Chapter 2

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’s 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? Aww, 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 savors 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 me 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 three hundred 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 three hundred 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."

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.

"Make that seven," a voice beside me chimes in.

I bite my lip to stop from screaming “hell no."

"Robyn?" Coop questions. "You sure? Six is plenty, and if you leave, your group will be leaderless."

"My group is a well-oiled machine, Coop. I've trained them well. You know that."

Modest much? I can't help but think as I frown at her perfect, scar free profile.

Robyn continues, "They can function without me. My skills will be needed more on this mission. Your volunteers maybe good hunters but not a single sharpshooter among them. And if these new mutants are going to be a threat, knives aren't going to do a rats-ass good in keeping the docs alive."

Is she taking a dig at me? I can feel my patience wearing thin even though I know she's right. My guys are no slouches with their weapons, but our best sharpshooter had been Kingsley's man, Wentworth. He'd gone missing on our previous mission, and although a team was sent out to search for him, there had been no sign. With him presumed dead, we need someone with above grade marksmanship.

"Agreed," Coop’s answer is fast. Almost too fast. He didn't have to agree with her so quickly, like the rest of us are chopped liver or some shit. "Thank you for stepping up. Thank you all for doing this. This will not be an easy task. Eight years ago when I showed up here with my little group of survivors, we came from outside the city. It was a horror show out there. I'm sure these past years have only made it worse. During this time, we haven't ventured far from the city's perimeter, so we really don't know what to expect. But I do know this. It’s going to get messy out there. If any of you want to back out, now's the time."

His gaze moves around the room. So does mine. I'm curious if anyone will drop out. I wouldn’t blame them if they did. Cooper’s right. This is not going to be easy. After eight years of fighting for survival and supplies, people can grow real callous and mean when their backs are against the wall. We won't find any sympathy or help out there. Just leeches waiting to rip out our throats, and others wanting to take our provisions and our lives. Not exactly a trip to Disneyland, but no one backs out.

"If I'm going to die at the hands of these creatures, I'd rather do it fighting for a chance to defeat them than have it happen while I'm cowering in a corner."

Mike speaks for us all, I think. Cooper nods in approval.

"Good. I'm going to be honest with you all; there is another motive behind this trip. Something we haven't shared with the civilians, but I’m making you all aware today. Our medical supplies are running dangerously low. Antibiotics, painkillers, hell even bandages are in short supply. The supplies are virtually non-existent, and as most of you are already aware, this city is picked over. Wiped clean. There's nothing left out there to find. The doctors in the research facility have agreed to restock us in exchange for crops. Apparently, they are smart enough to make their own penicillin but can't grow shit in their gardens. They won't make it through the winter without our help of vegetables and preserves. A fair enough deal if you ask me."

"So we will be towing a goddamned wagon? Nothing like slowing us down," Dom doesn't usually say the smartest things, but I had to agree with him on this one. If speed and stealth are our priorities, then towing a wagon full of supplies is a real stupid thing to do.

"It won't slow you down. Not with what we have planned for you."

The little half smile on Cooper's face intrigues me. What is he up to?

"Kingsley, show them the plan," he says, and Kingsley exits the room only to return a moment later, lugging a huge mountain bike through the door. He starts cussing loudly as one of the bike’s pedals catches in the door frame, halting his entrance and almost sending him tumbling over the handlebars. I would have laughed if I wasn't so stunned. A bike? That's the fucking plan? What are we, a gang of eighth graders?

I tear my eyes away from Kingsley's hilarious struggle with the stupid bike and glance at Cooper, expecting to hear him shout, “Gotcha!” But no, he's watching Kingsley as pleased as punch, like he invented the damn contraption himself.

"Um, that's a bike, dude." My dry voice breaks the lull covering the room.

"That it is," Cooper says back, grinning my way. "We've been sitting on these for a while now. Pretty much useless here in the city. But out on the open highway, they should come in handy. Cut your time down immensely. We've modified them to make them more comfortable and durable and able to easily tow the wagons. Hope you all know how to ride."

I do. Well, at least I did, but that was eight years ago. Hope it's true what they say; you never forget how to ride a bike. I glance at Luke to gauge his reaction, and his sheer size hits me with sudden hilarity. For some reason, my mind conjures up an image of his massive frame hunched over the puny bike handles like some circus clown on a tricycle and I start laughing.

He doesn't even look at me. He's still sizing up the bike with a pained expression, but his words are meant for me. "You're picturing me on that stupid thing, aren't you?"

"Yup. Ain't gonna lie," I answer, grinning like a fool.

He sighs as he crosses his arms across his chest and rocks back on his heels, scowling at the inanimate object of his displeasure. "We should look real intimidating riding through town on those."

"Well, one good thing. If there are people or ravagers watching us, they just may die from laughter at our bicycle bad-assery. Least then we won't have to fight them."

He laughs slightly in response, but Queen Bitch rolls her dark eyes my way.

"Don't know what you two are complaining about. The bikes are a fantastic idea. You guys are lucky to have them—and me going along on this mission."

