I pressed my nose against the window screen and cupped my hands around my eyes, trying to get a better look. No movement. He wasn't home.
Headlights and a loud motor approached and then another. The doors of eight identical green Humvees flew open, and men with guns filed out, quickly surrounding the house. I scurried to the bushes for cover, watching them beat on the door as I had just seconds before. When the soldiers couldn't get an answer, they smashed open the door and entered the professor's home. I peeked in through the window, watching as they pointed their flashlights at the bed. The sheets, pillows, and quilt were undisturbed. He wasn't home and hadn't been all night. After a few more minutes of searching, the soldiers retreated to their vehicles, and I sighed.
"Let's go!" one of the soldiers yelled.
I froze when I realized one was lagging behind. With my back scraping against the sharp edges of the brick, I slid to the ground slowly, trying not to draw the straggler's attention. A pair of black boots rounded the corner and stopped just inches from my hand. I closed my eyes.
You won't see me. Just keep walking. My heart pounded, and I struggled to keep the air in my lungs while I verged on experiencing a full-blown panic attack. I didn't fear what they would do to me if I were caught, but I feared what they would do to Cy if I didn't save him.
I'd only been that frightened once before, just before one of my killers pressed the sharp edge of his knife into my arm. My mother was already lying on her side, the light in her eyes nearly snuffed out--her blood spread around her--but she blinked once to let me know she wasn't gone yet, that she would stay with me until it was over. She lowered her chin, asking me to look into her eyes, to watch her so that we could go together. And so I did while they cut into my flesh and laughed about it. I'd always feel satisfaction from knowing that I frustrated them by not crying out like Sydney. I couldn't. My mother was just a few feet away, and I didn't want to torture her even more. Maybe that was why they didn't spend more time with me. I bored them. And then, they left us to die.
My memory seemed to take me away for years, but just moments later, heavy boots quickly moved toward the Humvees. Motors snarled, and tires ripped down the road. Without a plan for what to do next, I scrambled from the ground and into Dr. Z's garage. He didn't own a car. He walked to campus and used the city bus, but when he needed a different mode of transportation, there was Silver, his ancient moped. It might have been the first moped ever made, and he looked ridiculous trolling down the streets in his helmet and suit and bow tie.
I grabbed Silver's keys from beside the garage door and let my heavy backpack fall to the ground.
The kickstand flew back with barely any effort, and it wasn't long before I was zooming down the road, five blocks behind the Humvees, as fast as Silver could run.
The wind whipped around me, pelting my legs with sand. As brutal as it was, I knew it was only the prequel to the storm. Silver struggled to stay between the white lines as I flicked my wrist and pulled the throttle back as far as it would go. Expletives slipped out from my mouth at every other block as the Humvees moved farther and farther away. They turned east, and I leaned forward, hoping that would somehow encourage Silver to surge ahead.
The red lights of the Humvees were still visible once I turned, and I smiled with relief but not for long. It began to rain and not the light, warm kind that made people look up and smile. It was the hard, stinging cold rain that feels as if it was cutting into your skin.
I kept my distance as we left the city lights behind, but when the Humvees turned down Old Copper Road, I didn't follow. I couldn't chance them figuring out that they were being tailed. Instead of Old Copper Road, I drove another mile south. I knew where they were going, and hopefully, it was where they were holding Cyrus.
The rain was coming down in droves and slowing me down. The dirt road was muddy and too much of a challenge for Silver's small tires. I pulled over into the ditch and laid Silver onto its side, squinting through the rain, in the direction of the old warehouse nearly a mile away. That had to be it--the warehouse that had been closed for fifty years or more and where there had just been a party. The entire perimeter was lit up like Christmas. Never in the history of KIT had the secret society had two warehouse parties in one week--at least, not to my knowledge.
Zipping up my vest, I set out across the field, high-stepping across the brush, trying not to leave my boots in the mud. Terrible thoughts of what was happening to Cy behind those walls crept into my mind. He was of Egyptian descent. Maybe they thought he was a terrorist...or worse, maybe he was a terrorist.
