Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2), Page 2

  "Why do you always get so uptight when I mention Sam?"

  I lift a brow, throwing him some shade. "Why do you think? Why you gotta bring him up? You ask me, that's just fucked up. Bringing up my dead boyfriend when we're about to have sex is all kinds of wrong, don't you think?"

  "Why you asking me? You were the one yelling his name," he fires back, his voice tight. The previous mirth vanishes from his eyes. I suddenly understand what's bothering him.

  "Are you kidding me with this? You're jealous. You're jealous because I had a fucked up nightmare where Sam became some hybrid and tore my throat out along with my guts? Yeah, I can see where that would make you jealous."

  He sighs and rubs his hand wearily along his stubbled jaw.

  "I'm sorry about the nightmare. I really am, but this is the third time this week you've called out to him in your sleep. And the first two times weren’t because of any nightmare.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “Look, I know you can't help what you dream, and I know it's due to what we've been through these past few weeks and he's on your mind more than usual but..." He runs a hand through his sleep-tousled blonde hair. "Hell, Bix. It's kind of demoralizing to me that I'm the one making love to you at night, but he's the one you call for in your sleep. It's like deep down, your subconscious is holding onto the hope that you're still going to find him wrapped up in one of those pods like a damn butterfly, even though you know he's as good as dead anyway. And I know that's real fucked up, being jealous of a dead guy, but I can't help how I feel."

  Ugh. And there he goes being all honest and open again, getting under my skin. Making me feel bad for him when I'm supposed to be angry. How does he manage to do that every time?

  Letting go of my anger in one drawn out sigh, I put my hands on my hips and nod his way. "Yeah, you're one messed up bastard, Luke Whitman. Freud would have a field day with that one, I'm sure."

  He refuses to rise to the sarcastic bait. Instead he pins me with a stare, his eyes filled with concern and hurt. "You need to let him go, Bix. You need to move on, else he’s going to haunt you forever."

  "Tell me something I don't know," I mutter at him as I rip my gaze from his and resume my search for my damn pants. Seriously, how far could they have gone in this tiny room?

  "So stop being so damned stubborn, and let me in. I can help you heal. But you have to want it."

  Does he really think I don't? Does he truly believe that I don't want my shattered heart to repair and heal itself so that every thought or mention of Sam doesn't feel like a blade cutting out another piece of my soul? But like always, I go tongue-tied when admitting to any sort of emotion, and my shortcoming makes my anger resurface.

  "You know, Whitman, you really need to get over this Messiah complex. You can't fix me or the world, so I don't even know why you bother to try. Give it up already."

  "And there it is. Your typical response to me bringing up Sam. Anger and sarcasm. Although that's a first, being told I have a Messiah complex. At least that's original."

  His laugh holds no humor. The laughter tapers off quickly, and we study each other across the room. How do I respond to what he's just said? How do I tell him that I know it drives him crazy to hear me calling out the name of the man my heart just can't seem to let him replace?

  A knock on the door prevents me from having to say anything, and I almost cry out in relief at the interruption.

  "Yeah?" Luke bellows at the door in irritation, but his eyes don't leave my face.

  "Luke? It's me, Gordon. Cooper's sent out a message. He wants us downstairs at 0700."

  "Why?" Luke yells at the door.

  "I don't know why. I'm not his damn secretary. I'm just the messenger. Is Bix with you? I went to her room first, but I didn't get any answer."

  "Shut the fuck up asshole, before I give you something to yell about!" Another voice floats through the door. This one is not Gordo's. This one sounded more like Luke's very big, and at the moment, very irate neighbor. Considering the sun wasn't even up yet, I can understand his irritation.

  "Guys, can you let me in?" Gordo's exaggerated whisper of fear makes us both grin, our moment of tension gladly forgotten.

  I head for the door, but Luke stops me.

  "Bix."

  I turn in question. He pulls my jeans out of the tangle of blankets. "Might wanna put some pants on before you open that door. You don't want to give the kid a heart attack."

