Horde (Razorland #3)(81)

The scientist watched me in silence, but once I finished, he said, “Your friend, Tegan, is quite extraordinary.”

“Tell her, not me.”

“I’m appealing to you as her commander. A mind like hers shouldn’t be wasted on the life of a common soldier. Let her stay with me. I could use an assistant … and I’ve been looking for someone like her my whole life.”

I laughed. “You don’t know Tegan if you think I have any say over whether she stays or goes. But I’ll fetch her and you can put the invitation to her yourself.”

Leaving the dregs in my mug, I left the lab and went looking for Tegan. She was sitting alone in a patch of spring sunlight. The men gave her a wide berth, probably because of the tear streaks down her dusty cheeks. Dr. Wilson was right; she wasn’t cut out for this life, but she was lucky in that there was no reason she couldn’t cry when she felt sad.

“The good doctor would like a word,” I said, offering my hand.

She seemed glad of the distraction, and we walked back to the lab together. Once inside, the scientist stated his case with more eloquence than he’d offered me, outlining all the opportunities for study and the wondrous things he could teach her. He concluded with “It’s long been my dream to pass on my knowledge, but until now, I’d encountered no suitable candidates. But you, my dear, you’re perfect.”

Tegan considered, her lips parted in astonishment. “It’s a kind offer, Dr. Wilson, but I’ll see this through. Company D relies on me for healing, and the men will suffer without my care.”

“I see you were right about not being her captain,” Dr. Wilson said to me.

She frowned. “Deuce is my friend … she didn’t order me to follow her. In fact she tried to talk me out of it. Should I survive, then I’ll gladly come back to study with you.”

“I’ll endeavor to wait until that day,” Wilson said dryly.

A hot flush colored Tegan’s cheeks, and I smothered a smile. “I’m sorry. That sounded presumptuous, didn’t it?”

“I did ask you to stay. It’s not wrong to assume I’d like you to come back some day.”

“Then I thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Wilson. I hope we meet again.”

That seemed like the cue for us to leave, so we said our farewells and met the men in the town square. The wagons were loaded, and I was ready to see the last of Winterville. Despite their cowardice the night before, the townsfolk saw us off, and a few asked if I’d let them enlist. I was tempted to refuse, as I had with Rex, due to their inexperience, but I could tell by their guilt-racked expressions that they wanted to make up for their inaction. And in truth, we needed the bodies.

I looked the three men up and down. “Any of you know how to shoot?”

They shook their heads. But one of them said, “Please. I’m a smith. I can keep your weapons in good repair. Surely that’s worth something.”

He was a burly sort with broad shoulders and scarred hands. So I beckoned them all on. Since we had wagons to protect, this journey would take much longer than it did when the men ran at a Hunter’s pace. More time on the road meant more chances for trouble, and we were all weary, but if we delivered the supplies safely to Lorraine, other volunteers might join our cause. John Kelley was spreading our story, and I suspected Vince Howe would add to it as well.

These things took time.

We were on the road for over a week, and Stalker’s scouts did most of the heavy lifting. Sometimes we fought preemptive battles against the Freaks, so they had no chance to lay an ambush for the wagons. As I’d predicted, it was slow going, and there was little time to spend with Fade, apart from the way I treated the rest of the men. From his occasional looks, he was missing the way it felt when we were together, but the job came first, as it ever had. This was familiar from our time in the summer patrols, but I minded more than I had then. For the first time, I could imagine a quiet life with Fade, a little cottage like Momma Oaks had shared with Edmund in Salvation. I was tired of smoky campfires and nights spent alone in a bedroll on the ground. I’d learn to grow things, and he could find work that didn’t require killing. On a starry night like this, those were dreams too distant for building.

On the eighth night, I woke to pure chaos. The mules were screaming, Freaks were all around us. My men recovered as fast as they could, and the traders aimed their rifles, shooting into the dark. Between the crack of gunfire and cries of pain, I had no idea where anyone was. Gavin, the brat from Winterville, had climbed on top of the crates and was lying on his stomach, firing with complete calm. I spotted Fade fighting some distance away, but I didn’t see Tegan or Stalker. There was no time to search further, because three Freaks were on me.

I whipped out my knives and whirled into the fight. As my vision sharpened, I spied Tegan on the other side of the wagon. Morrow fought madly toward her side, his blade a silver arc in the dark. By his worried expression, he didn’t like how they were surrounding her. I didn’t care for it either, but Stalker was closer. Another Freak charged her back; she was already blocking with everything she had.

Though she was good with her staff, she wasn’t infallible. In a few more seconds, she’d go down. Stalker stopped defending and took four slashes across his back. He sprinted. I registered the precise moment when he realized he could save Tegan or land the killing blow, but not both. Not in time. A second later, he threw himself between her and the Freak that would’ve torn out her spine. He took both talons in the chest before Morrow and I reached them.