And I'm about to break into a commandeered military post and do what? Save him? I could be caught, put in prison, or put to death.
"That only happens in the movies. They don't even kill spies anymore," I said aloud, tucking my chin to keep the icy rain from hitting my face.
I was breathing hard, and the mud had turned thick and impossible. My boot got stuck in a hole, and I began to pull away. As I tried to lean back to push my heel back inside, I lost my balance, overcorrected, and fell to the ground.
Facedown, palms down, flat on my belly in mud and cow crap. What am I doing?
A helicopter flew overhead, and I squinted, looking up through the pouring rain. It was landing, probably to collect Cy. I pushed myself up from the ground, pulled my boot as I pulled my foot from the mud, and ran as fast as I could manage through the field until I reached the back wall of the warehouse. Soaked, tired, and out of breath, I felt the rain smearing the mud in streaks down my skin and clothes.
I rested my hand against the door and bent down, taking a moment to collect myself before breaking into a military facility. Suddenly, the door vibrated, and the knob turned. I plastered myself against the wall, turning my head, as the door swung open.
A soldier walked out, lit a cigarette, and then blew a puff of smoke into the night air. His back was to me, so I slid around and along the door until I was inside and then snuck down the hall, hiding in a dark corner under a rusted metal worktable. It was chilly, and my wet clothes were drenched and sticking to my skin. My body shook, partly because of the cold, partly because I was absolutely terrified. I didn't know how to get Cy out even if I did find him. He was stubborn and loved to argue about everything. What if we're caught because he won't come with me?
Deep voices echoed from the end of the hall. My fingers and toes were so cold that they were throbbing. Seeing a lab coat hanging from a hook on the wall, I crawled out from under the worktable and snatched it. My vest and sweater were bulky and weighed down by the rain. They must have weighed five pounds apiece and hit the floor with a thud when I peeled them off.
Goose bumps rose on every inch of my skin. I wrapped the lab coat around me. My wet tank top was already soaking through the coat, but at least it was an improvement.
Walking slowly down the hall and exercising caution, I checked the rooms I passed, all while trying to keep my teeth from chattering and my wet boots from squeaking or squashing with every step. The minutes passed by, and although it was a miracle that I hadn't been caught, Cy was nowhere to be found.
The warehouse was cleaner, whiter, and brighter than it had been just a couple of days ago. If I hadn't seen it myself, I would have never believed the building could be transformed in such a short amount of time.
Footsteps echoed against iron grates along the floor, this time closer, so I ducked into a dark room. One of the men wore black leather combat boots. The other wore crocodile skin boots with gray slacks. Hideous.
"Sir, he's not talking," the soldier said. "Tennison wants to put him on the chopper and fly him out to headquarters. We don't have the experts here to question him."
"Ten minutes, Sergeant," Crocodile said. "Give me ten minutes with him, and then Tennison can take him to Disney World for all I care."
"Yes, sir," the soldier said.
With that, the men headed in opposite directions, but I knew exactly which one to follow.
Crocodile Boots
led me down four or five corridors. I lost count. I tried to remember my route, but after a while, I couldn't distinguish one hall from another. When Crocodile Boots went into a room, I snuck into the one next to it.
"The CIA is going to put you on a helicopter in ten minutes, son. After that, I can't help you. I need you to tell me what you know about Dr. Zorba's meteorite. Tell me why you're here."
The man paused, waiting for Cy to answer. After several moments of silence, I heard a deep sigh.
"Just tell me your name. Let's just start with that."
Still nothing until I heard a struggle.
"You're going to tell me everything I want to know, or I'm going to pick up that little weirdo friend of yours and finish the game of tic-tac-toe those psychos played on her skin a few years back."
The words he spoke made me feel dizzy, but I forced myself to remain focused, refusing to let my mind wander back to that night.
After more sounds of struggle, Cy growled, "Get away from me!"
