by Ryan Dalton
Her brother nodded. “Everyone else was vaporized. So maybe it was designed to survive something like this.”
“Just more questions.” Winter shuffled toward the door. “Come on. I can’t take this right now.”
Plumes of fire and smoke rose in a ring around Emmett’s Bluff. The faint wail of sirens floated up to them. Malcolm gasped at the sight and rushed toward the edge of the plateau.
Valentine hurried after him with the others in tow. “What is it?”
He sank to his knees at the edge, tears in his eyes. “I thought that was it. I thought we were all dead.”
“So did I.” Kneeling, she placed an arm around his shoulders. “But it’s over now. We’re okay. Sort of.”
“No. I mean, I thought we were all dead.” Malcolm wiped a forearm across his eyes. “When we were flying into that thing, I knew he’d won.” He smiled. “But everything’s still here!”
Examining her brother, Valentine realized his tears weren’t from grief or fear. They were from relief. He was actually happy. “What do you mean?”
“The town is still standing. Whatever he’s planning, I don’t think he’s finished.” He came to his feet. “This was just the beginning.”
“Mal, look what he did. What else could he possibly be planning?”
“The what, I have no idea. But the why . . .” He faced their friends. “Why do I think there’s more coming? Because what did this gain him?”
“Destruction,” Winter stated.
Malcolm shook his head. “No. Val saw him running tests, not just destroying things. If he’s some kind of scientist, then he’s looking for a result. Twelve craters are not a result.”
Valentine thought on this. “He’s right. A scientist would have a reason. But, what is it?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Malcolm’s gestures grew animated and his voice took on a new life. “He wouldn’t do this without being close to his goal. That means time is running out, and we can’t just poke around anymore.” He pointed southeast. “We have to take this to him—find out what he’s doing, and stop him before he does something worse. Look, I know we’re tired and we’re hurting.” He stepped closer to their friends, meeting each of their eyes. “But we’re not finished. This has to stop now, and I can’t do it alone.”
Silence greeted him.
They shuffled their feet, looking anywhere but at him. Even Valentine felt herself warring inside. Exhausted, aching, and terrified, she just wanted to find a dark corner and hide. Yet, what would happen if they did nothing? That terrified her, too. It didn’t help that John seemed broken.
Malcolm’s shoulders slumped. “No one?”
Finally, Fred cleared his throat. “I hate dyin’, and it’s almost happened twice when I stuck my nose in this.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know, man.”
Winter leaned against Fred and closed her eyes. “I can’t even think with this headache. My brain feels like oatmeal.”
Malcolm looked to John, his face pleading for support. John just stared into the distance, his face an unreadable mask. Valentine knew he could hear them, but it felt like he was seeing something they couldn’t.
“John, please.” She brushed his hand. His whole body trembled like a leaf in the wind. Standing close, she searched his face. “Look at me.”
With effort, he met her eyes. Valentine gripped his hands and searched for the right words. What could she say to bring him back? So much of him was still an enigma. Her lips parted, but nothing found its way out.
His fingers slid from her grasp. Valentine tried to hold tighter, but John backed away.
“I can’t,” he whispered, dripping with desperation. “I can’t. I’m . . .” He turned away and retreated to Fred’s SUV. Climbing inside, he shut the door behind him.
Valentine stared after him, feeling as helpless as she’d ever known. She realized one hand had stretched out toward him, so she put it back at her side. Winter appeared next to her and slid an arm around her shoulders.
Valentine leaned gratefully into her friend’s embrace. “Did I do this to him, dragging him out here when he didn’t want to come?”
Winter snorted. “John Carter does what John Carter wants. He’ll say it was worth it to protect you. He’s old-fashioned that way.”
Over the past year, Malcolm had shown similar reactions to stress and fear. Sometimes you just had to let a boy be for a while, she supposed. Still, every fiber in her wanted to run to John and make it okay.
Malcolm offered a sympathetic smile. Then he eyed everyone in turn and his expression hardened. Valentine knew he wanted to shake them to their senses.
“Okay, here’s what’s happening.” He palmed the pocket watch and clicked it open. “It’s eleven o’clock now. I’m taking a shower and a nap, then at four a.m. I’m going inside that house. Val used this to do it before, and I’m betting I can do it again.”
Dread settled in the pit of Valentine’s stomach. Memories of tracer lights and “countermeasures” flashed through her memory.
“I don’t want your answer now,” he continued. “Anyone who wants to help, text me and I’ll use the watch to come get you.” He took a deep breath and his tone softened. “If this is too much, I’ll understand. We’re friends no matter what.”
Winter and Fred nodded but seemed at a loss for words. Valentine knew how they felt. What could be said that would make all this seem okay?
“Fred, can you get Winter and John home?” Malcolm asked.
