“Eevee,” Dr. McAllister says, shaking my hand as I stand, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I, uh…recently spoke with your father.” He reaches past me. “Good to see you, too, Danny.”
“You know me?”
“Of course.” Dr. McAllister gives him a confused look. “You visited DART, remember? We tested the system?”
“DART?” Danny says. “But you don’t work there—”
I can tell from his expression that he’s mixed up his worlds. It’s something I saw my Danny do often, though I didn’t get it at the time.
Dr. McAllister clears his throat. “That’s true. I don’t work there anymore. I didn’t realize it had become public knowledge so soon.”
Warren moves his goggles up onto his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they didn’t take kindly to my request to postpone the Skylar rollout in order to conduct further safety trials. When I told the governor I couldn’t continue to work on the project knowing it could cause harm to people”—he motions at Danny—“Solomon let me go.” He looks at me. “Sorry, Eevee. I think your dad is a good man, but on this he’s very misguided.”
Good man? I don’t even know that. I hold up my hands and shake my head. “No need to apologize to me. I’m no fan of Skylar.”
“That’s good,” he says. “Because I want to take the damned thing down.”
A half hour later, the room is transformed back into a Temple for the Paranoid, and Mac is up to speed on our plan to fry Skylar.
“Those chips are brilliant,” he says to Warren. “Remind me to give you an A.”
“Thanks.” The smile on his face spreads from ear to ear. “There are fourteen left to install, which shouldn’t be too difficult a task if we get Germ involved. Eevee’s got access to a car with executive privileges. The problem is getting everyone off Skylar’s sights.”
“Turning Knowns back into Unknowns,” Mac says. “With most of the city registered now, a red X is going to show up like a big neon sign reading CRIMINALS HERE.”
“Then there’s no point,” Warren says. “We’re too late to even try.”
“Not necessarily. There might be a way.” Mac leans forward. “We could create false identities. Fake accounts linked to real signatures.”
Warren’s face lights up. Then Mac adds, “But to do that, we’ll have to hack into the system. My access has been revoked.” He gives Warren a stern look. “They’ll revoke yours, too, if they catch you. Or worse.”
He stands up and paces as he talks. The high-tech lighting makes crazy color shadows across his face. “Plus, if we are able to get in and change everyone’s status, we’ll suddenly be facing a ticking clock. I’d say twenty-four hours max before they figure out who hacked their system. I’m going to level with you. We’re talking prison if we get caught.”
“We’ve already risked that a couple of times,” I say, joking.
Well, almost joking.
“I say we get started.” Warren claps his hands. He sits again at the keyboard and his fingers make a dull tapping on the desk.
Mac pulls his chair up beside him. “Finding a way through their armor is going to be the hard part,” he says. “Thankfully, I built that armor myself.”
Despite Mac’s knowledge of the system, it takes them two days to hack into DART. Warren’s voice on the phone Thursday afternoon is a mix of excitement and exhaustion. “Your twenty-four hours start now,” he says. Then he yawns and adds, “If you need me, don’t. I’m off to sleep like the—”
“Oh no you don’t,” I say. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. That was only phase one.”
An hour and a call to Jonas later, we arrive at the first station.
During those two days of waiting, Danny, Germ and I created a map of the way stations and figured out the most time-efficient route for hitting them all in a twenty-four-hour period. With three of us—not counting Jonas, who said it wasn’t in his job description—we decided that if we started in the southeast and worked our way northwest, we’d be able to get the chips installed before DART realized we’d pried off their back door.
Assuming it takes them twenty-four hours to discover us. Any less and we’ll suddenly turn into red Xs on those huge DART screens.
Warren guzzles coffee while keeping virtual watch over our progress, checking Skylar stats and security bulletins and alerting us of danger. Meanwhile, Germ, Danny and I work quickly, moving through the city like ghosts, wearing the identities of people who don’t exist.
