The Final Trade Read Free Page A

unabashed about doing this. Everyone else in the group is always hesitant to touch her. For the longest time she assumed it was out of respect for her ordeal and paralysis, but now she’s not so sure.
    Ian holds her shoulders, studying her. “You’re all safe?”
    “Safe and sound.”
    “So good to have you back. Was the trip worth it?”
    She glances at Merrill, who gives her a sidelong look. “I think so.”
    “Excellent, even better having risked and gained,” Ian says. “Come sit by the fire; the birds are almost done.”
    As she’s settling onto a wooden chair next to the fire pit, the cabin’s front door bangs open, accompanied by a short squeal of happiness. Chelsea sprints down the stairs and leaps into Merrill’s arms, kissing him hard on the mouth.
    “You were gone so long,” Chelsea says when she’s separated herself from him.
    “It was only ten days,” Merrill says.
    “That’s long enough.”
    “Tell me about it,” Eli says, settling into a chair opposite Zoey. “My ass is flat as a pancake from sleeping on the damn ground.” He gives her a wink.
    “That thing’ll never flatten out,” Tia says, pouring herself a glass of whiskey before handing the bottle to Eli. Three shadows detach from the addition that’s still being constructed, and a second later Newton’s and Sherell’s faces appear in the dark, followed by Rita. Zoey notices with some amusement how close Sherell walks beside Newton. Rita and Sherell draw two more chairs to either side of her and immediately begin asking questions.
    “Did you find any?”
    “How about the chopper, did you see it? We heard it two days ago.”
    “How far did you go?”
    Zoey grins. It had been all she could do to convince Rita and Sherell to stay behind. Both women are fully capable of taking care of themselves, but there is no denying she has an edge on them when it comes to fighting and shooting. She made it her sole purpose during and after her rehabilitation to learn everything Merrill could teach her about weapons and the ground fighting he calls jiujitsu, even with Chelsea’s constant chiding about re-injuring her bruised spinal cord.
    “We never saw a chopper, but we found a reconnaissance group.” The low chatter around the fire stops. Zoey looks at Merrill for approval and he tips his head. “We caught wind of them southeast of here near the edge of the desert. Merrill and Eli heard people talking about three armed strangers asking about recent births and younger women. When we caught up to them and saw they were heading in the direction of the ARC, we set up an ambush to disable their vehicle, but it didn’t work exactly how we planned.”
    She pauses, takes a sip of water, then finishes the story about chasing and interrogating the surviving spy. When she’s done there is only the crackling of flames and the constant whisper of wind in the pines.
    “So are we going there?” Sherell asks. “Do you think there’s a chance we’ll find out who our families are?” Zoey realizes the question is directed at her, not at Merrill or Ian or the rest of the group. She glances at Merrill.
    “Everyone’s agreed,” Merrill says. “This is important enough to you three that we’ll help you any way we can. No one in the group was given an ultimatum. Each person decided for themselves. If Meeka had escaped I would’ve wanted someone to help her find me.”
    Zoey looks at the people ringing the fire and the same choking sensation returns. Chelsea, the doctor and mother to them all. Eli, always there to make her smile. Ian, never without a kind word or encouragement. Newton, mute but so gentle and intelligent. Tia, gruff but insightful. And Merrill, another name for him she can’t quite get herself to say yet.
    They all gaze back. Her family.
    Forcing away the tears that threaten to spill out, she says to Sherell and Rita, “If they’re all in agreement then we should probably have our own meeting.”
    “I’m going,” Rita says.