What were the odds of that?
She looked down at the charm, glittering silver in her palm. Remembering all the trouble it’d caused her over the years. How many times had she been tempted to hock it for the price of a hot meal or a pair of new boots? How many fights had she got into, protecting it from other gutter sprogs? Somehow, she’d known it mattered. Somehow, all the bloody noses and ripped knuckles had turned out to be worth it….
The Major looked at the charm, too. Blinking, as if remembering.
“Oh, I found you something.” He held out his hand. “If I may?”
Lemon handed over the trinket. The old man took it with callused fingers, unthreaded the broken ribbon. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a heavy steel chain—the kind CorpTroopers hung their ident-tags from. He looped the chain through the charm twice, then fixed it around her neck.
“There,” he said, his voice thick. “Won’t be so easy to lose now.”
Lemon ran her fingertips over the steel links, unsure what to do or say.
“My surname…I mean, our surname…” The old man muttered beneath his breath, dragged his hand over his stubbled scalp. “It’s McGregor. I mean to say, if you don’t want to call me…”
Lemon felt a warmth in her chest, watching the old man fumble. He was a soldier, scarred by years of battle, iron voice and leather skin. But at the same time, he was clumsy and sweet and altogether flustered. She swore she could see tears shining in his eyes.
“You’re really bad at this,” she grinned.
“God in heaven help me, I’m awful,” he chuckled.
Fix rolled his eyes from his spot near the doorway. “Funk me sideways, will you two just hug?”
Lemon laughed as the Major scowled. “That’s enough out of y—”
The old man fell silent as Lemon wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Congratulations,” Diesel said, her voice flat and unimpressed.
“Aye,” Grimm nodded. “Cheers, sir.”
Stepping across the room, he shook the Major’s hand, followed by Fix. Grimm offered Lemon an awkward handshake, which turned into an even more awkward hug. But his smile was wide and genuine, and his arms were warm and strong, and when he spoke she could feel the bass in her chest.
“Glad you’re staying.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Me too.”
Diesel put her boots up on the coffee table, looking between Lemon and the Major with a blank expression. “So, what happens now, sir?”
“We go look for my friends, right?” Lemon asked.
“What friends?” Fix growled.
“Lemon has comrades who are MIA.” The Major took a deep breath, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But before I send any of you into the field again, we need to know the extent of your gift, Lemon. Its limits. And its potential.”
“You want to test me?” Lemon asked.
“Exactly,” the Major nodded.
“What kind of test?”
“The kind that comes with imitation double chocolate protein bars at the end?”
“Those are my favorite.”
“I noticed,” he smiled.
“My friends could be in trouble. They could be hurt.”
“I understand,” the Major said. “I truly do. But you could get hurt heading out there unprepared. The Brotherhood will be on the bloody warpath after what you pulled in New Bethlehem. They’ve been hunting us for years. They don’t forget and don’t forgive. I’m not prepared to send soldiers into the field with you before we know what you’re capable of. It puts everyone at risk.”
“But what about the risk to my friends?”
“I don’t mean to tell you your business. You’re obviously a tremendously resourceful young lady to have survived alone for this long. It’s just…to find you after all these years…” He shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m probably not doing this very well. I just never imagined…”
Lemon squeezed his hand. He was talking sense and she knew it. Blood ties aside, she just met these people, she couldn’t ask them to risk their necks with the Brotherhood on the prowl. She didn’t even know where Zeke and Cricket were. But still, the thought of them out there alone, in heaven knew what kind of crud…
The old man squeezed her fingers back. She could feel the strength in his grip, the years and scars of war. And yet, he was gentle as falling feathers.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She looked up into his eyes. A few days ago, the idea would have seemed insane. But then again, this whole show would’ve seemed insane. A secret haven for deviates under the desert. A group of people just like her. A family she never knew she had. The idea that she wasn’t alone. She could feel the silver around her neck. Her lucky charm. All the kilometers and all the years, and it had led her here.
She held his hand tighter and nodded.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
* * *
________
Sweat dripped from Lemon’s bangs, stung the corner of her eyes. Her head ached from frowning so hard, and her heart was thumping in her chest.
“Can we just skip to the imitation double chocolate protein bars now, please?”
“Give it another shot,” the Major urged.
“But I’m terrible at this,” she groaned.
“You’re not that bad.”
“She really is,” Diesel called from across the room.
Lemon pouted, unsure how to respond. Sass was definitely called for, but truth told, she found it hard to disagree with Diesel’s assessment. She settled for a lazy middle finger, which the older girl didn’t even notice.
The deviates were all gathered in the training facilities on the basement level of Section B. Lemon had never been into this part of the installation, and walking down from the greenhouse, she’d done her best to only seem mildly impressed. The space consisted of a gymnasium, boxing ring, and a shooting range, encircled by a small running track. It smelled vaguely of sweat and the earthy greenery above.
Fix and Diesel were squaring off in the ring. The girl wore gloves on her hands, short dark hair held back with a plastic clip. The big boy called instructions as the pair drilled hand-to-hand combat routines. Diesel seemed to have a mean right hook. Grimm meanwhile was busy with target practice. Lemon was seated at a long metal bench in the middle of the room along with her headache.