Twice Warren calls us off moments from a drop because DPC has dispatched patrols. Each time, Jonas keeps his cool, rerouting us through neighborhoods until we get the go-ahead to try again. It’s nerve-racking and costs us a lot of time, but somehow we swap thirteen chips before rush-hour traffic gets in our way.
Of course we saved the hardest for last. The final way station is the farthest of all—way up at the northwest corner of the city, where the ocean meets rocky cliffs and the highway cuts inland toward Wickenburg. It’s also really close to Wittman Air Force Base, so security’s going to be super tight.
I sit in the middle of the backseat, with Danny on my left and Germ on my right. We ride in silence, exhausted from hours of driving punctuated by adrenaline-fueled chip swaps. The seats are comfy, though, and Jonas plays jazz on the car stereo. It could almost be considered a joyride if it weren’t for the whole committing-acts-of-treason part.
“What’s she like?” I ask Danny, my voice low.
He watches out the window and takes so long to answer that I don’t think he’s going to say anything at all. “She’s smart,” he finally says. “Sweet.” He looks at me and adds, “Beautiful,” before looking out the window again. “Those are just words, though. And all the words in the universe couldn’t capture who she is or how I feel.”
The car slows and Jonas pulls into a restaurant parking lot. The way station stands at the far end, exposed to the road. Not the best setup, but what choice do we have? The sun is going down, but the lights haven’t clicked on yet. This might be our best chance, during the murky haze of twilight.
Germ leads the way and Danny follows close behind. I’m the eyes, hanging back to watch for trouble.
Halfway there, my phone rings. It’s Dad.
Talk about bad timing. I’ve been waiting to hear back from him since our brief call before we broke Danny out of jail. I’ve been dreading it, too. There are things I need to ask him, things I need to know, but his answers could shatter the last pinnings holding my world together. On the third ring, I decide to take the risk.
“Hi, Dad.” I plug my other ear to hear him better and pray a semi doesn’t drive by.
“Eevee? Where are you?” The connection is glitchy and I hear voices in the background.
“I’m at school.” A car honks and I cringe. “Outside. On the lawn with friends.” I hear traffic noise on his end, too. “Where are you?”
“Eevee, I want you to stay right where you are.”
My phone buzzes with a coded text from Warren.
3lv15 h45 l3f7 7h3 bu1ld1n6.
Oh no. Patrol on the way. I put the phone back to my ear in time to hear Dad finish his thought: “…even though I’m governor.” I wave my arm like a crazy person, trying to get the guys’ attention.
“Um, I gotta go, Dad. There’s a thing. I’ll…” Germ sees me. “I’ll call you later.” I hang up and run toward the car, looking behind to make sure they’re following.
It doesn’t matter, though. None of us make it. Two steps, and the parking lot fills with DPC squad cars and military personnel. I have just enough time to text Warren and strike the kill sequence on my phone before putting my hands in the air.
Students stream out of Palo Brea High. I light a smoke and lean back against the fence. It takes almost a whole cigarette before I see her, walking with Warren. Her eyes catch mine. She grabs his sleeve and pulls him in another direction so she doesn’t have to walk past me. Anything to avoid me.
I tried to ge
t her attention in English class this morning. I wrote TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED on a paper and lobbed it over, but it bounced off her desk and landed on the floor. She stopped doodling and stared at the note. Then she packed up her stuff and walked out.
I pull the last drag from the cigarette and think about my Eevee. I miss her. Her smile, her eyes. Does she even think of me? Has she realized I was telling the truth? I hate not knowing.
As I walk, my eyes dart to the corners of buildings, even though I know cameras aren’t there. Crazy how quickly you form new habits when your life is at risk.
Eevee and Warren walk through the park. I keep my distance, watching from behind trees and playground equipment. They talk. He picks up a stick and drags it through the grass behind him. She gestures to emphasize her point. He doesn’t agree, but they keep walking, crossing over into a neighborhood. The sun hangs low in the sky, glinting bright orange off the windows. I drop back, hidden from view by cars and trees. Warren picks a flower and hands it to her, and for a brief moment, she looks happy. They say goodbye. He walks toward his house. She crosses the street, her head down, her book bag bouncing against her hip.
