by Kelly deVos
I shrug and yawn again. “Asleep, I guess. She must have been tired, because she was already in bed when I came back from the briefing.”
Toby rises and moves toward the closed bedroom door. “Mac? Mac?”
Either this is the acting performance of the decade, or Toby has no idea that his sister took off. Navarro gets up as well and heads to Terminus’s room. To continue the theater of acting like we expect to find him.
Toby skids into the common room. “Okay. What the hell is going on? Where’s Mac?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. I go into MacKenna’s room, open the small closet, forage around in her bunk, checking under the pillows and blankets.
“She’s not here!” Toby says with a mixture of panic and shock.
Navarro enters Mac’s room as well. “Terminus is gone too.”
Toby whirls around to face Navarro. “What the hell are you talking about?” Then he turns back to me. “You’re telling me that my sister is gone? That she took off without saying anything to you?”
“Did your sister say anything to you?” I shoot back.
He looks like I’ve punched him. But. We’re both thinking the same thing.
MacKenna didn’t trust Toby enough to even say goodbye.
And then.
“What the hell am I going to tell the general?”
Those words are like a knife against my throat.
Toby runs his hand though his cropped hair. His eyes are lit up with horror. That’s his concern. Nothing about his sister. Or about me.
“I thought Copeland left,” I say.
“He’ll obviously be back,” Toby snaps.
Navarro was right.
Toby is one of them.
And we are on our own.
Jinx always hated Dr. Doomsday’s drills.
But it’s getting harder and harder to pretend that those plans weren’t the only things keeping us alive.
—MacKENNA NOVAK,
Letters from the Second Civil War
MacKENNA
Terminus has now beaten me at sixty-seven consecutive games of checkers.
“It’s one of the first programs I wrote,” he explains. “I had to memorize common moves to create the program’s AI.”
Then we play poker. Then crazy eights. Then hearts.
LEAD: Being trapped on a submarine is really boring.
Scratch that. There’s no story here.
I let the story get away from me. Literally. Jo carried the e-tablet off, and I watched it go.
They’ve kept us in this room on the Perun the whole time. A soldier always guards the door. Our meals are delivered. Sometimes by Jo, who always seems to enjoy ignoring my questions. Sometimes we hear Copeland’s voice outside the door. His room is near ours. His tone is always brusque. Orderly.
I can’t make out his words through the heavy steel door.
The only upside is that Jinx isn’t here to make me feel like an idiot. Somewhere out there she’s trapped in her usual shame spiral of blaming herself for everything. Somewhere out there, Navarro is pacing around and making that brooding vampire face and muttering to himself about what idiots we are.
At least I’m not there to listen to it.
QUOTES AND BACKGROUND INFORMATION:
“Do what you have to do in order to survive.” —Dr. Doomsday.
“So, you didn’t see anything in the files?” I ask Terminus. Again.
The first fifty times or so that I asked him, he was pretty chill.
But now.
Barely able to contain his annoyance, he drums his fingers on the small table where we’ve set up the sixty-eighth game of checkers. “No. Jinx was at the terminal in the records office, and we were barely in there two minutes.” He pushes a black checker forward in an opening move he told me is called Old Faithful. “And no. For the last time, back at Fort Marshall, they didn’t tell me anything about their plans.”
I frown at him and move my own checker, which he immediately captures. “They must have said something.”
He grunts. “They said a lot of somethings. Except it was all like, ‘The lights are off in A.’ Or, ‘The backup generator is coming on too frequently.’ Or, ‘My workstation won’t let me log in to the mainframe.’ Or, ‘We’re not getting a signal for the—’”
“Got it!” I say as he takes another one of my checkers. “You think—”
“Yes. I think they’re fine,” he says.
“You had access to the computers. Back at Fort Marshall,” I say. It sounds like an accusation.
His eyes meet mine. They’re a deep shade of blue. His shoulders tense. “All the interesting stuff was in an encrypted partition. I didn’t have the tech I needed to hack it. Jinx might have been able to log in. It seemed like Marshall left her all the systems permissions. But Copeland was hell-bent on keeping her away from a terminal.”
I try to sound casual. Not like the acid of worry is chewing away at my insides. “Navarro said he thinks Copeland is gonna kill Jinx.”
Terminus relaxes and smiles. He’s got a cute little dimple on his left cheek. “Navarro seems like the type of guy who can’t be happy unless he thinks a hundred people are out to kill him before breakfast.”
“They don’t know what we know,” I say, finally voicing what’s been eating me up. “About the mission.” About the futility of it.
“It doesn’t matter to them,” Terminus says, focusing on the board. “They’re not sending Jinx to Los Alamos. She’ll be fine.”
“Where are they sending her?”
Terminus doesn’t answer, and the tension of the question remains in the air.
A chill comes over me. I go over to the bed and return with the wool blanket as Terminus captures yet another of my pieces. “I think we’re emerging,” he says.
To me, the motion of the sub is almost undetectable.
