The doors slid closed and the car began its slow descent.

“You think this is a vacation? You think you can just show up when you feel like it?”

Grey shook his head, his eyes cast down at the floor. Just the sound of the man’s voice could make his backside clench like a fist. No way Grey was going to look at him.

“Uh-uh.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Grey could smell the nervous sweat coming off himself, a rancid stink, like onions left too long in a crisper drawer. Probably Richards could smell it too.

“I guess.”

Richards sniffed and said nothing. Grey knew he was deciding what to do.

“I’m docking you for two shifts,” Richards said finally, keeping his eyes forward. “Twelve hundred bucks.”

The doors slid open on L2.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Richards warned.

He exited the elevator and strode away. As the doors closed behind him, Grey released the breath he realized he’d been holding in his chest. Twelve hundred bucks—that hurt. But Richards. He made Grey more than a little jumpy. Especially now, after the little speech Paulson had given in the mess. Grey had begun to think maybe something had happened to Jack and Sam, that they hadn’t just flown the coop. Grey remembered that dancing red light in the field. It had to be true: something had happened, and Richards had put that light on Jack and Sam.

The doors opened on L3, giving a view of the security detail, two soldiers wearing the orange armband of the watch. He was well below ground now, which always made him feel a little claustrophobic at first. Above the desk was a big sign: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. BIOLOGICAL AND NUCLEAR HAZARDS PRESENT. NO EATING, DRINKING, SMOKING. REPORT ANY OF THE FOLLOWING SYMPTOMS TO THE OD. This was followed by a list of what sounded like a bad case of stomach flu, only worse: fever, vomiting, disorientation, seizures.

He gave his badge to the one he knew as Davis.

“Hey, Grey.” Davis took his badge and ran it under the scanner without even looking at the screen. “I got a joke for you. How many kids with ADD does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, you wanna go ride bikes?” Davis laughed and slapped his knee. The other soldier frowned; Grey didn’t think he understood the joke, either. “Don’t you get it?”

“’Cause he likes to ride bikes?”

“Yeah, ’cause he likes to ride bikes. He’s got ADD. It means he can’t pay attention.”

“Oh. I get it now.”

“It’s a joke, Grey. You’re supposed to laugh.”

“It’s funny,” Grey managed. “But I gotta get to work.”

Davis sighed heavily. “Okay, hold your horses.”