travel?"

"Sure," Ally reassured. "I'll eat in a few minutes, and I should be all better."

One thing bothered Lottie, and she had to know. "Why weren't you sick earlier? When we first left?"

A sheepish expression crossed Ally's face. "I hadn't known I was coming. Valery and Lisa didn't tell me a thing, only woke me up and pulled me from my room before hustling me to you. And then we were out the door and marching."

Lottie bristled at the term, marching. She'd been careful to keep the pace brisk but not that demanding. She must have made a face for Ally patted her arm and said, "It wasn't your fault. Everything feels like a 'march' at this point. I never exercised, even though they had a gym at the facility. Anyway, I hadn't had time to be nervous, but it caught up with me after we stopped."

"You think you'll be sick again later?" Lottie tried not to grimace, but if Ally were going to make throwing up a regular thing, Lottie would need to sleep further away.

"I can't promise anything, but I shouldn't after today—tonight," she amended.

Lottie twitched her head in agreement and visually checked on the others in the room. Everyone was awake. She mentally shrugged. If everyone was awake... "You think we can travel?" she asked no one in particular. They ought to get going.

Nyah's lips pinched tight, and she nodded along with Zoe. Maggie and Grace said, "Yes."

"Then we'll leave as soon as we're packed," Lottie announced. She wanted away from the stink, and their proximity to the facility made her nervous.

The women dispersed to their bedrolls and quickly folded their blankets up into the origami-like backpacks. Once the ties secured them into shape, the women stuffed their meager belongings into the bags and shouldered them. One by one, they joined Lottie at the door, and after a final check to make sure the room was clean, Lottie led them out into the fading night.

Lottie estimated they'd walked four kilometers since dawn, and her lower back protested the hike on the unforgiving pavement. She stopped to rub her back, and at the same time, she searched for a better path leading into the woods. It was time to leave the security of the asphalt for the trees. Not to mention, if she hurt and needed a break, then the other women had to ache as well.

"Can we stop?" Ally asked from behind her.

Lottie didn't know why—she'd been planning a group rest—but the question irritated her. "Not here," she said. "Too exposed. But soon. Yes."

"Okay. Good. My feet hurt, and my back feel's like it's about ready to explode," Ally said with a smile, but Lottie had to stifle her retort.

Returning her attention to the woods, Lottie continued to scout for a resting place. She found a secure spot fifteen minutes later in the guise of a small wooded clearing surrounded by weeping spruce trees. Ally was the first to shimmy out of her coat and toss it down on the leaf clutter. She sat with a sigh that bordered on a groan. Maggie joined her and patted her hand.

"I'll be right back," Lottie told the group at large. "I thought I heard water, and I want to check it out."

"Take a buddy," Grace said from where she lay on the ground.

The suggestion made Lottie bristle. Did Grace think she'd abandon them?

"In case you get hurt," Grace explained as if she knew what Lottie'd been thinking. "You're the only one who can help us find this settlement."

"Here, I'll come with," Nyah volunteered and pushed herself back to her feet. She rubbed her stomach and then her back as she came near.

"You okay?" Lottie asked, concerned. She didn't need more women vomiting.

"Yeah," Nyah said, nodding. "I'm fine. Forgot how tired and sore I get that first trimester."

"You get sore?"

"Early on, yeah. Not as much in those last months. Not sure why," Nyah replied as they stepped through the shield of spruce. "I get heartburn at the end, though, pretty much like everyone else does. Oh! And sometimes that sciatic nerve thingy." She paused and then changed the subject. "Where too?"

"I thought I heard it over there," Lottie said, indicating the location with a wave of her hand. "On the other side of that hill. Your back doesn't ache at the end? My back burned."

"Some, but not like I do at the beginning."

"Oh," Lottie said and then let the conversation lapse as they made their way up the small incline.

Stopping at the top, Lottie looked at her options. There was a small trickle of water, but it didn't look palatable. Shrugging, she turned and was about to head down the hill again when Nyah casually remarked, "At least I'll be able to hold this one."

Lottie glanced at her. Nyah's face looked pinched, and she was rubbing her belly again. Guilt bloomed in Lottie's chest. She wouldn't ever suffer the way Nyah did. But now Nyah didn't have to either, and that was a reason to rejoice, she told herself. "Why didn't you ever hold Robert?" Lottie had forgotten about Nyah's lack of maternal warmth around Robert the past few weeks, but now that Nyah had mentioned it, her curiosity was piqued.

"It was Maggie's idea." Nyah took a deep breath and popped her knuckles before continuing, "She saw how hard some of the women took the removal of their babies at the end of their maternity leave. She made it a practice to have all of the non-mothers hold the baby so that the mom didn't have to."

Nyah glanced at Lottie catching her eye and then looked away again. "It was Maggie's way of helping us keep from getting too attached. It didn't work too well. Maggie cried for several days after they took her son. She hid it, but we all knew. Anyway, I had hoped I could steal Robert out of the 'secret' nursery before we left, but there was no way to do it without causing a stir."

Lottie pulled Nyah into a hug. She knew the aloof attitude toward Robert was an act, and here was the proof that Nyah ached for the son she could never have. It brought tears to Lottie's eyes.

"I hid in a medical room and watched as they took him away." Nyah sniffed, Lottie's jacket muffled her words. "Sandy made sure I got to see him as she passed." Nyah's voice broke, and she hugged Lottie tighter. After a few minutes of almost silent crying, Nyah pulled herself together and whispered, "This settlement better be real. I want to keep my baby."

"Oh, it's real," Lottie reassured her, then sighed. Now all she needed was Javier to show up and guide them the rest of the way.

Nyah distanced herself from Lottie's embrace and gave her a watery looking smile. "Come on," she urged and started walking toward the shelter where they'd left the rest of the women. "Let's collect whiny Ally and get this show on the road."

Snickering, Lottie agreed and pushed her way past the low branches shielding their hideout from casual observations. "Be nice, Nyah," she half-heartedly admonished. Nyah's statement about Ally had been correct after all.

Putting a hand to her chest, Nyah chimed, "Me? I'm always nice!"

"Sure, you are. You are the picture of innocence and inner beauty," Maggie chirped. Her words and sarcastic tone softened by the forgiving smile on her face. "You want us to go?"

"Yes. I want to get at least ten more klicks before we stop for the night."

"Lofty goal, Huxley girl," a man said behind her.

Fear clawed its way up her throat, and Lottie's hand flew to her chest as she whirled around. One glance was all it took for her to identify the newcomer and relax. "Javier!" Lottie yelled, ran to him. Worming her hands under his backpack, Lottie enveloped him in a bear hug. "I'm so glad you're here!"

She felt his chest vibrate with laughter, and he pushed her far enough away to look her in the eyes. "Damn, Huxley Girl," he said, ruffling her hair, making her brush it from her eyes. He glanced behind her. "You bringing Huxley a whole brothel?"

Before Lottie could respond, there was a wolf whistle, and Nyah said, "Nice" with all the sounds drawn out, and at the same time, Zoe accused, "You didn't say anything about a brothel. I won't do it."

Speaking over each other, Lottie reassured, "It's okay. He's joking." And Javier said, "Thanks, hot stuff."

"He better be," Grace murmured.

Deciding to ignore the women behind her, Lottie focused her attention on Javier. "I missed you."

Javier's usual hard smile softened, and he chucked her under the chin with one finger. "I thought I'd lost you."

"How so?" Nyah asked.

Lottie wondered the same thing. "How so?" she asked, realizing all the women now crowded around them eager for news. "Come in," she said, inviting Javier into the tree hideaway. "Sit and tell us about it."

He smirked at her. "So proper," Javier said but made himself comfortable, regardless. After he shed his pack and was seated, the women crowded closer. "A week ago, I followed you north."

"But we didn't leave a week ago," someone muttered under their breath. Lottie thought it was Nyah, but it could have been Zoe.

"I know that now," Javier replied. "But didn't then. And on my daily patrol, I found three sets of tracks heading north. It took me two days to catch up, only to realize I followed a woman, a baby, and Ellington and Taft instead of you, Maddy, and Zoe."

"Maddy?" Nyah asked.

Lottie turned to Nyah and answered, "We didn't know what Grace called herself, so to differentiate her from my son, we called her Maddy." Addressing Javier, she said, "It's Grace now, okay?"

"Sure thing Huxley Girl."

"Continue," Lottie told him with a wave of her hand.

"I nearly shit myself when I realized I'd followed them instead of you. I busted my balls to get back to Gates. Catching up to you, if you'd left at the same time as those others, would be nearly impossible after four days." He grinned. "Good thing you hadn't left yet."

He glanced around at the women listening to his every word, and Lottie thought she saw his brown skin darken in a blush. "I was northwest of here yesterday—looking for you—and found Ford nosing around some decoy shelters"—Lottie felt light-headed. _Decoys?_ —"muttering to himself about 'somethings not right' and 'that he'd get to the bottom of it'—very Sherlock Holmes-ie," Javier said

Someone muttered, "Keep shoveling Watson."

Lottie was sure it had been Nyah who spoke. That statement was something she'd usually say. Javier kept talking as if he hadn't heard the comment. "I already knew by then that either you hadn't left Gates yet or that you'd managed to drag half the harem with you. Your path north was as bright as the sun and so easy to follow. 'Til you hit that road, that is. It was a fifty-fifty chance at that point, but I knew you knew to head southwest, so I took a gamble. Thank the ever-absent God you went east instead. Probably saved your life—or at least your life in captivity." He grinned. "'Ole weasel face would have found you for sure." Javier's smile faded. "That reminds me, though, from now on, no buildings unless it's an emergency. I'd rather take my chances with an open fire in a wooded glen, like this one, than lounge around in someone's trap. Got it?"

The women around him nodded and murmured, "Yes," surprising Lottie in their eagerness to obey a stranger.

"Okay, what now," Nyah asked.

"Now we head to the settlement," Javier replied. "That is, of course, if you are all rested enough to travel?"

The question hung in the air for everyone, but it was clear he meant it for Ally.

She cast her gaze to the ground and replied with a soft, "Yes."

"Good. Then, vamanos." 

# Chapter 33

The sweat from the day's hike was dry and scratchy on Lottie's skin, much like the wool blanket she held tight about her shoulders. They'd walked those ten kilometers she'd wanted and then some. It had been a grueling hike, but now they were stopped for the night, and she had thankfully relinquished control of the group to Javier and made herself a comfortable spot to rest away from the group.

"Huxley Girl," Javier said as he sat beside her.

"Hi, Javier."

"Why aren't you with the others?"

It was a good question. The women were Lottie's friends, and she should be with them. "I don't know. I needed some time away."

Javier nodded as if that made perfect sense. Maybe it did. "Case is much the same after he posts the rosters or spends several hours doing something for the squad. Ever notice that?"

She hadn't. Lottie shook her head. "When I was at Fort Sutton, I didn't pay attention to what the soldiers did in their off time. I only cared about who had to watch me and when."

That was a bit of a lie, and she felt the blood in her cheeks, remembering vividly that by the end of her maternity leave, she'd make sure to spend all of Casey's off duty time with him. At first, she'd blamed it on wanting to know when to escape—keep your enemies close, and all that—but in the intervening months, she'd come to admit to herself that she did it to be with him.

"He likes his solitude. Or he did," Javier said. "But you changed him."

"I did?"

"Yeah. After you left, Case spent more time with his squad—unless he was with you, that is—bonding and shit. Good thing, too. He was a bit of an unapproachable, hard ass when I met him. Didn't take any bullshit but didn't fight you, either." Javier chuckled. "Took a bit of pushing to get him to react. Find out what pissed him off. What made him tick. You and cigs were about the only two things that broke that thick, calm, veneer of his."

The blush that had been receding, rebloomed on her face to know that she'd affected Casey from the very start. She'd been too caught up in her own needs to notice.

"'Course, I don't know if he was like that with other assets before you—all dreamy, doe-eyed, and shit—but something tells me the answer is no." Javier snickered again. "Did Case ever tell you Noah stalked us for weeks—maybe even months—before showing himself?"

The change of subject threw her for a moment, but she finally responded. "No."

"Yup. Warned us about Adan, Ethan, and Teo long before we knew who to watch. He didn't use names, so it wasn't much of a help, but we had a pretty good idea."

Javier shifted to face forward. His gaze seemed focused on the dark trees beyond the firelight circle. "'Course, I was already in deep with them. I knew something wasn't right. Had from the start. But they hadn't told me their plans yet." Javier shrugged. "After Noah's note, I doubled my efforts, and Case split them up." Javier glanced at her, then turned back to the vista of trees. "Didn't help, but he tried. Nearly had a mutiny after that fight over you."

Mutiny? She knew it had been a struggle, but not _that_ bad.

"There's a small back-country road south of here," Javier said, changing the subject again. "We'll take it for a while. Then cut south. It hits a good-sized highway that runs almost due east-west. We'll take it west for a few days. That highway hits another good size one going south. We'll take it down to old highway seventy."

Accepting the direction of his thoughts, Lottie asked, "We going off-road at any point?"

"More than to sleep?"

"Yeah."

Javier shook his head. "Not if I can help it. Roads hide our tracks better than anything else I can do, and we can make up valuable time using them. Walk farther each day."

Lottie nodded.

"It will make for a more convoluted path—" Javier said, then paused.

Lottie finished for him, "—But safer. I get it, Javier."

She was amused to see he appeared relieved. "Probably less dangerous for all of us too."

He snorted. "I didn't expect this many. It's going to take us longer than I estimated. Especially with two of you preggers."

"Preggers, Javier? Seriously? What are you, four?"

Javier barked a laugh. "What happened anyway?"

Shaking her head, Lottie sighed. "I didn't try it. I told Zoe and Grace, and it snowballed from there." She looked at him and smiled. "Be thankful it's the six of us. It was eight of us at first, but three backed out and sent us Ally instead."

"She's the whiny one, right?"

"Javier!" Lottie admonished, and then whispered, "She's sweet enough, but yes. Ally is the complainer." He grunted in acknowledgment, and Lottie continued before he could say something else inflammatory. "To warn you, though, it's not just Maggie and Ally who are pregnant. Zoe, Nyah, and myself are too."

His shoulders slumped. "Damn." After a beat, he added, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Suffering through that again."

His statement confused her. "What do you mean 'suffer through'?"

Javier looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Being _forced_ to do that again. I warned Case that it would happen, but I'd hoped."

"Forced? As in being pregnant?"

Javier grimaced and shook his head. It was then that Lottie understood what he'd meant. She leaned her head against his bicep in comfort. "It was artificial insemination, not rape." She felt him relax under her cheek.

"Good," he said.

It was sweet that he'd been that worried for her, but something else he'd said piqued her curiosity. Looking up at his profile, she asked, "You told him I'd be pregnant?"

Javier frowned.

Lottie wondered if he was reenacting the conversation with Casey or something else, and Javier's expression made her worried.

After that gigantic pause, Javier answered, "Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said he'd love any baby you brought to him."

"But you don't believe him do you," Lottie asked. It was clear he harbored some kind of doubt.

" _I_ would have... trouble... knowing you carried another man's baby. He says he doesn't... but..."

Each halting word had Lottie's anxiety ratcheting up a notch. She swallowed back her fear. Casey hadn't acted that way with Greysen, so maybe it would be fine. "Well, I haven't had this one yet. Anything could happen." _Like miscarriage._ The words she thought and spoke were cavalier, but the intense fear, worry, and sadness that grew in her chest told Lottie more than her words did.

She wanted this baby even if it wasn't Casey's.

Javier put his arm around her. "Don't worry about it." He squeezed her. "I'm sure it will be fine. He is a better man than I am."

Snuggling closer into Javier's warmth and security, Lottie had to admit she wasn't so sure about Casey's acceptance now that Javier had placed that doubt in her mind. She needed to cheer herself up, to change the subject. "We leaving at dawn?"

"No. Earlier."

"Okay."