  Good thinking.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Coffee. Man's number one gift to the universe. Doesn't matter that what I'm drinking at the moment is at least eight-year-old, freeze dried leftovers from pre-invasion days. It tastes like ambrosia right now. The one and only perk to Cooper's early morning assemblies in the Bullshit room. I head back for another cup of the steaming brew, and on impulse, pour one for Luke as well.

  It has been four weeks since we completed our mission. Four weeks since we'd blown that warehouse full of alien-human hybrids to smithereens. Four weeks of rest and time to heal while helping with the increased watch on our walls. But if there have been any consequences to our actions, we haven't seen them yet. There’s been no sign of any of those queen leeches. No indication that we hadn't destroyed them all by blowing up the warehouse and St. Joseph’s. No increased activity of leeches in the area. Everything seems normal. At least on the surface.

  My unease at the thought of more of those hatcheries in the city was the first thing I'd mentioned to Cooper and the council on our arrival back. They agreed with me. They shared my belief that the warehouse we'd destroyed was no isolated phenomenon. There were most likely more.

  The groups of hunters sent out over the past few weeks had a new objective now along with supply gathering. Buildings we used to avoid like sinkholes now had to be turned inside out. We needed to know if any more of those creepy crawlies were mutating in our city under our noses. We needed to take control before they became a threat. Because we didn’t stand a chance against an army of those mutated hybrids. That's not a theory. That's a fact.

  It surprises me that it’s taken Cooper this long to call a meeting. We’re living on borrowed time right now. Hoping for each day not to be the day we get attacked by the hybrids. We need a plan. A survival guide. Maybe the meeting this morning means they've finally come up with a solution to our problem.

  The council members are present this morning as always. Our group of hunters too, minus Cal. His broken ankle still keeps him from active duty, but the presence of the other hunters worries me. Every single one not out on a mission is here in this room, at least fifteen of us. Something big must be going down if Cooper has called everyone in.

  I hand Luke the cup of coffee—a silent apology—as my gaze darts curiously about the room.

  "You brought me coffee? Awwww, thanks, Bix." Pleasant surprise tinges his voice at the unexpected offer.

  "Yeah, well don't get used to it," I mutter back. "I ain't no damn Hooters waitress."

  I catch his grin out of the corner of my eye. “You? A Hooters girl? I don't think you have big enough—”

  “Choose your next words carefully, Whitman,” I cut him off mid-sentence, my eyes narrowed. “They could mean the world of difference on who keeps you company in bed tonight. Me or the palm sisters.”

  “Feet. I was about to say feet. Cause, you know, they gotta have big feet to stay balanced with those big boobs.”

  “You're a boob,” I toss at him, shaking my head and trying not to laugh at his silliness.

  His soft laughter falters as his eyes focus on something over my shoulder. I turn and follow his gaze to the brunette hunter making her way towards us with deliberate intent. I groan inwardly at her approach. Not her again. I've seen more of her than I care to admit over these past two weeks, although I've been lucky enough to avoid any sort of conversation. Seems like my luck has finally run out.

  My eyes roam over her curvy form in envy as she approaches, and I can't help but compare my scrawniness
to her appealing shape. She certainly has big enough....feet to be a Hooters girl.

  "Bix, Whitman," she nods her head at us in greeting, and I nod back even though I'm gritting my teeth.

  "Robyn," Luke says in a polite tone, and I so want to kick him in the shin for being this civil to his former, cheating lover. Where is the loathing and hate he should harbor for this woman? Or is it only me that feels that way?

  “Didn't realize you guys were back already. How was the run?” Luke asks. How does he manage to talk to her so nicely? Since nice is so not one of my traits, I slurp my coffee like an obnoxious teen and try to ignore her presence.

  She shrugs and tosses her sleek dark ponytail over her shoulder. "Area Twenty-five is a waste of time. Part of the reason why we came back. Great job on your mission, by the way. I've been meaning to give you kudos on that. Heard you guys had a rough time of it though. I can see it was all true. You both still look like you've been beaten senseless with an ugly stick."

