The Fall (Book 3): War of the Living by Joshua Guess

got a few blind spots. You don't consider yourself valuable, but you are. It means I have to make hard calls to protect you whether you like it or not.”
    “For the record,” Dodger said, breaking into the conversation, “Will was clear that I was to tell no one about you. There were threats leveled against me, bless his little heart.”
    “Dodger,” Will said, a warning tone in his voice.
    The other man grinned. “Sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry at all. “My point is, the boss didn't give up the goods on a whim. He's been watching out for you, Kell. Even had me do some quiet reinforcement of the walls around the little spot you share with your people here in New Haven.”
    “Which brings up an important point,” Will said. “Why did you draw attention to yourself by mentioning this idea of yours to Dodger?”
    “It kind of hit me all at once, and I didn't want to wait. I figured giving him time to think about it on the way home would...” Kell trailed off, realizing how lame the explanation sounded now.
    “Like I said, you have blind spots,” Will sighed. “You're the smartest guy in the room, regardless of what room or how big it is. You don't show it off, but the problem is, you know you're that much smarter than the rest of us. Without realizing it, you've made yourself think that your ideas are always original, the best, and should be listened to first and most.”
    The criticism stung, mostly because it was true. Kell's parents and his wife had said much the same many times over the years.
    “It makes you say things without thinking. You put your identity at risk because you thought you knew better than everyone else, and it made you thoughtless. You didn't consider for a second that you could have come to me once you were home, and that I'd listen. That Dodger would have to talk to me before we organize another one of these trips.”
    For all his size, Kell felt like the incredible shrinking man. Will was right. It would have been more tolerable were he being yelled at, but the even calm in Will's voice never wavered.
    Leaning forward in his chair, Will locked his fingers together as he rested elbows to desk. “As it is, no harm done. Remember this the next time you decide to say something outside the wheelhouse of the man you pretend to be. No more moments of brilliance that might turn heads. Also keep in mind, Doctor McDonald, that when it comes to war, we know much more about it. We already have people working on something very like what you suggest.”
    Will smiled, a wintry expression that didn't touch his eyes. “The difference is, you were thinking too small.”
    As Kell would come to learn, Will was right.

Four
     
     
    Two weeks went by in what Kell theorized was some sort of time-dilation field. Every day felt like a month as New Haven waited for news from the men and women tasked with fighting the Hunters.
    It wasn't enough to simply kill groups of them. Though communications between the cells was nonexistent, it had been decided that the sudden death of hundreds of their number might cause the rest of the Hunters to scatter, making it all but impossible to end the threat they posed once and for all. Will consulted Kell privately on the specifics of the weapons they would use, and as a result he stayed informed.
    Most of those fourteen days were spent doing very little except heal and lurk around Will's office—as he was doing now—waiting for news. The collarbone, only broken partially through its diameter, was healing fast. Every day brought less tenderness and more function.
    Will wasn't in the office, as he often wasn't. New Haven had three portable cellular transmitters, military devices that still bounced a direct signal across satellites. One was with the assault forces, leaving the other two for New Haven's use. Kell waited for Will to return from his hourly trip to the nearest transmitter.
    Kell had asked several people how the communications network functioned, but their