He squeezed her and lifted his arm. "You should rest. I'll keep watch, but we're safe enough here for tonight."

Lottie nodded and stood. Patting him on the head, she said, "Night, Javier."

"Night, Huxley girl."

***

Lifting the edge of his slightly damp towel, Casey dabbed at his face, wiping away any remaining shaving foam he may have missed. Typically, he shaved in the morning, but today he had been too unsettled. So at fourteen-hundred, when the sun was at its highest, Casey had made his way to the summer bathing point and shed his clothes for a polar dip. He hoped a thorough dunking in the partially frozen river would cool his head. But now that he was cold and wet, he had to admit the bath hadn't helped at all. His thoughts swirled, bringing with them erotic images of him and Lottie in his tent, creating that new life she carried.

There was nothing for it, he decided. Casey would have to take care of those thoughts before he'd get any other work done for the day. The wash-up spot wasn't the best place to lower one's guard, so he'd finish up his bath and retire to his tent for a bit. Afterward, Casey would return to work a new man or at least a more relaxed one.

Angling his back to the sun, he sat on the blanket he'd brought for this purpose. The weak sunlight heated his skin even as the cool breeze teased the hairs on his arms into goosebumps. He looked around the small clearing with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Soon the trees would join the honeysuckle in leafing, and little green buds of new life would appear.

New life.

Dammit. Now Casey's thoughts were back to Lottie and her pregnancy.

What would it be like to know the baby in her belly was his? His heart jumped at the thought. Casey loved Greysen with an intensity that bordered on pain, but he looked forward to meeting and loving this new member of his family.

Leaning back on his hands, he tilted his face to the sky and suppressed a shiver. It really wasn't all that warm, maybe fifty-five degrees at most, and he really ought to get dressed, but the thought of putting on his uniform didn't sit well with him, and so he stalled, enjoying the time in his birthday suit.

Footsteps on the loose stone on the path behind him drew his attention. He wasn't surprised at the intrusion to his downtime. The bathing point was a frequent destination, even if it was cold out.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Lincoln," Casey said without turning around.

"We have a problem." The calm tone belied Lincoln's words.

"What is it?" Lincoln's 'problem' could be as simple as no more salt for preserving meat or a tear in the leather that provided the venting in the smokehouse, so it behooved Casey to ask.

"You have to take the asset."

Casey sat up straighter. What was wrong with Katie?

"She's driving me insane," Lincoln continued. "She whines and cries, and I can't sleep with her in my tent." Lincoln sighed. "Too distracting." After a pause, he added, "And now I'm exhausted. You have to take her."

All the reasons why it would be a bad idea to have Katie in Casey's tent came flooding back to him in an instant. Not the least of which was the key reason why Lincoln had Katie in the first place.

_Lottie_.

How would she feel if Casey had another woman in his tent even if it was only to sleep? Would she believe him if he told her it was duty and that nothing happened? That keeping Katie in his tent was a necessity for his job? To have another woman share his personal space in such an intimate way, smacked Casey as dishonest? He hoped Lottie would understand, but what if she didn't? He could swear by the moon, and the stars above that nothing happened, that he didn't touch Katie, but would Lottie harbor doubts? He couldn't risk it. Not with Lottie. He needed her. Wanted her. His family. His wife...

_Wife?_

"No."

"Dammit Case? Why not!"

"Because I've never made you do it before and if I wasn't around—for whatever reason—" _like sent to a prison camp for treason_ "—it would be your job."

"Fuck, Case," Lincoln yelled, surprising Casey with his intensity and inciting Casey to look over his shoulder. Lincoln's glower was so dark, Casey half expected a storm cloud to form in the sky and to begin raining. "She needs to be used to seeing dick—I know this!—but not mine." The intensity in Lincoln's expression faded. "Ever-absent Goddamn it, I've had the worst case of blue balls since you dumped her on me. Why can't you take her?"

Casey blinked. Blinked again. Who was this man, and what had he done with Lincoln?

"You know what the absolute worst is?" Lincoln asked when Casey didn't respond. "She sees—not like I can hide my huge fucking hard-on—and then cries. Cries! Like I'm going to rape her or something." After a pause, he added, "I don't like it. You need to take her. You have too."

Wrapping himself in the blanket, Casey stood and tucked the edges into a loose knot at his waist. "And do what?" he asked, astonished.

"I don't know!" Lincoln looked away, muttering.

"It's for a few more days," Casey cajoled. "You can tough it out." _And then, Tristan will be back with news from Noah, and Katie will be off to the settlement._

"No." Lincoln looked up. "I can't Case."

Casey wanted to throw his hands in the air in exasperation. Instead, he crossed his arms across his chest, leveled Lincoln with his sternest gaze, and asked, "Why not?"

"The more she cries, the more I want to fuck her." As the words flew from Lincoln's lips, his eyes widened as if he were surprised at his admission. Casey was inclined to believe it. He'd never known his second to harbor such thoughts.

Lincoln's shoulders slumped. "It's sick! Me being turned on by tears? Her tears? It scares the shit out of me. This feeling I didn't even know I had." He took a deep breath. "I mean... Evaders don't deserve privileges—everyone knows they forfeited all their rights when they ran—but they don't deserve rape either. And I have such... thoughts..." His gaze turned to beseech Casey. "What if I hurt her? I don't trust myself not to try. You have to take her."

Swallowing hard, Casey had to know. "Have you felt this way about the other assets?"

"Yes... No," Lincoln said, looking away. After a moment or two, he focused on Casey again. "Maybe. But you always had them so..." He sighed. "Can you take her? Please?"

"Yes," Casey replied.

What else could he do?

***

Pacing out in front of his tent, Casey ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't bring himself to unzip the flap and go inside. Katie was in there, and the thought of sharing his space with her made him ill with unease, but it was late—close to zero hundred—and Casey needed to sleep.

He rubbed at the inner corners of his eyes with a knuckle. They were gritty with fatigue.

Unable to deny the need for rest any longer, Casey nodded to Wade, who stood in the shadows acting as backup in case Katie tried to escape while Casey slept. Unzipping the flap, he stepped inside and dropped to his knees next to his footlocker. Unlocking it, Casey stowed his gun, holster, and keys inside. He didn't trust Katie not to pull the gun on him when his guard was down. She seemed the type to take drastic measures when a more subtle tactic would suffice, like Lottie, and how she managed to suborn Tristan right out from under Casey's nose without Casey even knowing she'd done it.

Swallowing back his chuckle, Casey glanced at Katie, all wrapped up in her bedroll and sobered. Her diminutive form barely made a ripple in the bedding, unlike Lottie, who, when left to her own devices, would sprawl on her back with one arm tucked under her head for a pillow.

Casey eyed his bed, himself, then to her. He hated sleeping in clothes, but the thought of disrobing made him extremely uncomfortable.

He couldn't do it. Casey would make do with sleeping in his uniform. He wouldn't even take off his boots, he decided, since it was only four hours until he had to be up anyway.

As he settled under his covers, he heard an indelicate sniff from Katie. It told him his captive was awake and feigning sleep. Casey ignored her as best as he could and quickly drifted off into a light, uneasy sleep.

***

"Why this... act? Why don't you just assign us to the mission and be done with it?" Jules asked, his expression curious and eager. He was sitting next to Wade and across from Casey at the table stationed outside of the command shed.

Casey swallowed back his sigh. Jules asked a valid question. One Casey had thought about often in the past few days, but how could he explain his reasoning so that the two men across from him would understand. "Do you remember how upset Lincoln was when I broke protocol and escorted Bean alone?"

Jules nodded. "He was suspicious of your motives and with good reason," Jules said.

"Lincoln likes to follow the rules," Tristan added from his post a few feet away. He was helping out by watching Casey's back for eavesdroppers. "And what's the handbook rule for returning assets to Fort St. Louis?"

Casey opened his mouth to continue his explanation when Wade began to answer. Casey's mouth snapped shut. He hadn't expected either man to respond to Tristan's question since everyone at the table knew the answer. "Assigned by the Staff Sergeant or the Second in Command of the squad, typically a leader and three privates are given X number of days to reach the reclamation point with their reclaimed asset."

"With only three of us going—" Casey trailed off.

Jules finished, "—Instead of the required four, it's obvious you're hiding something."

"Exactly. I don't have a fourth soldier on the squad that I want to bring in on this, I either go it alone, or we stage a hostage situation."

"Okay. I see that," Jules said. "But why don't you assign Tristan on the detail and then it will be four us. Problem solved. He can even detach later if you don't want him there."

Again Casey had the thought his life would be so much easier if Javier, Jaesen, or even Matt were still on his squad. Then he could take four and avoid this charade altogether.

Jules glanced over his shoulder as Tristan spoke. "I'm to stay back to watch our flank while Case's gone. If all of us left, then there wouldn't be anyone at Base that Case trusted." Tristan caught Casey's eye and gave him a small smile. "'Sides, I've already been to the settlement. Don't need to know where it is."

"And we do?" Wade asked, his tone held a touch of scorn.

"Yes," Casey replied.

Clenching his fist under the table, he cursed Noah and his ill-timed stunt with Greysen a few months ago. If it weren't for Noah's 'emergency' mission, Wade and Jules would still be blissfully ignorant of Casey's mutiny. "When you met my son, you became a part of this—" Casey searched for the right word.

"Experiment? Venture? Crapshoot? Shenanigan?" Tristan supplied helpfully.

"Not helping," Casey barked in response, and Tristan chuckled.

"Call it like it is, Casey," Wade interrupted angrily. "It's treason, Casey. Treason! Whether we wanted to be included or not."

Casey dipped his head in acknowledgment. There was nothing he could say. Not even the promise that if everything went sour, Casey would take the fall for all of them.

"Treason," Casey agreed. He unclenched his fist and rubbed his thigh. "Now, I need you to know about the settlement in case I ever have to send you there."

"You're missing the point," Wade said.

"No. I'm not," Casey answered. "You're displeased to be included in my wrongdoing. I get that! But there's nothing you or I can do about it anymore, so shut-the-fuck-up, and do what I tell you to." Casey's nostrils flared, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He needed to calm down.

Before he could apologize for his outburst, Wade asked in a resigned tone, "And where is it?"

"West and north of here by a full day's run," Tristan answered.

After whistling, Jules asked, "How the hell did you ever keep all of this secret?"

Casey assumed it was a rhetorical question, they'd been over this several times before, and Casey declined to answer. "Can we get back to the plan?"

"What did you want me—us—to do?" Jules asked, waving his hand in an amenable fashion.

"I'm going to set it up so that Lincoln thinks I am escorting her back alone. And when she runs, you and Wade will be in place to capture her. I'll then 'decide' you need to come along to add extra security. Tristan will collect some supplies for you, and then we'll head out."

"She can't know, can she?" Tristan asked.

"No," Casey said, shaking his head. "She's too—"

"Naïve?"

"Trusting and not even remotely subtle," Casey agreed. "She'd never be able to act convincingly enough to fool Lincoln. Our subterfuge will be written all over her face."

"But she has to know to run," Jules said.

Sighing, Casey nodded. "Tristan seems the best for this task."

"Between Chica—" Jules said.

"—And Katie," Casey said at the same time as Jules.

Jules finished, "—he seems to have assets believing his every word."

"Okay. My mission is to convince her to run when everyone is distracted during the departure?"

"Yes," Casey answered. "I'll let her get a good head start and when she reaches Wade and Jules..."

"We are to take her down," Jules supplied.

"Yep," Casey agreed.

"And how will you know she'll run the right direction?" Wade asked.

_Ever the devil's advocate._ "I don't," Casey answered. "But Tristan will make sure to give her instructions to run toward the bathing point. She's been there. Knows where it is and which paths lead from it. And it gives both of you a valid reason to be in her way."

Wade nodded, appearing to be on board with the plan.

"When do we do this?" Jules asked.

"Three days," Casey replied. "I don't want to draw this out any longer than I have to. Lincoln's already pestering me about when she'll leave."

"Gotcha," Jules said with a smile. "Anything else?"

"No," Casey said. "You're dismissed."

Jules and Wade nodded, and after they left, Casey dropped his head to his hands. "What a clusterfuck."

Tristan patted Casey on the shoulder and sat next to him. "It'll work out."

"What if she runs while at the settlement? She could ruin everything if she tells somebody what I'm doing out there."

"Once she sees it, she won't leave," Tristan reassured. "Too much there to keep her safe and secure. She's not a fighter like Momma. She doesn't know how to take care of herself. Why else would she be stealin' eggs from a chicken coop on an army base?"

"I don't know. Stupid?" Casey offered. Katie didn't appear to be cognitively deficient, but Casey occasionally wondered if a lack of intelligence played into all those bad decisions of hers.

"No," Tristan answered. "She's smart enough. Just doesn't see the big picture."

"That's one of the things that worries me." Casey ran a hand through his hair before dropping them to the table. There was something else that worried him, something he hadn't even voiced to himself before this moment.

"One thin'?"

"Yeah. Something Lottie said when I first took her away."

"Oh?" Tristan prompted when Casey didn't elaborate.

Truthfully, Casey was afraid to acknowledge his concern. If he was right? Keeping his focus on the table in front of him, he said, "She's been sleeping a lot and claiming a stomach ache in the afternoons."

"She's probably depressed and worried. Anxiety makes you feel sick."

"She's been here a week."

"And?" Tristan said, but this time, his tone lilted up in question.

"She was with Adan, Teo, and Ethan for almost two weeks before them bringing her here."

"Okay."

Casey clenched his teeth. Did he have to spell it out? "They coerced her into having sex."

"I'm not gettin' you, Case," Tristan said and nudged his shoulder. "Call me dense, but what're you tryin' to tell me?"

"Dammit!" Casey's cheeks warmed alarmingly, and he hoped Tristan didn't notice. "She hasn't needed anything for her cycle." He paused for a deep breath. "I think she's pregnant," he said in a rush. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Casey confirmed Tristan looked as shocked as he felt.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." Casey felt miserable. There was nothing he could do, and he fervently hoped none of the three miscreants learned about their potential fatherhood. Besides, how would they know which one was the culprit? "She needs security at the settlement, but I don't have anyone I can leave with her." Casey slapped his hand flat on the tabletop. "Those assholes! It pisses me off."

"You couldn't have done anything."

"I should have tried harder. Captured her sooner. Done—I don't know? More!"

"No, Case," Tristan argued. "You can't blame yourself. It's not your fault Adan found her before you did. It's his job—all of our jobs as ARA—to reclaim lost assets, and she _chose_ to steal from us. She could have fled. Momma would have. When she didn't, we were bound to catch her. She was sloppy. Her MO screamed unprepared, lost, and hungry." After a breath, Tristan nudged Casey's shoulder with his again. "At least now, she'll be warm and fed without havin' to steal to do it."

Casey sighed and rubbed his face. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Pressing his hands to the table, Casey pushed upright and slipped from the bench. "If anyone needs me, I'm going running."

"Obstacle course?"

"Yes," Casey said, absentmindedly, his thoughts swirled. A good run should help relax him. "I'll be back in a few hours. You'll alert Lincoln?"

"Will do, Case."

Casey made to leave, and Tristan called after him, "Case?"

Turning and walking backward, Casey asked, "Yeah?"

"It'll all work out," Tristan said with a smile. "You'll see."

***

Casey's fingers shook as he flicked the barrel to the side and emptied his revolver. After securing the bullets in his side pouch, he flipped the firearm's safety back on and returned it to his thigh holster.

He was ready.

He took a shallow breath.

Casey's skin buzzed, similar to when he drank too much of Tristan's coffee. He pulled at the neck of his sage green t-shirt. His blood felt too hot, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath as adrenaline coursed through his veins, making his temples throb and his heart race.

"This has to work," he said to himself.

It had to. Katie's life depended on it. Otherwise, she'd be suck in that secret facility. Casey hated knowing the success of the mission rested squarely on Katie. She had to play her part perfectly.

