“I’m glad. You deserve it.”

The film crew took a break and Loup greeted the rest of the band. Randall surprised her by folding her in a gentle hug, pressing her carefully to his lanky body.

“Just wanted to be sure I got a chance,” he explained.

“Me too!” Charlie followed suit, copping a quick feel in the process. “Huh. Different.”

Loup plucked his hand away. “This is not hand-on-the-ass time, Charlie.”

He grinned at her. “Says you.”

She smiled despite herself. Donny leaned over to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’m not gonna hug you,” he said. “Because I’ll fucking well lie awake thinking about it for days if I do. But just know I really, really want to.”

“You’re a good guy, Donny.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “How the fuck did that happen?”

The crowd outside grew. The band settled into performing their preconcert rituals. Geordie Davies came over to shake Loup’s hand.

“It’s been an interesting journey,” he said formally. “All I can say is that I hope this isn’t the end of it.”

“Thanks, Geordie,” she said. “So do I.”

Brian McAfee asked to get some footage of Loup working the portable heavy bag that had been set up backstage for her. She agreed gladly, grateful for the distraction. She fell back into the old familiar rhythm, eschewing the kicks and elbow strikes that Clive had taught her in favor of the pure boxing technique she’d learned from Coach Roberts and practiced for hours and hours in the church’s garage. It was comforting.

It made her think of home.

It helped dull the vast sorrow she felt every time she thought of the pain on Pilar’s face.

It blotted out the sound of the National Guard arriving.

The silence settling into the background alerted her. Loup stopped and turned around. A dozen men in uniform moved through the tent, issuing orders, shutting down the film crew.

“Freedom of speech!” one of the cameramen protested.

“National security,” was the curt reply.

Brian McAfee held his Dataphone cupped in his palm at waist level in an unobtrusive manner, aimed at Loup. He gave her a wink.

The officer in charge strode toward her. “Loup Garron? aka Guadalupe Herrera?”

She folded her arms. “Yeah.”

“I have a warrant to take you into military custody.”

Loup didn’t move. “You know what you’re doing totally sucks, right?”

The National Guard officer blinked. “I don’t make the rules, miss. Just come along peacefully, all right? No one wants trouble.” He caught her arm and attempted to turn her around.

She shook him off and took two steps backward, lightning quick. “Sure you do. Make the rules, I mean. This is a democracy, right? You vote, don’t you? It must be nice. I’ve never had the chance.”

He beckoned for backup. “Take it up with the courts. Right now, you’re resisting arrest.”

“No,” Loup said thoughtfully. “If I were resisting, you’d know it. I’m just asking you to think about what you’re doing.”

The officer drew a stun gun. “You going to make this hard?”

Loup cocked her head. “I just want a chance to—”

He fired.

“Goddamnit!” Donny yelled. “She’s just a girl!”

The electrode darts made contact with the bare skin of her abdomen. Loup doubled over, her muscles seizing. She straightened, wincing. “Is that all you’ve got?”

The officer’s jaw dropped. “Holy fuck!”

Another guard stunned her from behind, and then another.

She doubled over again and braced her hands on her knees, riding out the agonizing muscular convulsions.

“Loup!” Charlie’s voice, genuinely alarmed. “Cut it out!”

“America sucks!” Randall added fervently. “This is bullshit!”

“It’s okay!” Loup hauled herself upright, breathing hard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brian McAfee giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “It’s okay,” she repeated, exhaling hard. “I’ve kind of done this before.” She put her hands together in front of her. “Jesus, guys! I said I wasn’t resisting!”

The National Guard descended on her. They spun her around and handcuffed her hands behind her. Real metal cuffs, no plastic strips this time.

Loup let them.

“Hey, Donny!” She stumbled past him, shoved from behind. “Tell Pilar I’m okay, will you? This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just for show.”

“You’re hurt!” he protested. “They hurt you!”

“Not bad. Just tell her, will you?”

He nodded, eyes damp. “I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks.” Loup craned her head around for a last look. “Good luck. Play good, guys. Have a good concert. Sorry I couldn’t be there for it.”

“You fucking bet we will,” Randall said softly.

They did.

They played very, very well.

