Hearing him talk about Alex Walker that way turned my stomach.
I nodded then. Not at Agent Truman, but at the person waiting behind him. The one I’d really been backing away from this entire time.
When Willow swung the bat she’d been holding, I heard it whistle through the air. And when it struck the side of Agent Truman’s head, there was a moment when I thought I might actually lose my lunch. I had to keep reminding myself he could heal . . . even if, like he said, it was slower than the rest of us.
I hoped he hadn’t lied about that other part, though, and that it hurt him like a mother.
I kind of envied Willow’s power. I’d always been more of a line drive hitter.
She only struck him once, but it was more than enough. The bat made this disgusting sound as a fine spray of blood filled the air, and a look of sheer horror passed over Agent Truman’s face. He blinked once, and only once, and then his eyes rolled all the way back in his head before he dropped forward, falling heavily on his knees and then landing face-first in the sand.
“It was my turn to save you.” Willow beamed, shouldering the bat.
Griffin was already scrambling to her feet, gasping and cringing because the wounds on each of her shoulders were beginning to pucker around the edges. It had to sting like you-know-what.
She tugged my arm. “Simon and Tyler are waiting for you at the Jeep, out in front of the camp.” She turned to Willow then as she sucked in a breath through her clenched teeth. “You take her. I’ll stay here and handle . . . this.” Her gaze moved to her father—Agent Truman—who was still lying blacked out in the dirt. She reached out and nudged him with her boot. “Go!” she hissed at us. “I mean it. Go, before the old man wakes up.”
I didn’t wait to be told again, and I didn’t look back. Griffin could handle her father, the agent-slash-doctor, I had no doubt about that.
Then Willow and I were literally dodging bullets as we made our way through the tent maze. Willow knew exactly when to zig and when to zag, and she got us through the chaos not only unscathed but also unnoticed, and suddenly I was even more impressed by her, glad she was on our side.
When I saw Tyler, though, I nearly gave up on that whole not-crying-in-front-of-others thing. I thought I’d be the only one feeling panicked, but the strain across his forehead told me he was at least as worried about me.
His brow crumpled when he saw me, and before I could run to meet him, Willow grabbed my arm. She used her own body to shield me as she dragged me across the last stretch of open ground to where Tyler was waiting to meet us.
When I felt his arms go around me, and his lips against my forehead, I had a hard time stopping the words I love you from bubbling up my throat.
“I need to get you two out of here without anyone seeing us,” Simon insisted, jumping into the Jeep and firing up the engine.
I didn’t get the chance to thank Willow for saving my butt, because when I turned around again, she was gone.
“Where are we going?” I asked Simon as Tyler and I climbed into the Jeep behind him.
“Buckle up, keep your head low, and try not to distract me. I’ll do my best not to get you killed,” Simon told us as he pushed the vehicle into gear and spewed a cloud of dust in our wake. “We only have an hour to get to the designated meeting point. If we’re late, we miss our chance. And if we get caught, we’re dead.”
And with that, I felt Tyler reach for me from the backseat. I let him take my hand, gripping his in return as the wind battered us while we raced across the desert.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN THE BACK OF MY NECK as we hurtled along the two-lane highway.
Every now and then, even from the distance we’d put between us and Blackwater, we’d hear, and feel, an explosion so loud it rocked the ground beneath us, making the Jeep shudder as it coursed along the plane of the asphalt. Acid burned in the back of my throat as I worried about everyone who was still there, back at the camp—Jett and Willow, who’d stuck with me even though I’d never really declared myself one of them, and Griffin and her people, who were now fighting our fight.
And then there was Natty.
I had no idea where Natty was now. No idea if she was on our side . . . or on Thom’s.
But regardless, I couldn’t help the way my stomach knotted when I thought about her. Until I heard otherwise, I couldn’t force myself not to care about her, just because, as Griffin pointed out, her actions made her “look guilty.”
Friendships were never that simple. I knew because of Cat.
