Chapter 9
Time lost its construct, oscillating between giant leaps where I found myself face down in my bed with little recollection of getting there—too tired to shower—to unending stretches where I was trapped in my own mind with every damning memory the House dredged up.
My trip to the closet had woken all of Lily’s secrets.
Two weeks had passed. No one heeded Burdon’s order to make me fall.
I was certain it was due to the constant presence of a Unit Seven member, one of them glued to my side every second of every day.
My life had become a game of Russian roulette; I was the lone bullet in the revolver Unit Seven passed among themselves.
Damien had enthusiastically taken first watch. He asked endless questions, spanning from my dreams before the world ended to my favorite song. When he asked me what my favorite food was, the memory of Hayes in the Ward swam before my eyes. I refused to answer anything else.
He pivoted, giving me a thorough history of the Force.
Like everything in Haven, the Force was a pathetic excuse for what the military had once been.
Over a couple of days, Damien filled me in on different unit roles.
There were seventeen units. One to Four were communication and operations units, larger groups that never left Haven.
They managed the inner workings of the Force, skipping Formation and operating mostly out of sight in offices.
“One to Four, fucking bores. They think they’re in the Force. But are they?”
Units Five, Seven, and Twelve were the Exploratory Units and in a competition of some sort involving the same mission Tristian said he couldn’t tell me about. “Burdon’s made it a fucking competition for her own sick pleasure,” Damien muttered. “Kinda like the target she put on your back.”
Units Six, Eight, and Nine were the central patrol units swapping between above and beneath, depending on the moon cycle.
Unit Ten, he claimed, was the douchebag unit.
“The only thing they excel at is being insufferable. Bet you can guess who’s in that unit.
Speaking of which, where is your booty call?
I haven’t seen you sneaking off lately.”
I didn’t tell him I had ended it with Jaxon.
“Unit Eleven is Weapons. Unit Fourteen runs Intel. Unit Fifteen stands guard within the other sectors.” I had seen Unit Fifteen members in the cafeteria and in the Ward during high influxes of patients and lockdowns.
“Unit Sixteen is charged with judicial shit; they mostly guard cells. Seventeen is inactive now. The entire unit left during petitions a couple of years ago. They were a tech unit.”
“Why?”
“Not sure, but the entire unit defected.”
“What about Unit Thirteen?” I asked, mentally tallying the units.
“There isn’t one.”
“Why? Are you guys superstitious?”
Burdon walked past us with several Force members. Tristian was among them. “Something like that,” Damien said.
He stopped his history lesson and began filling me in on the drama and gossip of the Force. I decided the sector was rather incestuous. They all seemed to be hooking up with one another.
“I know Rumi’s convinced Kaleo is just with Burdon but I’m not buying it,” Damien said in the weight room. “I know Rumi thinks she knows everything, but she’s wrong about this.”
“Burdon’s the Force commander. Isn’t that frowned upon, sleeping with subordinates?” Or had we let that bit of propriety die in the war?
“I mean, yeah, it’s frowned upon for everyone but her. It happens, though. People just keep it quiet. She’ll eviscerate a unit commander if she finds out. She loves public humiliation.” Damien set down a pair of dumbbells, favoring his ankle.
“It’s bothering you,” I stated quietly. The others dispersed throughout the area, not looking our way.
“It’s constant now, but I’m fine,” Damien confessed.
“What’d you do to it?” He had never told me what exactly happened. He only let me examine it once in the closet after Isla and Patrick had left. Whatever had happened to it, it hadn’t healed properly. I didn’t know how he laughed as often as he did if that pain was always present.
“I survived,” he said.
Damien moved past the topic, filling me in on more hookups, tangled love triangles, and messy breakups. In relating all the Force’s gossip, Damien didn’t mention a single member of Unit Seven.
Finally I caved, while we filled our trays with food. “What, no information on your own unit? Everyone in Unit Seven celibate?”
The laughing demeanor vanished. “I don’t spill family secrets, Cadell.”
I had crossed a line, apparently.
Our four days together ended. Lily’s knowledge on Damien followed me. “If he stops joking, he needs you. Loyalty matters more to him than anything else. He’ll have your back no matter what if you’re loyal.”