Fred test-flexed his arms. “Yeah, I can drive.”
Winter rolled her eyes and dug the keys from Fred’s pocket. “I’m driving, we’ll be fine. What about you?”
“We’ve got planning to do.” His thumb brushed the watch, and its blue glow lit his face.
The thought of using that thing again sent a tremor through Valentine. She cast a longing glance toward John, then reluctantly stood beside her brother. “This is all insane,” she whispered.
Malcolm didn’t answer.
The glowing blue sphere spun around them, and a wave of disorientation washed over her. Seconds later, the spots faded from her eyes and she stood in her own backyard. No lights were on inside.
Except for the fires, the city had gone dark.
Chapter 17
Any other time, Malcolm would’ve made a joke to lighten the mood. Tonight, he didn’t. With his serious face on, he stared around the back corner of their house, eyeing their target across the street.
“I know what I said, Val, but I really don’t want to go in there.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Why couldn’t I just stay buried in my books?”
She put a hand on his arm. “Maybe you’re remembering who you are. The last thing I want is to go in there again, but you’re right—who else is there? The government’ll be busy with the craters, and it takes adults forever to do anything important.” She shrugged. “We’re all this town’s got.”
“Yeah. Who’d listen to a bunch of teenagers, anyway?” He moved toward their back door. “We should get some rest. Four a.m.’s going to come fast.”
Valentine pulled him into a hug. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other, and his presence soothed her frayed nerves. She let their shared warmth comfort her in the chilly night air.
“Okay,” she said. “First, let’s go tell Dad we weren’t vaporized.”
Neil sprang from the couch as the back door swung open. Before the twins were fully inside, he gathered them in a crushing embrace.
“Oh, thank God!” He released them and leaned back, concern creasing his face. “Were you caught in it? How’d you get back?”
For the first time, Valentine realized how terrible they must have looked—bruised, clothes torn and dirty. “Uh, yeah a little. Fred’s driver brought us back.”
“Got too close to one of those . . . whatever it was,” Malcolm sai
d. “Where’s Oma?”
“She went to check on Walter.” Neil examined them closely. “Are you hurt? What about your friends?”
“Just sore,” Valentine said.
“So, are they saying what happened?” Malcolm deflected.
Neil led them to the kitchen table, where a battery-powered portable TV cast the only light. “Power’s out for most of town, but national news is blowing up with the story. Cell phone videos are already on YouTube. They say the National Guard and the FBI are coming to investigate.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “This is unbelievable. Downtown is like a war zone.”
They fell silent and watched a montage of footage. The twins saw repeats of what they had witnessed on the hill, only these had been far worse. The beams sucked up cars, houses, a shopping center, even pedestrians helpless against the titanic pull of that deadly energy.
Malcolm’s voice was subdued. “How many were hurt?”
“Hundreds, probably more.” Neil shook his head. “Some are dead.”
Valentine clutched her stomach. Her heart reached out to those people, and her insides roiled at the power that had ripped through their town. Power they would soon face.
Malcolm tugged at her sleeve. “We should get some rest. G’night, Dad.”
“Glad you two are safe,” Neil said. “Schools are closed, but I’m sure everyone’ll be helping out tomorrow.”
Staring at her father, Valentine hesitated. Words bubbled to her lips—words that had to be said—but his eyes stayed locked on the screen, and finally she followed Malcolm upstairs.
The shower did little to calm her, and there was no point in trying to rest. She knew sleep would never come. Her body shook with nervous anticipation. By the end of this night, would things be better? Or would she regret her choices?
Valentine stood in front of her father’s closed door. Despite it being two in the morning, a light still glowed at the edges of the doorframe. Steeling herself, she knocked lightly.
“Come in,” came the muffled reply.
Go. Not letting herself think twice, she turned the handle and stepped inside.
Neil sat with his back to the door and the TV on his desk. “Thought you’d be sleeping by now.”
Valentine cleared her throat. Neil whipped around in surprise, and his expression grew uncertain. “Hey there. Everything okay?”
Obviously, he’d thought she was Malcolm or Oma Grace. She tried to ignore his disappointment. After all, how often do I come in here voluntarily? Hefting a bag of Sun Chips, she forced a smile.
“Thought you’d like a snack.”
“Oh. Well, uh, thanks. I do like those.” He just sat there, staring at the bag but not reaching for it. After a moment, she gave up and set it on the end table next to his lamp.
Studying the floor, she took a moment to summon her courage. “Um, I was sort of hoping to talk a little. Some things have been happening lately with . . . well, a boy. A few other things are happening, too, and they’re kind of big, so . . .”
Her dad looked stunned. “Oh, I didn’t know. A boy, wow . . .” He trailed off, avoiding her gaze. “Uh, don’t you think Oma Grace might be better at this? I mean, she’s got advice for everything.”