Cat, who was five years older than me now and had moved on with her life while I’d been gone.
Cat, who was Austin’s girlfriend now.
Cat, who would forever be my best friend, no matter how hard I tried to deny it.
I checked my watch. And I checked it again, and afterward, I craned my neck to check on Tyler, but he was already checking me checking him. I smiled because even if he couldn’t remember us—the us that curled my toes and made my cheeks burn every time he grinned his crooked grin and feathered his finger along my lower lip, he was looking at me like that now. With that same crooked smile.
There was something about being trapped like this with Simon and Tyler that had me feeling twitchy and tingly, and I couldn’t decide if it was the good kind of twitchy and tingly, or the super weird kind.
Simon had managed to get us away from Blackwater Ranch undetected, yet even away from the onslaught of the Daylighters, alarm bells were still going off inside me.
As the road, and my heart rate, leveled out, I finally asked Simon the question that’d been driving me crazy. “Did you know it was Thom—that he was the traitor? I mean, did you ever suspect?”
Simon’s jaw tensed, and I could see it was eating him up inside. “Not until Griffin . . . until she came to me and told me about the message they intercepted.” He seethed. “Griffin asked Jett to look into it, and it was Jett who discovered it. Jett helped lay the trap. He was the one who traced it to Thom.”
I sighed, shooting a furtive look to Tyler, and wondering how much he already knew. About who he was and what had happened to cause all this. I imagined since he was here, running away with me, Griffin had told him pretty much everything by now, and his nod, and the sympathetic look in his eyes, pretty much confirmed my suspicion. “Sorry about your friend.”
I shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t really our friend.”
Above us, a strange sound rippled the air. It wasn’t loud at first, but it was coming at us fast—a sheer, tearing noise that seemed to be shredding the sky. I unbuckled so I could turn around and get a better view, straining to see what it was.
Whatever it was, it was still far off, but getting closer and closer. It sort of looked like a plane, but I couldn’t be sure because it was almost . . . too fast. Plus, it was heading right toward us.
Simon was watching it, too, from his rearview mirror. “Damn,” he cursed. “How the hell did they find us so fast?”
“That’s . . . them?” I asked incredulously, gripping the seat back as I watched its steady approach. “What is that thing?”
“Military drone,” Simon stated matter-of-factly.
“Drone? What’s it doing?” I asked.
“Tracking us!” Simon shouted from the driver’s seat. “And if it can get within range, they won’t let us escape. Not alive, anyway.”
But Tyler shook his head as he leaned forward. He looked from me to Simon. “I don’t think so. Griffin said they need us.”
“Something must’ve changed,” Simon said. “Or someone didn’t get the memo you two are worth more alive than dead.”
Pins and needles prickled my skin as I thought about what Agent Truman had told me back at Blackwater, about Alex Walker . . . about how quickly he’d healed. “Not anymore they don’t. They have Alex Walker,” I breathed. “They have another Replaced.” We were expendable, Tyler and me.
Tyler turned to Simon. “Can we lose this thing?”
r /> “Hang on tight!” And with that, Simon forced the steering wheel hard to the left, veering us off the highway and onto the rocky terrain of the desert. We bounced awkwardly, and I dropped back onto my seat. I felt Tyler’s hand reach out to my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze, and if I hadn’t been hanging on to the sides of my seat for dear life, I probably would’ve reached back to return the favor. As it was, all I could think was, Please don’t throw up . . . please don’t throw up . . . please, dear God, do . . . not . . . throw . . . up . . .
Each time the Jeep hit a rock, it felt like my brain was being rattled against my skull as my head smacked against the headrest and my heart felt like it might rip a hole through my chest, and the entire time I wondered, Why are they doing this to us? And how the holy hell are we going to outrun a military aircraft?
“What if we can’t lose them?” I called out to Simon, my voice hoarse as I glanced over my shoulder and saw how much closer the drone was getting.
