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Hud looked up to see— “Ned. How’d you get in here?”
Ned had Shae’s hand, and they stopped at the door to the room. “I saw the look on Iris’s face, and she’s worried. I thought I’d come in and check.”
“He needs an MRI,” Bastian said. “His concussion protocol is inconclusive, but after that hit and that seizure, I’m pulling you from the game.”
Hudson held up his hand. “Listen. I’ve had seizures before. And I realize the seriousness of them. I’m sticking around to the end of the game, and then I’ll go in for an MRI if I need to. But I’m fine, really.”
Actually, not really, because his entire body ached, and he’d probably pulled a muscle in his neck, because it did hurt, but mostly his head throbbed, so yes, he’d probably turned even more of his gray matter to mush.
Which meant, probably, his on-field days were over.
He slid off the table and grabbed a towel. Wiped it over his head and hung it over his shoulder. “I need a drink.”
“Bottles are in the hallway.”
He and Ned and Shae headed out into the hallway that connected the training room to the locker room. The officials’ office was just down the hall. And beyond that, on either end of the tunnel, were the doorways—one to the field, the other to the parking lot.
No water bottles, however.
A trainer came in from the field. She wore a hat, kept her head down.
“Hey,” said Hud. “Do you know where the water bottles are?”
She looked up at him. And then, weirdly, looked at Shae.
Slowed.
“Vikka?” Shae said softly. “Wait—Vikka?”
The woman swallowed, then took off in a sprint.
“Who’s Vikka?” said Hud, even as Ned turned, sprinted after her. “What’s going on?”
Ned tackled her two steps before the door, grabbing her, spinning her around, winding her arm behind her. She swore at him, kicking, throwing back her head.
Shae and Hud had run after him, and now Ned turned the woman.
Rail thin, she had dark eyes, and her hat had fallen off, shaking out dark black hair. Tattoos ran up her neck from her shirt collar.
“Vikka. What are you doing here?” Shae ran up to her, glanced at Ned, but he shook his head.
“Who is this, Shae?”
“She was on the gulag ship with Shae,” Ned said. Shook her. “Weren’t you?”
Vikka’s jaw tightened.
“I thought you died.”
“Nyet. But I was recaptured. Along with Zurab.” Her eyes bored into Shae. “Only you got away.”
“What about…what about Judah?”
Vikka lifted a shoulder. “Dead.”
Shae’s shaky hand covered her mouth.
“But what are you doing here?” Ned said. He turned to her. “What’s going on?”
