The guards linked their shock at the order but obeyed without question, taking Thom’s weapons and leading him away. Off to one of the cages, Shon thought. Out here in the wilderness, the modified trucks were the only form of prison they had. We’ve never used them to lock up one of our own before. The way things are going, that might become a lot more common.

Shon looked at the note again. Why the name? Why the flippant attitude? And what, in the end, was their plan? The day full of sniper shots had kept the entire camp on eggshells: hiding from the shots, searching for the shooter, returning fire when they could—fruitlessly, he realized now. But what purpose did that serve? The recent string of guerrilla attacks had been almost deliberately random, apparently not even decoys designed to lead them in a certain direction. But of course not, Shon realized. If we could tell that they were trying to lead us in one direction, we’d go directly in the other, and they know that. They’re not trying to lead us anywhere, just keep us busy. So it is a decoy tactic, but for what?

Keep us busy long enough, he thought with a sigh, and sooner or later the whole army’s going to fall apart. We have insurgency in the ranks, the bioweapon’s still destroying our patrols, and we haven’t heard from Morgan in weeks. I don’t even know if my messages to her are getting through. All we have are the same old orders, the last orders she ever gave us: contain the population, and hold the island. No explanation of what we’re holding it for, just . . . hold it. It doesn’t make sense.

According to his scouts, the mysterious giant creature had finally left the island—he’d moved north, talking to everyone he could, and when he’d reached the North Shore he’d just . . . walked into the sound, still heading north. That’s one less thing to worry about, he thought. And maybe if Morgan sees it for herself, she’ll realize how disordered things have become over here. Maybe she’ll finally take command again, tell me something about what I’m supposed to be doing here. Anything.

But I’m not Thom, he thought. I don’t question my orders. She told us to hold this island, so we’re going to hold it.

Or die trying.

Chapter Twenty-three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kira woke to the sound of dripping water. She tried to move, only to feel handcuffs on her hands and feet. The small chains rattled as she scraped her limbs across the floor, struggling to sit upright. Her face and body were wet, pressed onto something soft and damp, like a layer of slimy growth. The scent of mold filled her nose. She opened her eyes, but it was too dark to see.