Her house is simple. Grassy yard with a concrete walk leading to the front door. Gray four-door in the driveway. Looks like in this world they don’t have a Jonas to drive them around. No security detail either. She walks through the yard and goes inside.
Now’s my chance. I’ll just knock on the door and see what happens. Maybe she’ll tell me what she knows. Then I can put this all behind me, raid my room at the foster home and take off for somewhere else.
I’m dead. So dead. My life is over. I’m done.
They surround us on all sides, taking cover behind car doors, trunks and hoods, like they’re dealing with serious criminals, not some high school kids up to no good.
Up to no good? Kids spray-painting a building are up to no good. Kids trying to take down Skylar are committing treason.
Oh God. What have I done?
Engines idle and radios squawk, but no one moves. To my left, Jonas stands with his hands in the air. Behind me somewhere are Danny and Germ. I think. Maybe they got away. I don’t dare turn to look. What if they did, though? Would they do that? Would they run and leave me?
My heartbeat thunders in my head, and my arms begin to go numb. One by one, the lights of the parking lot flicker on, and beyond them the neighborhood streetlights. What are they waiting for? I’ve never been arrested before, but this isn’t how it happens on TV. They should be barking orders, closing in and slapping on the cuffs. Moving only my eyes, I scan the faces of the officers. Maybe one of them recognizes me. Maybe I should tell them who I am. Would they even listen? Would it make a difference? It’s worth a try.
But as I open my mouth to speak, another car speeds into the parking lot. This one is black, unmarked. Executive. A door opens and out steps Dad.
He buttons his suit jacket as he strides across the lot, the sunset in his sunglasses. I don’t have to see the rest of his face to know he’s angry.
But I’m angry, too. My hands form tight fists and my fingernails dig into my palms. My breathing is shallow, my nostrils flared.
Red December doesn’t exist.
The government is Red December.
My dad is the government.
My dad is Red December.
When he gets closer, he whips off his glasses. “Arrest those two,” he says pointing behind me, not stopping until we’re face to face. “What is this about, Eve?”
I dig my fingernails deeper. “Did you know about Red December?”
“What?” The question throws him. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Tell me the government isn’t behind Red December.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“Yes, Dad. It is. Tell me the truth.”
The muscles in his jaw flex. “There are a lot of things you don’t understand.” He takes a sharp breath and speaks in a calmer tone. “Get in the car and we’ll talk about it.”
When I don’t move, he says it again: “Get in the car.” He reaches for my arm, but there’s a commotion behind me. Voices shouting. A loud bang. Sparks fly from the way station control box and rain down from the power lines above. It all happens so fast. I duck low, fear catching the scream in my throat, as the parking lot is plunged into darkness.
But not just the parking lot. And not just the neighborhood. The entire city goes dark.
It takes all my courage just to knock on the door. Then I shove my hands into my pockets and stare at my feet. My brain races through what to say.
Hi, I’m Danny.
Maybe hello? No, hi. Hi, I’m Danny. Do you remember me? Do you have a minute? Hello, my name is Danny. Do you know why I’m here? Ugh.
As soon as the knob turns, all the words scatter.
A woman answers, pulling the door wide, a phone pinned between her ear and shoulder. Not what I expected. Her mom looks so different from the woman I met at the gala that for a second I think maybe I’ve got the wrong house. “Oh,” she says, covering the phone, “hello.” She looks surprised to see me. Or confused. She says into the phone, “I’ll call you back, okay?” then holds the door open for me. “Come on in, Danny. Eve’s in the backyard.”
I take a deep breath and follow her inside.
The house is surprisingly plain. Not sure what I was expecting. Something like her dorm room? But that doesn’t make sense. She’s not the same Eevee. She could be the total opposite, for all I know. Maybe she’s good at math or into sports.
