Sarah POV
There wasn’t any human-grade alcohol in the entire mining compound, so I had mixed mine with water and was sipping slowly. There was no question that Zane, Travis, and I would be drinking that evening.
The National Guard troops had set us up with tents, including a double-sized one for Zane, and that’s where we were sitting, elbows on a table, chairs a little wobbly on the unpaved ground.
“I can’t just shut the place down,” Zane said, glaring down into his glass of whiskey as though it had insulted his dead mother. “The local economy completely depends on it.”
“Generations,” Travis said. “They’ve been treating the humans like replicable sacrifices for generations.”
“How many times do you think you heard the word ‘canary’ today?” I asked, not looking at the men with me.
“Ha
