“Then how are we supposed to get inside?”
“Shit if I know. How are we supposed to get all those guys off the ship?”
“Oh,” I gasp. “Oh my God. Kenji—” I grab his invisible arm.
“Yeah, that’s my leg, and you’re cutting it a little too close there, princess.”
“Kenji, I can shove them off,” I say, ignoring him. “I can just push them into the water. Will that work?”
Silence.
“Well?” I ask.
“Your hand is still on my leg.”
“Oh.” I jerk back. “So? What do you think? Will it work?”
“Obviously,” Kenji says, exasperated. “Do it now, please. And hurry.”
So I do.
I stand back and pull all my energy up and into my arms.
Power, harnessed.
Arms, positioned.
Energy, projected.
I move my arm through the air like I might be clearing off a table.
And all the soldiers topple into the water.
It looks almost comical from here. Like they were a bunch of toys I was pushing off my desk. And now they’re bouncing in the water, trying to figure out what’s just happened.
“Let’s go,” Kenji says suddenly, grabbing my arm. We’re darting forward and down the hundred-foot pier. “They’re not stupid,” he says. “Someone is going to sound the alarm and they’re going to seal the doors soon. We’ve probably got a minute before it all goes on lockdown.”
So we’re bolting.
We’re racing across the pier and clambering up, onto the deck, and Kenji pulls on my arm to tell me where to go. We’re becoming so much more aware of each other’s bodies now. I can almost feel his presence beside me, even though I can’t see him.
“Down here,” he shouts, and I look down, spotting what looks like a narrow, circular opening with a ladder affixed to the inside. “I’m going in,” he says. “Start climbing down in five seconds!”
I can hear the alarms already going off, sirens wailing in the distance. The ship is steady against the dock, but the water in the distance goes on forever, disappearing into the edge of the earth.
My five seconds are up.
I’m climbing after him.
SIXTY-EIGHT
I have no idea where Kenji is.
It’s cramped and claustrophobic down here and I can already hear a rush of footsteps coming toward me, shouts and cries echoing down the hall; they must know something has happened above deck. I’m trying really hard not to panic, but I’m no longer sure what the next step should be.
I never anticipated doing this alone.
I keep whispering Kenji’s name and hoping for a response, but there’s nothing. I can’t believe I’ve already lost him. At least I’m still invisible, which means he can’t be more than fifty feet away, but the soldiers are too close for me to take any chances right now. I can’t do anything that would draw attention to my presence—or Kenji’s.
So I have to force myself to stay calm.
The problem is I have no idea where I am. No idea what I’m looking at. I’ve never even been on a boat before, much less an army ship of this magnitude.
But I have to try and understand my surroundings.
I’m standing in the middle of what looks like a very long hallway; wooden panels run across the floors, the walls, and even the low ceiling above my head. There are little nooks every few feet, where the wall seems to be scooped out.
They’re for doors, I realize.
I wonder where they lead. Where I’ll have to go.
Boots are thundering closer now.
My heart starts racing and I try to shove myself against the wall, but these hallways are too narrow; even though they can’t see me, there’s no way I’d be able to slip past them. I can see a group approaching now, can hear them barking orders at one another. At any moment they’re going to slam right into me.
I shift backward as fast as I can and run, keeping my weight on my toes to minimize sound as much as possible. I skid to a stop. Hit the wall behind me. More soldiers are bolting down the halls now, clearly alerted to something, and for a second I feel my heart fail. I’m so worried about Kenji.
But as long as I’m invisible, Kenji must be close, I think. He must be alive.
I cling to this hope as the soldiers approach.
I look to my left. Look to my right. They’re closing in on me without even realizing it. I have no idea where they’re headed—maybe they’re going back up, outside—but I have to make a move, fast, and I don’t want to alert them to my presence. Not yet. It’s too soon to try to take them out. I know Alia promised I could sustain a bullet wound as long as my power is on, but my last experience with being shot in the chest has left me traumatized enough to want to avoid that option as much as possible.
So I do the only thing I can think of.
I jump into one of the doorways and plant my hands against the inside of the frame, holding myself in place, my back pressed against the door. Please please please, I think, please don’t let there be someone in this room. All anyone has to do is open the door and I’ll be dead.
The soldiers are getting closer.
I stop breathing as they pass.
One of their elbows grazes my arm.
My heart is pounding, so hard. As soon as they’re gone I dart out of the doorway and bolt, running down halls that only lead into more halls. This place is like a maze. I have no idea where I am, no idea what’s happening.
Not a single clue where I’ll find Anderson.
And the soldiers won’t stop coming. They’re everywhere, all at once and then not at all, and I’m turning down corners and spinning in different directions and trying my best to outrun them. But then I notice my hands.
I’m no longer invisible.
I bite back a scream.
I jump into another doorway, hoping to press myself out of sight, but now I’m both nervous and horrified, because not only do I not know what’s happened to Kenji, but I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, either. This was such a stupid idea. I am such a stupid person. I don’t know what I was thinking.
