Eventually, we rounded a bend on the road to find a curved driveway on our left curling around to a nice two-story house situated right on the lake. The house was indeed empty, and there was no alarm system on the door or windows. So for once, one fucking thing went right.

  We went in the back door, and in short order had searched the house top to bottom, finding clothes in an upstairs room locked and labeled “off limits”. Obviously, none of it fit perfectly, but it fit close enough that it looked like Martina had once been three inches taller, while the shirt and sweater we found for me looked like it belonged to guy about ten pounds heavier than me. Downstairs was a washer and dryer. Jackpot.

  Unfortunately, there were no shoes that fit us, but there were several pairs of sandals and flip-flops that fit well enough, so armed with the knowledge that we’d be able to be seen in public tomorrow, we all were ready to crash out in real beds and sleep until the sun was well up the next morning.

  I said, “I’ll sit up from four to seven am, then wake up Frank, and get him settled into a chair, and we’ll take watch.”

  Sarah disagreed with me, and shaking her head, replied, “No. I have a mild concussion. I need to stay awake anyway, and you and Frank need to be clear headed. Give me the gun and get some sleep.”

  There wasn’t any reason to argue with her as she was right, so I crashed down into a bed and was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow. Even my nightmares were muted, distant things.

  The next morning we looked for a phone to no avail and the house was empty of food. Thankfully, there was a coffee maker. It was one of those abominations that took small plastic cups of coffee grounds and turned them into weak, coffee-like hot water, but they had a box full of plastic cups of espresso roast, and I used three of them on the smallest serving size they offered to make a decent cup of black nirvana.

  I stood there in front of the coffee machine and slowly sipped the one true nectar of the Gods; black coffee.

  Martina came wandering into the kitchen and eyed my coffee with avarice. I grunted (the closest thing to speech I was likely to use before this coffee was down my throat), grabbed a cup out of the cabinet for her, and moved down the counter to give her access to the abomination machine.

  She walked by grabbing the cup out of my hands and grunted a thanks. It didn’t sound like a thanks, but us late risers speak a language all of our own. I watched as she grabbed two plastic, environment killers full of coffee grounds, and used them to make one cup of coffee. Great minds and all that, I smiled at her in recognition of kindred souls and tipped my cup to her in salute.

  We moved into the living room and sat in silence drinking our wake-up juice for a few minutes and Sarah came walking out of the downstairs bedroom in her now washed and dried clothes and somehow looking wide awake and ready for the world. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.

  She noticed my look and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t trust people who stay up all night and are wide awake. It’s not natural.” I mumbled around my mug.

  She smiled sadly, looking at the two of us on the couch, and said, “Frank actually woke up a few hours ago and took over for me. He was in too much pain to sleep. I know it was a bad idea, but I got about three hours of sleep. Plus I’m a morning person, How on earth are you not? Weren't you in the military for like, five years?”

  “Lot more than five,” I corrected her. “Seven years in the Squad before the…discharge. And only coffee made it possible.”

  “That could not have been fun,” she replied.

  She grabbed a mug of her own and made a cup of hot brown water using only a single pod of grounds and the “large” setting on the coffee maker. Strike two this morning for Sarah as far as I was concerned. I could tell by Martina's frown she agreed with me.

  Sarah took the mug of not coffee with her back into the bedroom and I could hear her talking to Frank, but not make out the words. Then I heard Frank’s voice loud and clear, “Jesus Christ, is this supposed to be coffee?” Martina and I both smiled at each other while we heard Sarah’s laugh followed by more words we couldn’t make out.

  I had finished and was thinking about another when Sarah called out to us from the bedroom, “Dru, can you come in here and help me with Frank?”

  Martina and I both got up and walked into the bedroom where Frank and Sarah had spent the night. It was a guest room with a queen size bed and probably intended for a single occupant, but the master bedroom was upstairs and we had decided last night that it would be easier to leave Frank on the ground floor.

  Frank was trying to get dressed in a new T-shirt, compliments of the owners of the house, and we had found a pair of sweatpants last night that fit him well enough to slide on over his injuries and easily fold over and tuck up the leg to his right thigh and the elastic kept the left leg above his ankle. He had done an admirable job but sat looking forlorn and lost on the edge of the bed.