My throat nearly clamped shut as I saw a grim look darken his face. And then I looked at Tyler, who I’d already sentenced to death once when I’d cut myself in his presence. Could I really let him die again just when I’d gotten him back? Was it fair that these two suffer just because I had to go and be some sort of freak that Agent Truman had to get his hands on?
I released the buckle on my seat belt again and glanced down at the dirt and rocks that blurred past. I’d jumped out of a moving vehicle once before, on Chuckanut Drive the night my dad and I had fought after my championship game. It hadn’t worked out so well for me then. I’d lost five years of my life because of that move.
I certainly wasn’t about to jump again.
Instead, I shot to my knees as I faced the approaching drone.
I stopped trying to stuff that I-might-puke feeling down, and embraced it, along with the shaky, sweaty dizziness that threatened to engulf me. Everything that came with the wave of sheer dread consuming me. I tapped into it. I used it.
I wasn’t even sure this would work, but it wasn’t like we had a lot of options at this point. That aircraft up there was closing in on us. We were running out of time. When I narrowed my eyes and felt the zip of tension burst along my spine, stars erupted in my periphery.
“Down!” Simon yelled, reaching over and yanking at me.
I’d already seen why, though. Something was coming straight at us . . . besides that drone thing, I mean. I had to assume it was some sort of missile, which meant we must be within range, as Simon had pointed out.
But Simon hadn’t seen what I had right before he’d grabbed for me. The part where that drone had wobbled, its course slightly altered. And even though I couldn’t say for sure that I’d been the one responsible, I couldn’t say I hadn’t been either.
Regardless of the reason, that slight alteration must have been enough, and the missile had been off course also. Just enough.
It was close, though.
There was a bright flash when the missile struck the rocky ground, followed immediately by a shock-wave explosion. Black smoke billowed around orange flames that expanded in every direction. It was so close I could taste bits of sand, dirt, and fuel. It took several seconds for me to blink away fragments of debris from my lashes, but when I did, I flipped back around and saw that the aircraft had regained its trajectory.
I concentrated again and wondered if I even had it in me to do what needed to be done. That thing up there was a gazillion times bigger than any library book or T-shirt. But this wasn’t just fear I was channeling. I was learning the feel of this ability. I knew the way it moved through me and how to draw it out.
Biting my lip, I dug deep, tracking the drone for one . . . two . . . three seconds, less than one full breath.
It wasn’t kinda like being on the mound; it was exactly like that. That same level of intensity. What coach and my dad called single-mindedness. Until there was only me and the drone. Nothing else.
Then I unleashed everything I could muster. I let it pour through me, out of me, and I released it—whatever it was—at that thing that threatened us, the same way I had when Agent Truman had threatened my dad, the same way I had when Simon had made me mad in the library.
I meant to send it swerving, to divert it so far off its flight path, it couldn’t find us again.
And at first I thought I’d done just that, as it wavered.
But I’d misjudged my own strength, just like when I’d tossed that softball to Tyler, and it didn’t just shift off course. My stomach plummeted as it went hurtling, rotating, spinning out of control. My hand covered my mouth as I shot all the way to my knees, trying to track its trajectory.
“What the . . . ?” I tried to say, but nothing came out of my mouth, not even a breath.
Everything slowed as I watched the drone’s nosedive descent. Behind me, Simon slammed on the brakes just as the aircraft slammed into the earth.
The blast was more massive than the missile’s had been—the flames wider and hotter, the black smoke greasier as it choked me, and the caustic odor singed my nose hairs.
“I take it that was a mistake,” Simon said blandly.
I tried to nod, but I could hardly swallow. I felt paralyzed.
“I’d like to see what you can do on purpose,” Tyler threw in.
A tightness spread across my chest, and then I turned to Simon. “We have to go back. We have to see if the pilot . . . if anyone . . .” I knew it was useless, but I couldn’t stop myself from needing to know. “. . . survived.”
Simon half smiled, a small, wry smile. “Kyra, that was a drone. An unmanned drone. There was no one flying it.”