That I ever thought I could do this.
Boots.
Stomping toward me. I steel myself and suck up my fear and try to be as prepared as possible. There’s no way they won’t notice me now. I haul my energy up and into myself, feel my bones thrumming with the rush of it and the thrill of power raging through me. If I can maintain this state for as long as I’m down here, I should be able to protect myself. I know how to fight now. I can disarm a man, steal away his weapon. I’ve learned to do so much.
But I’m still fairly terrified, and I’ve never needed to use the bathroom as much as I do right now.
Think, I keep telling myself. Think. What can you do? Where can you go? Where would Anderson be hiding? Deeper? Lower?
Where would the largest room on this ship be? Certainly not on the top level. I have to drop down.
But how?
The soldiers are getting closer.
I wonder what these rooms contain, what this doorway leads to. If it’s just a room, then it’s a dead end. But if it’s an entrance to a larger space, then I might have a chance. But if there’s someone in here, I’ll definitely be in trouble. I don’t know if I should take the risk.
A shout.
A cry.
A gunshot.
They’ve seen me.
SIXTY-NINE
I slam my elbow into the door behind me, shattering the wood into splinters that fly everywhere. I turn around and punch my way through the rest of it, kicking the door down with a sudden burst of adrenaline, and as soon as I see that this room is just a small bunker and a dead end, I do the only thing I can think of.
I jump.
And land.
And go right through the floor.
I fall into a tumble and manage to catch myself in time. The soldiers are jumping down after me, shouting and screaming. Boots chas
e me as I yank open the door and dart down the hall. Alarms are going off everywhere, sounds so loud and so obnoxious I can hardly hear myself think. I feel like I’m running through a haze, the sirens flashing red lights that circle the halls, screeching and blaring and signaling an intruder.
I’m on my own now.
I’m darting around more corners, spinning around bends in this floor plan and trying to get a feel for the difference between this level and the one just above it. There doesn’t seem to be any. They look exactly the same, and the soldiers are just as aggressive.
They’re shooting freely now, the earsplitting sound of gunshots colliding with the blare of the sirens. I’m not even sure I haven’t gone deaf yet.
I can’t believe they keep managing to miss me.
It seems impossible, statistically speaking, that so many soldiers at such close range wouldn’t be able to find a target on my body. That can’t be right.
I slam through the floor again.
Land on my feet this time.
I’m crouched, looking around, and for the first time, I see that this level is different. The hallways are wider, the doors set farther apart. I wish Kenji were here. I wish I had any idea what this means, what the difference is between the levels. I wish I knew where to go, where to start looking.
I kick open a door.
Nothing.
I run forward, kick down another one.
Nothing.
I keep running. I’m starting to see the inner workings of the ship. Machines, pipes, steel beams, huge tanks, puffs of steam. I must be headed in the wrong direction.
But I have no idea how many floors this ship has, and I have no idea if I can keep moving down.
I’m still being shot at, and I’m staying only just a step ahead. I’m slipping around tight bends and pulling myself against the wall, turning into dark corners and hoping they won’t see me.
Where is Kenji? I keep asking myself. Where is he?
I need to be on the other side of this ship. I don’t want boiler rooms and water tanks. This can’t be right. Everything is different about this side of the ship. Even the doors look different. They’re made of steel, not wood.
I kick open a few, just to be sure.
A radio control room, abandoned.
A meeting room, abandoned.
No. I want real rooms. Big offices and living quarters. Anderson wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be found by the gas pipes and the whirring engines.
I tiptoe out of my newest hiding spot, peek my head out.
Shouts. Cries.
More gunshots.
I pull back. Take a deep breath. Harness all my energy, all at once, and decide I have no choice but to test Alia’s theory.
I jump out and charge down the hall.
Running, racing like I never have before. Bullets are flying past my head and pelting my body, hitting my face, my back, my arms, and I force myself to keep running, force myself to keep breathing, not feeling pain, not feeling terror, but holding on to my energy like a lifeline and not letting anything stop me. I’m trampling over soldiers, knocking them out with my elbows, not hesitating long enough to do more than shove them out of my way.
Three of them come flying at me, trying to tackle me to the ground, and I shove them all back. One runs forward again and I punch him directly in the face, feeling his nose break against my metal knuckles. Another tries to grab my arm from behind and I catch his hand, breaking his fingers in my grip only to catch his forearm, pull him close, and shove him through a wall. I spin around to face the rest of them and they’re all staring at me, panic and terror mixing in their eyes.
“Fight me,” I say to them, blood and urgency and a crazy kind of adrenaline rushing through me. “I dare you.”
Five of them lift their guns in my direction, point them at my face.
Shoot.
Over and over and over again, unloading round after round. My instinct is to protect myself from the bullets, but I focus instead on the men, on their bodies and their angry, twisted faces. I have to close my eyes for a second, because I can’t see through the barrage of metal being crushed against my body. And when I’m ready, I bring my fist close to my chest, feeling the power rise up inside of me, and I throw it forward, all at once, knocking seventy-five soldiers down like they’re made of matchsticks.