  Looking at the four of us, I felt a deep sense of despair. Frank was right when he said last night that we we in trouble. As a group, we were already beaten. Frank was an absolute liability and needed real medical attention and a new wheelchair. After he healed I had no doubt he’d be able to fit a prosthetic and move about with crutches, but right now he was…defeated.

  Sarah seemed much better today, but she still had a small concussion and a big bandage on her forehead. Martina seemed fine, but she was moving around the house with a stiffness that belied that appearance. My shoulder still hurt from where that splinter of wood pierced it a few days ago in the firefight at Sarah’s house (God, that seemed so long ago!) but I was probably in the best shape of any of them.

  I decided to fall back on my military training and engage in the longstanding tradition of military decision making since the dawn of the modern military. I decided to pass the buck up the line. “So. What’s the plan, Lieutenant Egils?”

  Not fooled for a second, Frank looked up at me and smiled, “What’s next is you get to work, soldier. We need intel. Go walk to Martina’s house down the street and stay out of sight. Find out how many people are watching, what condition the house is in, and gather any facts you can. Do not get spotted, are you clear on that? No fighting, recon only.”

  Martina spoke up from the doorjamb she was leaning against, “I should go with him. If we have the opportunity, we might be able to slip in and grab some stuff we left behind.”

  He shook his head, “Do not try to get into that house. You‘re going to have nosey neighbors, possibly real firefighters and police, and an operative or two looking specifically for you both. Observe only and get back here. We’ll decide what to do after that.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “But first,” he continued, “pick my ass up and set me on the couch. I’m sick of beds.” His face had contorted into a grimace of both physical and emotional pain. Soldiers don't admit weakness very well. That request for a lift took a big bite out of his pride.

  After silently getting Frank situated on the couch in the living room like he had asked, Martina and I went back upstairs and went through the room with clothes, each of us grabbing a pair of sandals that fit well enough to not hinder our walking. We also found a large sun hat that fit Martina perfectly and a worn-out baseball cap that had a patch of a hooked bass fighting the line on it.

  “This is good,” I said, “because you absolutely know we’re going to run into those Broadhead bastards on stakeout.”

  Martina smirked and answered, “A hat? That’s the great disguise? What a master spy you are.”

  “You can do better?” I retorted.

  “Yeah. Don’t be seen.” As we left the house, Martina said, “Follow me, brother.”

  After we got outside I said to her, “You’ve called me brother twice now.”

  I could feel her tense up beside me and after a breath or two she replied, “Yeah?”

  “Why?”

  “Because Sarah is my sister, and she called you family.”

  “Sarah is your sister,” I repeated.

  “In every way that matters, you'd better believe it. She is my sister, and blood has nothing to do with it. You don’t get to choose the people who bring you into the world, but you can choose your family. Frank and Sarah are my family. And so are you.”

  I walked about half a mile in silence before I said, “I don’t think you all know me well enough to take that risk. I’m not your family. I almost wish I was, but I’m not. I’d like to be your friend, Martina, but I don’t think any of us are really able to be family. I want to trust you. You remind me of…you remind me of a old friend, but that makes me even more nervous. I'm not well, mentally. I don't want to confuse you with her. I'm not really your family.”

  “Yet.” I said in my mind. I wanted so badly to say “Yet.” out loud, but I couldn’t get the word past my lips.

  I was ready for Martina to be angry at me for rejecting her incredibly precious offer of belonging, but instead, she once again read me perfectly and let me off the hook. “Good.”

  Surprised and a little saddened, I echoed her, “Good?”

  “Good. You’re way too hot to be my brother.”

  “Ha! Well I’m damn sure not going to be your Daddy!”

  She threw back her head and laughed deeply. “Wildly inappropriate jokes.”

  “Flirting,” I replied.

  Martina’s master spy-craft of “don’t be seen” was comprised of taking a long way around by going down a side street that connected to a road parallel to the street her house was on, and strolling down the street together for about a mile.

  The roads and neighborhood were not overdeveloped and there was a lot of scrub brush and Cedar trees growing in wide open plots of land. It wasn’t a town, so I was concerned that we would stand out as a couple walking alone, but I needn't have worried. Everybody had been up all night watching a house burn down. They weren't very observant. Because it wasn’t built up, we could see past the occasional tree or house and catch a lot of what was going on.

  We were walking down the street when Martina pulled up and turned to me. “If we cut through this open lot, we’ll come out on my street about three houses away from mine, but do we need to? I can see it from here and…I mean look at my house!” She cried. "All my stuff is gone."