“The temperature,” he says. “You ever notice how quickly we get warm or cold? The computer is constantly making adjustments to pressure and oxygen levels. But it’s not perfect. When there’s a change in depth, there can be a bit of a lag in the system.”
I nod. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like Terminus might know more than he’s letting on. Sometimes I worry that Jinx is right. That Terminus can’t be trusted.
MacKenna, you can’t think about that. Seriously.
Terminus risked everything to come with me. Now he’s the only friend I have.
There’s a knock at the door.
It’s Jo. She’s back in her uniform with her hair twisted into a neat knot. “You’re relieved,” she says to the man standing at our door.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, leaving in the direction of the control room.
It’s busy in the passageway. People are coming in and out of the general’s room. Terminus must be right. We’re almost at the port. I hold the door open so that Jo can come in. But she remains in the cramped narrow passageway. A soldier carrying an armful of gear has to squeeze around her.
“We’ll be topside in thirty minutes,” she says. “I’m on guard duty until then.”
She reaches to close the door.
I put my foot out so she can’t. “You tell that undertaker of a father of yours to get down here and tell us what the hell is going on.”
At the mention of the fact that Copeland is her father, the smirk slides off Jo’s face. “Take that up with your own dad. You’ll be seeing the colonel in about an hour.”
The colonel. At least walking into certain death earns you a promotion.
She pulls more firmly on the door, giving me a split second to yank my foot out of the way before it slams shut.
My heart drops.
Because I realize.
I have to face Dad.
* * *
We leave the Perun via a hatch in the ce
nter of the submarine that leads to a flat-top deck wide enough for us all to stand on. We’re a short distance away from a small wooden pier in front of a beach house. The scene is eerily similar to the location where Stephanie shot Dr. Doomsday.
It might even be the same beach.
But today there is no man flying a kite. No kids with a ball.
The beach is empty.
I grip the railing to avoid being blown into the water by the heavy winds. Salt water sprays me in the face. The sub people have waterproof boots and jackets. Terminus and I are getting soaked.
Maybe I’ll get swept into the sea before Dad can, like, yell at me.
If we survive this whole ordeal, I’m gonna go live in a cornfield in Nebraska or someplace where I never have to look at the ocean again.
We have to take turns being ferried to the shore by a motorboat that comfortably holds only about fifteen people. From the boat, I can already see my father’s tall form standing on the dock. His posture is stiff. His anger easy to see even from a hundred feet away.
Terminus helps me off the boat and onto the pier.
I’m dripping wet and my teeth are chattering.
The boat motor continues to roar for a minute and then cuts out, leaving the air quiet except for the chatter of a few soldiers and more distant shouts coming from the Perun.
My father meets me at the end of the pier. He’s dressed in green camo fatigues with a NOVAK name patch on the left side and some kind of insignia on his arm. He’s also got a gun in a shoulder holster.
No hug. No greeting.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he says.
“D-D-D-ad... I...” My shivers render me incoherent.
Dad’s shoulders slump, and he finally hugs me. “I told you to stay with Jinx.”
I fight back tears. “You...told...me...you were staying...at Fort...Marshall.”
Except...he never really did say that, did he.
“Come on,” Dad says. He takes my hand and draws me onto the beach. To Terminus, Dad says, “There’s food and supplies in the main house. We’ll meet you there shortly.”
Dad points to a large stately mansion about a quarter mile away from the pier. It’s white, at least two stories and flanked by dozens of tall palm trees that sway in the breeze. The place is perfect for the billionaire owner of a tequila factory.
The house is surrounded by an ornate iron fence.
“There’s a gate on the far side,” Dad says. He has to talk loud over the wind. “Hopefully they’ll recognize you.”
We walk in that direction together. Soldiers from the sub pass us, moving with a greater sense of purpose. We arrive at a small pastel-blue tent. Dad motions for Terminus to keep going while he holds the tent flap open for me.
He doesn’t wait for me to explain. “You have to go back to Fort Marshall.”
LEAD: Retired ex-army major wants to sacrifice self for his children.
No. No. That wasn’t the story.
LEAD: Father wants to atone for the past.
For Mom’s death. For marrying Stephanie. For everything.
But, Dad. You can’t fix this.
“Copeland is sending you into a trap,” I say as calmly as I can. “The Opposition knows you’re coming.”
His eyes are unexpectedly cold. “You disobeyed me, smuggled yourself on board Copeland’s submarine and ran over here to tell me that? Los Alamos is a top-secret research facility. Of course it will be well guarded.”
My anger flares. “I mean, Jinx stole a bunch of files off some computer at SEALAB. They were full of all kinds of information about your mission. They know you have almost zero chance of survival. The real point of your mission is to start a big war. Copeland thinks that The Opposition will be able to get those cold fusion bombs to work before you get there. He lied to you.”
Dad’s face becomes hard. “Really? Because I don’t recall seeing you there when he briefed me.”
The fire of my anger is extinguished like a candle whose flame has been blown out. All the oxygen has been sucked out of the tent. My pulse flutters.
