Beneath me the floorboards rumble as
Alden pulls out of his driveway and onto the street. I count the
red lights—with the base on lockdown, only the Mahone Avenue main
gate is open to traffic. There are four stop lights from Al’s
quarters to the gate. We get through the first two lights fine, the
green glow sliding along the back like a wash of neon splashed
inside the Jeep, and the third light turns yellow as we pass
beneath it. But the fourth light is already red. How much longer is
this going to take? My disgusted sigh makes Alden glance back at me
in the rear-view mirror. “Just hold on.”
A car idles to a stop beside us, and I
see Alden’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
Before I can ask what’s wrong, he
says, “Stay down. You’ll never believe who’s next to
us.”
“Who?” I clutch the old
blankets tighter around myself. Do I really want to
know?
“Major Keagan.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I have
the luck of the damned.