When we walk into the kitchen, her mom stops and turns. “Danny,” she says, her voice low, “Eve hasn’t really been herself since…you know. Go easy on her, okay? And don’t worry, I won’t tell her father you stopped by.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just nod. She turns and I follow her out the back door.
Eevee sits under a tree, reading a book. As soon as I see her, my feet stop. I know it isn’t her, but my stomach twists and I feel like I can’t breathe. I force myself to take another step and she looks up. Her mouth opens. Then, just like I realized she wasn’t her, she realizes I’m not him. She closes the book with a sigh and sets it aside. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” she says, and it’s amazing to me how much they sound alike. “I’m guessing you’d like some answers.”
I can barely get out, “Yes.”
She says something back, but I don’t hear it because all at once my chest is slammed with cold. The force snaps my head up and blue sky fills my eyes. I make myself focus, though, to lock in on this moment, to be ready for whatever comes. The last thing I see before my eyes blink to dark is the surprised look on her face. Then gravity takes hold and pulls me away.
The night sky stretches like an ocean above. I imagine silent waves carrying me from deep blue to darkest black. With my eyes closed I can almost feel the earth spinning. Everything is adrift. Unmoored. Floating free. In the distance a siren wails. My fingers press through grass blades, searching for solid dirt below.
Warren got my final message. Even though I was sure we hadn’t placed the last chip, I told him to pull the switch, to execute the program. I figured any damage would be better than none. What I didn’t know was that in that moment, just before we were surrounded, Danny had made the last swap. As we stood with our hands in the air, the virus was worming its way through the system, generating some kind of surge that melted everything in its path. Spectrum. Skylar. It took down the whole power grid for a time.
And it was that surge, that electromagnetic wave, that opened the portal between our worlds one final time.
Or at least that’s how we think it happened.
Laughter carries across the lawn. I look over and see the silhouettes of two students walking toward McConnell. I’m surprised more people aren’t out. There are no cameras now. No yellow circles or red Xs. The gates are still locked—for our safety, wink, wink—but gates aren’t a big deal when you know people who know people.
&nbs
p; The Art Guild rejected my entry. They called it offensive, vulgar and inflammatory. Bosca won’t even look at me. There’s something satisfying, though, in knowing the paintings I finished for Vivian ranked best in show. Not that it helps her much. She’s been absent since her dad was arrested—an event that prompted a complete turnover in Dad’s staff. He couldn’t beat Dad in an election, so he conspired with Richard to take him down from the inside. They were the ones who planned the Patriot Day attack, hoping to trip Dad up, cause him to make mistakes, get people to distrust and doubt him. It all might have worked, too, if it weren’t for Danny and his trouble with electromagnetic waves. He turned up in our world right when we needed him. Random? Somehow I have my doubts.
A breeze sighs through the trees and I watch the branches sway above me. It’s a beautiful night in an uncertain world. So many things remain unresolved. Did Dad know Red December was a government front? Yes. Have I forgiven him for that? Not yet. But we have an uneasy truce for now: I promised to give him the space he needs to make things right in exchange for him clearing the records of four kids who got up to no good.
Footsteps whisper across the grass, growing louder as they approach. Then Danny leans over me, backlit and blocking out the stars.
The what-ifs still crowd around the edges of my mind. But when they grow too loud, I look into his face and a feeling of peace washes over me.
I’m not alone in this world.
And neither is he.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
All of the things they say about writing the second book are true and confirm my suspicion that we writers are a crazy lot. This is why I’m so grateful to be surrounded by amazing people who put up with, and even appreciate, my madness.
Thank you to Katherine Harrison for your wisdom, your patience, and your faith in me throughout this project. This book is as much yours as it is mine. Thank you to Christian Fuenfhausen and Angela Carlino for creating a beautiful cover and design. Thank you to Nancy Hinkel, Jillian Vandall, and the Knopf team for putting this story into the hands of readers.
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