She didn't even know she had a part!

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't right.

And if she didn't do as he wanted?

He groaned.

Casey would be stuck with her for two whole days and a full night before he could conceivably leave her to her own devices at the settlement. Casey didn't think he could do it. Being alone with her in any capacity wasn't acceptable. He already felt guilty enough, going so far as to make sure he had a chaperone anytime he had to interact with her.

Swallowing hard, Casey patted his gun on his thigh. He would be using it to control her movements as they left. That was why he'd emptied it moments ago. Casey was nervous and didn't want to shoot her accidentally.

"Sir?"

Casey's fingers tightened around the handle of his revolver for the second it took him to identify the voice. "Yes, Brandon," he said, relaxing.

"Lincoln sent me to get you. He has the asset outfitted and waiting on the bridge."

"Excellent. Thank you, Brandon."

"Sir," Brandon replied, his tone sounded pleased, and Casey thought the young man was probably smiling.

"What?"

"Is there anything else, sir?"

"No. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

Casey shook his head as he listened to Brandon's footfalls recede into silence. He'd given up trying to convince Brandon to use his name. "Go time," he murmured as he let himself out of his tent.

Zipping it closed behind him, he headed down the hill to the old bridge where he saw several of his men congregating. Teo and Ethan were prominent, and they were probably there, hoping for inclusion in the transfer mission. They didn't seem to understand that their actions toward Katie, and assets in general, didn't bode well for additional responsibilities, especially now. The poor girl flinched whenever she saw them or Brandon.

Soon she wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. That, at least, was a relief: no more Brandon, Adan, Ethan, or Teo.

Breathing deep, Casey stepped onto the bridge and made a show of checking his firearm and situating his pack on his shoulders. Once satisfied, he acknowledged Lincoln with a nod and addressed Katie, "Ready?"

She nodded meekly, glanced over her shoulder, and then replied to his question with a soft, "Yes."

"Good," he said, grabbing her bicep and forcefully turning her in the direction he needed her to go. He gave her a little push. "March."

She looked back at him for confirmation, and at his insistence, started walking. They were almost across the bridge when Tristan called for him to wait.

"Halt," Casey ordered her and deliberately turned his attention to Tristan.

Now was her chance, and Casey hoped she'd take it.

"What do you need?" Casey asked as he scanned the dispersing group.

Some of his men had stopped to see what the hold-up had been, but when Tristan began talking to Casey in hushed tones, they lost interest and left. It was when Casey returned his focus to Tristan that Casey heard Katie make her break for it.

Thank ever-absent God, Casey thought and schooled his expression. It wouldn't do well to show his relief in her actions. "She far enough?" Casey whispered to Tristan.

After checking over Casey's shoulder, Tristan twitched his head in affirmation. At that signal, Casey pivoted on his heel, yelled for her to stop, and gave chase.

He hadn't gone more than two steps when Wade and Jules popped out of their hidey-hole along the trail to the bathing point. Katie—who Casey was pleased to see had been running full speed—was unable to slow and managed to collide with Wade, entangling herself so thoroughly that the two crashed to the ground in an incomprehensible heap of arms and legs. By the time Casey and Tristan had reached them, Jules had pulled Katie from Wade and held her with her arms behind her back.

Without pausing, Casey pulled his gun and pointed it at her. "Do not move. Understood." She gave Tristan a pleading look. "He won't help you," Casey added. Katie's lower lip quivered, and a tear slipped from her eye and made its way down her cheek. Footsteps sounded on the path behind him, and he smiled at Katie. He hoped it would reassure her, but if her look of horror was anything to go by, then he had failed.

"What happened," Lincoln called.

Lincoln was a few feet away, which must have been the only reason for Jules to have broken his word, for it was right as Lincoln came to a halt next to Casey, that Jules leaned down and whispered loudly in Katie's ear, "I won't harm you. Trust me."

She swallowed hard and turned her pleading gaze to Casey. It was all he could do not to bark at her to stop it.

"Tristan," Casey commanded as if Lincoln wasn't babbling inanities in his ear about what was going on. "Go pack bags for Wade and Jules. They're coming with me."

"Will do," Tristan replied and bent to retrieve something from the ground.

_What are you doing?_ "I said to pack them up."

Tristan stood and waved the small bundles in his hand. Casey identified them as shaving kits. _Good thinking, guys._ He hadn't thought about using props for their ruse, though he should have.

"I figured they'd need these tomorrow," Tristan said with a cocky smile. His smirk clearly said, 'I know why you're snippy and nervous. Relax. We got this.'

Casey twitched his head in a 'go' motion prompting Tristan to leave, and as his friend moved off, Casey focused on Lincoln, who—Casey wasn't surprised to see—was still peppering him with questions about what happened.

"Enough," Casey barked, making Katie flinch and Lincoln's mouth close with a snap. "I'm not going to take four men. Wade and Jules will be sufficient," Casey said, answering what he assumed was Lincoln's most pressing concern. Handing Jules and Wade his cuffs, he ordered, "Secure the asset."

Jules gave him a strange look. "Case?"

"Do it."

"All right," Jules replied, and after a quick juggle of Katie between them, Wade and Jules had her cuffed and standing off to the side while they waited for Tristan to return.

"Case," Lincoln began, but Casey cut him off.

As he holstered his firearm, Casey said, "I don't need help. I've got this. Why don't you go back to Base? Check the rosters. Make sure losing Wade and Jules won't put you in a bind. And if it does"—although Casey knew it wouldn't—"take some time to redraw the shifts to suit the shortfall."

Lincoln's lips thinned in displeasure, but Casey couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted the other man gone.

"Yes, Sir," Lincoln ground out, turned on his heel, and left.

Casey watched him as he walked away, but it wasn't until Lincoln disappeared around a bend in the trail that Casey let his shoulders relax.

"That was close," Jules said from behind him.

"How so?" Casey thought for a second but couldn't remember a time where any of them were in any real danger of having their mission compromised.

Jules snorted. "You didn't hear him?"

Turning to face Jules, Casey said, "No. What did I miss?"

"He invited himself along!" Jules said, incredulous. "I can't believe you didn't hear him. Shot-em right down, though, with that whole 'not going to take four men' bit. You should have seen his face! He'd just finished telling you he was going to pack to come along when you cut him off." Jules snickered. When his chuckling died down, he asked, "Can I take these cuffs off her?"

Casey shook his head. "No. Not yet." After a moment, he let his gaze drop to Katie. Something she saw in his expression must have frightened her, for her eyes widened, and she stepped back, bumping into Jules.

"Careful," Jules muttered.

Looking up at him and back to Casey, Katie murmured, "What are you going to do to me?"

The desire to tell her about their plan was strong, but Casey held himself in check. They were on Fort Sutton grounds, and it would be his luck to have one of his men overhear him telling the truth. "Take you to Fort St. Louis," he replied instead. It was safer for everyone.

Katie's shoulders slumped. "I don't want to go back." She sniffed a few times. Her tears reminded Casey of Lottie and how she had felt the same way.

Casey transferred his weight from one leg to the other. Focusing on the trees, he waited for Tristan to reappear. He heard a soft jingle from the metal binding her wrists a moment before she touched his arm, and he barely kept from recoiling. Casey glanced at her. Her eyes shown with tears.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" When he didn't immediately respond, she tried again, "Anything at all?"

"No," Casey replied.

Not waiting to see Katie's reaction, he turned his back on her. "You're going back. Now be quiet."

It felt like years had passed, but eventually, Casey heard steps on the gravel path coming their way. A moment later, Tristan emerged from the trees and traversed the footbridge to join them. "Here you go," he said, handing Wade the pack he carried. "I couldn't get you a third tent. Lincoln was hoverin' over my shoulder like a deranged hummingbird. But this is full of supplies. Enough to last you over a week."

"Thanks, Tristan," Casey said. "Wade. Jules," he said and, after a small pause, added, "Katie. Let's go."

"Sir," Jules chirped.

Casey rolled his eyes. "Come on."

Knowing they would follow, Casey turned up the path heading northeast toward Shelter Four. Now that they were free of the Base, his thoughts drifted to the upcoming hike. Checking the placement of the sun, he worried that they wouldn't make it to the halfway point before late tonight.

Maybe if he pushed?

Regardless, they had to travel the wrong direction for several kilometers before they could double back. It added some necessary distance, but if they turned west too soon, they might run into one of Casey's perimeter patrols, and then he'd have to explain why he was heading the wrong way for Fort St. Louis.

_Wouldn't that be awkward?_ Casey thought with a snort.

Three bathroom breaks later, Casey was ready to toss Katie over his shoulder and march her to the settlement and be damned the consequences of Lottie finding out about it. She'd forgive him, surely. Hell, even Lottie at eight and a half months pregnant hadn't had to pee as frequently as Katie seemed too. What the hell was wrong with that woman's bladder?

"I'm sorry," Katie's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "I'm not feeling very well."

He gave her a perfunctory nod and motioned his men to resume their march when Katie touched his arm, delaying him. Casey glanced down at her, and his eyes widen in alarm. Her skin was pale and tinged a sickly green, which was impressive seeing as she had an olive-tinged pigment already.

Casey took a significant step backward. She looked like she wanted to paint his shoes with her breakfast.

"Can we stop for a bit longer?" she asked in a whisper. "I think I'm going to be sick if we keep going."

"Sure. We can stop."

Katie nodded meekly and wobbled over to a tree. Bracing her forearm against it, Katie rested her head against it. Her shoulders shook, and Casey wondered if she was crying again or if it was something else.

There wasn't anything he could do, so he left her there and joined Wade and Jules, who was resting on a log.

"We're not going to make it to the half-way point, are we?" Jules asked.

It didn't look likely, but Casey held out hope that they'd be able to make it, but before he could voice his thoughts, he heard retching behind him. Casey winced and swallowed against his reflexive gag. Jules and Wade both grimaced and leaned around Casey to look. Casey, in turn, glanced over his shoulder to Katie. She bent at the waist, with her hands braced on her knees as she heaved again.

Refocusing on Casey, Jules asked, "What's wrong with her?"

Casey sighed and stood. "Follow me."

Jules' eyes widened. "Nuh-uh. Not going over there. Not if she's sick."

A soft sob teased the air.

"She's not sick," Casey reassured him. "At least I don't think so." He twitched his head in a come-along motion, and Jules pushed to his feet. When they reached Katie, they both knelt beside her.

She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. "Sorry."

Casey patted her on the shoulder, glanced at Jules, and then back to Katie. "Is it what I think it is?"

Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Casey coughed, feeling the tips of his ears burn, and bounced on his heels in his crouch. "Have you had your period?" The warm sensation of Casey's blush spread down to the back of his neck. Casey rubbed a hand through his hair and clasped his nape. He cautiously peeked at Jules.

"You're joking, right?" Jules asked. "She couldn't be?"

Casey ignored the question and asked one of his own instead, "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Looking at him through wet lashes, Katie whispered, "I think so."

Exhaling hard through his nose, Casey shifted and pulled Katie into an embrace. Her arms snaked around his middle as gasping sobs tore through her small frame.

"Should I leave?" Jules murmured.

Casey shook his head. "I need you here."

"Why?"

"Just stay."

"Fine," Jules huffed.

"Were you pregnant before we captured you?"

Katie shook her head. Her cries, which had been subsiding, renewed.

Patting her head, Casey made reassuring noises and caught Jules's curious gaze. He mouthed, 'Adan' and Jules's expression turned murderous. Jules's muscles tensed as if he were about to jump up and head back to Fort Sutton, but Casey put a hand on Jules's shoulder, keeping him in place. "I need you to stay."

"I think I might get sick again," Katie interrupted with a whisper.

Grimacing, Casey braced himself for the inevitable. With her practically being in his lap, there was no way she'd miss him. After a dry heave, she pressed her cheek against his chest and crushed him to her.

"Sorry," she murmured again.

"It's all right," Casey said, running a hand from her crown to mid-way down her back. He hoped it was comforting. "Let me know when you feel better."

She nodded.

The three of them rested that way for a half-hour before Katie leaned back on her heels and gave Casey a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"Are you feeling better," Jules asked.

"Yes."

"Good," Casey replied.

Giving her one of his sternest glares, Casey asked, "Think you can go farther today?"

"Yes."

He grunted and helped Katie to her feet. They needed to head east for at least two more kilometers before they could swing northwest. At this rate, Casey doubted they'd make it to the half-way point by tomorrow night.

Motioning to Wade to join them, he resumed their march.

# Chapter 34

"You cock sucking asshole," Nyah yelled.

Maggie sighed as she lowered herself to the ground next to Lottie. "Javier and Nyah are fighting again," she said, distracting Lottie from the verbal altercation going on behind her.

"I can hear that. What's it about this time?" Lottie asked.

Last time, it had been about peanuts. Peanuts! The time before that, the merits of wool versus cotton. The time before that? Whether or not Sweet Gum trees were messier than Oaks. Lottie gritted her teeth. Those two hadn't stopped screaming at each other since the second day, and it was getting old. Fast.

"Don't you dare call me that!" Nyah screeched, preventing Lottie from hearing Maggie's response.

"What? Cu—"

Javier's statement ended abruptly. Both Maggie and Lottie whipped around to see what happened. It had sounded like Nyah had slapped him. Sure enough, Javier faced away from them as if he'd frozen in place after the contact. Lottie and Maggie shifted their gaze in tandem to Nyah, who radiated anger. She had her hand raised, poised to strike him again. "Don't you _ever_ use that word in front of me again."

"For someone who likes the eff word," Lottie whispered to Maggie.

"It's a bit hypocritical of her, isn't it?" Maggie agreed with a nod.

Slowly Javier turned to glare at her. His nostrils flared in anger, making Lottie wonder if she should get up and intervene. "You're acting like one," he growled. "So if the shoe fits..."

"Think he will hit her?" Maggie murmured, sounding worried.

"I don't _think_ so," Lottie answered, but she wasn't sure. He might if he pushed hard enough.

"I bet Ally's off somewhere puking," Maggie said.

"You goin' to go to her?" Lottie asked.

"Not just yet," Maggie answered in a sympathetic tone. Lottie knew she was often at Ally's side, helping her with her nervous stomach. "No reason to comfort her 'til they finish yelling at each other. She's going to keep getting sick while they're going at it."

"I hope she gets over it."

"Yeah," Maggie said with a strong exhale. "It got quiet." Maggie checked over her shoulder. "Oh, good. They're done." She was silent for several beats. "What do you want to bet those two end up in bed together?" Maggie said in jest, shifting, so she faced forward.

Lottie shook her head, watching the flash of lightning off in the distance. "I don't think so. They hate each other. Besides, I know he'd rather be with someone else."

"Oh?"

Thinking about Javier's confession about desiring Noah, Lottie said, "He has a thing for a fellow soldier back at Fort Sutton."

"Huh. He doesn't seem the type to prefer a man over a woman."

Shrugging, Lottie added, "He admitted to liking both. But I think he's drawn to men over women."

"Interesting. Why?"

Lottie shrugged and listened to the soft rumble of thunder that had finally reached them. "I don't know why. Just some of the things he's said." After a beat, she continued, "Why? Were you thinking about propositioning him?"

"Maybe. He _is_ handsome."

Lottie grunted in response. She didn't quite share Maggie's opinion, but Lottie knew she was biased. Lottie rubbed her arms. He'd seemed so hostile and degrading when she'd first met him. What a surprise it had been to find a friend under his gruff exterior. No one else seemed to find him harsh or hard to please. Cocky, arrogant, and snarky, sure, but not wholly unpleasant. She sighed. It didn't matter. When she had needed him most, he'd been there, and that made him her friend.

Patting her on the knee, Maggie asked, "How're you feeling? Any morning sickness?"

"Some," Lottie replied with a frown. "But nothing like before."

"Good. That's good."

"You sure?"

"Yes," Maggie replied without hesitation.

