Free Gods of Anthem by Logan Keys

already Sergeant Nolan’s eyeing my slumped posture and rumpled clothing like he’s just waiting to shred me.
    Cory yells for us to line up. He’s taking his new team leader job far too seriously. I catch Vero’s eye, and together we share a look behind his back.
    But Cory sees it. “Is there a problem over here, Private?”
    Vero starts to reply, but he’s on her like a junkyard dog. “I said, is there a problem over here!”
    “Sir, no, sir!”
    Cory shoots me a glare, then we begin.
    In the maze, Cory chases me around, shadowing me unrelentingly. He’s a tall guy, but what he has on me in height I make up for in muscle. In the normal world, he’d likely have been a sports star, parents proudly stacking and dusting his trophies, his dad calling him “sport” like Jay Gatsby. He’s got the looks for it, too. But no doubt most of his talent has been wasted running from zombies.
    I used to be built differently. Before the labs, I was pretty average, but when they couldn’t fit any more muscle on my skeletal frame … they made room. Lots.
    Cory edges in close while we round the corner, so I slam on the brakes, letting him crash into my shoulder. He clotheslines himself a good one before gasping in sputtered outrage. It would be comical, if I had the energy to laugh.
    I jog away, shaking my head, and he wisely backs off and leaves me be.
    At the last wall, my arms give out around the halfway point. Lifting my heavy body while exhausted is too great a task, so I let go of the rope with a curse and fall twenty feet to land hard on my back. Feels like something’s been pulled—a muscle, or my ego. Either one.
    Vero’s over me in an instant, grey eyes peripherally checking for Cory before her hands light up at the same time I’m telling her, “ No .”
    Using our Special is forbidden on base. We’re all still tippy-top secret for the most part.
    Though my head continues to shake, Vero presses on, and it feels so good, like being shocked by a stupor-inducing bug zapper. So instead of stopping her as I mean to, my hands wrap her wrists in an attempt to siphon out whatever she’s giving. It’s like a drug. I’ve never felt her touch before.
    Warmth bleeds stress and worry out of me, like I’ve stepped into a bath of warm jello in a low-lit room. Even the breeze smells sweeter while things far away sound close. Vero’s words are lost in these other noises, and I pull her nearer, trying to hear, when I realize I’ve yanked her body on top of mine. The sensation of her lit-up hands is incredibly …erotic.
    The magic fades, bringing me back to earth, and with a face full of mischief, Vero says, “I didn’t finish.”
    My mouth gapes at the innuendo as we attempt to scramble to our feet.
    Cory’s come over, chiseled face like a thundercloud. “Sleeping on the job?”
    “No,” Vero and I say at the same time, and Cory’s wide eyed like a spooked horse at our lackadaisical attitudes.
    We both realize our error and pull apart to snap at attention. “I mean, nothing, sir!”
    “Nothing, sir,” Vero says.
    Cory eyes us like we’re gum on his boot before spinning on his heel to stalk away. “Private Hernandez and Private Hatter,” he calls over his shoulder. “You’ll start the course again.”
    We drag our feet to the first obstacle, and though I now feel great, all too soon after re-starting, Vero’s energy flags from using her Special.
    When Cory’s not looking, I hunch over. “Put a foot in my hands, Vero. Come on, I’ll give you a boost.”
    By the end of the course, I’m sluggish, too. In the pools, we’re the last ones to do laps, so we splash each other and mess around. The PT Sergeant is passed out in his chair, so he’ll probably fill in fake times to keep from being busted.
    I climb out, while Vero porpoises alongside in the water. Her dark brown hair’s like a seal’s pelt when she breaks the surface.
    She smiles up at me. “Hatter, you look … bigger. You weren’t small before,