Starts with a Match

From Firebug, with Love

Hope you're still alive.

Got intel. Heard about you at the border. Heard about Hether. That makes this easier for me. Sorry.

VT isn't the only sleeper. WG expanded beyond military infiltration. Collecting carriers. Buying limbs off the black market, IDK why.

Civilians getting on post with false bloodwork. No known affiliations or reason to be there. Not just WA. PNW infiltrated. Western & northern border failing. US to skip 6 and go stage 7.

Cherry picking getting scarce. Hundred left in US. Volunteer lowering the age. Going mandate. Thirteen. Help forming in the core.

Every attempt at using my tech to find bombs has been turned down. Asked before deployed, after, tried to get info from others while on border patrol. Got put on paperwork. Haven't left our camp since.

Computer clearance limited. Only sending this cause I found a way to make a new email and destroy it after.

Someone mentioned meteor shower, didn't see who or recognize voice. Look out for it. Don't know when. But it's coming.

DC sinking. Bethew ill. No confirmation on positive NZ23. VP Gershaw interim. Moving pieces soon. Bethew not the devil. Just the puppet.

Don't trust Gershaw.

Trust Caesar Ratface.

Trust our boys.

C u soon.

Stay alive.

When I look up, Donovan's staring at me. "Did you read this?" I whisper, even though the shop is loud as fuck and no one's gonna hear us.

It sinks in my gut that that's the reason he brought us here. Why he had me wipe my drive, why he destroyed it anyway. If he had it his way, he'd have probably smashed the computer I used to bits, too.

Donovan nods, eyes flicking from the pad to my face. "Read it as I wrote it, Kooper."

"Caesar Ratface—"

"Julius Seya?" I nod and he nods back. "Puppet Bethew," he adds under his breath, shifting his weight. He's close enough I can see where wrinkles have started showing up around his eyes. Crows feet from smiling so much. Lines between his eyebrows now seem unnatural. "Concern point one: why does she know more about the US over in Russia than we do in the US?"

"Concern point two: civilians lying to get onto post—" I gasp so hard it hurts, and his eyes round. "Stephanie Jackson."

"Who?"

"Shit—fuck, and I bet you Leah Fin, too."

"Who, Kooper?" he snaps, stepping more into my space until his chest is against mine. We get a glare from a dad with his toddlers, but I give him a glare right back.

"Leah Fin—"

I spin my head around, expecting her to rappel out of the ceiling, and I look back to Donovan. "She keeps popping up outta nowhere, someone's spouse—Jim met her, she was super pushy, knew my last name and that I was going to Russia—or, that was when I thought I was going to Russia, in July."

"And who's Jackie?"

"Stephanie Jackson is someone Seya asked me to look into this morning; she'd been all up in his business back at the picnic in the summer. He asked me to trust his gut and..." I look back to the notepad with a warm neck. Seems I need to trust him more than I'd like, but it is what it is.

Donovan keeps nodding, fingers tap-tap-tap on his drink. "Okay. Okay, so we got some civvies sneaking around, we got a bad VP."

"And we're running out of cherries, which means we're running out of chances to find a cure," I add. "Fuck, you really think they'll make it mandatory to volunteer if you're VB? At thirteen?"

"If Bethew is out, and White Guild really has snuck their way into the government..." He ages right in front of me with a wipe of his hand over his face. "Then yes. I think that may happen next." I nearly put his notes into my pocket like it's just a grocery list, but I remember to hand them back to him.

"What about the meteor shower? Any idea on when that may be? Or why it's important?"

"Do I look like an astrologist?" he snorts.

"Donovan, I didn't know you were a coder. You could tell me you're a breakdancer and I wouldn't even blink at this point." He gives a weary chuckle and we step away from the warm windows, snaking through people to get to the door of the shop.

Every eye that lands on me has me tensing. Where's Jackie? Where's Leah? Who else is a sleeper? When am I gonna look over the heads of these innocent or not innocent people and meet the stare of Vincent Taylors?

"Have you seen Seya?" Donovan asks as soon as we're outside.

"Not since this morning, he left hours ago."

"Thought he was supposed to be in the meeting this afternoon?"

"No idea about a meeting; he went home to go pack. He's flying out tomorrow."

"And there's been no word of a murder on post, or the airport. No hit and runs on I-35..."

"That we know of."

"That we know of," Don echoes.

He rips the sheet off the top of his notes, twirls it in his fingers until it's a small tube, folds the tube, and swallows it down with a gulp of his coffee.