They both fell into a companionable silence. After several minutes, Maggie yawned and dropped her head to Lottie's shoulder. Reaching up, Lottie hugged Maggie's head tight to her. "You should go to bed."

Maggie yawned. "Yeah. I should."

Standing, Maggie waddled her way to the tent she shared with Ally and two other women from the rotation they set up. It was Nyah and Grace's night off tonight, and Lottie assumed they were both inside asleep, but as she watched Maggie disappear into the watch-rotation-tent, Nyah came around its corner and caught her eye. Instead of heading back to the rest-tent, Nyah changed direction and plopped down next to Lottie.

"I don't know what I want more: tear his clothes off to see if he's as yummy under that uniform as in it, or kill him." After a beat, she added, "Kill him. Definitely."

Lottie snickered. "Don't kill him. He knows where we're going."

"Yeah," Nyah said on a strong exhale. "You're right. But he drives me insane. I really can't stand him."

"I know." Another flash of lightning, closer this time, lit the sky, momentarily blinding Lottie. "I hope that storm doesn't get here tonight."

"Yeah. But if it does, you pile on into that tent. We'll make room for you. Javier too." She took a long exaggerated breath. "Wouldn't want him to float away."

"Thanks," Lottie said, chuckling slightly at Nyah's dramatics. She appreciated the sentiment. Lottie didn't relish the idea of trying to sleep outside during a thunderstorm. She'd done it often enough when she first ran away and had no desire to repeat that experience any more than necessary.

"So," Nyah began. "Can I 'ax you something?"

"'Ax me?"

"Yeah."

"Um, okay?" Nyah's tone was intense, and it made Lottie nervous.

"Would you have done it if you knew how much you'd be hated?"

_Hated?_ Did Nyah hate her? Lottie's heart pounded, and her skin pricked with sweat. "What?"

"Runaway like you did. Would you have done it if you'd known how much the soldiers would hate you for it?"

Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, Lottie exhaled forcefully. "You scared me."

Nyah turned to her and raised her eyebrow. "What? Why?"

"I thought you were—I don't know—about to tell me... off or something."

Snickering, Nyah shook her head. "Nothing like that. Sorry."

"It's okay," Lottie replied, her heart's erratic, crashing rhythm slowing to a more sedate pace.

"So would you?" But before Lottie could reply, Nyah continued, "I mean, I heard SMA talking to Staff Sergeant Goldin about how horrible you were for running. How he thought you deserved punishment, and Goldin agreed. I wondered if it bothered you. If you would have done something different, knowing what you know now."

Lottie thought about it for a few minutes. She had known her response before Nyah had even finished her question, but she thought Nyah deserved more than a yes or no answer.

Should Lottie tell her about watching her mother die slowly after each successful pregnancy and birth? Or, she could say how she wanted to avoid the same fate? But it was more than that. And—scarily enough—it was less too.

Lottie must have deliberated too long, for Nyah prompted, "Well?"

"Yes, I would have," Lottie replied, and then fell silent.

In the end, she didn't have more to say.

***

Glancing over his shoulder, Casey noted Katie looked a bit peaked. The hike had not been easy on her, and he was glad they were here—or would be once they left the tree line.

Stepping through the freshly budded brush, Casey took his first good look at the settlement since Noah had shown it to him late last summer.

Casey swallowed back a whistle. Noah and Tristan had been busy.

There was a sturdy looking smokehouse next to a butcher station with a fire ring conveniently placed between the two. From where he stood, Casey could see the hook and rope attached to the butchering frame where a carcass could hang while being processed. Frankly, it looked exactly like the set up at Noah's cabin, so Casey assumed he'd find a leather tanning vat and frame behind it.

On the other side of the clearing, far from the potential smell of death and wood smoke, was a small shed, sealed with a mud mortar and shingled with partially seasoned wood. _That would be the storehouse._ Next to the structure was a crude table and two benches. It was in the lee of the building, and most days would be out of the wind.

Both the smokehouse and the storage shed had metal piping—undoubtedly stolen from a building nearby—leading from crude gutters on the roofs which, in turn, dumped into large wooden cisterns. Those would be for drinking water. The creek that flowed to the south of camp would provide clean water for cooking and hygiene.

Hygiene...

Casey searched for and then found the outhouse. He grinned at Tristan's attention to detail, for the man had built and placed a small cistern a few feet away so that Lottie, Zoe, and Maddy could use it to wash their hands. It sat in the sun where even in winter, it might keep from freezing solid.

Lastly, he noted, was the central clearing and large fire pit. This one was big enough for a large bonfire and could be used simultaneously for cooking, laundry, and to heat buckets for bathing, if the women were so inclined.

It was perfect.

Schooling his features, Casey turned to face the three people behind him, catching Wade and Jules's gaze before addressing Katie. "Welcome to your new home."

Katie looked dumbfounded, her gaze flitting from Casey to the settlement and then back again.

"You're free to stay. Or you're free to go," Casey told her. "The only thing I ask is that if you leave, you don't take anything other than the stored food with you." He figured she'd need to take something to survive, and the food would be the easiest to replace. "I had this home built for my wife—"

"—Your wife?" Jules snorted. "Does Lottie know?"

Casey glared at Jules but otherwise didn't respond to his dig. "—Lottie, my son, Greysen, my wife's mother, Maddy, and Tristan's woman, Zoe."

Jules chuckled. "Tristan's woman? Case, when did you go all 'caveman'?"

"Jules," Casey said, his tone held a hard edge to it.

"You're welcome to stay," Casey reiterated to Katie. "The women and one of my privates, are due back within the next month or two and Noah—an infuriating old man with unheard-of military ties—said his contact is en route to the settlement and should be here within the next few days."

Casey took a deep breath. He was rambling and needed to slow down.

Continuing, Casey said, "This contact—whoever he is—will live here permanently and serve as both guard and brute strength for the three women—or four, if you stay."

Turning away, Casey added, "If you're here when they get here, you'll be an accepted member of my household."

"I don't have to have sex with you to stay here?" Katie asked, her tone holding awe and a bit of wonder.

Wade coughed, and Jules made a choking noise. Clenching his fists, Casey forced his fury at, Adan, Ethan, Teo's behavior, back and shook his head, appalled that Katie felt it necessary to offer her body to get what she wanted.

"No," Casey said through gritted teeth. "You don't have to have sex with anyone ever again if that is what you want." _Won't be a lot of options either,_ he thought. "Jules? Set up her tent," he ordered. "I'll see what I can find in the shed to help settle us in."

"Will do, Case."

"What do you want me to do?" Wade asked in his quiet voice.

Wiping his face, Casey shrugged and marched toward the shed with Wade following a step behind.

"I'd have you watch her," Casey groused. "But that seems moot."

Arriving at the structure, Casey pulled the door open and stepped inside. Dropping his pack to the ground, he said, "How about you help me set up our tent or go hunting? We need fresh meat for dinner."

"It's too late in the day for deer, but I'll see what else I can find," Wade responded.

Nodding, Casey turned to his task of checking out the storage shed. It was pretty bare, but Tristan and Noah had managed to outfit it with some wooden buckets for hauling water. Right now, those buckets were in the corner next to a wooden tub. It was a big tub. Casey presumed it was for laundry or bathing.

On one of the shelves were some plates—Casey tapped them with his finger. Plastic. _Nice._ And, so were the drinking glasses. _Even better_. There were also ten ceramic mugs, a handful of forks, knives, and several different sized spoons stored next to everything else. All in all, Casey was pleased with what the two men had accomplished in their time at the settlement.

He wondered where Noah and Tristan had found the items. Casey assumed the flatware—like the pipes running along the roof—came from an abandoned house nearby. If so, he wanted to find it. There might be other useful items inside, like an iron skillet or Dutch oven. Maybe he could even find a wood-burning stove. Eating flatbread was all well and good, but Casey wouldn't mind a fresh loaf of sourdough.

His stomach rumbled at the thought, and he had to swallow back extra saliva. Casey chuckled, grabbed a soup pot off the shelf, bent to unhook his tent from his pack, and left the shed. He'd set up a fire first, get some water, and start it heating for dinner, and then he'd set up his tent.

As Casey made his way to the fire ring, he noticed Katie hadn't moved from her spot near the edge of the woods. She looked shocked, and as Casey caught her eye, he half expected her to turn and run. Truthfully, he didn't know which outcome he desired more. Neither option was optimal, but Casey guessed he'd rather she stay.

Putting the pot down, he searched for and then found the firewood over by the butcher station.

"I'll have to cut more," Casey muttered to himself as he loaded up his arms with several logs of partially seasoned wood. That chore seemed never-ending and something he rarely had to do. Chuckling, Casey decided he'd assign the task to either Wade or Jules. Casey was better suited to building the coop or killing and skinning some deer for making leather.

Making leather, Casey thought with a wry grin, was another tedious task better left to others.

Back at the fire pit, Casey dropped the wood next to the pot and headed into the trees for kindling. It was another supply he had to add to his growing list of to-dos. Kindling in hand, Casey tossed them into the pit and added the logs. As everything settled, he pulled the striker from his pocket, and in one practiced motion, Casey had a spark. Blowing on it, he quickly had a flame. "Now for water."

"I can do that," Katie's soft voice came from behind him, and Casey turned to look. She had her hands clasped together tightly, but other than that one sign of her nervousness, she appeared calm and collected.

"Na," Casey said. "The water will be too heavy for you to carry in this." He thought a moment. "Why don't you grab two of the wood buckets from the shed. You can fill those while I fill this one for us."

"Okay," she whispered and left for the shed.

Casey tossed another few logs onto the flames. They would burn hot while he was gone and would be close to ready by the time he returned.

The clank of wood striking each other herald Katie's return, and he stood, soup pot in hand, and greeted her with a smile. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"Good."

His gut tightened. Casey would be alone with Katie. Uncomfortable with the thought, he almost asked Jules to join them but decided against it. Casey needed the tents assembled more than he needed a chaperone. So instead of requesting Jules to tag along, Casey called to him over his shoulder, "We're getting water. Be back in fifteen."

Jules waved in response and returned to his task, assembling Katie's tent.

They walked in silence for a bit, but eventually, Katie spoke. "Wife?"

Casey's cheeks warmed. Calling Lottie, his wife sounded so much better in his head, but now he half regretted his words. What if she didn't want him? What if she'd found someone better at the facility? Like the one who made her pregnant? Casey swallowed back a groan. She wouldn't want anyone else, he told himself, but insecurity lingered. It wasn't like he'd had a second chance to talk to her about their relationship yet.

"Son?" she prompted.

"Yes," he croaked and cleared his throat. "Greysen." Nervously, Casey added, "If you stay, you'll get to meet him too."

"What's he like?"

"Uh." Casey rubbed a finger over his lips. "He's? Well? He's a toddler. Turns two in August. He likes wood balls and blocks. Occasionally eats food he shouldn't and then gets sick."

"And he's yours?" Katie seemed surprised. "Did you... ah... His mother. Is that your wife?"

"Yes," Casey answered, unsure where Katie was going with this line of questioning. He volunteered, "She was already pregnant when she came to Fort Sutton. I adopted her baby as mine." Katie exhaled forcefully and smiled, piquing Casey's curiosity. What had she thought? "Why?"

"No reason," Katie chirped. "You miss her? Them?"

"Yeah." Now he was confused. Her new tone and demeanor at odds with her behavior of moments ago when she acted almost afraid of him. "Why?" he asked again.

Katie waved her hand in dismissal, declining to answer. "Ooo! Stairs!" she cried, drawing Casey's attention from herself and to the river's edge where there was a crude stairwell leading down the steep embankment. She pulled away from him and bounded down the stairs. "And a platform!"

Following after, Casey came to a stop on the small dock.

_Is that a ladder?_ Casey looked closer. Sure enough, there was a small ladder leading from the platform and into the water.

Casey chuckled in amused dismay.

Tristan outdid himself. At this rate, he'd make Casey look bad. _Can't have that_ , Casey grinned. He'd have to come up with something better than the dock. Casey wasn't sure what he could build that would top it in both convenience and necessity, but he'd think of something.

Kneeling at the edge, he dipped the soup pot into the clear water. While the bucket filled, Casey tried to remember how many times he'd mentioned the steep drop and deep pool to Tristan, but Casey could only think of one time during one of their many late-night planning sessions. He never expected Tristan to do anything about it, either, but now that the small platform existed, Casey had no idea how the women would have lived without it. He smiled. Tristan had probably felt the same, which is why the structure ended up getting built.

Casey pulled his bucket from the water and joined Katie at the edge "Think you can carry those?" he asked, indicating her very full buckets with a jerk of his chin. Tristan had been mindful of the fact the women would be carrying the buckets, and these were noticeably smaller than the ones at Fort Sutton. They probably held a gallon—no more than a gallon and a half—instead of the more customary three gallons, he used at Fort Sutton.

"Yes," she said and peered over the edge of the dock. "I can see the bottom. It's so clear! How deep do you think it is? Can I swim in it?—Not now, obviously. But when it's warmer?"

"It is four to four and a half meters deep here," Casey replied, pulling the depth from memory. "And I don't see why you couldn't swim here if you wanted. No one would stop you."

"Dulce!"

His eyebrow twitched upward at her exclamation before he had a chance to school his expression.

Grabbing her two buckets by their rope handles, Katie started the return trip to their campsite. Casey followed her up the stairs.

"What are we having for dinner?" she asked.

"Oh," Casey stalled. Her question forced him to rejoin their conversation after pondering what 'dulce' meant. "If Wade is successful, we'll have roasted meat and vegetable soup."

Katie nodded as if that would have been her plan, too, but Casey admittedly saw little evidence of her KP competency.

"Can I help," she asked, surprising him.

She had kept to herself back at Fort Sutton and on the hike to the settlement, barely mustering enough energy to eat, let alone help, so her offer was unexpected. To be fair, he amended, she had been sick each afternoon.

Casey glanced at Katie out of the corner of his eye. She was overdue for her new habit of retching each afternoon. "You going to be up to it?"

Her cheeks darkened in what Casey presumed was a blush. "I feel better today."

"Good." He waited for her to say something else. When she didn't, his thoughts drifted to the things he needed to do before Lottie arrived. Although he was distracted, his attention to his surroundings never wavered. Casey watched as squirrels hopped from tree, brush, ground, and back. The robins pecked at hidden worms or called warnings as the humans drew near. Casey thought he saw a rabbit. The critter must have moved off or hunkered down, for when he turned his head to confirm, it was gone.

Katie, shifting her grip on the handles, stepped from the trees and into the clearing. The motion prompted a new item's addition to his mental list of things he had to do before the return trip to Fort Sutton in a few days. He would build a shoulder-yoke.

"Where do you want them?" Katie asked, lifting the buckets as if Casey hadn't known what she was referring too.

"By the coals but not close enough to burn." He placed his pot next to her buckets and scratched his chin. He wanted to freshen up and shave. "We'll use them for washing."

"Dulce!"

What the hell did that even mean? But before he could ask her, Jules came up to him. "I didn't get your tent set up," Jules said.

Casey made a sound of acknowledgment at the back of his throat for that self-evident pronouncement as he prepared the fire for cooking supper. He had noticed his tent spread on the ground when he'd returned to the clearing. Casey had also noticed Wade plucking the feathers from a large bird. Since he could see the animal's body from the tree line and the feathers on the ground at Wade's feet were black, not the brownish-gray of a Canada goose, Casey figured Wade had killed a turkey and not a grouse or pheasant.

Jules, oblivious to Casey's awareness, continued stating the obvious. "Wade came back with a turkey, two squirrels, and a rabbit. He asked for help skinning them while he took care of the bird."

Casey grunted. "Did you spit them?"

"Just the rabbit. The squirrels were too lean. I quartered them instead. Figured we'd add them to the soup."

"Go ahead and bring them here. I'm ready for them."

"Will do, Case."

As Jules moved away, Katie hunkered down next to Casey. "What do you need me to do?"

