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kill you without blinking. …not even sure she can blink.”
    “Who else are you guarding against?”
    “Tank.”
    “He’s in jail.”
    She shook her head. “Not for long. And the Chemist will find you sooner or later. You need to move.”
    Puck reported, “One mile out.”
    I asked, “Where would I move?”
    She shrugged. “Don’t care. Somewhere else. Richard needs to move too.”
    “Don’t call my father Richard.”
    “Richard could move into my truck, now that I think about it.”
    “I will vomit. Directly into your lap.”
    She grinned. “What? My truck’s cabin is comfortable! Two people could sleep in it. If we got creative.”
    “Samantha. I’m serious.”
    “It’d be nice and hot. Wouldn’t even need the heater.”
    Before she could react, I undid the clasp on her shoulder holster. She caught the leather harness as it slipped but the movement distracted her; I put my hand under her hamstring and flipped her off the chair. She landed on her back with an angry grunt.
    She hissed, “I hate how fast you are.”
    “Don’t talk about my dad then, you big whore.”
    “Chase!” she laughed. “You may NOT call your future mother a whore.” She stood and brushed herself off while I debated throwing her from the moving vehicle.
    “Hey guys,” Puck called. I heard his voice from his techno-cage and from the speaker in my ear. “Check this out. I’m putting it on screen.”
    The television changed to a different satellite picture. This video feed was zoomed in on an intersection inside enemy territory. An interesting conflict was developing. Chemist gunmen and Chosen were arguing about something we couldn’t hear, but we could see them bickering.
    “Five armed gunmen,” Samantha said, indicating figures with her finger. “Three Chosen, I think. Wish we could hear them.”
    Puck groaned, “I know. It’s like we live in the stone age.”
    I said, “The guy with the shaved head is the boss. Right?”
    “Appears so. But they aren’t happy with him.”
    “There’s an inherent hierarchy within the Chemist’s chaos. A method to his madness,” I mused.
    “I want to know how the chain of command is enforced,” Samantha said, her mouth a grim line. “Who gets promoted. Who doesn’t. How it’s identified. And how discipline is administered.”
    “I don’t think it’s that complicated. I think it happens organically.”
    “That’s what Carter says,” she grunted. “But I want proof.”
    That got my attention. “Carter contacted you?”
    “Twice so far. Just a general update.”
    “I thought he cut ties.”
    “Carter is in the business of resources and information. You and I are one of the many moving pieces on his chessboard. I think he sees me now like he once saw Martin. Not an ally, but not an enemy. A professional acquaintance.”
    “How does he see me?”
    “As a threat. A ticking time bomb. If the Chemist captures you, the world will never be the same. Carter knows that. Plus, you’re one of two or three people on earth capable of killing Carter.”
    “Are you capable?”
    “No. I lose that fight ninety-nine times out of a hundred.”
    “How do you know?”
    She shrugged. “Just do.”
    Puck called, “Agreed.”
    “See, that’s how I think his Chosen work.” I pointed at the intersection on screen. “They just know who’s the strongest. And might makes right in their world. The Chemist allows them to toil autonomously because he built them with a…constitutional need to obey the powerful. The strongest is in charge, like in the wild.”
    “What do you mean ‘built them’?”
    “He told me he put his DNA inside those tigers. He’s doing something other than just squirting his blood into people’s veins. I think he’s altered the virus. He wants the Chosen to be more…obedient.”
    She was scowling in thought, her bright eyes intense. “Infected are not obedient.”
    “Exactly! Carter has a mutiny on his hands because his Infected co-workers hate