  Her eyes roam over me as she says it, and I bristle at her veiled insult. I can't ignore her any longer.

  "Yeah, tangling with a mutant leech will do that to a person. What's your excuse for looking like shit?"

  I'm lying through my teeth and she knows it. No one should look that damn good in a post-apocalyptic world. Just being near her makes me rub the scar along the side of my face self-consciously.

  "Hahaha, still as toxic as always, Bix." Her laughter is devoid of humor. "I can understand why Luke finds you so irresistible."

  "Is there something we can help you with, Robyn?" Luke interjects with a smile, pulling my hand away from my face and linking it in his, obviously trying to prevent the impending war of words. I don't know why I even care enough to let Queen Bitch get under my skin so much. But she always did.

  "Actually, yes. I do have something I want to discuss with you two."

  We don’t get to find out what that something is. She's interrupted as Kingsley and Cooper enter the room with Doc Roger and Doc Howarth trailing behind like two little, lost puppies. Their gazes avoid the council members, especially Cookie. Even though they've been living here for weeks now, working and integrating with the civilians, Cookie has not thawed in her dislike for them whatsoever. I don't know why that should surprise me. I've lived with her for eight years, and in all that time, she has only smiled at me once. And to this day, I'm still not convinced it was even a smile. Could have been a grimace of constipation, I'm not sure. Either way, other than Amy, I don't think that woman has ever been civil to anyone in her life.

  Curiosity tempers the mood in the room as we wait for Coop to take his usual seat behind the steel desk. From the looks of the others, I'm not the only one eager to find out the reason behind this meeting. Weeks of R&R and being cooped up in the hotel have taken their toll. I'm ready to get back into the swing of things and get back on the outside.

  "Good morning, everyone," Coop says in a cordial voice, as if we're all here for morning tea. "So good of you all to join me this morning. Hunters, glad to see you all looking rested and healed—for the most part."

  I nod at him, but in my head, I'm yelling “get on with it.”

  "I guess you're wondering why I've gathered you together this morning."

  He ignores the murmurings and restlessness of the group, choosing instead to smile at Cookie as she brings him a cup of coffee. He takes a loud sip and savours the hot liquid before speaking again.

  "As you all know, the mission our hunters accomplished weeks ago was a great success. That threat of new hybrids at least was wiped out. Our heartfelt thanks to you all." He smiles our way, but it leaves me uneasy. Like this is the old good news before the bad news scenario.

  "However, while you few have been enjoying your well-earned rest, these two men have been filling me in on some rather interesting information." He gestures to the two docs. Now that is interesting. I thought they had come clean with us on our journey here. What had they been keeping from us?

  "You are all aware that Doctors Howarth and Wicker have been working on finding a cure, or at least a way to fight these parasites for the past few years. They have made leaps and bounds in understanding their genetic makeup and physiology. I totally agree with their firm belief that research will be our only way to defeat these aliens that have overtaken our world, especially now that we know we can easily be infected again. This basically means for every infected we kill; another can simply take its place. It's not as simple anymore as destroying the infected and hoping someday to wipe them out. With the threat of these new hybrids, only thing probably being wiped out will be us."

  A bit blunt, but Coop was never one to beat around the bush.

  "What we were totally unaware of is that these few doctors are not alone in their research. There is another group of scientists and doctors that have also been working on this issue. Appears we’re not as alone in this battle as we've always believed."

  There are others? Where? In the city? How come we haven't heard from them before? As if Cooper can feel the questions brewing, he raises his hands in the air.

  "Please, I know you all have a million questions, but let me finish what I have to say first. We'll deal with the questions after. Agreed?"

  We nod in collective agreement. We're all eager to find out more.

  "Good. I'm going to let Doctor Roger Wicker take over from here. Please, I ask you show him the same respect and refrain from any questions until he’s finished."

