Overton grunted. “Wily old bastard. How much of this do you think Hoffman planned? It seems like everywhere we go, we put our foot in another one of his plans.”

“What makes you think that train is still operational?” Bouma asked.

Sophie smiled. “The bunker and train aren’t really that different from the Biosphere. They were both built so humanity could survive a post-apocalyptic event.”

Bouma shook his head. “Doesn’t mean they work. We’d be traveling on a gamble.”

“Not entirely true,” Emanuel added. “I once dated a woman who was stationed at the Denver NTC headquarters. Apparently, the tunnels are still operational.”

“And how’d you convince her to tell you that?” Sophie said with a raised brow.

Emanuel looked at the ground and then back at the group. “If we can just reach Denver, I’m sure the train will work too.”

“Sounds like a suicide mission,” Overton drawled. “Count me in.”

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

BOUMA had scooped out the entire contents of the orb in the medical ward. It didn’t make much difference; Saafi’s body had been liquefied. There wasn’t anything recognizable left. Not even his clothes remained.

He sighed, watching as Overton placed the container with Saafi’s remains next to a makeshift box containing Private Finley’s body.

Sniffles and the occasional whimper echoed off the massive walls of Biome 1 as the team prepared the two men for cremation. Emanuel had suggested their remains be burned, and the ashes used to help fertilize the garden. Considering there was nowhere to actually bury them, Sophie had agreed.

“Would anyone like to say anything?” Sophie asked.

Overton stepped forward. He stared ahead at the remains for several minutes, his back stiff and his posture straight.

“I didn’t have the chance to get to know Mr. Yool, but based on what you all said about him, he was a good man.” Overton stepped closer to the small container with Saafi’s remains. “I promise you one thing, Mr. Yool—your death will not be in vain,” he said. Then he turned to Finley’s coffin.

“Finley was a good Marine. The best. I was hard on the kid only because I knew it’s what he needed to be successful. In the few months he was with my squad, I got to know him as more than just the goofball with jumbo ears—more than the high school wrestler who liked fast cars and country music. Private Finley’s life was just beginning, but it was cut short by those monsters. I swear to you, Finley, we’ll make ’em pay.” Overton ran his hand over the stubble growing on his head. “He was a good kid. A good man.”