"Are you surprised that I know what happened to her? You think it's a coincidence that her dad was working with Dr. Zorba and his partner and met such a tragic end? Majestic watched Dr. Zorba and Dr. Brahmberger for months before they discovered that signal. We intercepted an email from Marty Riorden to Dr. Zorba. He knew the signal was suspicious. He was going to interrupt their research. Marty's discovery would have taken it in a different direction than what we had anticipated, ruining years of planning and work."
Cy's expression metamorphosed from confusion to recognition. "You...you killed them."
"The real coincidence here is that Rory lived, Dr. Zorba took her under his wing, and ironically, you did, too. Now, I can use her again to get the information I need, just as I did when we questioned her father. It only took half an hour with Rory before he told us everything we wanted to know and even things we didn't think to ask."
I sat against the wall with my knees to my chest and my hands trembling from anger and hatred. We didn't die for money or pure violence or even so that I could be strong enough to save Cy. Crocodile Boots had us killed so that Dr. Tennison could get the validation he'd been seeking. He kept my father from telling Dr. Z and Dr. Brahmberger what he knew about that signal so that they could continue their research. They'd probably been monitoring Dr. Z when he learned of the meteorite in Antarctica. Tennison must have been thrilled, knowing Dr. Z would bring back the rock and do half the work before Tennison stole it from him.
So much violence, so many lives changed forever, ruined and taken away, all so Tennison could take the credit and be hailed for research he didn't do. With Majestic behind him, he had no rules.
I looked around for something, anything, to impale the bastard the moment he stepped outside the room, but there was nothing.
"How could you murder an innocent family, an innocent girl? So that two men who Tennison knew were smarter than him could continue the science for him?" Cy asked, his voice pleading for a reason.
Crocodile Boots laughed once. "I'll let Tennison know your concerns."
"You're monsters," Cy said.
"You know what I'm going to do to that poor girl--again--if you don't tell me what Tennison wants to know. That makes you worse than a monster. No?"
Silence.
"Okay, son. Have it your way."
The crocodile boots clanged against the floor as he stomped away, and I scampered around the corner just long enough not to be seen before crawling on hands and knees into Cy's room.
Before the door could slide shut, I slipped off the white lab coat and rolled it up tightly, wedging it between the door and doorjamb.
Cy was strapped to a chair with white cloth restraints on his wrists and ankles. His eyes nearly popped out of his head in disbelief as I scrambled up to hug him.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed. "Go away!"
I turned to check the hallway before shooting him the dirtiest look I could muster. "Are you kidding me? What does it look like?"
Cy's brows pulled together, and his eyes softened. "Did you hear him? He's coming after you. They'll torture you, Rory. They won't believe that you don't know anything. You have to leave!"
"Let him try, but for now, I'm getting you the hell out of here."
"You must leave, Rory. Leave the way you came. You can't help me."
"Shut up," I said, working on the cloth around his wrist. "I'm already here. I'm covered in mud and cow shit, and I'm getting you out of here. The least you could do is thank me."
Once I unbound one of his wrists, he used his free hand to work on the other while I untied his ankles. By the time I finished one, Cy had already freed his wrist and the other ankle. He pulled me up by the elbow and looked me in the eyes, his face just a few inches from mine.
He wiped mud from the corner of my eye and offered a sweet grin. "Thank you. But you shouldn't have done this, Rory. I don't want you to get hurt."
"You're my friend. You would do it for me, right?"
The corners of Cy's mouth turned up slightly, and then he refocused, his golden eyes flitting about the room. "This way," he said, pulling me by the arm out of the room and down the hall.
"No, this way," I said, tugging him to the right.
His hand tightened around my arm, and he pulled me close. "If we're going to get out of here alive, you must listen to me," he said, looking around. "You're attracted to danger. I feel the impulse to avoid it. Do you understand?" When I didn't answer, he frowned. "I don't have time to explain everything to you. You're going to follow me." With that, he pulled me in the opposite direction.
Not a minute later, there was shouting behind us and footsteps pounding against the metal floor.