  Doc Roger stands in front of Coop's desk, arms folded as if trying to ward off some imminent attack. He looks scared witless, but when he speaks, his voice is strong and sure.

  "Captain Cooper is correct when he says we're not alone in our fight. For some time now, we at St. Josephs have been in contact with a few researchers operating out of a private facility outside of the Ottawa area. A group that has stayed fairly low on the radar. One of these researchers is actually—sorry, used to be—a member of the Public Health Agency. She is an expert on parasitic infection. She and her team have been working closely with us, sharing our discoveries and theories on the invaders. It took a bit of convincing on our part, but they have finally agreed for Doctor Howarth and myself to join them at their facility. The equipment and resources they have will be essential in finding our answer. They were totally shocked by our disclosure about the new hybrids. While they are quite aware of the hibernation pods, they have yet to encounter these new mutations. Ergo, they have yet to start any research on this variant of the parasite. They need our help. I think with what we have learned about the new species and their findings on the old, we can combine our expertise and come up with a solution to beating these creatures once and for all."

  I guess it's good news. And hearing about the scientists, well, it does raise some hope knowing there are professionals still around and on the job. Bad news? That research clinic is a hell of a long ways away. Luke is the first to question it.

  "Ottawa? You do realize that's well over 300 miles from here? A good two and a half to three weeks on the road, and that's if you don't run into any obstacles to slow you down."

  Cooper nods his head. "A slight drawback, yes."

  Slight? I snort at his answer. "That's 300 miles of congested highways, leech-filled towns and unknown territory. How do you propose the docs get there in one piece?"

  I already know the answer, but I want to hear Coop's take on it.

  "That's why you hunters are here. This will be a damned dangerous undertaking, getting them both there in one piece. Something I'm not willing to assign or order anyone to do. Do I want to send my people out on this massive undertaking? No. Do I think it's necessary for the Doctors to get to this facility and share their expertise and experience? Yes. Like I said, finding a way to defeat these things on a biological level will be the only way to eradicate them, so I'm asking for volunteers. I need a team to get these men there safe and sound. Who's willing to step up?"

  The plan is foolhardy. Stupid. Reckless. Guaranteed not
to end well at all. I'm all for it.

  "Count me in," I say before anyone else has a chance to speak.

  Cooper gives a slight nod at my words. Like he knew I'd be the first to volunteer.

  I hear Luke sigh beside me, and I glance sideways at him. He crosses his arms, shaking his head at me as he mutters, "Should have known." I blow a kiss his way as he rolls his eyes.

  "Guess I'm in too," he says dryly.

  "Big surprise you gonna follow her stupid ass," Dom throws at Luke from across the room. He ignores my middle finger as he gets to his feet. "Hell, I'm getting bored as fuck hanging around here with all the whiners and complainers. I need to get away from you bunch. This sounds exactly like the distraction I need at the moment."

  As much as I hate Dom, I gotta give him kudos for volunteering. Maybe he's not the wimpy coward I always thought him to be after all.

  Badger is the next to step up, followed by Mike and Kelly. I agree with all the recruits. Except for the next volunteer.

  "You guys aren't going anywhere without me." Gordon steps out from the back, and his older brother, Mike, stiffens in response to his words.

  "Nope, not this time, Gordo," Mike says and I silently agree.

  The kid is a good enough hunter, but he's no way ready for a job of this magnitude.

  "Yeah, I'm going," Gordon says to his brother, puffing out his scrawny chest in defiance.

  "No, so you may as well get the idea out of your head." Mike's tone leaves no room for argument, even as Gordon prepares to contest the statement.

  But Cooper solidifies Mike's decision. "Your brother’s right, young man. Six volunteers are quite enough. You don't need to be included. I'll need your help here on guard duty for the wall."

  I can see Gordon wants to argue with Coop, but the older man stares him down eyes of pure steel. Gordo snaps his lips shut, but his face flames with his exasperation, matching his red hair. I almost feel bad for the kid, but I know the decision to omit him is the right one. We need the most experienced hunters for this trip. He would only be a liability.