Yago could see out of her eyes? Tate blinked slowly and rubbed her eyes. She — she didn’t know how she felt about that. She — she would think about that later What she needed now was to put her head down somewhere. No, to actually lie down and take a little nap. Tate sat down against the wall of the corridor and stretched out. She was so sleepy….
<>
Yago’s taunts continued, but Tate drifted off.
Tate dreamed.
She was flying through space, Earth spread out below her like a great gray marble. She could see the Dark Zone, the Light Zone, the strange misshapen lumps that had come from the impact with the Rock.
Then something happened. Something began to spread over the gray like mold. Tate experienced a moment of fear — what was this new assault on Earth? Then she realized the something was green.
Plants, Tate thought luxuriously, knowing she was dreaming and enjoying the dream. She watched until all of the gray patches were covered and the gray marble had become a soft fuzzy sphere. Her vision zoomed in.
Now she was walking through a garden, surrounded by apple trees and grass green enough for a golf course. A gentle breeze rippled though a clump of orange daylilies and Queen Anne’s lace. She put out one hand and ran it through the leaves of a bush growing along the pathway. Soft.
Children were playing hide-and-seek. She could hear their high-pitched squeals of laughter.
Her attention was drawn to a little girl with brown hair and Jobs’s distracted brown eyes.
Jobs’s daughter.
Somehow she knew the little girl’s name was Tate.
Then the garden was gone and Billy was standing before her. With a strangely distant smile, a benevolent smile, he reached out and handed her something.
Tate looked down. It was a birthday card. The front of the card showed a pink cake topped with blazing candles. Tate could see her own brown hands opening the card.
Inside it read: Three elements: The Source, the five embodied in me, and —
The dream-Billy abruptly screamed, his voice sounding like a siren. “Wake up! Wake up!”
Tate sat up fast and felt her dream world spin away. The lovely garden was gone. She was back on Mother. With a very nasty taste in her mouth.
The overwhelming sleepiness was gone, but she still felt sluggish. Her head was pounding, she couldn’t quite catch her breath, and — and her arms and legs were twitching uncontrollably.
What now? Tate wondered wearily. Was she having a spasm? A seizure?
Tate’s right arm violently jerked up in the air like a puppet’s and then fell limply at her side.
<> A puppet…
Yago! Yago was trying to control her body! Terrified, Tate watched her hand jerk a few inches to the left. She thought of the Baby, the eyeless horror that had controlled Tamara. Poor Tamara … it’d been a long time since Tate had even had a moment to think about her. Hard to grieve on the go.
Tate’s hand twitched again. Angrily, she crossed her arms, pinning her hands under her armpits.
“Stop it, Yago!” she said shortly, aware of how ridiculous she would look if anyone could see her. The simple act of talking made her breathless. “Go ahead and — and haunt me if you must but have some respect for my body. Please.”
<> Tate felt deeply uneasy talking to a voice in her head. She had enough problems without dealing with — with schizophrenia. Or whatever this was. She had to figure out what was going on. Maybe she could hear Yago’s voice because she felt bad about what the Mouth had done to him….
“Just — just quit it, okay?” she whispered edgily.
<> Yago challenged bitterly <>
“Hurt myself,” Tate said immediately.
<>
“Try me.”
There was a pause. A long one. Long enough for Tate to hope Yago was gone for good. But then —
<> Yago said. < The Troika has plans for your sweet little cells, remember?>>
“I’m not sure I can walk,” Tate said.
<>
With effort, Tate fell forward onto her hands and knees. She forced herself to move a leg, the opposite arm. Blood pounded in her veins. She moved a few inches toward the elevator. Then a few more. The pain in her head made her nauseous. She gagged, paused for a deep breath, moved forward again.
<> Yago seemed unaffected by her physical distress. <>
“How long before they — hatch?” Tate gasped.
<>
Another few inches. Tate had crawled a few feet now. The elevator looked slightly closer
“Can they — grow — without more cells?” Tate asked.
<> Yago said forcefully.
<>
“How do you know?”
<>
Tate had to admit Yago had been right to get her moving. Maybe he was right about the Troika, too. Maybe she would be wise to trust him — at least a little bit.
She crawled up to the elevator and pulled herself into a shaky stand.
<> Yago demanded. <>
“I’m — I’m thinking maybe we should get rid of the Troika now,” Tate said. “While they’re helpless in those webs. If we could find some sort of weapon or make a fire —”
<> Yago said.
“How do you know?”
<> Yago insisted. <>
Tate tried to think. Yago was a coward. That much had been clear from the day they’d all gathered at Cape Canaveral, back before the Rock hit. And she didn’t see what good it would do to hide away in the basement. Amelia would find them eventually. And, even if Amelia wasn’t helpless now, she was bound to be stronger after she hatched.
They needed a plan.
Now.
CHAPTER 5
“I’M HERE, MOTHER.”
To keep Yago quiet, to buy time, Tate stepped into the elevator and took a too-fast ride down to the basement. The air was much clearer there. Tate could think again.
Thanks, Yago, she thought. He was pretty good at looking out for her skin now that her skin was his skin, too. Honestly, she felt pretty good. Her hunger was completely gone. Because
— because she’d just had such a big meal. The thought made Tate’s head spin. She would stop thinking about it. She had to.
The plan.
Forget this situation with Yago.
Think about what to do next.
Tate started to slowly walk across the basement.
What if she went Mouth? Could she destroy the Troika? Dicey. The mutation was too unpredictable. What if it didn’t appear when she needed it? They needed a more reliable weapon.
“What happened to your gun?” Tate asked out loud.
<> Yago said, sounding oddly amused. <>
“Nothing…”
<>
“Fine. Okay.”
Maybe Yago is right, Tate told herself. Maybe fighting the Troika was pointless. But hiding was pointless, too.
<> Yago said suspiciously. <>
“Nothing. Just trying to decide where we should hide.”
<
now what you’re thinking? Don’t you think I deserve to vote on our next move?>> Well, no. But it wasn’t as if Tate could keep a secret from Yago for long. “I’m thinking we should — toss in the towel. Leave the Troika to their destiny.”
<> Yago repeated derisively.
“Yago,” Tate said wearily. “Calling me names isn’t going to make a big impression at this point.”
<> Yago said irritably.
<> Tate knew Yago was setting her up. Stop the Troika from doing what? She didn’t want to take the bait, but — “What is Amelia planning?” she asked reluctantly.