It was hard to enjoy the barracks when I couldn't shake the feeling we were in a fancy prison. There were flushing toilets, not that we needed them, and running showers, and a dozen other modern conveniences I hadn't seen since I woke up Revived. There were some things missing, but Sub Station Apollo was surprisingly decked out.

It pissed me off.

After a cursory poke through of our new digs, I loitered by the door, wondering if General Mitford intended to let us out after the fact as I tried to ignore Princess hanging back somewhere behind me. The minutes dragged, stumbling over one another, until I was so bored I tried to listen for my heart beat. It was typical Princess behavior to keep something so noteworthy close to the vest. She was an opportune moment kind of gal.

My pulse was a meager beat per four minutes. That was so far from a normal human pulse I gave myself the willies.

The door hummed to life. I shoved away from the wall, grateful for the distraction. Until I saw Petra's face. General Mitford stood next to her, still the picture of congeniality but Petra, dammit, like her brother, she did not possess a poker face, not really. She looked guilty.

My four minute pulse kicked up to a solid three minutes as the others filed out from the surrounding rooms.

"My apologies for the wait, ladies and gentlemen," said the general. He began to pace between the doorway as he addressed us. Petra was further back, not meeting our eyes. Where was Kit? "Master Sergeant Marlowe informed me your lot doesn't share the same biological necessities as the men so I allowed them to take mess without you."

My internal alarm bells were ringing. Call it what you will, super zombie senses or what have you, but the general was lying.

"This gives me the opportunity to address you directly. As you are well aware, there is a new threat to humanity. Once again, we find our people, our way of life, and our world under attack by a force greater than our own. One we are little prepared for. Between the hordes of undead still roaming the land and the advanced technology the extraterrestrial force hold over us, humanity balances on the precipice of true extinction," said the general as he paced, his stance taut, hands clasped to forearms behind his back. "We were low on options. When we heard of the existence of altered, cognizant undead, the Revived as you call yourselves, well, you might just be the last second save we need to fight back against overwhelming odds."

He stopped pacing, meeting each of our gazes as he dropped the other shoe. "Marlowe was under my orders to bring in a selection of altered undead for study and research. That you came willingly gives me hope that you will volunteer for what we need from you," said Mitford. Volunteer rang between my ears. "Our scientists seek to understand the cause of this mutation, to understand how and why it mutated in this fashion with the consumption of extraterrestrial brain matter. We can't promise you all the answers but if you work with us, we can help you further understand your condition and you can help us save what remains of the human race."

Silence. Even Fred was speechless, mulling over the general's words with the rest of us. I had to hand it to the man, he was one hell of a speech giver. The sort of speeches that caused people to commit atrocities and drink the poisoned kool aid. Plus, he was a big fat liar.

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on it," muttered Princess, hugging her chest.

"I volunteer."

I felt Princess stiffen next to me. Ginger stepped forward, nervously wringing her hands in front of her. Princess shifted, opening and closing her mouth on words that never made it passed her lips. The red head proved an unfortunate catalyst as Rosa stepped forward next, her light brown eyes full of resolve and a dash of hope. Out of the newer Revived, all but Curley 'volunteered', leaving my group. The general's steel colored eyes swung our way, expectant.

"Would you allow us to think it over, sir?" JD drawled from the back of the group. I could have hugged him. He was too large and too much of a soldier himself to be intimidated or conned by a man like Mitford.

"Certainly, Corporal Daniels, certainly. Now for your safety and the safety of Sub Station Apollo, I would ask you remain here with the others who have declined to volunteer."

Ah, so that was the play. His words spurred Princess to snag Ginger's sleeve, whispering frantically in her ear. Fred looked less than pleased about her decision as well, but he didn't have the same reservations as Princess.

"You sure about this?" He asked her, a concerned frown playing between his brows as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Crap, he really did care about her.

She nodded, smacking at Princess's grasping fingers. She rounded on her long time companion, hissing something at her that made Princess blanch and step away from her. Ginger smoothed her hair, giving Fred one last peck on the cheek before she joined the others loosely clustered around General Mitford.

The general nodded to us. "I can give you three days. At that time, inform me of your decision and we shall proceed accordingly."

"What if we say no?" Hand it to Fred to ask the question no one else wanted to.

The general paused. "Why, you'll go back to Fort Braydon of course."

Liar.

The door hummed, descending, and slowly trapping us back inside. At the last second Princess slid forward, her hands fluttering over the seams as the door slid into place. "No, wait, Ginger!" Her voice cracked on a sob. She slumped to her knees on the smooth concrete, her palms pressed flat against the metal.

Fred's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Think he'll actually let us go?"

"Nope," I said.

"What should we do?" That came from Curley. The big guy shuffled from foot to foot, nervous. I wondered why he hadn't joined the others, but he had his own reasons, his own loyalties.

"I don't know but I hope Kit's okay," I said. I looked over the others. JD, Fred, the Muppets and Lannie, all of them looked as exhausted as I felt after a two day march and a mid night battle. We needed rest before we did anything. "Grab a bunk. Catch a nap. Let's figure out what the hell we are going to do about this mess when we've had a couple hours of rest." They began to peel off into separate rooms. Lannie lingered the longest, eyeing the door with feral intensity until Bert and Ernie each grabbed an elbow and gently dragged her away.

I slid down next to Princess.

"You aren't one for emotional displays," I said, rocking on my heels. Princess tilted her head at me. There was a flash of true anger and heartbreak in her eyes.

"She's a fool and she's going to get herself killed," said Princess. She looked away, staring at her hands in her lap. "We should never have come here."

"But we are here now," I said. "We can figure out what's really going on."

"Maybe you will," said Princess.

I inhaled a breath. One of my little human habits I couldn't shake. "What did you do?"

She didn't say anything, but held up the nearly invisible string clasped between her index finger and thumb. She tugged, causing the door to rise a couple inches. My eyes followed the string, looping up through the gears in the door. When did she find the time to set it up? She must have worked on it from the second we left her alone to explore the rooms. Her plan was in motion before we set foot in this room.

I raised an eyebrow. "That will be a tight fit, and that string doesn't look like it will last long."

"It only has to last a couple seconds," said Princess. Wow, she was really planning to leave us. I had no doubt whatsoever she could maneuver her way out of this whole place blindfolded with one arm. Still, I felt oddly hollow at the prospect of her leaving.

She reached over, grabbing my hand. "Come with me," she whispered her plea, her voice so soft I barely caught it.

"I can't leave them here," I said. Not with General Scumbag McSketchastic.

"Can't leave them, or can't leave your pretty boy soldier?"

I looked at her, startled. I didn't know how to react to the expression in her face. It threw me for a loop, especially when I was certain if she had a thing for anyone, it was Ginger. "Olivia–"

She jerked me forward, pulling me off balance to press a brief, hard kiss against my lips. It was over before I could properly react. Her forehead touched mine for a second. "Don't die," she said.

Princess yanked on the string. The door rose just high enough, just long enough, for her to roll out under it in a blur of cotton candy hair.

The door slid back down to the floor with a soft thud, not so much as an echo. A wad of cloth stuck out from beneath the track, a piece of her shirt to muffle the sound.

She'd thought of that too.