Jack couldn’t see where the other bodies were being collected, but he heard the radios talking about more of them—the soldiers killed in the attack. There were three, and several more wounded.

This didn’t seem like any terrorist act he’d heard of. Granted, not a lot of details were ever given, but they never seemed like suicide attacks. Had they just underestimated the army? Were they unprepared?

Aubrey laid her head on his shoulder.

From the distant skies, Jack could hear the thumping of helicopter blades.

FORTY-THREE

THE HELICOPTERS EVACUATED THE LAMBDAS to the airport, where a variety of aircraft was waiting. Aubrey stared into the dim morning light around them, wondering what other dangers were lurking in the shadows, what monsters she was getting ready to fight.

They’d all started like she had. She’d been a normal girl until she got the virus. It hadn’t taken long before she shoplifted her first thing—a box of medicine that she couldn’t afford. It hadn’t seemed evil. It was for her dad, not her, and she knew the pharmacy could take the loss—it was owned by one of the wealthiest families in town. Still, she’d cried that night, all night, afraid that she’d be found out.

It got easier after that. She needed supplies for school—notebooks and pens and a new backpack—and then she needed school clothes. Nicole was helping by that point, telling Aubrey what to choose—which outfits were in style and which colors complemented Aubrey’s skin and hair. It had been so easy to steal—a sweater from here, a pair of jeans from there. They were big companies with plenty of money; Aubrey knew that a pair of jeans didn’t cost one hundred and fifty dollars to make—it was just a greedy corporation that could get away with huge prices. If they missed one or two pairs, then what difference did it make?

Aubrey couldn’t make a direct connection between shoplifting and terrorism—that was crazy—but there had to be some path, some series of bad choices. Like when Nicole had dared Aubrey to steal the principal’s car, and Aubrey had faked an ankle sprain to get out of it. What if she hadn’t? Stealing jeans was one thing, but stealing a car? And what about the parties she’d been to, the party where Jeff Savage brought ecstasy and Aubrey could have stolen all of it. Selling that would have paid their rent for months.

She wasn’t a terrorist, but what was she? A criminal? A thief who just wasn’t stealing anything at the moment?

She’d be better, she promised herself, though it felt hollow. How could she truly be better when she didn’t have any reason not to be? There was nothing here to steal, nothing to gain.

When the helicopter touched down at the Salt Lake airport after a short flight, Captain Rowley directed them to a waiting truck. Another of the Lambda teams was in tow, an officer leading them. The other groups—including Nicole—were being sent elsewhere. Everyone had a different flight to catch.

Aubrey’s team and the second group loaded into the truck, which took them to a small commuter plane guarded by four soldiers in full combat gear. The plane was only sparsely filled—ten soldiers were relaxing, their packs and weapons in the seats next to them. When they saw Captain Rowley, they stood as much as they could in the cramped plane and saluted.

“Men,” the captain said. “These are our Lambdas. They’ll be joining us for the next couple of missions.”

The men nodded as though they knew what was going on. Aubrey recognized a few of them from the mission at the school. None of them seemed thrilled at the prospect of working with kids, and one of them openly grimaced at Aubrey and Laura—two small high school girls.

The Lambdas made their way to the back of the plane, to where seats were still open.

In a moment the captain and the other team leader were in the small first-class cabin, looking over some paperwork. The aircraft began to taxi without any announcement from the cockpit. Aubrey had only ever flown twice—on a school choir trip that she’d gotten a scholarship for—and this all felt new and weird. She missed having a flight attendant to explain what was going on.

“So you’re supposed to save the country?” one of the soldiers asked, turning in his seat.

None of the teens answered.

“I asked you a question, Lambda,” he said, smiling but grim. “Don’t forget that we outrank you.”

“That air force puke up front outranks you,” another one said. “The guy who refueled the plane outranks you.”

“I’m nineteen,” Laura said defensively. “I could join—”

The first man, a broad-shouldered guy with a square face and a scar along his chin, cut her off. “You could join, but you didn’t. You haven’t even made it through basic boot camp. You probably can’t do a push-up.”

“She can do a push-up,” Aubrey said. “She can do more push-ups than all of you combined.”

“Is that your superpower?” the second man said. “You’re Push-Up Girl?”

Aubrey wanted to say that Laura could break any of them in half, but she held her tongue.

“How about you, kid?” the square-faced soldier asked Jack.

“Just trying to help out.”

“Are you the one who is about as useful as my binoculars?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but the soldier laughed and smacked another man with the back of his hand. “They tell us we’re getting help and they send us a kid who can do everything that our equipment already does.”

“What about you, honey?” the other man asked Aubrey.

“She rolled her eyes!” the first laughed. “It’s going to be great working with kids.”

A voice from farther forward called back, “Shut up, guys.”

“I just was asking the nice young lady what amazing miracle she can perform.”

But before he could finish his sentence, Aubrey disappeared, and stood from her seat. His laugh faded a little into confusion as she climbed forward in the accelerating plane and took the man’s Beretta M9 from his gear. She removed the magazine, and then pulled the slide from the frame, just as she’d done a hundred times when target shooting in the hills of Mount Pleasant.

She reappeared in front of him, and dropped the three pieces of the gun in his lap.

“What the hell?” he shouted, grabbing at the gun. “What’s wrong with you, freak?”

“Don’t call me ‘honey.’”

“Hey,” someone called back, pointing angrily at Aubrey. “You do not touch weapons. That’s part of the deal.”

The exchange got the attention of Captain Rowley up front, who was hurrying awkwardly down the aisle as the plane bounced through the air.

“What’s going on?”

The square-faced man jabbed a finger at Aubrey. “She stripped McKinney’s sidearm. She was just suddenly here, with the thing taken apart.”

Aubrey was fully expecting the captain to tell his men to shut up and knock off their attitudes, but instead he barked at her.

“Is that true?”

“Well—”

“Yes or no, soldier.”

She was getting mad. “You told me I’m not a soldier.”

“You’re a Lambda,” he scolded, nearly shouting. “When you raised your hand a week ago and agreed to join the war effort, that put you in the army, and it put you under my command. You will respect these men and the orders they give you.”