“Oscar Mike?”
“On the move,” Nomad answered. “It was a signature of sorts. That’s how we knew which villages he’d wiped out. To send us a message.”
Nomad turned and pointed behind them. “Plus, those parts back there weren’t torn free in the classic sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“Seems pretty clear to me someone wanted to make it appear that way. Almost too much so. Like it had all been staged.”
Watson nodded. “Well, you have more experience when it comes to what the Scabs do and don’t do, and how they do it.”
“I really hate that term.”
“Sorry, don’t know what else to call them.”
“Call them The Women. That’ll suffice.”
“Sure, whatever you say, boss.”
“Excuse me for saying so,” Allison said, “but if this wasn’t your women, why don’t we see other kinds of wounds? Like bullet holes or from a knife, maybe?”
Allison had a point.
Nomad didn’t see any bruising or other evidence of strangulation, so he bent down and slid the child’s body to the side, exposing the corpse underneath.
It belonged to a woman in her twenties with dark hair, though her cheek had a gaping hole in it from a gunshot. “I think that confirms it.”
“Must have policed their brass,” Allison said, his eyes darting left and right, scanning the floor around them.
“I’m sure if I uncovered the rest, we’d see the same thing,” Nomad added, his heart wanting him to stay and mourn the dead, especially the child, but his mind had other priorities.
Someone might still be alive or hiding somewhere in the facility. Possibly one or more of his women. Maybe even Seven. Regardless of who it might be, he had to find them.
Nomad lifted the shirt of the dead child, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand, not on who he was looking at. Underneath was a massive contusion in the center of the child’s chest.
“Oh my God,” Allison said. “Someone beat that child to death.”
“Looks like one massive blow,” Nomad said.
Silence hung in the air for a short minute until Watson spoke up next.
“You said earlier that you sent Fletcher and his men to a different silo. With explosives, right?”
Nomad nodded. “What’s your point?”
“What if he did this?”
“Fletcher? No chance in hell.”
“But what if he did? I’m just saying. It was one massive blow. He’s a big, powerful man.”
“Then he survived one hell of an explosion.”
“We should head to the brig,” Allison said from his lead position. “See if, ah, your women are still there.”
“He’s right,” Watson said. “If they are, then it explains a lot of what happened. Or what didn’t happen, to be more accurate.”
Nomad pointed one of his guns ahead and said, “We go where I say we go, and not a minute before. I want each room, each nook, each cranny checked one at a time. But quickly. We’ve got a lot of areas to clear. Someone might still be alive.”
“You know this is just a waste of time,” Allison said. “If this was Fletcher, and I think there’s a good chance it was, then he left no witnesses.”
“You’re assuming he found everyone. My women are better at hiding than you know.”
“I get what you’re saying and you’re the boss, but I gotta say, your women would have been the first ones he gunned down. I mean, look around. They killed the kids, too.”
“I’m not blind,” Nomad said.
Allison continued, “It seems pretty obvious. They were here to exterminate everyone. And your women would have been the biggest threats—after our security personnel, of course.”
Nomad backhanded Allison with the butt of his weapon, not wanting to engage the man’s theories any longer. “All right, get moving. Now. And I’d suggest that both of you keep your comments to yourself.”
Allison turned and walked forward, while Watson held his position and said, “Whatever you say, boss. But just in case you didn’t know, the video room is just ahead. Someone might want to start reviewing what’s on the feeds, while the others finish searching the rest of this level. We can cover more ground if we split up.”
Nomad grabbed the man with his free hand and squeezed his neck with force. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Watson’s hands came up and latched onto Nomad’s, tearing into the fingers squeezing the air out of his throat.
Nomad leaned in close as Watson’s eyes went wide. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. The three of us are joined at the hip until this is over. Nobody, and I mean nobody, leaves my field of vision. Not unless they want to catch a bullet in the back of the head. Understood?”
Watson tried to answer but his words came out a jumbled mess of guttural sounds, most of them devoid of air. His mouth may not have been working, but his head was, bobbing up and down like a machine gun.
“I’ll take that as your full agreement,” Nomad said, letting go of the man.
Watson bent over and took in a series of rapid-fire breaths, mixed in with a few coughs.
Nomad nudged the man with his free hand, turning Watson a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees toward Allison. Then he brought his foot up and kicked Watson in the rear end, sending him forward in a lurch.
He hadn’t planned to take his anger out on these men, but he had to let it out somehow, before it consumed him, morphing into something else.
Something akin to revenge.
Nomad’s Revenge.
A side of him nobody wanted to see.
* * *
“Easy boy,” Summer said to Sergeant Barkley, stroking his fur. The dog had become agitated in the last mile or so, ever since they’d entered a new section of the forest.
“I’m not sure whose bright idea it was to bring that mutt along, but now you know why you never take a fleabag on an extended road trip, especially one with its background,” Lipton said from his seat in the back.
“I thought I told you to shut the hell up,” Krista said from the driver’s seat.
“You want me to gag him?” Nick Simms asked Krista. “Only take a second.”
“What do you think, Lipton?” Krista asked. “Should we gag your obnoxious ass?”
“Wouldn’t be my first choice, no.”
“Then keep your comments to yourself or so help me God, I’ll pull over right now and dump you on the side of the road.”
“Here? In the middle of wherever the hell we are?”
“It’s called Bitter Springs,” Simms added. “Seriously, boss. Let me do it.”
Lipton laughed, though it sounded forced. “Just remember, I’m the reason why this little exchange of yours is taking place with this Blackstone outfit. You need me. Never forget that.”
“Don’t remind me,” Krista said. “My vote was to leave you behind.”
“Of course it was. React first. Think second. Why should I be surprised?”
“Just keep that trap of yours shut or so help me God, I will—”
“—I think he gets the point,” Summer said, holding onto Barkley, who couldn’t seem to sit still on the floor in front of her.