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  Suddenly she sucked in a small breath, "My necklace from Mama. My brother's watch…"

  "I'm sorry."

  We could see clearly that there were three police cars on the scene, but that the firefighters had gone home some time ago. Her house was ruined. The roof had collapsed inward, and the front walls were nothing more than a skeleton of burned framing barely standing up. The firefighters (the real ones) had torn great holes in the walls and done their best to get it under control, but this was arson, plain and simple, and we watched arson investigators from the fire department still walking around and poking through the wreckage.

  I put my arm around Martina in a sort of side hug as we stared at the carnage and said, “I’m so sorry for this. I know that doesn’t make it better, but still, I’m sorry.”

  She sniffed a little bit and wiped the incipient tears away from her face before she got into a real cry, and asked, “So what do we do now?”

  “We look around carefully. Try to spot the Enemy. Assess the house from a few different angles in possible, and look to see if this situation has been turned over to the “normal” authorities.”

  “Alright. What first? Find the Assholes on stakeout?”

  “Definitely,” I replied. “We need to know where they are so we can avoid them.”

  What happened next was a frustrating forty-five minutes of wandering around looking for people hanging out in the wrong place, sitting in cars, or otherwise being suspicious. We found nothing. No SUV’s. No odd observers on corners. No people looking at people instead of the burned-down house. Not a damn thing.

  Nothing except the entire damn neighborhood out gossiping and staring at her house. It’s was like a damn town fair out here. People wandering around, meeting up with friends, and telling each other the same things over and over again.

  Eventually, I had to admit it, “I’m either not good enough to find these guys, or they’re not here. I'm leaning towards not here.”

  “Why?”

  “Honestly? If they were here, they probably would have seen us skulking about by now, especially if they are better at this than we are, which they’d have to be to avoid us so far. And if they had seen us, we’d be either running for our lives or dead.”

  “So you think they left? Why?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say because your neighbors are nosey as hell. The entire neighborhood is out gawking and there's a huge police presence here. I’d bet they decided to get scarce rather than risk a neighbor or a police officer asking what they were doing in the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, I did notice that. I’m glad I don’t know any of these people. The whole point of my house was to lay low, so I never tried to meet the neighbors or make friends.”

  “I guess extras are pretty good at that.”

  “Yeah, and we don’t like that word, Dru.”

  “What? Extras?”

  “Yeah. I’m an Iara. You’re a human. Frank is a J?tunn.”

  “Wait. Bullshit. Frank is a Norse demi-god? I mean, we never ask each other what we are in the squad, but everyone tells eventually. Frank called himself a Homo Superior."

  “Idiot." she laughed. "While I love that phrase, All of us, Extras," she spat the word, "are classed as Homo Diversus by the powers that be. But J?tunns are tall human beings of long life and great strength. Don’t let bad history fool you, they’re not giants, they're not blue, and they're not Gods. They’re just better than you at everything.” she finished with a cute smirk. “Do you know why they were considered the enemies of the Norse Gods? Because they were humans who could kickass and take names. The Gods couldn’t stand the idea of it! So the Norse Gods decided they must be semi-divine. And I guess being over six feet tall in an era when everyone else was five feet and a few inches made them seem like giants.”

  “Truth is, they’re an evolutionary step up for humans. Genetically speaking, I mean. Frank could try to have a child with Sarah if he wanted to, but there’s a fifty percent chance the child will be stillborn, and about a thirty percent chance it’d be born with massive birth defects. Unfortunately, their genetic makeup also leads to lots of trouble procreating. It’s absolutely tragic. If they get super lucky, it’ll be a J?tunn and have to murder innocents for two decades every hundred years.” she ended bitterly.

  “So Frank is nothing but a superhuman?”

  “Yes, not that the world admits it, but the science seems clear. A J?tunn is a human mutant, not a separate species like me. Homo Sapien…but superior…” she laughed again, this time edged with bitterness.

  I was silent for a few steps along the road as we walked together. “Alright. I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember to drop the term. I’ve used it a long time, though so please forgive me if I slip up.”

  “Sure thing, Papi Chulo.”

  “I looked over at her from the side of my eye. “Do I want to translate that on the internet?”

  She giggled a bit and said, “Probably not, we don’t say it in Argentina, but it’s pretty popular here in the south. And you’re not my brother, soo…”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you, Ms. Homo Diversus.”

