Christian Smith up after a beating

Two people worked in a plot the next row over. One of them, a black man with a fuzzy scalp, leaned on the long handle of some garden tool. His smug expression dropped as the quartet moved out from behind the patch of sunflowers and into view. The other worker also had a near-shaved head, an older white man with a heavy brow and a torn earlobe. He was kicking at something on the ground, half-hidden by the overgrowth between them. A large bag or sack or…
Dim recognition flickered in Danielle’s mind. The two men were soldiers from Project Krypton. Not Unbreakables, but some of the civilians who’d been recruited into the base’s ranks.
…
Christian Smith uncurled from the fetal position she’d been wrapped in and crawled away. She grabbed a fence post and dragged herself to her feet. Cesar tried to help her up, but she smacked his hands away and hissed at him. It was a soft sound with no bite behind it.
“I apologize, ma’am,” said Kennedy. “These—”
It earned her another weak hiss of air. Smith’s lips fired off a flurry of silent curses and insults. Danielle wasn’t a good lip-reader, but most of the words were short and to the point. Kennedy stayed just as silent throughout it.

Excerpt From Ex-Isle, pg 166, 168
Peter Clines
https://books.apple.com/us/book/ex-isle/id989619017