I take a moment to breathe.
My chest is heaving, my heart racing, and I look around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the flashing red lights of the alarm, and find that the soldiers do not stir. They’re still alive, I can tell, but they’re unconscious. And I allow myself one instant to look down.
I’m surrounded.
Bullets. Hundreds of bullets. A puddle of bullets. All around my feet. Dropping off my suit.
My face.
I taste something cold and hard in my mouth and spit it into my hand. It looks like a broken, mangled piece of metal. Like it was too flimsy to stand against me.
Smart little bullet, I think.
And then I run.
SEVENTY
The halls are still now. The footsteps, fewer.
I’ve already tossed two hundred soldiers into the ocean.
Knocked down about a hundred more.
I have no idea how many more soldiers Anderson has left guarding this ship. But I’m going to find out.
I’m breathing hard as I make my way through this maze. It’s a sad truth that while I’ve learned to fight and I’ve learned to project, I still have no idea how to run.
For someone with so much power, I’m terribly out of shape.
I kick down the first door I see.
Another.
Then another.
I’m going to rip apart every inch of this ship until I find Anderson. I will tear it down with my own two hands if I need to. Because he has Sonya and Sara. And he might have Kenji.
And first, I need to make them safe.
And second, I need him dead.
Another door splinters open.
I kick the next one down with my foot.
They’re all empty.
I see a set of swinging double doors at the end of the hall and I shove through them, hoping for something, anything, any sign of life.
It’s a kitchen.
Knives and stoves and food and tables. Rows and rows and rows of canned goods. I make a mental note to come back for this. It seems a shame to let all this food go to waste.
I bolt back out the doors.
And jump. Hard. Stomping through the deck and hoping there’s another floor to this ship.
Hoping.
I land badly on the toes of my feet, slightly off-balance and toppling backward. I catch myself just in time.
Look around.
This, I think. This is right. This is totally different.
The halls are huge down here; windows to the outside cut into the walls. The floor is made of wood again, long, thin panels that are brightly glossed and polished. It looks nice down here. Fancy. Clean. The sirens feel muted on this level, like a distant threat that means little anymore, and I realize I must be close.
Footsteps, rushing toward me.
I spin around.
There’s a soldier charging in my direction, and this time, I don’t hide. I run toward him, tucking my head in as I do, and my right shoulder slams into his chest so hard he goes flying across the hall.
Someone tries to shoot me from behind.
I spin around and walk right up to him, swatting the bullets from my face like they might be flies. And then I grab his shoulders, pull him close, and knee him in the groin. He doubles over, gasping and groaning and curling into himself on the floor. I bend down, rip the gun out of his hand, and clutch a fistful of his shirt. Pick him up with one hand. Slam him into the wall. Press the gun to his forehead.
I’m tired of waiting.
“Where is he?” I demand.
He won’t answer me.
“Where?” I shout.
/> “I d-don’t know,” he finally says, his voice shaking, his body twitching, trembling in my grip.
And for some reason, I believe him. I try to read his eyes for something, and get nothing but terror. I drop him to the floor. Crush his gun in my hand. Toss it into his lap.
I kick open another door.
I’m getting so frustrated, so angry now, and so blindly terrified for Kenji’s well-being that I’m shaking with rage. I don’t even know who to look for first.
Sonya.
Sara.
Kenji.
Anderson.
I stand in front of another door, defeated. The soldiers have stopped coming. The sirens are still blaring, but from a distance now. And suddenly I’m wondering if this was all just a waste of time. If maybe Anderson isn’t even on this ship. If maybe we’re not even on the right ship.
And for some reason, I don’t kick down the door this time.
For some reason, I decide to try the handle first.
It’s unlocked.
SEVENTY-ONE
There’s a huge bed in here with a large window and a beautiful view of the ocean. It’s lovely, actually, how wide and expansive everything is. Lovelier still are its occupants.
Sonya and Sara are staring at me.
They’re perfect. Alive.
Just as beautiful as they’ve ever been.
I rush over to them, so relieved I nearly burst into tears.
“Are you okay?” I ask, gasping, unable to control myself. “Are you all right?”
They throw themselves into my arms, looking like they’ve been through hell and back, tortured from the inside, and all I want to do is carry them out of this ship and take them home.
But as soon as the initial hyperventilations are out of the way, Sonya says something that stops my heart.
“Kenji was looking for you,” she says. “He was just here, not too long ago, and he asked us if we’d seen you—”
“He said you got split up,” Sara says.
“And that he didn’t know what happened to you,” Sonya says.
“We were so worried you were dead,” they say together.
“No,” I tell them, feeling crazy now. “No, no, I’m not dead. But I have to go. Stay here,” I’m saying to them. “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back, I promise,” I say. “I just have to go find Kenji—I have to find Anderson—”
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