"In my pack are some oilcloth lined pouches—"

"MREs?" she asked.

"No. Seasonings. Dehydrated vegetables from Fort Sutton's garden," Casey answered. "Go get one of the kits."

Katie stood and asked, "Where's your bag?"

"Shed."

She didn't respond, but Casey heard her walk away. Presumably, she was heading to the shed, but Casey didn't stop spreading the coals to check. A few moments later, Katie returned with a small pouch. Plucking the bag from her hand, Casey deftly untied the knot holding it closed and dumped the contents into the water. After setting the pot next to the flames, he stood, pocketing the bag. It would be foolish to lose it. The oilcloth wasn't easy to make, and asking for replacement linseed oil from Fort St. Louis so he could make another would meet indifference at best and curiosity at worst.

"What else do you want me to do?" Katie asked.

"Not much at the moment. Watch the soup. Stir it occasionally. When the vegetables are soft, let me know."

"Okay," she said. "What will you be doing?"

"Well," Casey began. "Unless we smoke it, we'll need to get a ground oven going for that bird Wade killed, which means someone needs to dig it. We'll need more firewood. Enough to last you 'til help arrives." Casey scratched his cheek. "We don't have enough seasoned wood prepared, so unless I can find some in the woods, our fires will burn like shit, and the smoke will be in our eyes."

Casey paused for a breath before launching into his next items on his to-do list. "We'll need kindling, some Fuzz sticks for when it rains, and the fire's gone out. The soldier tent needs to be up," he trailed off, realizing she was no longer paying attention. He turned, following her gaze, to find Jules headed back toward them.

"You know what?" Casey muttered to himself. "Never mind."

Leaving Katie to ogle Jules at her leisure, Casey retrieved an ax from the shed and disappeared into the woods. He hoped Noah and Tristan hadn't secured all the felled trees already. Even if he only found a few, it would make his life better.

Walking through the woods, he let his steps soften, melding with the other sounds of the forest. Leaves crackled as small birds and squirrels pushed them aside in their quest for sustenance. Casey grinned. He loved the sounds of early spring, and he wished Lottie and Greysen were with him. Last spring had been one of the happiest Casey could ever remember having. The three of them had taken long walks by the Black, taking turns pointing out things to Greysen, and in general, enjoying each other's company.

He loved how the early morning sunlight streaming through Noah's window would lighten Lottie's already almost white-blonde hair to an impossible paleness, or how the sunset would turn the color of her hair a rusty gold. He would touch it sometimes—when he woke early—letting the strands glide through his fingers. The silky softness she attained while living with Noah a contrast to the more coarse sensation of her hair on his fingers when she didn't have access to silt free bathing. He sighed. It felt like an eternity had passed since he'd last seen her.

"Soon," he murmured, forcing his thoughts to more pressing needs. "Soon."

Near the river, Casey found several trees that would suit his needs. He hefted the ax, found the balance, and took a swing. The blade bit deep into the wood, bringing a new smile. It was perfect. This wood would burn with minimal smoke. Even better, it wasn't too old and dry that it would incinerate almost immediately. He set to his task with gusto. In half an hour, Casey stopped to wipe sweat from his brow. He had the trunk quartered. The only part of the tree remaining was the roots and crown, and he could come back for those pieces later.

Bending down, he shouldered the bulkiest chunk of wood, grabbed his ax, and made his way back to the settlement. Casey would bring Wade and Jules with him after dinner. Between the three of them, they should be able to haul the last pieces of trunk home.

The walk back to the settlement was short, but he had needed to stop often to readjust the load across his shoulder. Stepping into the clearing, the first thing he noticed was his tent, freshly assembled and sitting across from Katie's. The tent flap faced the central fire, precisely the way he liked it. The second was Katie, stirring the soup and chatting with Jules. Wade sat off to the side, not participating, yet not excluding himself either.

Casey marched across the clearing and dropped the log by the drying rack. Standing tall, Casey lifted his hands high above his head and stretched. His stomach growled. He would split the wood after he ate. Rubbing his shoulder, Casey massaged the blood back into the joint where the piece of the trunk had bit into his flesh and then went to join Wade, Jules, and Katie at the fire.

"If you could be anywhere in the US right now, where would you be?" Jules was asking Katie as Casey sat down on a lumpy rock.

"Mountains. Definitely the mountains."

"Mountains?" Casey repeated.

Jules shifted his weight and followed Casey's question with one of his own. "Is it the snow?"

"No." Katie giggled.

_Giggled?_

"Mostly, it's the cool air. Crisp. Clean. Clear." She glanced at Casey and gave him a quick grin. "Not heavy and humid. It's too hot here. I like the cold."

"You like winter?" Jules asked, voicing Casey's skepticism in addition to his own.

"Yep."

Casey hadn't expected that answer. He didn't know many—aside from Adan, maybe—who would choose winter over the warmer months, and Adan didn't seem to like the cold so much as missed the seasons.

"You?" Katie asked.

"I'm not a fan of the cold," Jules trailed off. "Eh, it's not the cold I hate so much but the dark. I hate the short days and long nights."

"Huh," Katie said.

"Gives you time to play Knaves and Knights," Casey said, remembering all the times Jules would badger him or the other squad members into playing.

Shrugging, Jules said, "What? Knaves and Knights is fun."

"Sure," Wade said in his soft voice. "But not every night."

"Just 'cause you're always on the losing side."

Katie snickered. "What about you? Where would you be if not here?"

Casey wasn't sure who she asked, but assumed it was Jules, when he answered, "Fort Sutton."

"Not what I meant. I meant, where would you be? If it could be anywhere?" she asked again.

Jules sighed, his gaze drifted past the fire to the trees beyond. "Indy."

"Indianapolis?" Katie clarified.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Bill got sent back after... Yeah," Jules said, cutting himself off. "After we got ourselves into a bit of trouble with our drill sergeant the night of our graduation from Basic."

"What did you do?"

"Took leave without permission, for starters."

"AWOL?" Katie asked, her eyebrows lifted in evident surprise.

Casey wondered if she thought no one else ever did anything wrong or if Jules just appeared innocent to her. Casey frowned, trying to remember if Jules's file had said anything about the incident in question. Casey shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't remember anything listed. He knew a little bit about this night already. Jules had told Lottie, and by extension, him, about it while she labored with Greysen.

"Yeah," Jules replied. "If I'd listened to my sergeant..." He refocused his attention on the group. "Bill would be with me like we'd planned." Jules gave Katie a grin, seeming back to his old self, but Casey could see the strain in Jules's expression. "Instead, he was shipped back to Indy."

"Bill was your friend?"

"The best," Jules answered, fishing something out of the front pocket of his fatigue jacket. "When we were six, he gave me this."

Casey recognized the small plastic soldier Jules had let Greysen play with several months ago.

"I don't know where he got them from, but we used to play with them for hours and hours." Jules paused, thinking. "He was older than me by a day. One day! The sergeant said 'cause he was older, he should have known better, found him at fault for my actions. He paid the price."

Jules tucked the toy back into his pocket. "I don't know what happened to him. I hope he's in the ARA in Indiana, but..." Jules shrugged, unwilling to voice the probability that his friend was in a less pleasant branch of the Army. He visibly shook himself. "Enough about that!" His next question an apparent attempt at brevity. "If you could meet anyone in history, who would it be?"

After a quick, sympathetic smile, Katie answered. "Doctor Kauffmann, Doctor Desiderdio, Rosalind Franklin, Laura Bassi, Virginia Apgar, or maybe Emilie Chatelet. But If I had to choose one, I would pick Maria Agnesi."

"Wow, you gotta list. Agnesi?" Jules inquired. "Who's that?"

"She was a mathematics professor in the late seventeen hundreds. A true pioneer. Wrote a textbook too."

"You like math?"

Katie grinned, "It's the best!"

"Huh. Why?" Jules asked.

Casey snickered to himself. Jules didn't seem to agree with Katie's opinion, truth be told, Casey didn't either.

"It makes sense to me," she replied.

"Well, if you say so." Jules shifted his weight, lifted the spoon from the edge of the fire, and stirred the soup. "I think it's ready, Case. Where are the bowls?"

"The shed," Casey replied, standing. "I'll get them."

When he returned, Jules was asking Katie, "Who were some of those other people you mentioned?"

Casey handed Katie a bowl of soup as she answered. "Mostly, scientists and doctors." She stopped for a beat to take the offered bowl and to thank him. "I bet they could figure out what caused the fertility crisis and fix it. Franklin was a pioneer in molecular biology, you know."

"Uh." Jules sounded confused or maybe placating.

"And Kauffmann,"—Katie added in a wistful tone—"Everyone knows Kauffmann for her work on immunoangenitosis. She only ever studied the female allergic reaction to pregnancy."

"Yeah, I remember that. I think."

Casey snorted as he handed Jules a bowl and said, "No, you don't." Casey had been a good student, but even he couldn't remember the textbooks talking about this Kauffmann person.

"Where did you learn about Kauffmann?" Casey asked her.

"I would read everything I could in the library," Katie answered. "It wasn't much. I'd hoped to test out of active duty and straight into the FAR."

"But that failed," Casey said. He regretted his callous remarks a moment later when Katie ducked her head, and her skin darkened in a blush.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Katie spoke before he could. "I didn't test out." She frowned. "And when my other method for being disqualified didn't work, I ran." She looked up and caught Casey's eye. Turning away from him, she addressed the group, "And here I am." Katie smiled brightly. "I think I made out better for running."

Her statement was troubling. Casey didn't want her to think she won. But really, he argued internally, what did you expect? He had rescued her from her fate. Deciding to ignore her gloating, Casey scooped a bowl of soup for himself and Wade.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but eventually, their bellies filled, and conversation resumed. "So, what's next?" Wade asked as he set his bowl aside with a muffled burp.

"We wait," Casey answered.

"How long?" Wade prompted.

Balancing his bowl on his knee, Casey tallied the days they would have to stay away from Fort Sutton. If it had been himself and Katie, he'd stay the night and move on, but since there were enough of them here, he'd work on his extended to-do list. "We have eight days 'til the drop,"—he said, adding air quotes around the word drop—"and it's only a one day run from here, so the earliest we can conceivably head back and not raise suspicion would be in thirteen days."

He ran his finger over the lip of the bowl, scraping his spoon along the rim in the process. "We have enough work here to last us months." Glancing up, he made sure to meet everyone's gaze with his own. "Hunting, preserving the meat and hides, build a ground oven, till the garden plot and build the chicken coop."

"Oh?" Katie interrupted. "Eggs?"

Casey responded with an absent-minded nod. He was in his listing mode, and the subtleties of social interaction eluded him at the moment.

"Ring-barking the trees in the south flat, which will yield enough wood for a cabin plus some garden space." Casey felt slightly embarrassed, realizing that when he pictured the cabin, he only imagined himself, Lottie and Greysen living inside, but that was selfish. What would Zoe, Tristan, Noah's contact, and Maddy do? He would need to Ring-bark several more trees than he initially planned, his mind appropriating this land for a small orchard.

Clearing his throat, Casey said, "We need firewood and kindling, too. Can you help me? I left some deadfall back by the river. I need both of you to help bring it back to camp."

"Okay." Jules tipped his bowl to his lips and gulped the remaining soup. Sighing appreciatively, he licked his lips. "I'm done. Why don't I go and grab my share now."

"It's off the trail," Casey replied. "You'd probably find it, but it'll be faster if you wait a moment for all of us to finish up."

"Me too," Wade murmured, setting his bowl aside.

Casey drained his bowl and set it aside. "Let's go."

Wade and Jules stood.

"I'll clean up," Katie offered, grabbing their bowls.

"Thanks," he told her, amazed again at her eagerness to help. Facing Wade and Jules, Casey led them off into the woods, and between the three of them, they made short work of hauling the items back.

"Wade," Casey said as they exited the tree line. "I need you to start smoking the turkey. And tomorrow I want you to see what other big game you can rustle up for us. A deer or two would be excellent." Wade gave him a small nod.

"Jules, I need you to start the ground oven. I'd like to roast Wade's results tomorrow."

"Where'd you want it?"

"There's a clearing prepared about fifty feet west of the smokehouse," Casey said, pointing.

"Okay," Jules said as he dropped his log to the ground next to Wade's.

"I'll be there to help as soon as I split these," Casey said, indicating the large trunks at his feet.

"Take your time," Jules said with a smile. "Katie can keep me company. Can't you, Katie?" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Sure," she replied.

Casey wanted to warn Jules not to fraternize with Katie. It could only lead to trouble, but Casey held back the hypocritical words. He felt his neck warm, and he ran a hand through his hair. Would Jules's attachment to Katie be any worse than the one Casey had with Lottie? No, he decided and pursed his lips. Jules noticed and quirked an eyebrow in question. Casey shook his head, dismissing Jules's unasked question.

"What am I helping with?" Katie asked as she stepped near.

"Keeping me company while I dig a big hole."

Katie giggled. When she sobered, she said, "If you give me a shovel, I can help."

"No," Casey said. Didn't pregnant women need to take it easy? He didn't want her to over-exert herself and lose her baby. Her health was more important than her help. Especially with the manual labor tasks. "If you feel a burning need to do something, you can clean the feathers, store them, and treat the hides from the rabbit and squirrel."

"What will we use them for?"

"Don't know," Casey admitted. His brows drew together in a frown. "Noah would recommend keeping them, so we will." Leaning forward, he grabbed the ax from where he'd left it. He adjusted his grip. His tight muscles protested the movement. "Go. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Jules nodded. "Come on, Katie."

Casey watched them walk away. When they turned the corner of the smokehouse, Casey reached down for the first log. Setting it on the block, he put his foot against it to hold it and began chopping, losing himself to the repetition.

# Chapter 35

Shockwaves of thunder, battered Lottie, making her bones ache from their intensity. "We need to take cover!" she yelled at Javier.

Javier's expression was tight, clearly worried, and he nodded as he spoke, but although he was standing right next to her, she could barely hear him over the roaring wind. She thought he said, "I'm trying!"

Disheartened, she pressed forward. What else could they do? There hadn't been a decent shelter for days. Lottie glanced over her shoulder repeatedly, watching as the wall cloud raced toward them. She gave it no more than five minutes to reach them. Two heartbeats later, fat drops of rain began splattering the pavement. Then a deluge fell from the sky and soaked Lottie in seconds. She risked another look over her shoulder. The others looked as miserable as she felt.

Nyah and Grace marched with huge frowns and grim determination. Zoe and Maggie were supporting Ally.

Ally.

She was not doing well. Not at all. Ally vomited every day regardless of her stress level or the tension in the group, and Lottie feared Ally would lose her baby before they arrived at the settlement. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she chastised herself. It wasn't as if losing her baby at the homestead would be a better option. But what could she do? Nothing, Lottie thought. There was nothing any of them could do but plod forward.

Lottie sighed and looked at the sky again. It was a roiling mass of nasty green.

Perfect. Tornado weather.

A second later, when the hail began to fall, Lottie wished she hadn't jinxed them with that thought of tornados. "We have to take cover!" Lottie yelled again, visions of being struck by lightning made her a bit irrational. The electricity in the air made her skin itch, and she desperately wanted to get somewhere safe.

Javier nodded, veering toward the steep embankment next to the highway. As they clambered up the hill, Lottie hoped they were making the right decision. Standing under some trees during an electrical storm wasn't any better than being out in the open. At least, if they stayed on the road, they would eventually encounter an overpass.

"Oh, thank the ever-absent God," Lottie cried as she crested the hill. _A house!_ Lottie thought with a wry grin. It's placement a real convenience, but really, what had she expected? The voluntary recall of belongings didn't extend to the houses themselves. It made sense that there would be useful homes all around them.

Javier glanced at her. He had a huge smile. It wiped away the worry lines from his forehead and around his eyes. Pointing, she thought he said, "Shelter."

