The Mimics

Chapter 13

Matthew POV

The training floor of the Bunker echoed with the rhythmic, metallic crack-crack-crack of handguns. I stood on the observation deck, my arms crossed over my chest, watching my squad put the new intake through their paces. Among the chaos of lanky teenagers stumbling over their own feet, one figure stood out precisely because he shouldn't have.

The guys had already given the new kid a nickname: "Teddy Bear." He was small for seven, his oversized tactical vest making him look even softer than he was. But as I watched him through the sights of my own memory, the name didn't fit. While the older boys were missing the silhouettes, Teddy Bear was silent. Methodical.

I watched him shooting the handgun. He didn't flinch at the recoil. He fired three rounds—slow, deliberate pulses. Each one punched through the target exactly where the central nervous system would be on a Changeling or the primary heart of a Grey. It was high-level marksmanship, the kind that usually took years of discipline to master.

I stepped off the deck and walked over to his lane, the sound of my boots heavy on the concrete. The kid didn't even jump when I stopped behind him.

"Where did a seven-year-old learn to shoot like that?" I asked, my voice low but demanding.

Theodore lowered the gun, his small hands steady as he engaged the safety. He looked up at me, and for a second, that flicker of sadness I’d seen earlier returned, deeper this time.

"My sister taught me," he said, his voice quiet. "On our way to Fort Worth."

I felt my jaw tighten instinctively. Fort Worth. The Texas Motor Speedway safe zone had been a bloodbath—overrun by a massive Changeling horde and starving predators before the military could even complete the evacuation. It was a miracle anyone had made it out of that sector alive, let alone a kid and his sister on foot.

"She taught you well," I muttered, but he was already looking away.

Theodore placed his weapon on the table with a mechanical coldness that felt wrong for a child. Without another word, he turned and started the long walk toward the mess hall for lunch, leaving me standing there with the ghost of a girl I didn't know haunting the silence of the range.

If his sister was the one who got him through Fort Worth, she was a hell of a soldier. But in this world, being a good soldier usually meant you didn't get to stay around for the ending.

The mess hall was a cavernous space of echoing metal trays and the low, constant hum of the ventilation system. We were eating the standard-issue sludge—rehydrated protein and gray starches that tasted more like the cardboard box they came in than actual food.

Dick was leaning back on his bench, picking at his teeth with a plastic fork. He turned his predatory grin toward the end of the table where the kid sat. "Hey, Teddy Bear," he called out, loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear. "I overheard you telling Chief that your sister was the one who taught you to pull a trigger. So, tell us... was she hot?"

A few of the guys chuckled, that nervous, cruel laughter that happens when people are trying to forget they’re trapped in a hole in the ground.

Theodore didn't even look up from his tray. He just pushed a piece of gray meat around with his spoon.

"Come on," d**k prodded, sensing he hadn't drawn blood yet. "She must’ve been a real feisty one to survive the Fort Worth slaughter with a little anchor like you dragging behind her. Give us a description so I know who to look for when I finally make my move on the girls' sector. I like 'em with a bit of fight."

The laughter grew, but I felt a familiar heat rising in my neck. My jaw was locked so tight my molars ached. I was about to shut d**k down when Theodore finally spoke.

His voice was flat, completely void of any inflection or emotion, which made it carry further than a scream. "She was on the bus," he said quietly. "The one coming from Fort Hood."

The silence that followed was instantaneous and absolute. It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. Every soldier in that mess hall knew about the Fort Hood transport. It had been ambushed by a massive swarm of Changelings in a narrow pass. By the time the rescue team reached the coordinates, there was nothing left but scorched metal and a grisly scene that even the veteran scouts wouldn't talk about. It hadn't been a battle; it had been a slaughter.

The grin slid off d**k’s face, replaced by a rare look of genuine discomfort. He looked down at his tray, suddenly very interested in his mash.

Theodore didn't wait for an apology or a reaction. He stood up slowly, his tray of food still full and untouched. Without looking at any of us, he turned and walked out of the hall, his small shoulders straight, leaving the ghost of his sister sitting at the table with us.

I looked at the doorway where he disappeared, then back at d**k. "Next time you open your mouth, make sure there's something worth saying in it," I growled, my appetite completely gone.

I walked through the concrete labyrinth of the lower levels, the hum of the air scrubbers sounding more like a funeral dirge than a life-support system. The silence after Theo’s departure from the mess hall was ringing in my ears. As I turned into a service corridor, I heard it—a faint, jagged whimpering that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I followed the sound into the men’s latrine. It was a cold, utilitarian room with leaking pipes and the smell of industrial soap. The whimpering grew louder, echoing off the tile. I moved toward the last stall and slowly pushed the door open.

Theodore was sitting on the dirty floor, his knees tucked tightly against his chest and his face buried in his arms. His small frame was shaking with the force of his sobs. I felt a lump form in my own throat as I knelt on the damp floor beside him. I reached out, gently placing a hand on his back.

"I'm sorry, Theo," I whispered. "I'm so sorry about d**k. He’s an idiot."

Theo sniffled, but he didn't look up. "She was all I had left," he choked out, his voice muffled by his knees. "I don't know if my dad is alive. Or my older brother. We watched Mom..." He trailed off, his breath hitching. "Rory was my comfort. She always knew what to say. She made sure I was okay, even when she hadn't eaten in days. She never complained. She just... she just took care of me."

I felt a small, sad smile touch my lips. "She sounds like a wonderful big sister, Theo. As long as you hold onto those memories—the way she made you feel, the things she taught you—she’s never really gone. She’s part of who you are now."

Theodore wiped his nose with his sleeve and slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, crumpled photograph, the edges worn white from being handled too often. He held it out to me with a trembling hand.

I took the photo, expecting to see a stranger. Instead, the air was punched right out of my lungs.

It was a picture of Theo and a girl with dark, wavy hair and a smile that hit me like a physical blow. It was her. My heart lurched with a sharp, agonizing pang. The "sister" who had fought through Fort Worth, the one who had been lost on the Fort Hood bus, was my old high school crush—Aurora.

I looked at her face in the photo, the golden sunlight catching her eyes. Of course she had been a soldier. Of course she had survived the impossible. She always had that stubborn, beautiful fire in her that refused to be put out. To think of that fire being extinguished on a roadside by those grey-skinned monsters made my blood turn to ice.

I took a deep breath, my vision blurring for a second. "She's beautiful, Theo," I said, my voice thick.

Theo nodded, carefully taking the picture back and tucked it into his pocket like it was a holy relic.

I gently rubbed his back, my hand firm. The grief in my chest was transforming into something else—something colder and more focused. "We’re going to avenge her, Teddy Bear. We’re going to avenge her and everyone else they took from us. I promise you that."