Free The Dead Saga (Book 3): Odium III by Claire C. Riley

scowled.
    “When did the angry man say he was coming back?” I snapped, and I could almost feel the glare of annoyance that Nova was giving the side of my face. Well, she could kiss it. There was no time to play the soft card. We’d just have to play good cop, bad cop. Of fucking course I’d be the bad cop. I always was, wasn’t I?
    Joan pouted. “You,” she pointed a bony finger at me, “are a very rude young lady.”
    “Yes, she is,” Nova snapped, “but it is important that you tell us.”
    “He said,” Joan looked away from me with narrowed eyes and directed her answer to Nova, giving her a polite smile like they were the best of friends, “he was coming back today.”
     

 
NINE.
     
    “Shit!” I yelled, standing up abruptly. “Nova, we need to load the truck and get the hell out of here.”
    She nodded and stood up without question.
    “What? Why?” Joan replied, sounding worried. “I wanted marshmallows!” she wailed.
    I spun to face her. “Because some crazy madman is on his way back here to burn this place to the ground!”
    My breathing was becoming erratic, and I knew I was being bitchy when none of this was her fault. The woman barely understood what day it was. But what worried me—and as I looked across at Nova, I could see the same worry on her face—was what day this had really all happened? Could this man be on his way here now? Or would it be tomorrow? Joan had no concept for days—shit, she had no concept for anything, and she could be imagining the entire thing, but I wasn’t about to take that risk.
    “Nina, one man couldn’t take this place out,” Nova scoffed, though I noticed that she continued packing all of our things. “I mean, this place is huge. Something else must have happened here.”
    I grabbed my damp clothes off the line hanging across the room and shoved them haphazardly into my bag. Sure they were filthy, but they were less threadbare than most of my things, and clothes like that were a huge commodity these days.
    “Really? One person couldn’t do this on their own? Even if they came at night and caught people unguarded? You’re sure about that?” I snapped, feeling frantic.
    How did I get myself into these situations? It was like I had some gravitational pull for bad luck. Joan yelled something about looking for marshmallows and left the tent, but I ignored her and continued to pack.
    “No, they couldn’t. Not unless they knew the run of this place,” Nova said dismissively.
    I glanced across at Nova, nodding ever so slightly as I thought about what she had said. Because in my head she was right, but in my heart I knew she was wrong. Joan had said something about retribution for the sacrifices of the many. That was a bold statement for anyone to say, and it sounded like someone with a grudge. Cogs slipped into place, and as I watched Nova, I saw the same realization cross her features also.
    “It’s someone that used to live here,” she acknowledged softly.
    I nodded. “Yep—someone that was tested on.”
    “Someone that had nothing and no one left to lose,” she replied, her voice filled with dread.
    I stood up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “Nova, do you think that we just found Deacon and Hilary?”
    She watched me for several heartbeats, so many emotions crossing her face—guilt, anger, sadness. Because if this was Hilary and Deacon, then the deaths of all the people here now fell on Rachael’s head. On Nova’s head. Most people I couldn’t give a shit about, but there were innocents here also—women, children, women like Joan, who had no one left to protect them and only wanted somewhere safe to stay.
    “Or just Deacon,” she said almost painfully. And she was right: Joan had said an angry man , , not a woman, had come back there. What hope did that hold for Jessica back at the base?
    Nova finally stood up straight, her emotions in check. “Let’s load everything up and take cover. If he’s coming back, then we need to