He didn't have to tell her twice. After everyone spied the sanctuary, they all picked up their pace, eager to reach the promise of a hail free bed. Slipping and sliding, they made their way down the opposite side of the hill and hustled across a field dotted with some scrub brush and stunted pines. Reaching the structure first, Javier tried the door, and when it didn't budge, he kicked it, making it fly open and bash against the wall before rebounding closed again.

Flashing her a grin, he pushed it open and swept his hand to the side, gallantly inviting Lottie into the abode. Lottie snickered and stepped inside. Immediately she clutched her stomach and covered her mouth with her hand. The stench of mold and rot assaulted her nose and made her stomach heave. But before she could warn any of the others, they'd all piled in behind her, bumping her further inside. Turning, Lottie caught site of Ally as she turned tail and waddled quickly to the nearest bush. Lottie witnessed Maggie's eye roll as she freed herself from the thong and went out after Ally.

Lottie shrugged. There was nothing she could do about Ally, and if Maggie wanted to go back out into the hail to help her, that was Maggie's business.

Moving deeper into the structure, Lottie was surprised to see how sound it was, and aside from that first room with the dark water stains, it didn't stink.

"I'm going upstairs," Javier said. "Why don't you see if you can get a fire going in the fireplace or something?"

"Good idea." She'd check out the kitchen and backyard first. Maybe there would be a gas tank or a propane grill they could use for cooking supper. She'd been lucky once and had found a stove that the original homeowners had left full of fuel despite the government-mandated recall.

The kitchen ended up being a bust. The oven was electric, and without solar panels, it was useless. Looking out the window, Lottie yelled, "Woot!"

"What?" Nyah said, coming into the room at her exclamation. "What's out there?"

"A grill! Help me find a kettle, or pot, or something. We can have soup tonight!"

"How do you know it works?"

"I don't," Lottie answered, unlocking the back door. Why the original owners felt the need to lock their house as they abandoned it, she didn't know, but it was a common phenomenon. Most of the homes she'd broke into had secured doors

"But worst-case scenario, we can burn something under the bars."

Stepping out onto the back porch, Lottie saw the tank under the grill. Bending down, she whooped again. The tank had fuel. "Nyah! Gas!"

"Excuse you!" Nyah yelled, trying to project over the clamoring in the kitchen and the pounding rain outside.

"Nyah!" Lottie said, her tone exasperated. "There's gas in the tank, not 'I have gas'!"

"Oh," Nyah said with a snicker, confirming her statement had been a joke. "My mistake."

"You find anything for hot water yet?"

"Yeah," Nyah remarked and came out onto the porch with Lottie. "Will this work?" Nyah asked, holding up a kettle.

"Perfect." Lottie took it from Nyah and filled it with water from her canteen. She held her hand out, clenching her fingers in a hand-it-over motion. "Gimmie your water."

Sighing, Nyah handed her the plastic bottle they'd found at the facility for her to use as a canteen. "I've drunk out of it."

"So have I," Lottie replied. "The heat will kill any germs."

"Need mine?" Maggie asked.

Shaking the kettle, Lottie shook her head. "No, there's enough in here." Putting the pot down, Lottie turned the flame dial to high and pushed the ignition button. It clicked twice, a third time, on the fourth, a whoosh preceded the visible flame. The three women squealed, drawing Grace and Zoe to the back door. They oo'ed and ah'ed appropriately, before retreating into the house. Their voices muffled by the pounding rain and the closed door.

Standing outside and under the roof's soffit with Nyah and Maggie, Lottie asked, "How's Ally?"

"Better." Maggie paused, then added, "I found her a bucket and set her up in the old dining room. She should be fine once she's used to the smell."

"Good." Before Lottie could say anything else, the back door opened again. Grace, dressed in a fresh uniform, stood on the threshold and handed Nyah a large pot. Passing the cooking utensils to Lottie, Nyah retreated into the house. Lottie presumed Nyah left to change. Lottie couldn't wait to get warm. It was cold outside, and her wet clothes weren't helping in the slightest.

A few minutes later, Lottie's assumption was confirmed when Nyah returned wearing her other clothes. "I'll take over," Nyah offered.

"Thanks," Lottie said and disappeared into the house. Once inside, Lottie passed the other women working at making a cozy place to eat their dinner, and then entered the hall. Javier was coming down the steps. He held several clear plastic storage bags full of blankets, but Lottie fixated on what he held in his other hand.

"You found a guitar," she squealed, her heart pounding in excitement. She pulled it from Javier's grip. "He will love it! Can I give it to him? Please?"

Javier snickered. "No. I found it. I'll give it to Case."

"Aw, let me. Please?" Lottie begged. Javier hadn't sounded sincere, so maybe he was toying with her. When he didn't respond right away, she tried again. "Come on! You know he'll like it more from me. Please, Javier?"

Finally, he relented. "But only if you take some of these to the other room."

"Sure," Lottie said and helped herself to the top few blanket pouches. She set them down on the floor in the dining room next to Ally, who looked a bit green, but was otherwise recovering.

"Think they're still good?" Lottie asked.

"Dunno. Probably have dry rot, but at least there are no mice holes in these," Ally replied.

"Yeah," Lottie agreed and unzipped the top bag, revealing a soft blanket. She pulled it out and brought it to her nose. A hint of cedar tickled her nose, and she itched the bottom of it with her lips. "They smell sweet." Her gaze found Ally. "Here," Lottie said, offering the blanket. "Wrap up in that. It'll make you feel better."

Ally smiled at her tentatively. Taking the covers from Lottie, she tossed it over her legs, visibly shuddering in relief.

"Warm?" Lottie inquired.

"Yes," Ally said with a sigh. "Finally." She lifted a corner of the blanket to her nose. After a deep sniff, she added, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Lottie turned to the stack and pulled a second blanket out. This one was light blue, and so thick it felt like a cloud. Claiming it as her own, she took it and the guitar into the small bathroom off the hall. Dropping her bag to the floor, she pulled out Casey's old boxers and a new uniform. She quickly stripped down and donned the dry clothes, reveling in the closeness she felt to Casey. Her eagerness to see him paled only to her desire to see Greysen again. She missed them with a vengeance that brought pain to her chest.

After changing her clothes, she joined the rest of the women in the kitchen for their first hot meal of the day.

"Here," Zoe greeted her as she handed Lottie a bowl of soup. "There's more if you're hungry."

"Thanks." Lottie sniffed the steam wafting off the bowl. It smelled delicious. Blowing on it first, she sipped at the concoction, the warm liquid sliding down her throat, pooling in her stomach, and sending shockwaves of sensation through her system. She groaned her appreciation. "This is so good!"

"Thanks," Grace said.

"What did you put in it?"

"Bay leaf and thyme."

"Bay leaf? Can we grow it here?" Lottie asked. Maybe she could add it to the garden at the settlement.

"I don't think so. Check that book you brought, but I think it can't be grown in Missouri."

"Probably right," Lottie agreed. She didn't remember seeing it listed in her gardening books.

"It makes the soup fuller-bodied, doesn't it?" Grace asked.

"Yes," Lottie replied. "Is there any left?"

"There's a small plastic bottle, sure. Has about six dried leaves left in it."

"Let's bring it with," Lottie said. "You have room in your bag?"

"Yes."

"Good."

With that settled, Lottie's attention shifted to the group where Javier was speaking. "We'll stay here the night. Dry our gear, and head out in the morning."

"How much farther, do you think," Ally asked.

"Three to four weeks, at least."

Groaning, Ally rubbed her large belly, and muttered, "I don't know if I'll make it that long."

"Don't go having that baby on me," Javier replied. "Birthing is strictly Huxley's domain, not mine." Although Javier spoke in jest, Lottie figured he wasn't joking.

Ally's eyes glazed, and her fingers twitched. "Don't worry, soldier," she said, coming back to herself. "I have almost two months to go."

"Good. Leave that birthing to him. Got it?"

"Got it," Ally agreed amiably.

With that business settled, the conversation drifted from babies and travel details to the usual inanities spoken over dinner. It didn't take long before someone mentioned Knaves and Knights, and Lottie smiled at the group's camaraderie. She hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. It would seem the other women felt the same, or they wouldn't have suggested such a long-running game.

Pushing her chair back, Lottie stood. "I'll get my deck."

"Me too," Grace said in unison with Nyah.

Javier stuck his hand in his chest pocket and fished out his cards. "Looks like we have enough for a game."

"I'll find some paper and a pencil," Maggie added. "I haven't kept score for a Knaves and Knights game in forever!"

As she left the room, Lottie brushed the hair from her cheek. First a guitar and now a card game.

Tonight was going to be a good night.

***

Casey looked around the settlement in satisfaction. The four of them had accomplished quite a lot in eight days. There was plenty of firewood set aside. Additionally, he had several trees in varying stages of drying, set off to the side, and ready to be processed upon his next visit. Then, two days ago, the four of them had attacked the trees in the south flat. Katie handled the small hatchet like a professional woodcutter. With her help, they'd managed to ring-bark nearly fifty trees. Most of the wood would be for the cabin, but some would be for building equipment. Casey took a deep, satisfied breath. Not only had they processed the south flat, but between the three men, they'd managed to fill the smokehouse with meat. Katie assured him she could finish the curing processes.

Tapping his thigh with his fingers, Casey admitted that if you could look past her childish reactions, she wasn't too bad. Katie was a hard worker; he'd give her that. She spent every day in the garden while Casey built the chicken coop, and now both were ready.

Tugging at the neckline of his shirt, Casey adjusted his uniform. It felt gritty against his skin. He would have washed it, but he'd only get it dirty again on the hike back.

"You ready?" Jules asked.

Nodding, Casey shouldered his pack. "You going to be all right?"

"Sure," Katie replied, smiling shyly at Jules.

Casey glanced back and forth between them, wondering how close they'd grown over the past week. He had caught them off in the woods, heads together, chatting intimately. He felt strangely protective, torn between wanting to cheer Jules on and wanting to preach restraint.

"Remember, Noah—older guy. Smells like mint—will be bringing or sending," Casey amended. "someone to the settlement in the next few days. This ex-soldier is to act as security. If he hurts you in any way, you leave. Come find me at Fort Sutton."

"Go," Katie said. "I'll be fine. I survived Brandon and Adan."

That was not what Casey had wanted to hear. He didn't want her to 'survive' anything else.

She pushed him in the chest, making Casey rock on his heels before she turned and hugged Jules. "Go."

Grumbling, Casey pivoted and left the clearing. They hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when he felt the hairs on his arms stand at attention.

"Someone is watching us," Jules whispered.

"I know."

The three men slowed to a stop and shifted into a tactical combat stance with their backs to each other.

A muffled woof preceded a howl of "Daddy!"

Greysen!

"It's fine," Casey said, breaking formation. Hustling toward the cry, Casey said, "Greysen's here."

And with Greysen, there would be Noah.

Casey's guard had arrived! He wanted to meet this man—get a measure on him—before leaving him with the women.

"Case."

The greeting from the woods brought Casey up short, and Casey's head tilted to the side in curiosity. He knew that voice. "Jaesen?"

"You got it."

Casey snapped his mouth shut as the two men and Greysen materialized from the treeline right in front of him.

"Daddy!"

Noah set Greysen down, and Greysen used his newly found freedom to run to Casey. Throwing the toddler in the air, Casey asked Jaesen, "What are you doing here?"

"I had a similar question," Jaesen answered with a raised eyebrow and a finger pointing to Greysen.

Shrugging, Casey replied, "I couldn't let them go."

A slow grin grew on Jaesen's face. "Never would have pegged you for a rule breaker."

Casey shrugged again. It wasn't like he'd planned to fall in love with them both.

"When I said I was behind you one-hundred percent, this wasn't what I thought you'd do with my support."

"You regret it?"

"No," Jaesen replied. "Can't think of a nobler cause than keeping Lottie and the boy safe."

"There's more than just them."

"Noah said Lottie's mom and Tristan's ex were also coming."

"Yeah," Casey said. "There's also a recently recovered asset back at the settlement." Casey used his thumb to point behind him, indicating the settlement's location. "Her name's Katie."

"I'll take good care of them," Jaesen assured him.

"Jules. Wade."

"Sir," they replied.

Casey wondered at the formality but assumed his tone sounded more authoritative than usual. "Escort Jaesen. Make the introductions, then come back."

"Sir," all three acknowledged.

"You have thirty minutes."

After saluting, the three disappeared toward the camp.

Casey waited until Jules's excited voice no longer rang through the clearing before narrowing his gaze on Noah. "You could have told me it was Jaesen instead of making me wait for today."

Shaking his head, Noah replied, "You would have worried unnecessarily. He understands the risks of what I ask and willingly accepts them."

Casey's lips pinched tight in anger, and he shifted Greysen in his arms. "These men are my responsibility. And if implicated in my wrongdoing—"

"—And," Noah said, cutting him off. "that is why I didn't tell you. Jaesen is free of active enlistment. No one will miss him, and he is unlikely to be called back into the service. He is the perfect choice."

When Casey was unable to unclench his jaw to respond, Noah added, "Besides, he isn't a stranger. You already trust him."

A tense twitch of his head acknowledged Noah's statement as fact. That didn't mean Casey had to like what the man said.

Noah shifted his weight and tapped two fingers against his leather pant leg. A juvenile German Sheppard—one of Mira's pups—melted out of the woods to stand at his side. "Kingpin will provide additional security."

"Doggie!" Greysen squealed. "Down! Down!"

"No," Casey told him, then grudgingly thanked Noah for his considerate actions.

Ignoring Casey's thanks, Noah slapped his thigh and ordered, "Go to Jaesen." Kingpin woofed and sprang from his spot at Noah's side, heading toward the camp at full speed.

"Doggie!" Greysen wailed but quickly lost interest in the departed animal in favor of Casey's whiskers. A gentle smile curl at Casey's mouth as Greysen rubbed his hand up and down Casey's cheek and chin.

"What are you doing here, little man?" Casey asked him.

"Mommy?" Greysen asked as if unsure of his answer.

"Is this true?" Casey asked, searching Noah's expression for any clues.

"Her file—along with Woodson's and Townsend's—was updated two days ago. All three are priority WHITE and listed as AWOL."

Noah visibly swallowed, and Casey felt his shoulders tighten. "What?"

"There is an order out for their reclamation and arrest. IRT."

"But it's only been a week. And you said mobilization of the IRT wouldn't—"

"No, I said the mobilization of the IRT wouldn't be immediate."

"What the hell happened?" Casey demanded. Greysen whimpered, and Casey forced himself to loosen his grip. Squeezing the baby wouldn't help him save Lottie from the IRT.

"I don't know," Noah replied, his tone hinted at regret, or maybe worry. "But I suspect more than Woodson, Townsend, and Forrester escaped. I will meet them north of here."

"How will you know where they will be?"

"I don't," Noah answered. "But I will find them."

Hugging Greysen closer, Casey reluctantly agreed. If anyone could find the women before they reached the homestead, it would be Noah. "And Greysen?"

"He'll come with me."

Casey's heart skipped a beat. "You think that is wise?"

"And staying with you is?"

He brushed the hair from Greysen's face and looked into his baby's bright green eyes. Greysen was such a handsome little boy. "No. Not better," Casey agreed

In a rare show of affection, Noah gripped Casey's shoulder and squeezed it. "He'll be fine, son. We've done this before, haven't we?"

Greysen's legs wiggled, and he reached for Noah. "'Ampa! 'Ampa 'Oah!"

Noah took Greysen from Casey. "I'm not being deployed."

The statement lacked the reassurance Casey was sure Noah meant to imply. "I know that."

"Then relax, son."

Casey cringed, hating yet loving the term.

"Next time you see Greysen, Lottie will be with him."

***

"When can we stop? My legs hurt."

Lottie rolled her eyes when she heard Ally's complaint from the rear of the column. After weeks of travel, whose legs didn't hurt?