Cy pulled me down another corridor and then another. Soon a siren blared, forcing me to press my palms against my ears. Lights along the ceiling began to turn, casting red shadows across Cyrus's face. He jerked his head to the side, trying to listen over the piercing alarm, and then he pushed me into the closest room and against the wall, holding his finger against his mouth.
Soldiers ran past, yelling to each other over the noise. Despite the siren, my heart beat so loudly against my chest that I was scared they would hear it. For the first time, I was truly afraid of what the soldiers might do to Cyrus if they caught us. Whatever they wanted, they were determined to get, and now we both knew what they were capable of doing. Judging by the fear in his eyes, I could tell he knew his fate was bleak if he fell back into their hands.
Once the soldiers passed, Cy pulled me from the room. I struggled to keep up with his long strides. He pulled us into yet another room, this one dark and full of rusted equipment from the warehouse. The cobwebs and cool air seemed like a world away from the shiny prison.
Cy pushed a table to the center of the room and climbed on it, jumping once to pull down an air vent cover. With the cover in one hand, he jumped again, pulling himself up and out of sight. His arm shot back down through the square hole and waved for me to follow. I cautiously clambered on top of the table, but the frightening sound of standard-issue military boots plodding down the hallway made me scramble to reach Cy's hand. His fingers trembled as they extended to their limit, and I hesitated, looking back at the door.
"Rory! Take my hand!" he said over the siren.
I jumped once, reaching for him. I wasn't tall enough to reach. I tried again, missing by more than two inches.
Cy lowered himself further into the room, extending both arms toward me. He had no leverage to pull me up, holding on with just his legs. He was frightened and desperate, but he wouldn't leave without me. "I will catch you, Rory. Jump!"
The footsteps were just a few feet from the door when I bent my knees and reached up with both arms. Cy hooked my fingers with his and then pulled, shooting me up through the vent like a rocket. He turned to grab the vent cover and pulled it up against the hole, sealing us in.
I began to crawl down the shaft, but Cy grabbed both of my legs and dragged me until I was next to him, wrapping bo
th his arms around me. A flashlight beamed in and out of the slits of the vent and then around the room. The legs of the table we climbed onto scraped against the floor when a soldier bumped against it.
"Clear!" he said, motioning the other soldiers to follow. They ran from the room to search the others.
Cy nodded. "They're gone," he whispered. "Follow me."
We crawled on our bellies down the shaft. It wasn't long before I was puffing, struggling to keep up with him. When soldiers were below, we would stop, waiting until they were out of earshot. The shaft was stuffy and dank and had me feeling borderline claustrophobic.
"Cy," I whispered, sweat dripping from my face, "I can't."
Cy pushed up, and a small opening formed above him, letting the rain shower his face. "This way," he said, crawling through the hole.
I made my way to the opening, and once again Cy reached back his hand, waiting for me to grab it. In the next moment, I was on the roof of the warehouse, overlooking the lights of our town, not ten miles away. The rain was freezing, and the sweat on my skin was cooling quickly in the cold night air. I cussed myself for leaving my sweater behind.
Cy pulled off his fleece pullover and handed it to me. "Put this on," he said, looking around, planning his next move.
"Who are those people?" I asked, slipping the soft black fleece over my head. It was dry but wouldn't be for long.
"CIA...maybe one or two branches of military," he said, distracted.
I frowned. "I know that."
He turned, confused by my reply. "Then, why did you ask?"
"Why did the CIA kidnap you?"
Cy looked to his watch. "Oh no."
"What?"
"It's broken."
"There are more pressing matters than your broken watch, don't you think?" I said, pointing to the vent.
Cyrus looked around in thought and then nodded. "Come on."
The fire escape was guarded, so Cy led me to the opposite side of the building. An Army truck was parked nearby, but we were too far to jump. Cyrus peered back at me, making a decision, and then he frowned apologetically.
"I'm sorry," he said, covering my mouth. "Don't scream."