Damien didn’t joke as he passed me to Isla.
Isla handled being my partner like she did everything, with a smile plastered on her face and endless positivity. Things like I believe in you, you can do it, great job followed me around the Gym. She invited me to join her everywhere.
Besides being a permanent ray of sunshine, Isla was very informative. She slowed down to explain everything to me. She helped me get my gear on and off, breaking it apart and explaining it until I could get my gear on alone. I could check gear before the House simulations and knew each uniform.
With each grin I received, Lily’s warnings echoed. “If Isla stops smiling, run to Damien. I think he’s the only one who really knows her behind the mask.” But Isla smiled until she handed me over to Patrick.
Patrick tolerated me. He had no patience with his partner being anyone except Rumi.
But he was a walking encyclopedia, rattling off facts and stats as we moved from one place to the next without a look in my direction.
He informed me of the evolution of the Force, how the units grew with the needs of Haven.
The judicial system they had implemented, which Unit Sixteen oversaw, seemed to intrigue him most.
“The bylaws are fascinating,” he said. “If I wasn’t in Unit Seven, I’d want to be there. Rewriting the laws for humans. Be a member of the group who finally gets it right.”
I hid my snort. I didn’t think humans were capable of getting it right. Had we not proved we were only good at fucking it up?
The only time Patrick truly seemed inclined to pay attention to me was when we were at the range; he watched me load and unload each weapon during target practice, analyzing and cataloging my every move.
“Who taught you to shoot like this?” he asked. “You have military training, that’s obvious.”
“Does it matter? This and the House are a waste of time.”
“You never know when an uprising or threat will present itself,” Patrick said, touching his cross necklace. “Complacency breeds mediocrity. We don’t plan on letting what happened before happen again. It’s why I joined—to protect those left.”
I had never seen Patrick without the necklace.
Lily had told me, “When Patty can’t let go of his cross, he’s at war with himself. If he keeps touching it, he’s lost in memories. Usually means he’s close to self-destructing.”
Patrick’s fingers brushed against the gold.
He tolerated me for one more exercise. We had only been in the tunnel for five minutes.
I hadn’t adequately managed my corners, putting the entire unit at risk, according to him.
He stomped up to Hayes, growling for the entire unit to hear, “I am done with this. You already forced the witching hour shift. I have a partner.”
I was passed to Ingrid. We lasted one full bell rotation. I had been ready for a full-out brawl before the second bell tolled, but rather than fight me, she ran from me. I constantly chased after her as she stormed from one thing to the next, ignoring my very existence.
She wasn’t the worst partner. We operated in complete silence. Everyone seemed to want to avoid her and, in turn, me. She was a force of a person, unyielding and stronger than most, both physically and mentally. Her stoic, unfazed demeanor only cracked when her eyes found mine.
“Ingrid is the toughest person I know, but deep down she isn’t,” Lily had said. “She’s convinced she doesn’t belong. You remind me of her sometimes. Fuck, I love her. I’m sorry she’ll hate you for this.”
Ingrid dumped me at Levi’s feet.
Levi was the easiest to work with. He was quiet but calm, unlike Rumi’s ever-watchful stillness or Patrick’s brooding silence.
Levi’s quiet had an ease to it, like maybe he had accepted this way of life.
That he was at peace with the war. He didn’t give me a history lesson, didn’t encourage me, didn’t gossip, and didn’t run away from me.
The peace lasted until the mats, where I found myself in another arm bar.
The cadet released my arm, walking away, like rolling with me was a waste of time.
I swept the pieces of hair from my eyes as Levi crouched next to me.
“Still not willing to try, then?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if it was disappointment lacing his question. I shoved myself off the mat, walking away to get water.
Lily’s advice on Levi had filled my insides with lead. “If you want to piss off Levi, half-ass something. He hates when people give up. He demands commitment.”
His stealthy steps followed me. “I didn’t peg you as a runner. If you’re not willing to try, there’s nothing for you here. Go find Hayes. He was in the House last I heard. Tell him I said to make the decision.” He left, beelining for the mats once more. A complete dismissal.