"Shut the fu... up?" Javier grumbled, swallowing his swear mid-utterance. "Today it's her legs. Yesterday it was her back. The day before that, it was her feet." Javier muttered something else under his breath, which to Lottie sounded a lot like 'Tomorrow it'll be her ass after I kick it.'

She wanted to chastise Javier, but really, she couldn't muster the energy. Frankly, Ally was annoying. For all that she was friendly, she complained way too much, and Maggie seemed the only one able to stomach her negativity anymore.

"I hope we can take a break soon," Ally grumbled.

"Oh, hush up!" Nyah barked, eliciting a small groan from everyone.

Pinching her lips tight to keep silent, Lottie hoped Nyah wouldn't start in on Ally. It was bad enough having her complain, and no one wanted to deal with her nervous stomach if Nyah tore into her.

_Poor Ally. Poor Nyah_. Lottie felt sympathy for them both, especially Nyah, who was not doing well these past two weeks. Her pregnancy hormones were taking their toll, and although Nyah was trying, she was still challenging to be around.

Ally, thankfully, took Nyah's suggestion and quieted into sniffles and whimpers. She did raise a good point, though. Javier—ever mindful of the women —usually called at least one break by mid-morning, sometimes he'd already have given them two. Lottie wondered at the difference. Opening her mouth to ask, she was silenced abruptly by Javier when he raised his fist in a 'column stop' motion.

Pulling his revolver from his holster, he checked the barrel and signed _Off. Road. Hide. Wait. Me._

Waving at the women to quiet, Lottie followed his instructions and led them off the single-lane highway and into the trees. She didn't know what spooked Javier, but if he told them to take cover, she'd obey.

One more glance over her shoulder as Lottie retreated into the tree line, confirmed Javier had already disappeared on the other side of the road. With nothing else to do, she took the women deep into the woods, searching for a likely refuge. Finding a thick patch of green honeysuckle and leafed out brambles, Lottie directed the women to crouch down and hide behind the cover.

"What's going on," Nyah whispered.

"I don't know."

"This isn't what I meant by a break," Ally muttered.

"Shh," Maggie whispered and patted Ally's hand. "Enjoy it for what it is and rest your legs, okay?"

Ally nodded, falling silent. Lottie could almost picture the woman as a petulant toddler with her thumb stuck in her mouth, and a blanket tucked under her arm, needing a nap and hating the world for it.

"Javier wouldn't ditch us, would he?" Nyah asked.

"No," Lottie replied, refocusing on Nyah. "Something is wrong."

"Do you think someone found us?" Zoe inquired.

It was a common fear. One Lottie tried not to think about, and Zoe's question made her heart skip a beat, but after a moment, she said, "I don't think so. By Javier's reckoning, we're almost there." Lottie made sure to catch the eye of every woman. "We would have seen or heard something by now if they pursued us."

Running a hand through her hair, Lottie added, "Besides, there were only four of them when we left. There's no way they would have come after us right away, not to mention, our trail is cold."

_But if it's the IRT._

She wiped her sweaty palms on her knees. If it was the IRT... _No,_ she chastised mentally. _Javier would look nervous if it were the IRT. And he didn't look nervous._ "Javier didn't look worried," Lottie said. "So, I'm not either. He'll be back soon, and then we'll be on our way again."

"Well, if it is trouble," Grace grumbled. "Then, we ought to shut up, shouldn't we."

It was a good point, and Lottie acknowledged Grace with a quick nod and ran her fingers over her lips in a zipping motion.

Lottie didn't know how long they sat there behind the honeysuckle, but it had been longer than the several minutes she'd first suggested since her thigh muscles had seized, forcing her to sit on the damp ground.

She spent some of the time counting the flutters in her abdomen. Junior was active, demanding attention. She wondered if the baby's kicks could be felt from the outside yet or if only she could feel them. Pressing a hand to her lower belly, Lottie waited. Eventually, she gave up. It was too soon for external sensation.

As her attention toward the life inside her waned, she began to worry about Javier. _What's taking so long? Should I go find him? No, he said stay here. But he's been gone a long time, and maybe he needs help._ She shifted her weight, preparing to stand when she heard voices. Male voices.

Javier.

Noah...

Noah?

A tiny sad voice said, "No, Mommy." Lottie wasn't sure anyone else heard it, but she did. It sounded like Greysen. A second later, the voice cried out louder, "No, Mommy! Daddy!"

It was Greysen. Lottie was sure of it. "Greysen!" she cried, lurching to her feet, and spun, searching. Lottie moved to fast and had to brace her hand against a tree to keep her balance.

"What is it?!" Grace called alarmed.

"It's Greysen! My son's here," Lottie replied, distractedly, her efforts focused solely on finding her son and hugging him tightly.

There.

In the trees.

Javier was walking toward her, laughing at something Noah was saying, but Lottie barely registered them. It was her baby in Noah's arms that called to her. She took a shaky step forward, then another. Her knees felt weak. "Greysen?" she called, tears building in her eyes. It was him—her baby.

Javier spied her, and with a smile, he waved her over.

Coming close, she reached to take Greysen from Noah, but he screamed, "No, Mommy! Daddy!" and buried his face in Noah's neck.

Noah patted him on the back, his expression sad and knowing.

"Greysen?"

"No! No! No!" Greysen screamed, flailing in Noah's arms.

Stepping backward, Noah shook his head. His eyes shown with sympathy, and Lottie felt a tear fall. Didn't Greysen want her? Didn't he want his Mommy? Lottie's hands dropped to her stomach. Why didn't he want her?

Grace and Nyah came up behind her. They both put comforting arms around her, and her composure collapsed. Greysen didn't want her. Her throat felt swollen tight, and her chest ached. "Greysen?"

"Give him a minute," Grace whispered. "He doesn't remember you. But he will soon. It'll be all right."

Grace's tone grated on Lottie's nerves. How dare she be calm? Reasonable. As if Greysen screaming "No Mommy!" over and over again was expected and desired. All Lottie wanted—had wanted for months—was to hold him close, but now that she was here, he didn't want her anymore.

She didn't know how to go on.

Crushed.

Lost.

"No, Mommy! Daddy!"

Noah took Greysen further away, and Lottie followed. Up onto the road, Noah set him down, hunkered down next to him, and said, "Now Grey, that's your Mommy. She loves you. Now go on and give your Mommy a hug like a big boy."

Greysen flailed his arm, trying to pull from Noah's grip, screaming, "No, Mommy! Daddy!" over and over again. And each time he said it, Lottie's heart broke a little more. She was too late.

Hands patted her on the back, soothing. She hadn't realized she'd turned into Grace's embrace, burying her face in her mother's shoulder as she wished Greysen would do with her.

A wail rent the air.

Lottie whipped around and bounded up the embankment to Greysen. He sat on his little rump. His eyes screwed shut as giant tears rolled down his face. Scooping him up, Lottie said, "There, there, now. It's all right. Mommy's got you." When Greysen thrashed, trying to get down, Lottie began to sing softly.

Greysen stopped struggling and turned his bright green eyes up to meet hers. Recognition dawned in their depths. Squealing, he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His tears hot on her skin.

Being wet never felt so good.

Lottie squeezed him tight. Her gaze sought her mother's. Finding it, she was surprised to see the soft smile on the older woman's face. After their gazes locked, Grace came forward. "This is my grandson?"

Lottie nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

"Well, hello there." Grace glanced at Noah before turning back to Greysen. "Grey. I'm your Nanna. Nanna Grace."

Sniffing, Greysen lifted his head to look at her. "'Anna?"

"That's right. Your Nanna, just like he's your grandpa," Grace agreed, pointing to Noah.

Curious, Lottie speculated at how Noah came to have that title. It didn't matter to her. He could be a grandpa to Greysen if he wanted to.

"Noah says we're three days from the settlement," Javier said after giving her a few minutes alone with both Greysens. "He'll guide us the rest of the way."

Lottie nodded, unable to trust her voice yet.

"Three more days?" Ally said, her tone a mixture between whining and excitement. Unable to deal with her, Lottie nuzzled Greysen's hair with her nose and breathed deep. He smelled like sunshine, spring breezes, and a dirty diaper.

She barked a laugh.

"What, child?" Noah asked her gently, touching her shoulder to draw her attention to him.

"Did you bring Grey"—she began, testing Noah's nickname for Greysen to see how she liked it—"Grey"—she said more firmly, deciding she did like her son's new nickname—"a change of clothes? He needs a new diaper."

Instead of replying, Noah unshouldered his bag and rooted around inside. He pulled a cloth and some leather from the front pocket and handed it to her.

Taking it from him, she carried Grey a few feet away from the group and set him on the ground. It took a few minutes for her to figure out how to finagle Grey out of the old diaper and into the new without laying him down, but at last, she succeeded, finding that she hadn't forgotten how to take care of Grey after all.

"We ready to go?" she asked when she rejoined the group.

"Yes," Javier answered. "Noah'll take us to a good stopping point for today, and we'll get an early start tomorrow."

"Good," she replied. Addressing Noah, she said, "Lead the way."

***

Stepping into the settlement nearly brought Lottie to her knees. She gripped Grey tighter, afraid her shaking arms would drop him.

"Mommy," he squealed in protest, and Lottie shushed him distractedly. Casey and Noah had outdone themselves.

"Welcome home, child," Noah said, guiding her to the side so the other women could enter the homestead.

As they streamed past, Lottie was pleased to hear their exclamations of delight. At least she wasn't the only one amazed. "It looks like your clearing."

Noah patted her on the back and then ruffled Grey's hair. "Not quite, child, but as close as we could make it in the time allotted. We have plenty of work to do, but it is habitable."

"It's perfect," she whispered.

"Far from it, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"You're too humble, Noah," she said, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

"Maybe," he said. "Come. Let's meet the current inhabitants."

"Someone's already living here?"

True to form, Noah ignored her question and instead guided her toward the central fire, where Lottie saw a stew bubbling in a large pot. Glancing inside, showed a light yellow broth with meat and vegetables.

_Some sort of poultry soup,_ she determined. "Did Tristan bring chickens?"

Noah looked inside the pot. "Smoked turkey."

Lottie assumed his inapplicable and possibly unknowable answer meant that no, Tristan had not brought a chicken. "So, who's here?"

"You'll see in a moment. Javier is briefing them now."

Biting her lip, Lottie nodded and looked around. She spotted some identifiable buildings visible between milling women. There were only two tents, though. "Where will we all sleep?"

"Huxley brought three more tents. They are in the shed." Noah chuckled. "One for each of you."

A lopsided grin pulled at her lips. "Not enough." She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "I guess we'll share."

"You'll have to." After a slight pause, Noah inhaled sharply. "There they are."

Turning, Lottie spotted a girl with darkly tanned skin and straight, almost black hair. She stared. Where had the girl come from? A pang of nervous energy traveled down her spine. Dragging her gaze from the girl, she looked at Javier, dismissing him to focus on the man walking with him.

"Jaesen?!" she squealed. "What's he doing here?"

"He volunteered to protect you, Woodson, and Townsend." Noah chuckled again. "Didn't expect you to be so successful."

Lottie felt her cheeks warm. She nuzzled Grey to hide her blush. She didn't regret saving any of the women, not even Ally. "Who's the girl?"

"Katie."

"Where did she come from?"

"Recovered asset in March."

Concern gripped Lottie. She didn't even know why. Swallowing past the strange emotion that clogged her throat and sent shivers up her spine, she asked, "Did... Did Casey..."

"Reclaim her?"

Lottie nodded. Katie was almost to them, but Lottie had to know. "Did he..."

"If there was paperwork, he would have signed it."

"Noah! Please," she begged. His evasion frustrated her. She didn't understand why Noah's answer about Casey's involvement in Katie's capture was so important, but she had to know.

"No," Noah answered, at last. "Fox, Hood, and Michaelson are the soldiers of record for Katie's capture, though no one documented it."

Lottie exhaled forcefully. Her breath ruffling Grey's hair, and he squirmed in her arms. "Down!"

Hugging him tight to her one more time, she complied, setting him on the ground so he could run and play. As if by magnetic force, the moment Grey's balance was stable, a German Shepard bounded around the shed and ran toward them, clearly eager to play with the toddler.

"Doggie!" Grey yelled and scampered off to greet the dog.

The animal ran in circles around Grey, and its antics brought a full smile to her face, as she remembered how the pups played with Greysen before she left for Gates. But this level of exuberance could only be one of two dogs. Being too far away to tell for herself, Lottie asked, "Pebbles or Kingpin?"

"Kingpin."

"Ah." She could see it now—the slight notch near the base of his left ear.

"Hey, Lottie," Jaesen said as they drew near enough for him not to have to yell. "I see you brought some friends."

"Hi Jaesen," she greeted and nodded at Katie.

Katie was young, Lottie confirmed, but not a girl as she'd first thought. She guessed Katie wasn't much past eighteen. It was her height that fooled Lottie originally into thinking Katie was a child. The young woman was positively tiny—maybe even smaller than Maggie—and very beautiful, her Asian ancestry influencing and softening her more prominent Caucasian features.

"Hi," Katie replied with a tiny wave.

Lottie blinked. She knew she was staring but couldn't tear her eyes away from the strange woman. That uncomfortable feeling in her spine was back. With effort, Lottie focused on Jaesen and Javier, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the women from the facility began drifting toward them.

"I hope you brought supplies," Jaesen said. "We hadn't counted on this many. The shed won't have enough in storage for all of us."

"We each have a canteen and mess kit, plus blankets, clothes, et Cetera." Lottie snuck a glance at Katie again. "We have enough for now."

"Good," Jaesen said. Turning toward Katie, he put a hand on her back. "Katie, meet Lottie. Casey's _wife_."

_Wife?!_ Lottie jerked her gaze to Jaesen. He winked at her. She didn't know if he meant it as a dig or if it was in support of her shock. Wife? Casey called her his wife? Or was it one of Jaesen's jokes?

"Wife?" Nyah asked. "You never told us you married this soldier."

Lottie shrugged. She didn't want to refute Casey's declaration in front of Katie. That same strange feeling deep in the pit of her stomach said to let Casey's statement stand, and although the word wife wasn't one she would have chosen, it did do strange things to that tense feeling in her gut.

It relaxed it.

Dragging her gaze to Javier, he shrugged, responding to her unasked question. Clearly, he didn't understand why Casey'd called her his wife any more than Lottie had, but it did help her label that feeling that plagued her since learning about Katie.

Jealousy.

She thought she'd felt secure in Casey's love for her, but seeing Katie proved Lottie harbored doubts about how he felt.

Well, there were no more doubts. __

_Wife!_ If he wanted her that way, she was more than happy to fulfill that role for him.

"Welcome," Katie said. "Case told me all about you and little Greysen." While she spoke, her hands had drifted to her belly, pressing lightly. "All nice things, I assure you."

"Um, thanks," Lottie replied, momentarily derailed by the woman's gesture. _Pregnant?_ Lottie had seen enough newly pregnant women to recognize that protective hold. Her hands drifted to her stomach, mimicking Katie's grip.

"Who are these people, Lottie?" Nyah asked.

Lottie sighed at Nyah's clipped tone. She must not be feeling well again today. "Jaesen—that 'secret' guard I told y'all about. And Katie."

"It's so good to meet you," Maggie said, pulling Katie and then Jaesen into a hug.

He hunched over awkwardly to return her embrace, casting a perplexed glance Lottie's way. What could she say? Maggie was a hugger. Jaesen patted her on the back and let go.

Maggie stepped back. "Sit," she said, taking over the role of hostess. If it hadn't been so strange, Lottie would have snickered.

Katie glanced at Lottie uncertainly but then took a seat by the fire.

"So, Katie, tell me about yourself," Maggie urged.

And just like that, Maggie had everyone at ease, chatting around the fire, and getting to know each other, but Lottie couldn't help her melancholy.

She missed Casey.