If I’d been standing, my legs surely would have buckled. As it was, I let my forehead drop against the back of the seat as a shaky laugh escaped my lips. “Are you kidding me? Oh my god, I thought . . . I thought I killed someone.”
But it was Tyler who interrupted my internal cheers. “The question is, how did it know where to find us?”
I looked to Simon. “They must’ve known where we were going. Did you tell Thom?”
“No, only Griffin and Jett.”
I thought about Griffin, and the way I’d once suspected her. But there was no way. She hated the Daylighters, and her father even more, for what they’d done to her.
That left . . . “You don’t think . . . ?” My mouth went dry just thinking it. “Could it have been Jett?”
“No way. Not Jett,” Simon insisted. “You don’t know him. Not like I do.”
I frowned. “How do you know him? I mean, I know he wasn’t at Blackwater with you and Willow, so where did you meet him?”
Simon ran his hand over his head. “When me and Willow found him, Jett was in Nevada.” Simon grinned. “He was all alone. The three of us started our camp together. I’d trust him with my life.”
I glanced to Tyler. “Who, then? How?” I chewed the inside of my cheek as my eyes nervously drifted downward, to check the time.
And my stomach dropped.
Thom.
Thom was the traitor. Thom had been feeding Agent Truman and the NSA’s Daylight Division information all along. It was probably the reason he hadn’t let Natty go with us to the Tacoma facility without him—he didn’t want us getting her captured.
But it was also the reason he’d taken an interest in me after we’d arrived at Silent Creek, once he’d learned I might be different from the other Returned—that I had night vision, and could go longer without oxygen and could heal faster. The telekinesis just confirmed what he already suspected, that I was a Replaced.
“Thom gave me this.” I unstrapped the watch I’d treasured from the moment he’d given it to me, and threw it at Simon. “Soon after we left Tacoma. He said it was a present. It’s this. This is how he’s tracking us.”
“That son of a bitch,” Simon fumed.
Simon picked it up by the pink band and inspected it, probably thinking the same thing I had: How could something so harmless-looking be so deadly?
&
nbsp; He gave it one last hard look before hurtling it into the desert. “We got less than half an hour to get to our rendezvous point,” he said, putting the Jeep in gear and leaving the still-flaming crash, and the tracking device Thom had planted on me, in our wake.
We drove toward a completely unknown future, leaving everything—our friends, allies, pasts, and even our identities—behind to start over again.
We had to hope Thom didn’t have any other tricks up his sleeve.
I had to hope Simon knew what the hell he was doing.
And most of all, I prayed Agent Truman, or Dr. Bennett, or whoever he was now, never, ever found us again.
There was a left-for-dead pickup truck with giant rusted-out patches that was half-in and half-out of a storm ditch when Simon pulled off the road.
“You think we missed ’em?” I asked, looking for signs of another—street-legal—vehicle.
So far, Simon hadn’t given me a single straight answer about who we were meeting. All I’d managed to get out of him was I could trust this person, whoever he was.
I was about to push again when Tyler, who had already hopped out, reached up to help me down. When his green eyes locked on mine, the breath caught in the back of my throat.
I didn’t bother telling him it was only a Jeep, not a tank or anything, and that I doubted I needed his help getting down. Instead I almost died inside when his hands found their way to my hips, and I let him catch me when I leaped the maybe two feet to the ground.
I stood in front of him, wishing this moment, our bodies touching this way, meant half as much to him as it did to me. Eventually, I told myself. Soon.
When I finally ducked my head, too embarrassed to stand there gawking at him a second longer, I eased past him and found myself face-to-face with Simon. He was leaning against the side of the Jeep, watching me—and probably the whole Tyler-helping-me-down thing—with an exasperated look in his eye.
“What?” I complained, wishing he’d quit looking at me like that. And then I stopped dead in my tracks. “Did you hear that?” I lifted my head, desperately trying to see around him. But all I could see was his face—his big, fat smiling face.