"How did she get out?"

The question of the day. Fred kept muttering it out loud, tapping his chin as we walked between two rows of armed soldiers. If human/ Revived relations were a bit wobbly before, the miraculous escape of Sarah Benson was a massive step in the wrong direction.

After Petra finished swearing and screaming orders, she rounded on us, prepared to unleash the fiery wrath. It was our shared astonishment that saved our butts, but the tenuous relationship seemed irreparably damaged. However close I'd been to getting through the her, Petra reverted to full ice queen mode and obviously blamed us for the blonde's escape. A fact she made abundantly clear when dawn finally broke and we found ourselves surrounded by some very unfriendly faces. Guns up, not pointed at us yet, but it wasn't a good time to get twitchy.

"Petra?" There was Kit, ready to go to bat for us, again. I put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to cause a bigger rift between himself and Petra. This move, I understood. With blonde ambition on the loose again, there was the possibility of another attack and despite helping fend off the zombies the first time, Petra wasn't sure she could trust us to defend against Sarah Benson a second time. If I was honest, I wasn't too sure of that myself. I didn't know how the blonde got loose, but something about it didn't sit right. The ease and the lack of noise during her escape made me wonder if one of us helped her escape after all.

"It doesn't matter how she got out," said Princess, poker face in high gear as she walked beside Ginger. The only members of our group Petra didn't keep a firm eye on, surprisingly were the Muppets and Lannie, though I wasn't sure if that had to do with the zombies reaction to Bert and Ernie the previous evening or if she just felt guilty for nearly shooting the girl. She left them to bring up the rear behind us.

At some point, during the long march, Kit fell in beside me, looking pale and exhausted but still stupidly attractive.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes drilling into the back of Petra's skull.

"You don't have to be sorry, Kit, I know you aren't calling the shots here. Though," I hesitated, wondering if I wanted to put him in this position. "Do you happen to know something we don't?"

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Not much. They've been extremely tight lipped since last night." He shifted. "We haven't been close for a while, but you were right about one thing. She understands wanting to protect one's own. I'll see what I can find out."

He darted forward before I could dissuade him, matching his sibling's pace as Princess filled the empty spot he'd occupied, glaring at the soldier who moved to do so until he backed off.

"Lover boy trying to smooth things over?"

I kept my own sigh to myself. No need to encourage her, especially with Fred making a face right next to me.

"With pretty boy?" He whined at me.

"First, you are so not one to talk, secondly, there is nothing between us. Nothing."

Princess snickered.

"Did you want something?" I prompted.

"Yeah Li, I need to talk to you, alone," she said.

"Sub station ho!" One of the soldiers toward the front of the line called out. I hopped up on my toes and caught a glimpse of a metal through the trees. We were that close? Princess's request was lost in the burst of relieved chatter. The group pace picked up, their eagerness to reach actual shelter temporarily giving them a burst of needed stamina. We hit a bend in the road; Sub Station Apollo came into view.

"Huh." It wasn't what I was expecting, but honestly, I'd only seen one fully functioning post apocalypse settlement.

For one thing, the Sub Station wasn't much to look at. Other than a lengthy fence of barbed wire and rusting metal sheets that sliced through the forest, the only thing visible of the fort was a fat squat silo, not two stories tall, and a low slung boxy building. No tents, or out buildings, nothing. Fort Braydon was a thriving metropolis in comparison to this rusted out hutch in the woods. The most telling detail was the lack of undead.

Zombies congregated where the humans were. There was a measly handful of decrepit looking ones dragging themselves in aimless circles outside the wall but that was it. Petra's group mowed them down in seconds. The transport bellied up to the gates where it sat idling as the Ice Queen rapped a code on the steel wall.

A rhythmic clank and whir signaled the opening of the gate, two sections sliding open sideways on unseen gears rather than swinging outward or inward. Some quality engineering, though I wondered how fast those doors could crank shut if a zombie horde happened to appear. My thoughts crept back to Sarah Benson as our group entered Sub Station Apollo. Would she attack us here? What was the point? Not much worth attacking.

The Sub Station was just as unimpressive on this side of the fence as it was on the outside of the fence, the boxy building turned out to be a garage with a waiting empty spot for the transport next to a couple other vehicles in various states of disrepair. Least they all looked functional, and all military grade unlike the scavenged vehicles that populated the Fort. Not a soul could be seen in the massive yard surrounding the garage. The silo and side building took up a fraction of the space, the constructed fence stretching far out in either direction. What was the point of such a huge fence with nothing to guard? Unless it was meant to deter the undead from the nearby human city, though Kit hinted they were miles apart. It didn't make much sense.

