broken clay shards spraying wildly through the room. Marcus threw himself to the floor, Woolf diving down beside him, and they covered their heads as they crawled for the hallway. The gunfire was quieter than usual—not silent, but more like a nail gun than the harsh gunshot explosions Marcus was used to. They reached the hallway, taking cover behind the extra layer of wall, just as the hail of bullets ceased.
“Can they see us?” asked Marcus.
“Let’s find out,” said Woolf, and stuck his hand back into the open doorway. Nothing shot it. “Probably not.”
“Or they don’t want to bother with just your hand,” said Marcus.
“If they could see us that clearly, they’d have hit us,” said Woolf. “More likely they were passing close by, saw the sudden movement, and thought it was an ambush.”
“All the shots I heard were silenced,” said Marcus. “That means Galen didn’t shoot back.”
Woolf shook his head. “They wouldn’t have hit him, they were shooting at your movement.”
“Good yet embarrassing news,” said Marcus, nodding. “But then why didn’t he shoot? From where he’s stationed he should have had a good angle on the source of that attack.”
Woolf rose to a crouch, checking his own weapon as he prepared to run. “In that case, this is the best news we’ve had all month. Who would Galen see but not shoot at?”
Marcus grinned. “You think?”
“Let’s go find out.”
They scurried down the hall to the stairs, and from there to the main floor, where Galen was crouched in another concealed gun nest. “Humans,” Galen whispered.
“How can you tell?”
“Too many body types,” said Galen. “Partials are all young men, like Vinci; this group has women, one of them pretty old.”
“Smart,” said Woolf. “You haven’t hailed them?”
“Waiting for you.”
Woolf nodded and moved away from Marcus’s window to a separate window—partly for the different angle, but Marcus realized nervously that it was also a safety precaution. If the enemy fired again when Woolf hailed them, he was the only one they’d hit. Marcus admired the wisdom of the move, but the need for it twisted a dull knot in his stomach.
“Rhinos!” Woolf shouted. He wasn’t looking out the window, but lying below it, using a small credenza as an extra layer of makeshift armor. All three of them held their breath, waiting for the reply—would it be words, or bullets?
“Stay quiet!” It was a woman’s voice, and Marcus almost thought he recognized it, but it wasn’t Delarosa. Too young, he thought.
It was the only response. Marcus peered through the gaps in the kudzu, but saw nothing. Galen shook his head. “They’ve disappeared. Now that they know we’re here, it’s too easy to hide from us.”
“You heard from Vinci?” Marcus whispered. Even if this was Morgan’s group, they would want to keep Vinci’s true nature a secret at first. A Partial ally was a valuable asset, but they needed to explain it properly first.
Galen shook his head. “Still upstairs, I think. Staying quiet.”
“Hey,” said Marcus, “it’s not my fault I gave us away.”
Galen looked at him, raising his eyebrow. “You gave us away?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “It’s also not my fault that I told you that.”
“I can’t believe you gave us away.”
“Not on purpose,” said Marcus. “Next time you don’t know about something stupid I did, let me know you don’t know before I say it out loud.”
“How can I—”
There was a sudden thump from the back room of the house, and a strangled shout that got cut off just before it became loud enough for the sound to carry outside. Marcus spun to face the sagging kitchen door, his rifle up and ready, but stopped in surprise when he heard Vinci’s soft voice.
“It’s just me.”
Marcus furrowed his brow, confused. “What on earth?”
“They sent flankers through the back of the house,” said Vinci. “I don’t know if they’re Delarosa’s people, but they’re definitely human.”
“So you attacked them?” asked Woolf.
“Just disarmed them,” said Vinci. “Don’t shoot, I’m opening the door now.” He pushed open the kitchen door and led two cloaked figures into the front room. Marcus stared at them in surprise, then jumped up eagerly as he recognized the girl in front.
“Yoon?”
The cloaked girl looked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face as she realized who he was. “Marcus?” The smile disappeared almost immediately, and she frowned at him sternly. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“We’re trying to find Delarosa.”
“By scaring the hell out of us,” asked Yoon, “and then shouting loud enough to attract every Partial in the forest?”
“Sorry,” said Marcus. “None of that was really how we intended this to go.”
“I recognize you,” said Woolf, standing up. “You’re one of the Grid soldiers who went with Kira and captured the Partial named Samm. I remember you from the disciplinary hearing.”
“I was reassigned to an outpost on the North Shore,” said Yoon. “When the Partials invaded we fled south, and the unit broke apart, and eventually I ran across the Rhinos.” She pointed to her companion, a young man who looked sixteen years old at the most; Marcus realized with a start that this made him one of the youngest humans left in the world. “This is McArthur.”
Marcus shook the boy’s hand. “You have a first name?”
“No, sir,” he said, and Marcus nodded. It had become common for some of the youngest humans to drop their first name altogether, preferring their surname because it linked them to the past. A three-year-old kid who lost everything he ever loved usually remembered that he had parents, but wasn’t likely to remember much of anything about them. Identifying himself by his surname told people like McArthur that he came from somewhere, and helped him feel connected. Sometimes that was more important than an individual identity.
“Well then,” said Marcus. “Yoon, McArthur, say hello to Galen, Vinci, and Commander Asher Woolf. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“We’re not easy to find,” said Yoon. “Though there’s probably a better way to say hello than just shaking the hell out of the kudzu on the side of the house. We thought it was an ambush.”
“That was an accident,” said Marcus, giving a small, embarrassed nod. “It did work, though, so there’s that.”