He knew he was gonna die.
“Wait. Wait...” I stutter. “You...you...”
“Actually, MacKenna,” Dad says, not waiting for me to finish, “it’s you who lied. You promised me that you’d stay with your brother. That you’d keep yourself safe.”
“Toby’s now a walking G.I. Joe doll,” I say. Who is off on his own mission to find Annika Carver.
From the pier, the boat motor cranks on, creating new noise in the tent.
Dad raises his voice. “You’re going back to Fort Marshall. Wait there until—”
“Until what? You’re dead?”
“Until this is all over.”
This will never be over.
I make one last attempt to reason with him. “There’s something wrong with all of this. Something wrong with the other mission too.”
This gets his attention. “What do you mean? What did you see?”
For the thousandth time, I want to kick myself for not hiding that e-tablet. “I didn’t see anything. But I know that...”
Honestly, what do I really know?
IMPORTANT FACTS:
-The e-tablet contained all the important facts.
“I know there’s something wrong with that mission,” I finish lamely.
Dad makes the same face as he used to when I’d try to convince him that my doll had a cold. “It’s dangerous. But I have to do whatever I can to make sure it’s successful. Because Toby’s on that mission. And so is Jinx.”
A wave of horror washes over me as the story races through my mind.
IMPORTANT FACTS:
-Toby, Jinx and Navarro are on a super dangerous mission.
-Jay Novak agreed to go to Los Alamos because he thought the rest of his family was going to AIRSTA.
-The rest of his family included me.
OTHER IMPORTANT FACTS:
-MacKenna Novak is the worst.
-The. Actual. Worst.
Dad and Jinx and Navarro and even Toby are fighting to save the world and fighting for each other and I...am gonna be sitting on my ass in a cave while everyone else risks their lives.
As if sensing my thoughts, Dad puts a gentle hand on my arm. “You always try to do right. You came here to help me. You have such a passion for helping others and a fierce selflessness. Don’t change that. But for now, you have to promise me that you’ll go back to Fort Marshall.”
He stares at me. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Promise me,” he presses.
“I promise.”
As I say the words, I know they’re a lie.
* * *
The main house is strange. Like, it was obviously built to be some rich person’s vacation retreat but has been completely overtaken by a military operation. Folding tables are crammed into every room, their metal legs scraping against the ivory travertine tile. Plush, oversize sofas and chairs are pushed against the walls and into the corners of each room.
I’m on the second floor, in the master bathroom, where first aid kits and boxes of generic supplies like razors and shaving cream and tampons are stacked on opulent marble countertops. There’s a walk-in closet where five-thousand-dollar suits and resort wear dresses probably used to hang that’s being used as a uniform dispensary.
I’ve got five minutes to change into dry clothes. I have to choose from the spare stuff in the supply cabinet. It’s a bunch of random things that people have left behind. Nothing really fits, and I end up with jeans that have to be rolled up at the ankles and cinched with a belt, a University of Indiana T-shirt that’s a size too small and a purple jacket with a large hole in one sleeve. It’s got a name written on it in marker.
MARSHALL.
I doubt
this used to belong to Dr. Doomsday. But after everything we’ve been through, this small thing feels like an act of defiance.
Or a lucky talisman.
Terminus is pacing around at the base of the dramatic circular staircase. He has changed, too, although he managed to find better stuff. He’s got a basic gray sweatshirt and a pair of cargo shorts. He leans on the railing and opens his mouth like something romantic should come out. Except we’re not in that movie.
As I arrive at the bottom of the stairs, a door opens and Dad emerges from a room that was maybe the family game room or something. I think I see a pinball machine back there. He clamps a hand on Terminus’s shoulder.
“It’s time,” Dad says.
He ushers us through a large kitchen with posh steel appliances and out a side door.
A man in khakis is about ten feet away from us with his back to the house, smoking a cigarette. The wind puffs his hair into a pompadour as he turns.
Galloway.
He salutes Dad.
“At ease,” Dad tells him.
It’s weird how quickly my father has fallen back into his military routines.
Together, the five of us walk to the end of the driveway. The Land Rover we took to meet the Booker sits there with the bright-colored surfboards still mounted to the roof. Someone must have returned to the pier and driven the car back here.
Dad nods at Galloway. “Escort my daughter to the safe house and wait there for further instructions.”
Galloway glares at me but says, “Yes, sir.”
We approach the car and Dad hugs me again, the same way he did when we left for the Booker. But it means something different now.
Maybe Dad has decided to sacrifice himself for me and for Toby and for Jinx and the mission. But he can stuff it if he thinks I’ll go along with his plan. I’m gonna do whatever I have to do to figure out what Copeland is really up to. Whatever I can to make sure we survive.
All of us.
LEAD: Student journalist decides to write her own story.
Terminus eyes me suspiciously as I get into the front passenger seat. Normal MacKenna would have taken the backseat and spent the drive scribbling on a scrap of paper. But I have to do what Jinx would do.