"Welcome to Sub Station Apollo." The voice cackled and boomed from an ancient speaker system. It caused the new Revived to flinch, looking for the source. I was more interested in the ceiling, specifically the naked florescent bulbs fluttering in ceiling fixtures.

Sub Station Apollo had electricity.

"Li," Princess whispered. I tore my eyes away from the glorious sight of that light bulb and the possibilities it presented and followed Princess's line of sight to the middle aged man approaching us in worn army fatigues. A beret sat at a jaunty angle on his close cropped salt and pepper curls. His face would have been classically handsome in youth, square jawed and high cheek bones, that had been weathered and beaten by time, elements, and survival. A nasty set of scars marred the left side of his jawline, ridged with the unmistakable pattern of teeth. He had the same sort of gun metal eyes as Princess, all the more striking in his sun browned skin. The soldiers stood at attention as they noticed him, adopting the rigid stance only a man high in the ranks commands. Petra stepped forward with a smart salute.

"General Mitford," she said, "I am honored you'd come out yourself to welcome us home."

"Master Sergeant Marlowe at ease," said the general, clapping a gnarly looking hand on her shoulder. He must have broken every single one of his knuckles half a dozen times. I wasn't quite sure how high a Master Sergeant ranked, but it was certainly a fancy title. "I see you've brought us some interesting guests."

Right, as if he wasn't expecting us.

"A contingent of Revived willingly agreed to accompany us here," said Petra. Her words sent a flicker of unease through me. She made a point to tell him we were willing. That bothered me something fierce, giving me flash backs of empty blue eyes.

"Revived, eh. Is that what they call themselves." The general wasn't asking a question, nor did he look surprised to see us out of restraints. I wondered if anything phased him as his steely eyes studied each of us for an inordinate amount of time. They lingered on JD, taking a particular interest in the former soldier and then on Ginger before they took in the rest of the group. A small crease appeared on his forehead.

"You're down a man, Marlowe," he said.

Petra bowed her head, closing her eyes for a moment before she spoke. "We were ambushed sir, late last night. The Revived aided in the defense of the transport and actively prevented a higher loss of life."

Whatever beef she had with us, her report was at least fair except for one big detail she left out. I could feel the frown on my face but I carefully avoided looking at her. Why leave out the name of our attacker?

The general nodded at her report. "I am sure you're all exhausted from the long haul. Let's get you situated in the barracks and we'll have a formal debriefing this evening in the mess hall."

Barracks? Mess hall? With what room? The building was chock full to bursting with vehicles. Unless the silo had some hidden surprises?

The general walked back to the wall, pressing an unlabeled blue button. The high pitched buzz made my ears ring. A section of the floor slid open onto a descending staircase, well lit by more florescent lights. It dawned on me then, in a slow realization I blamed on lack of sleep and stress. Sub Station Apollo had nothing much to look at above ground. I followed the throng down, emerging into a wide brightly lit hallway. The floor was smooth cement, polished and painted. The walls were clean. Everything was bright and smelled faintly of ozone and bleach rather than the damp scents of the underground.

"This way folks," said General Mitford. He marched the hall at an easy pace, his hands clasped behind his back.

There were several empty door frames, opening up to the proposed mess hall, a common room, even a kitchen. A true chrome kitchen complete with a real stove instead of the wood burner they'd cobbled together at the Fort. General Mitford's pace never wavered, leaving us little to no time to appreciate and gape at the subterranean paradise of Sub Station Apollo. If this is what the digs looked like here, what did the city look like?

The general paused outside another unlabeled, nondescript door with a push button. He slammed his fist against it. The door rose upward, garage style, revealing a short hall that split off into several rooms.

"Guest barracks. Why don't all you Revived settle in and make yourselves comfortable while I get our men situated?" His tone was reasonable. The others looked equal parts excited and skeptical but they entered the room, probably looking forward to the little luxuries Sub Station Apollo possessed. It was a far cry from a cot in a dusty tent. Why was I hesitating?

I shuffled, glancing at General Mitford. "Thank you for your hospitality," I said, my gaze flickering between the silent Petra and considering Mitford.

He bowed his head to me. "We are grateful for your cooperation," he said, still the picture of civility. That was it. Part of me was waiting for it to fall, for the switch to flip as they revealed their dastardly plans for us like true Bond villains.

I'd been spending too much time with Fred.

Princess slipped her hand in mine, threading our fingers together. She flashed the general a nightmare grin. "Thanks peach, see you at dinner," she winked at him, tugging me into the room. The general watched Princess as he pushed the button again, his eyes on her until the door blocked his view. The smile never left Princess's face until he was out of sight.

"Your spidey senses tingling, Li?" Her question was quiet, just between us as the others explored the 'guest barracks'.

"You could say that," I said, testing the door. I already knew we were locked in and I knew I definitely didn't like the general.