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felt like a pair of scissors had been shoved into my head. I turned toward the wall so I wouldn’t cry in front of the cameras.
    The first blast of music made me jump. Too loud! I hadn’t noticed the speakers embedded in the ceiling.
    “All By Myself.”
    Great. Hunter had a sick sense of humor. As if he hadn’t given me enough of a headache already. The first few times the song played, it was merely annoying. After five hours, it was exhausting. I got a break at that point; two female guards escorted me to the other end of the hall. They both wore army uniforms, but I didn’t know what the insignia meant—if they were officers or enlisted or whatever. One opened the door with her thumbscan; the other secured it once we were inside. I had to shower in front of them, awkwardly shampooing my hair while wearing plastic handcuffs.
    I bet there are places in New York City where people pay money to watch stuff like this.
    At least I was getting clean. My shoulder had bruised to an ugly purple and washing my hair made my head injuries hurt like someone was clanging a clapper against them. One of the guards noticed the marks then looked away. After I toweled off, she gave me a peach-colored hospital gown. Insult on top of injury—could being forced to wear peach be considered a violation of the Geneva Convention?
    The music was off when they returned me to my cell, although the lights remained on. I wrapped a blanket tightly around myself and curled up to sleep on the metal shelf.

CHAPTER 4

    The music started again, way too soon. I’d gotten maybe four hours of silence.
    Gah—I really, really hated this song.
    My head throbbed and one of my eyelids had swollen overnight, blurring my vision. Claustrophobia gnawed at my gut and a sudden, painful ache for Trevor took my breath away. I stared up at the ceiling and stretched out with my thoughts, trying to find anyone within range. I pictured a post-apocalyptic scenario where my underground prison had shielded me from the alien weapon that’d destroyed everyone else. Would I slowly starve to death? That would suck. Or—a chill ran down my back—what if someone like Belinda simply charmed my captors into forgetting I was down here?
    That could happen.
    Actually, how did I know that my being here wasn’tBelinda’s doing? Charm orders would explain why I wasn’t getting regular treatment. No lawyer; undisclosed location; hell, I hadn’t even been offered a phone call. I swallowed hard and pulled my knees up as cold tendrils of fear snaked through my gut. If I ever got proof Belinda was involved, I was so going to blast Hunter and make a break for it.
    The endless loop of “All By Myself” was my sole, ironic companion for most of the day. Fear trickled away into annoyance as I gritted my teeth as the pause at the end of the song was broken, over and over. Still, it wasn’t as bad as vicarious heroin detox and multiple stab wounds.
    It said something unfortunate about my life that these were my current options.
    Hunter returned to ask variations of the same old questions. His frustration crackled around him—he still hadn’t figured out that I really couldn’t speak. This stupid little bitch can’t hold out forever. If only we could’ve kept her at that hospital until we’d really broken her. Maybe I could bring some injured soldiers into the other rooms here. But they’d need medical attention and we don’t want any more potential leaks in this operation. Dammit! Dale should’ve let me move against the ones up at Ganzfield by now. He still doesn’t see the threat their kind poses to us—to America! In his heart, Colonel Hunter believed that containing the threat we represented was the best thing for both God and country… and that people like Dale weakened America and humanity by holding him back.
    Whoever this Dale person was, I was starting to like him.
    Hunter left after an hour of threats and unanswered questions. The music started as soon as he’d left