"Question? Is it hard keeping your swollen head upright?" My words are caustic, but low. I don’t want spectators to my anger, but everyone appears to be still focusing on Kingsley and the bike. Robyn’s shoulders stiffen, readying for battle at my remark but Luke intervenes once again.

"What did you want to ask us earlier, Robyn?"

She sends a pouty smile Luke's way, choosing to ignore me. "It can wait. We'll have plenty of time to discuss this now since we will be on the road together...partners."

She sashays away to join her own crew, her hips swaying with a confidence I can only dream of. I stare after her, wanting to say something blistering, but nothing comes to mind.

"Fuck," I hiss through gritted teeth. Should be a time and a half on the road with her. I wonder if there's some way to change Cooper’s mind on that decision.

"Okay people, we have a lot to discuss." Cooper’s voice interrupts my sudden vivid daydream of watching Robyn fall off an overpass and get taken down by a horde of leeches, and I pull myself with reluctance back to the present.

"Now that we've ascertained the mode of transportation, we need to focus on the best route." He nods at Alex who flips over the dusty whiteboard standing in the corner of the room. It has what appears to be an old road map attached. It's ripped and faded in spots but still readable. Where had they managed to dig that relic up from?

"Like Luke said earlier, Ottawa is over three hundred miles from here with two possible routes, Highway 401 and Highway 7." Cooper struggles out of his chair and limps to the whiteboard, pointing to the highlighted red line with his cane.

"Highway 7 is your safest bet. It's a bit of a longer route but less populated than the 401 and a much less traveled road, so hopefully there was less congestion on the day of the invasion. Not much on Highway 7 other than a few backwater towns and plenty of farmland. Should be a safer passage. Follow the highway, and you should make it in one piece."

"Famous last words," Luke mutters, and even though his words are meant for me alone, his voice carries over the sudden lull in the room. He's not happy with this new mission. I don't respond back. I don't want him to know how excited I am by this outing. Even the bicycles don't seem that bad, although I'm sure Luke would argue with that.

“That's the plan,” Cooper finishes briskly, ignoring Luke's muttered comment as he sweeps the room. “Any questions?”

“I have a question,” Cookie's clipped accent pipes up as she stares down Doc Wicker. “Why are you taking these men at face value? We have been monitoring the radio for years; we've never talked to any 'scientists' in some obscure research center. How come they know about this and we do not? It sounds fishy to me.”

Everything sounded fishy to Cookie, but I have to agree with her on this one. Why haven't we heard of this group before? We've talked to a lot of survivors over the years, and other than St. Joseph’s, none of us ever trusted each other enough to disclose our locations. We haven't survived this many years to be that stupid. Just because you can appear normal over the airways doesn’t mean you aren't some psychopath trying to fetter out the other’s weaknesses.

To my surprise, Doc Howarth is the one to answer.

“I personally know the doctor Roger told you about. She and I used to work together years ago. Truth be told, that's the only reason they probably made themselves known to us. They've kept a low profile. They didn't want to make their presence known.” He glances at Coop as if asking permission to continue, and Cooper nods in agreement. “This isn't just a normal research facility. This was military owned. These people have access to equipment we can only dream of. Trust me when I tell you bringing them on-board as our allies will be beneficial to us all.”

“So there are honest-to-goodness trained military soldiers still there?” Beth, one of the council members, asks and I can see her glimmer of hope at the news of a re-surging military power to help fight these invaders. But Doc Howarth crushes her hope with a sad shake of his head.

“No, there may be a few base soldiers left, but nothing near an army. They were attacked just as heavily as we were on that day. Nothing left there other than a few surviving doctors and old soldiers trying to make it through, the same as us. That's why we need to join forces. Together we can find our salvation. I know we can.”

Cooper nods, agreeing with the white-haired doc. “Don't go rearing any hopes of the Army saving our asses. They no longer exist. If these past years have taught us anything, it's every man for themselves. Although making a few allies along the way can't hurt. Now, Luke, Kingsley, Alex, you three stay and help me iron out the details. The rest of you are free to go.”

I'm not in the least irritated by the fact that I'm not asked to stay and help plan the mission. Last night’s festivities with Luke, plus the abrupt morning awakening is taking a toll and I’m bone tired. A nice nap in my little bed sounds more appealing right now. Let the council deal with the planning shit.

"Later," I throw Luke's way as I head for the door. But I don't quite make it. An angry, young ginger steps in front of me, blocking my escape.

"You fucking kidding me, Bix?" Gordon growls at me.

I refrain from the exasperated sigh on my lips as I see my chance for a nap disappearing. "Look, kid—"

He cuts me off by shaking his index finger in my face and fixing me with a killer glare. I back up a couple of steps with my hands raised.

“Whoa! Chill, dude.”

"Don't 'dude' me,” he snaps. “I hope you guys sterilized that knife before you stuck it in my back." Before I can retaliate, he huffs off, leaving a trail of hurt in his wake.