  We decided to walk up and down the street Martina's house used to stand off of and try to get good looks at it like all the other people wandering around gawking at it. We looked the same as everybody else, and the police didn’t so much as glance at us.

  Without warning, Martina grabbed my arm hard and said, “Oh shit!”

  Tensing up and reflexively reaching for the gun I had tucked in my waistband holster, I quickly asked, “What? What is it?” while looking around for the threat.

  “The boat house!” She said.

  Confused, I replied, “What about it?”

  “Dru. My clothes are there, remember? I took them off and tossed them into my ski-boat to keep them out of the way and hidden!”

  Slowly straightening up and feeling a mite foolish, I said, “Umm…yeah?”

  Exasperated, she threw her hands up in the air and grabbed my head, looking into my eyes “Dru. Clothes. Wallet. Phone!”

  Comprehension dawned and I understood. A phone and more money. Huge game changer. Getting excited myself, I said, “Can you get to it and sneak it out past these guys?”

  “Depends entirely on if they are watching the boat house, but why would they? There’s nothing there for them to see, and it's far enough away from the house that there shouldn’t be any fire damage or anything. I’m sure they inspected it and looked it over, but why would they still be there?”

  “Okay,” I said, “I think you are probably right, but how do we get there without these police spotting us? We can’t stroll on by and down the path to the boat house.

  She rolled her eyes, “Oh, I think I've got this covered. Come with me.” and Martina grabbed my hand and walked me down the street about one hundred yards to a lot that had a new house under construction on it. “Now keep an eye out for me, Dru. I’m going to go around this house and down to the lake, I’ll swim up to my ski boat and grab the clothes.

  “It’s pretty risky to stay above the water, don’t you think? But you’ll have to if you don't want to ruin the phone.”

  Martina looked at me with that smirk I was coming to realize was her primary facial expression, and said, “So pretty. Not too smart though.” And then patted me on the head like I was a favorite puppy.

  I looked at her, still lost, and said, “Beg your pardon?”

  “Dru, think. I. Am. An. Iara. I live underwater more than above. My phone is in a watertight case, you adorable idiot.”

  “Ahh. Right. So your wallet…”

  “Waterproof too. Yes.”

  “Makes sense.”

  She was laughing now, “Yes it does. I didn’t strip down last night to save my phone, I stripped down to swim faster.”

  We went around the construction to the waters edge and Martina ducked behind a stack of lumber and plywood to strip out of her clothes. Straightening up, she turned to me and said, “Look around and tell me if there's anyone in sight.”

  I looked out and didn’t see anyone. “Go!” I said.

  She sprinted to the shore about twenty feet away from the lumber pile and dove a shallow dive into the lake and I saw her form disappear as she went down deeper, swimming insanely fast towards her boat house.

  I made myself comfortable and sat so that I was pretty much out of sight from the road, but could still see the lake, and waited.

  I didn't wait long as about five minutes later, Martina’s head popped up about three feet from the shore and stage whispered, “Is it clear?”

  I chuckled a bit and said, “All clear. Get your ass up here and get dressed.”

  As she was getting dressed, she looked over at me and cleared her throat. I looked back and raised my eyebrow at her by way of response.

  “Dru, can I ask you a personal question?’

  “Sure.”

  “Are you gay?”

  Well, I was definitely not expecting that and I guess it must have showed because she quickly went on, “I don't mean anything, I’m only curious because…well…you’ve seen me naked a whole lot in the last twenty-four hours, and…nothing…nada.”

  I smiled at her to let her know I was fine with the question. “No, I’m not gay, but in my past I have experiences with both men and women.”

  “Oh! You’re Bi like me?”

  Lightly, I said, “Nope. I’m what you hip kids call Asexual.”

  I grew grim and said, “Pretty much all sexual activity I’ve experienced in my life is not something I want to talk about.” I paused for a second, deliberately not remembering the nightmare that was my youth. “I tried. I did. But my relationship with sex was extremely unhealthy. Hell, I had a wife, once," A flash of a blue painted face with a smirk exactly like Martina's crossed my thoughts. "I am capable of performing the act. But I’m not interested in having a sexual partner. At all. In truth, I never was.”

  “Oh Dru. You and I. We’ve got to talk about this more one day. If you’re willing, that is?” she finished that last statement as a question and looked at me to gauge my response.