***

Casey slid his key into the lock, releasing the mechanism, and pulled the shackle from the hasp. As he pocketed the padlock to his command shed, he whistled a tune from his home communal and pushed the door open. When he inhaled to sound the next bar of the song, he stopped abruptly.

Mint?

He crossed the threshold, turned, and closed the door softly. When it latched, he flipped the knob lock and said, "How did you get in here?" Casey asked Noah, who Casey knew, was in the room. How Noah got past the mutherfucking _locked_ padlock was beyond Casey.

"Same as you."

Casey turned his head, spying Noah standing in the shadows. If that were true, he'd need to look for loose floorboards or a weak spot in his walls. "Bullshit. It was locked."

Noah shrugged. "Figured you'd want the news."

"Typical," Casey muttered under his breath. Frustrated at Noah's usual inability to answer one of Casey's questions, but his presence in Casey's command without Greysen meant one of two things. "Is she back?"

"Yes."

Casey's heart skipped a beat before resuming in double time.

Lottie was home.

Thank ever-absent God.

Sweat beaded on his upper lip as the adrenaline rush swept through him, making him hot and cold in turns. "I need to see her."

"You need to know something first."

The tips of Casey's fingers turned numb with dread. "What? What's wrong? Is she hurt?"

"Quite the contrary," Noah said, his voice held pride and another emotion Casey couldn't quite identify.

"Her baby?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"She is a remarkable woman."

Casey knew that. Gritting his teeth, Casey asked, "Then what's wrong? Why sneak into my command instead of sending me a message?"

"I know why the Army mobilized the IRT for her reclamation."

Casey didn't like the sound of that. "Why?"

Shifting his weight in an uncharacteristic display of what Casey assumed was nervousness, Noah said, "In addition to Woodson and Townsend, she managed to liberate three more women besides herself."

"She did what?" Casey's hand found the wall when he staggered.

"It is worse."

_Worse?_ Escaping with five women wasn't worse. It was a miracle. "How so?"

"Aside from her mother, all the women are all pregnant. Some quite heavily. I estimate two of them will deliver in less than a month." Noah stepped closer. "The IRT will not stop searching for them."

"You're sure."

"Positive. Until they all turn forty, then it should stop."

"You'll need to find more guards for the settlement."

Noah nodded slowly. "I will be gone for several months."

"Understood," Casey snapped.

They stood in silence for a few moments, taking each other's measure, before, Noah said, "Go to her. She misses you."

"I will," Casey said, slipping the bolt on the knob and opening the door for Noah, not caring that it was the middle of the day, and Noah might blow his cover when he walked out into broad daylight. "Goodbye, Noah."

Noah inclined his head in acknowledgment and stepped through the door. "I'll be back."

Casey nodded curtly. "I'm counting on you. She's counting on you."

"Understood," Noah said, turned, and walked away.

Closing the door behind him, Casey bolted it and then dropped his forehead against its rough surface, his heart renewing its frantic rhythm.

Lottie.

He couldn't wait to see her.

***

The blood pounded in Casey's ears, keeping time with his footsteps.

All most there.

***

Lifting his head from his arm, Grey whispered, "Daddy?"

Lottie, yawning, rolled Grey over and pulled him flush against her chest. "Sh," she soothed. Lottie wondered if he was missing Casey, or did he still have that uncanny gift of knowing when Casey was near? If it was the former, she hoped he would go back to sleep quickly. She needed more rest herself.

Grey pushed himself away from her chest. "Daddy," he said with more certainty.

Lottie's heart skipped a beat. His assurance had to be coming from his uncanny awareness of Casey's proximity. She grinned. That meant Casey was here!

Scrambling to her feet, Lottie staggered out of her tent with Grey tight in her arms.

Looking.

Searching.

"Daddy!" Grey screamed. His hands and feet flailed in excitement. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Where was he!

Lottie couldn't see him.

***

There!

# Chapter 36

Casey!

# Chapter 37

Lottie!

# Chapter 38

Beautiful!

The air froze in his lungs as Casey took in the sight of Lottie for the first time in months.

Stunning.

The evening sun's rays colored her hair gold.

His feet carried him forward.

He had to touch her.

***

Handsome.

So, handsome.

Lottie's heart ached with the need to touch Casey.

"Daddy!" Grey yelled and nearly fell when he twisted in her grip.

Setting him down, she freed him to run to Casey while she schooled her steps. Her arms tingled with a desire to hug Casey tight, but the stares of the women in the camp kept her ridged. She'd let Greysen do the running for her, though she longed to fly to him.

***

Scooping Greysen into his arms, Casey hugged the toddler and closed the remaining distance between him from Lottie. "Hi, Bean."

Lottie cast her gaze to the ground. Her cheeks grew rosy with a blush. "Hi."

"You made it back safely."

"Yes."

They stood there, shocked into silence, unsure of how to proceed, and looked at each other with a camp full of women staring at them.

He scuffed his foot.

Casey didn't know what to do.

But then one of the women yelled, "Kiss him!"

And another cried out, "Do it! You know you want to!"

The words, no matter how innocently meant, brought the heat up his neck in a telltale blush. But the verbal encouragement seemed to be what Lottie needed, for her composure broke, and she launched herself at him, squeezing Greysen between them.

All propriety gone, Casey bent his head, his lips coming into contact with hers.

***

Casey's kiss was soft and determined, and Lottie returned it with all the emotion she'd kept from him before her mission. He groaned and snaked his free arm around her waist, holding her close, but like all good things, their kiss came to an end.

Lottie felt her blush deepen at all the catcalling and whistling from the women. "Go back to work, Nyah," she yelled.

Nyah gave a final whoop but then left the two to catch up.

"I missed you," Casey said.

A sharp flutter in her abdomen refocused her attention, and she pulled Casey's hand from around her waist, placing it where Junior was actively kicking her.

Junior flipped over, and Lottie knew Casey felt it. His gaze filled with wonder.

They stood there, silent, enjoying the new life they could both feel.

"I'm sorry," she said in unison with Casey.

"You're sorry? What for?" they asked, again they'd spoken at the same time. It made Lottie giggle.

Casey's lip turned up in a smirk. "You first."

Lottie took a fortifying breath. "I'm sorry he's not yours."

The awed look in Casey's eyes clouded at her statement, and she worried about the reason why.

"And I'm sorry you had to go through _that_ again," Casey said.

"That?"

Lottie watched the muscle in Casey's jaw twitch. He was angry, and a feeling of concern welled in her chest.

"Was he good to you, at least? Gentle?"

"Who?"

"The donor," Casey answered, his tone full of contempt.

Her brows drew together in a frown. _Donor?_ Then it dawned on her what he meant.

"Artificial insemination," she said, her previously receding blush renewing itself.

***

Relief crashed through Casey. It was so much easier to accept his new son's existence, knowing he came from a no-name, faceless donor's sperm. Smiling down at her, he shifted Greysen in his arms and said, "Good."

Her answering lopsided grin was as bright as Greysen's when he spied his new ball for the first time.

Pleasure so intense, washed through Casey, making his limbs feel like jelly. He tightened his hold on her.

Everything would be all right.

They would be all right.

Unwilling to ignore the impulse a second time, Casey bent to kiss her again.

# Epilogue

Stopping in front of Noah, Lottie asked, "Do you mind watching Grey tonight?"

Grey bounced in her arms and reached his little hands toward Noah. "'Ampa! 'Ampa 'Oah!"

Noah's love for Grey showed in his expression as he took the toddler from her. "Are you still ill?"

Lottie felt the blush as it crept up her neck at the mention of her miscarriage two months ago. "No. I'm fine," she reassured him, and she warmed further at his knowing look.

"Good," he said and shifted Grey on his hip. "Enjoy your date."

Lottie squeaked an admonishment.

Noah chuckled. With a wink, he shooed her away. "Grace and I have him. Go have fun."

"Thanks."

She smoothed her hands over her borrowed cargos and reminded herself to thank Javier for the pants. Lottie took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She'd made up her mind days ago, so why was it so hard to envision propositioning Casey?

_I owe it to him._ Lottie shook her head. _No. I don't_ owe _him anything. I owe myself! I want this._

Forcing her feet forward, Lottie navigated the trail to Casey's travel tent. He'd set it up away from everyone else, and she was glad. She didn't want an audience for what she planned this evening. Not that anyone would say anything, but still?

The scent of burning wood teased her nose, and as she stepped from behind the honeysuckle bush, she saw him feeding the flames. He looked up and smiled. Lottie thought her heart would stop, and a bolt of desire shot through her.

Casey waved his hand toward a log by the fire ring. "So, what was so important Greysen couldn't be here?"

Lottie wiped her palms on her pants again and sat on the seat he'd graciously provided. She didn't know what to say, so instead, she bit her lip and kept her silence.

Why is this so hard?

His smile faltered. Tossing the last of the branches onto the fire, Casey sat next to Lottie. "What is it? Are you sick?"

She shook her head. Sick with nerves maybe, but healed otherwise.

"Then, what's wrong?"

Lottie swallowed hard. She could see his alarm growing.

"Lottie?!"

"Nothing's wrong," she replied. Her heart raced. She needed to _do_ it.

"What?"

With one more deep breath, Lottie whispered, "Just this." She turned to face him and rushed to put her lips against his.

For a second, maybe two, he froze. Then carefully, he cradled Lottie's head between his hands and gentled her kiss. Lottie's heart pounded so hard she felt sure he could feel it. After a moment, he pulled away. Desire burned in his gaze. Lottie didn't think she'd ever get tired of looking into his hazel colored eyes.

"Lottie?"

She clenched her hands into fists and then released them. Before Casey could pull away, she caught his hands in hers and held them to her head.

Softly, oh so softly, she whispered, "Make love to me, Casey."

He swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

THE END

Note from the author: Hi, this is M Findley with an author request. If you enjoyed my story, please consider leaving a review with your favorite retailer. And, since all my novels are a _Pay What You Think It's Worth_ , please consider buying me a coffee at Ko-Fi/mfindley.

Thank you!

# Glossary of Terms

Discipline - Distinction - Laymen's term

USA-AAE - Anatomical Agility and Enhancement - Architect of PE Equipment

USA-AHC - Agriculture and Husbandry Cultivation - Farmers

USA-ARA - Asset Recovery and Acquisition - Draft Dodgers Police

USA-ATR - Asset Translocation and Retention - Facility Guards

USA-CPS - Civilian Protection Services - Police/Fire

USA-EDD - Extermination and Division Distribution – Butchers

USA-FAP - Fetal Asset Preservation - Guards

USA-FAR - Fecundity Analysis and Remediation - Scientists

USA-FCO - Fetal Conservation and Obstetrics - Ob/Gyn

USA-HAC - Humo-logical Analysis and Conservation - Dentists/Doctors

USA-IOR - Intervention and Ordinance Reconciliation - Lawyers

USA-IPD - Innercommunication Preservation and Distribution - Messengers / I-Comm soldier

USA-IRF - Infrastructure Restoration and Fabrication - Construction Workers

USA-IRT - Individual Reclamation and Translocation - Assassins

USA-LPD - Logistical Provision Distribution - Cooks

USA-MAD - Munitions Analysis and Distribution - Weapons Specialist

USA-PCE - Perimeter Control Enforcement - Border Police

USA-PGD - Power Generation and Distribution - Electrical Workers

USA-RAC - Resource Analysis and Compilation - Spy

USA-RTC - Regemental Textiles and Clothiers - Textile mills, Tailors

USA-UTR - Unit Translocation and Retention - Prisoner transport

USA-WCD - Waste Collection and Disposal - Trash

USA-WDC - Water Distribution and Conservation - Waterworks & Conservation

USA-ZAC - Zoological Analysis and Conservation - Veterinarians
Women at Sandra and Horton Gates Research Hospital

Alison (Ally) Hiltonhead

Amelia Sulivan

Ashely Linstrom

Cleo

Dawn Masterdon

Debbie

Dora

Erma Lyn

Greysen (Grace/Maddy) Towensend

Gwen

Jackie Smith

Judith (Judy) Rufensen

Kaylee

Kelly

Lillian (Lily)

Lisa

Margaret (Maggie) Bradford

Marybelle

Meghan

Natalie Ort

Nyah Stenet

Sandra Rockinelli

Sariad (Sadie) Schneider

Susan

Valery Riggari

Zoe Wodson
Casey's Soldiers

Staff Sergeant Casey Brennerman Huxley

Corporal Lincoln Curtis Joplin

Private Adan Dillon Fox

Private Brandon Victor Gillespie

Private Ethan Gage Hood

Private Hong

Private Jaesen Clemens

Private Javier Dwight Hearst

Private Julian (Jules) Santana Torres

Private Matthew (Matt) Bartholomew Coden

Private Paul

Private Teo Wendell Michaelson

Private Tristan Louis Bell

Private Tyrone (Ty) Gilespie

Private Wade Bethesda

Private Wu
The Staff of Sandra and Horton Gates Research Hospital

Surgeons

Milton Underwood

Andy Delbert

Terell Acerton

Stephen Wardell

Colin Carpenter

Harlow Freeman

Darryl Emmet

Riley Williamson

Jude Radcliff

Lyndon (Lyn) Mathers

Max Nizzola

Justin Scarsi

Grady Phillip

Philip (Phil) Rakers

Jerry Roma

OB/GYN

FCO Joey Ira Aliprandi

Donors

First Sergeant Jeremiah Cobb Jeremiah "All American"

Master Sergeant Emilio (Leo) Kenzie "Movie Star"

First Sergeant Henry "Hank" Burkholder "TDH" aka "Tall Dark and Handsome"

Sergeant Major Zan Ito "SMA" aka "Sergeant Major Asshole"

USA-ATR Soldiers

"Lieutenant" Samuel (Sam) "Big Red" Truman

"Sergeant" Frank "Brahman" Ellington

"Private" Aaron "Wendigo" Taft

"Private" Ian "Spider" Ford

"Staff Sergeant" Alex "Blocks" Goldin

"Private" Mike "Ratter" Cleveland

"Private" Jordan "Jo-Comm" Keys

"Private" Jin "Sledge" Bardeen
Other Key Players

Private Noah Finnessey Ives

Surgeon Kit Peters Armstrong

Katriona (Katie) Regina Tam

Private Cameron Busch
Historical Years of Note

2056 - First Female President Piatek elected

2059 - Shipment of genetically created influenza virus received in Seattle Washington

2084 - Last General Election President Rionach (female)

2093 - The Five Star General election enacted

2113 - Scientist finally isolate the cause of the fertility crisis; population so reduced the country begins a systematic shut-down of all resources; preservation of key things enacted

2125 - The Great Female Conscription Compromise Act AKA Female Protection Act enacted

2149 - The Dynasty Act AKA Orphan Policy enacted

2163 - Asset Acquisition and Preservation Act AKA Female Segregation enacted

2232 - Agriculture and Husbandry Cultivation Captain Emilio Kenzie elected as President

2233/2234 - Civil War

# Acknowledgments

Wow. Thank you! We made it through Part One!

I'd like to thank my family and friends for their encouragement while writing this story. I'd especially like to thank Misti for all her help with my grammar questions. I'd also like to thank coffee. Without coffee, this book would never have happened.

Additional thanks go out to Heli, Abby, Anna, Whitney, Cindy, Eve, Terra, Hank, Misti, Sarah, Catherine, Pat, Adrianna, Travis, Duff, and Cordell.

Thank you all so much for making this dream come true. 

# About the Author

Mana likes hopping rocks on the Black River and playing with her imaginary cats. She lives in the US and keeps herself busy with family and friends, all of whom have been supportive while making this dream come true.

# Contact Me

If you enjoyed _The Five Star Law part 1: Conscription Compromise_ , please leave a review or buy me a coffee at Ko-Fi/mfindley.

Thank you, and I'd love to hear from you.

Email: mana.findley@gmail.com

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/15IArWp

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/mfindley

# Other Works

M. Findley also writes as Samantha Nolan or Gabriella Webster.
