G.U.A.R.D. Book #4: Tracked

-14-

07:45, February 13. Somewhere in the desert:

Clang!

The metal door swung open and in stepped a man I had never seen before. He was a little taller than me with black skin and a serious expression. Two G.U.A.R.D. agents in tactical gear followed him, rifles trained at the ceiling.

"Logan Ryder," the man said. He stood tall, muscles in his chest puffed out.

I was so done with formalities that I didn't move. I just stayed on my cot, staring at the wall with a hard expression. "If you're going to question me, just get it over with."

"G.U.A.R.D. decided you're innocent."

I stopped, not sure if I heard correctly. I knew Martin had already decided it, but finding out it was now decided was almost too good to be true.

I rubbed my chin. "When?"

"I received the announcement this morning. My name is Mike Alexander."

I instantly recognized the name. Standing up, I faced him. "Director."

"We're going to transport you to a different destination. We require some of your... knowledge."

I felt a small tingle of excitement at his words. Finally able to get out? But my brow still furrowed. "Sir, I don't mean any offense, but what knowledge could I possibly possess that could help you?"

"It concerns your past."

I stared at him with alarmed eyes. My past? As in my family? Or did he actually mean my past?

"Follow me," Director Alexander said.

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. I hesitated, but the rifle-carrying men motioned for me to do as he said. I decided not to anger them. Quickly matching his pace, I walked into a metal hallway and trailed the director of Base 5. But then I remembered Base 5 no longer existed, and I wondered if that made Director Alexander just Agent Alexander.

I pushed the thought away and continued.

The air-conditioned air swept past my bare arms, giving me chills. It was a different cold from the mountains; it was unfeeling, uncaring. It was dead. Like all the agents in the G.U.A.R.D. morgue.

In the hallway, we passed several metal doors just like mine. I wondered if Cleve was in any of the rooms beyond. We stopped at one of the "sideways elevators." I didn't know what base we were in—even if it was a base—but I knew that it was underground and only had one floor. Since the underground facility contained so many rooms, it was separated into sections, and these sideways elevators went to these sections like a normal elevator would to a new floor.

The four of us entered, and Director Alexander pressed one of the buttons. Last time I had been in one of these, I was blindfolded. It was strange to be here without one. As the metal box began moving, I worked up the nerve to ask the question pestering my mind.

"How many died?" I asked. I had tried not to talk to either Richards or Carlton, and when I was with Martin, I spent all the time telling her about the encounters with the League. I never had a chance to ask any questions of my own.

Director Alexander looked back at me briefly, then resumed his stare at the closed doors. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Guilt suddenly tore at my heart like a claw. My teeth ground together, so hard it hurt.

We suddenly stopped, then began going up. When the elevator doors opened, I was shocked with the sudden buzz of activity. Agents wearing the G.U.A.R.D. clasp, pilots in jumpsuits, and doctors with occupied stretchers dashed everywhere. Barely anyone took the time to glance our way. I noticed several people—mainly paramedics—using other elevators to go down to the underground.