  I swallowed and composed my face to keep my expressions neutral. “I'm not real interested in discussing my past Martina. It’s a long way back, and it doesn’t do any good to rehash it all.” Then I smiled, “But if you’re curious about why I’m not trying to have sex with a smoking hot Iara…sure. We can talk later.”

  She winked at me. “You think I’m hot?”

  “Smokin’.”

  She smiled a huge grin as she pulled her shoes on and playfully said, “I think I love you, Dru.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  “Ha!”

  It’s hard to explain, but after that brief conversation with Martina, I was feeling good. A kind of positive feeling, like things were going to get better for the four of us. Getting that phone and her wallet was a big reason for that feeling too, but if I’m being honest, it was mainly this growing feeling that maybe I had three friends now, and that maybe they were real.

  We walked back down to the rental we had broken into the night before and went around back to come inside. Sarah and Frank were in the living room sitting quietly and holding hands. It looked like Sarah had been crying a bit, and maybe Frank too. However, they seemed to have worked through whatever it was and were sitting together in a picture of love that was undeniable.

  I know it’s cliché, but I was hit with a whirlwind of emotions that punched me in the gut and spread out through my chest as I saw them sitting there doing something so simple yet so profound as holding hands. I think Martina felt it too, because she paused as she entered the room and crossed her arms over herself in a sort of hug.

  Spontaneously, I put my hand on Martina’s shoulder and walked with her over to the recliner that was at a right angle to the couch and gestured for her to take it. She reached her hand up and put it over mine in a gesture of thanks and settled herself into the chair. I remained standing but walked over to the floor to ceiling entertainment center that housed the big screen TV and leaned against the side of it.

  “Everything go alright, you two?” Sarah asked.

  “Smooth as silk, hermana.”

  “So,” Frank said, “go ahead and give me your report, guys.”

  “It’s a good news/bad news situation, Lieutenant,” I answered. “The house is a total loss. The police and arson investigation unit were on site, so we couldn’t get too close, but there’s no point in going back to it. Our guns, supplies, and everything else in the house are lost.”

  I continued, ”The good news is that there was no Broadhead presence we could see. They seemed to have left due to the large crowds of gawkers and the large police presence there. So we could walk openly in other places and Martina remembered that her wallet and phone were in the boat house. She was able to go into the boathouse via the lake and get them both.” I smiled. “We have a phone and more cash.”

  Both Frank and Sarah seemed to sit up straighter as an emotional weight was lifted. “Any extra resources are a good thing right now. That’s a huge help. But we need to get moving forward. There are some hard decisions to make.”

  “Not that hard.” I interrupted. ”Some things are plain as day to see, Frank. You are out. You’re done and you need to be in a Godsdamned hospital. Now.”

  Sarah looked over at him with a look of sad triumph. “See? I told you so, Baby. You can’t do this to yourself.”

  “I’m not letting these motherfuckers get away with this. They cut off my fucking leg!”

  Before anyone could answer, I quickly walked over to Frank and knelt down in front of him on one knee so we were eye to eye. “If it was me, and we were in the field, we’d already be headed back to base. The mission as you see it is over. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Frank clenched his fists and ground his teeth so hard I could hear them. But he knew I was right and it was killing him. “LT. The mission as you see it is over, but we are going to create a new mission, and these sonsabitches are going to die.”

  He looked at me and said, “You’re going to singlehandedly beat Broadhead, soldier?”

  “No, I’m not going to beat them singlehandedly, LT., but I am going to kill every single one of them that I can. And I’m not going to do it alone. All four of us are going to be involved, I promise you that. But you’re going to do it from a place of safety. You’re a REMF now, sir. Get used to it.”

  He smiled a twisted smile, equal parts sarcasm and self-pity. “Rear Echelon Mother Fucker…I never thought I’d see the day.”

  In a terribly bad Southern accent, I said, “You’ve got no legs, Lieutenant.”

  He looked up sharply, “Did you just mis-quote…”

  I cut him off, “No idea what you're talking about. Sir.”

  He shook his head and sighed ruefully. “Ok, Dru. You and Sarah get your way. We’ll figure out how to get me to a hospital that doesn’t involve me dead a few hours later when Broadhead shows up to kill me. Any ideas?”

  “Oh yes,” I said.

  “How?”

  I turned and looked over to the recliner. “Martina?”

  “Yes, Dru?”

  “Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll be faster than Prayer, and I need to talk to a God.”