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they already had.

    18
    What pissed him off the most was that it had taken him so long to figure it out and the fact that he’d felt downright stupid for not figuring it out sooner when he should’ve known better!
    His memories of that first transition weren’t clear. He’d realized after a while that, once the change was upon them, they hadn’t just physically turned monster, though, they’d had the mentality of animals, turning on each other, tearing at each other with their teeth and claws. The smell of blood and the rage burning through him were his clearest memories, but he’d had nightmarish flashes of the results—torn and bloody bodies lying all over the place. He could remember the absolute horror of the men sent to
    ‘rescue’ them. He could remember the way the bullets had felt slamming into him when their ‘rescuers’ had drawn down on them and filled them all full of holes.
    He’d come to from his fall into the water and had just managed to pull himself back up on the boat when the men on the rescue craft had decided it would be better to shoot first and figure out what they were later. Semi-conscious, he could remember being moved from the boat to the ship, being carried, being dropped on the cold metal deck among the bodies of his squad members.
    He could remember thinking he was dying, the fear, and then nothing until he’d woken up and discovered he wasn’t dead and none of the others were either. Relief had been fleeting. When he’d had time to examine himself and found all the holes—already closed and healing—he’d been too shocked to think for a while, but his shock was nothing compared to the shock of the men who’d been detailed to remove the ‘bodies’ for autopsy.
    He should’ve realized right then that the military would think they’d stumbled on something with tremendous potential—soldiers that turned into hideous monsters capable of amazing ferocity, who healed miraculously.
    He’d been too shocked and horrified by his memories, too relieved to find himself alive after all, and too terrified of what was happening to him, had happened, to think past a treatment to make him normal again. He supposed everyone else had been in the same shape as he was—scared shitless.
    Shrugging his thoughts off, he focused on the maps, trying to figure out the best possibility for survival to give them time to figure out what to do next. He’d circled a couple of possibilities for refueling and was studying the map of South America when Hawk got up and headed down to the engine room.
    “We aren’t goin’ home?” Beau, who’d taken the wheel, asked him.
    Mac lifted his head, stared at him for a moment, and finally shook his head. “I’m not sure we can ever go home again.”

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Chapter Three

They gathered on the deck, partly because Mac didn’t want the woman to hear the plans and partly because he wanted to keep the men as far away from her as he could.
    Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have worried about keeping the men in line. They were the Marine’s finest, as well disciplined and trained as they came. Moreover, he knew most of them personally, had worked with them on a number of missions.
    They weren’t the men they had been, though, any more than he was. Aside from that unknown, dangerous side to them now, there was the simple fact that they weren’t actually in the military anymore. Technically, they were. In actuality, they were just fugitives with prices on their heads. He didn’t know how many of them, if any, had already digested that, but if they hadn’t yet, they would begin to realize soon enough that military ranking didn’t mean shit anymore.
    “Assuming we can get here—and Hawk’s assured me we have the fuel for it—
    we’re going to head for the coast here. They may or may not still be tracking us on radar—I’m guessing we slipped them, but I’m not going to bet on it. Fortunately, our heading when we left them behind had us was on a course for