FORTY-FOUR

Niiice.” The guard drew the word out.

“Yep,” Loup agreed. She watched the concert footage on the Dataphone the guard held thoughtfully for her. A montage of clips featuring her played on the big screen behind the band while Randall addressed the crowd.

“This all started out as a lark,” he shouted. “People said it was a gimmick when we hired the world’s only GMO bodyguard, and it was. But it’s bigger than that now. And an hour ago, it stopped being a lark!”

On the big screen, the footage of Loup being shot with the stun gun played.

The guard winced.

The crowd yelled in protest.

“This one’s for Loup!” Randall called as the band launched into “Cages,” an ongoing montage playing in the background all the while.

“Thanks,” Loup said when the video clip ended. “I appreciate it.”

The guard shrugged and pocketed the device. “Thought you’d like to know. It’s all over the news.” His voice softened. “I got a kid sister your age, and you don’t seem all that different from her. What they’re doing to you, I don’t think it’s right.”

“Is there any news about the Outpost hearings?” she asked. “They’re supposed to start today.”

He hesitated. “Maybe. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“Thanks.”

The guard left, taking her breakfast tray and locking the door of her cell behind him. Loup lay down on the cot and folded her arms behind her head, staring at the ceiling.

At least it was a lot better than the last time. She wasn’t sure where she was being held, but she had a cot with a pillow and a blanket. The cell had a toilet and a sink. The temperature was tolerable. She had a clean orange jumpsuit to wear instead of sweat-soaked boxing gear. She hadn’t been interrogated or hosed. So far, she’d been served meals at regular intervals even if it was MREs, and they’d turned the lights off overnight.

It was still prison, and the empty feeling told her she should be scared that this time there would be no escape.

It was boring and it was lonely, horribly lonely. She missed Pilar; and that was worse than before. They’d been separated for long months before the boxing match, only reuniting the day before the event. It was harder being alone now. And it was doubly frustrating not to know what was going on in the outside world. The first time, Loup had been resigned to an unknown fate. Now she was desperately curious to know.

Hours later, the same guard returned to serve her lunch, sporting a grin. “You’re in luck. The duty officer’s a soft touch.”

“Yeah?” Loup opened the warm pouch. Diced turkey and gravy steamed unappetizingly. “What does that mean?”

“Eat up. I’ll be back.”

He came back a while later, opening a small sliding window in her cell door. “Stick your hands out.” Loup complied. He put on handcuffs. “You do that like you’ve had practice.”

“Unfortunately, yeah. Hey, what’s your name?”

The guard hesitated. “Bradford. Bradford Prince.” He unlocked the cell door. “Come on. Duty officer says you can be allowed a couple hours of rec time as long as I’m willing to supervise.”

“Okay.” At his direction, she preceded him down an empty, brightly lit industrial hallway to a sizable carpeted room. There were books and magazines on the shelves, a few board games, and a single television. “What is this place anyway?”

“Recreation room.” Bradford Prince turned on the television and began flipping channels.

“No, I mean where am I?” She glanced around. “And how come there’s no one else here?”

He hesitated again. “You’re, um… let’s just say it’s a detention center that hasn’t gotten much use in the past few years. We’re running a skeleton staff recruited on short notice.”

“All for me?” Loup asked wryly.

“For now. But if you’re tempted to get any ideas, don’t. Security’s tight and you’ve got nowhere to go.”

“If I was going to run, I wouldn’t have gone to the fucking concert,” Loup observed. “I’m not stupid.”

“Glad to hear it, because that’s exactly what I told the duty officer.” He found the channel he was looking for. “Okay, they’re carrying the hearings live on C-SPAN. As long as you behave yourself and don’t give me any trouble, you can watch a couple hours every day.”

“No strings attached?”

He shook his head. “No strings.”

She glowed. “Thanks, Bradford!”

He smiled back at her. “You’re welcome.”

The hearings were already in progress. It was a dry, tedious process that should have been boring, but Loup sat glued to the TV, watching Senator Ballantine construct a painstaking history of border security and the creation of the Outposts, laying out how many decades ago a raid by Mexican forces desperate for medication on a hospital in Laredo had spawned the legend of Santa Anna El Segundo that had created the basis for the entire policy.