She had seen it coming, but it still cut like a hot blade. Why is he doing this? Her thoughts flashed back to the night of the lightning storm, when she had tried to talk to him then. Why do I keep trying? Her pain turned sour, and she fixed him with a bitter glare.
He fidgeted. “What’s wrong?”
She felt acid drip onto her heart. “What’s wrong is huge things are happening, and I can’t talk to my own father about them. I mean, do you notice me anymore? Do you even—” She cut off, knowing he didn’t really hear her. So, that’s how we’re going to leave it. Fine.
She whirled toward the door, swiping at the Sun Chips and adopting a new plan to eat every chip in the bag. An edge caught on the lampshade and ripped down the side, spilling chips across the carpet. She wanted to keep running but sighed and knelt to scoop them up.
Behind her, Neil stood. She felt his eyes on her and regretted stopping for anything. All she wanted was to get out and never think of this again. Just a few more chips and—
“You look so much like your mother.”
Her hands slowed. She kept her back to him.
“I forget she’s gone sometimes. I catch myself wondering what she’ll want for dinner. I still hear her voice.” He sounded so weary. “Then I see you, and I remember all the things I loved about her. Every little detail that made her . . . her. I keep feeling myself push you away and haven’t known how to stop.”
Valentine found herself turning to look on her father. He stared at the ground, ashamed, his face soured with grief.
“You have her eyes. Her laugh.” Neil stared silently into space for a long moment. Wearily, he rubbed his face. “I look at you, Valentine, and it’s impossible not to miss her.”
His words stung her heart. Yet, she understood them. She had felt those things, too. She straightened and he took a step toward her.
“I have been so selfish. Drowning in my own grief, ignoring what I still have. All this time we could’ve helped each other, but I shut you out because I was afraid to remember. But look at what’s happening out there. Look how easily I could’ve lost—” He cut off, his voice breaking.
Tears welled up in his eyes. Valentine felt her own eyes brimming. Still, pride and anger coursed through her, and she shoved the tears back inside. You will NOT make me cry!
“I . . . I want things to be like they were before,” he sniffed, and tears streamed down his face. “I want to see you smile like she used to. I want to be there when you need me.” He implored with desperate eyes. “I know you’re angry, Valentine, and I can’t be perfect, but I just want to be your dad again.”
Valentine’s heart broke open and tears burst from her eyes. Rushing forward, she plunged into his arms. They clung tightly and cried into each other. The anguish of the past year rushed through her, like so many times before. Only this time it felt a little less tragic.
“I missed you, Dad.”
Neil hugged her tighter. “You’re all the best parts of her, Valentine. And she’d be so proud of the woman you’re becoming. Just like I am.”
They held each other and soothed away the pain just for a moment. Valentine basked in warm comfort, knowing that no matter what happened today, she had her father back.
Chapter 18
Malcolm pulled on a black jacket and covered the daggers strapped to his belt. Valentine waited with him, rubbing her hands against the cold and her nerves.
He checked his phone for the fiftieth time.
“They’ll do it,” she said.
“Wish I had your faith.”
Valentine smiled, a full-faced expression that burst from deep inside. She was happier than he’d seen in many months. He took comfort in knowing that, whatever else happened, his family was healing. Malcolm grabbed hold of that feeling of solidity. If they were going to succeed tonight, he would need to be stronger than ever.
The clocked ticked by. He fidgeted, got up to pace the room, sat down again and drummed his fingers on the desk. His cell phone chimed 4:00. Then it was 4:01. Then 4:02.
Nothing happened.
Valentine’s shoulders slumped. “I guess I don’t blame them. This is kind of crazy.”
“Kind of?” Malcolm stood and opened the pocket watch. Valentine joined him in the center of the room. “It’s all right. We can do this.”
She rested a hand on his forearm to offer support. He paused to quell his anxiety, then swiped across the watch face. “Ready?”
Valentine nodded. He noted she was holding her breath. “Okay. Time to—”
His phone chirped.
Fred: ready now. come to my billiard room
The blue glow
winked out, and a chill wind rippled their clothes. Disorientation faded, and the twins stood in a dark wood room between four pool tables.
“S’up, dudes?” Fred and Winter sported dark clothes and ski masks. Fred tossed ski masks to the twins as well.
Malcolm approached and offered his hand. “You came through.”
Fred accepted it. “Apparently.”
Valentine and Winter hugged in greeting.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Winter said. “He can’t wait to see what’s in there, and he’s so excited to wear his mask.”
Fred shook his head. “Always callin’ me out. If we’re gonna spy, we gotta do it up legit, like ninjas. That’s just common sense.”
Chuckling, Malcolm turned to Winter. “Did you bring what I asked you to?”
She nodded and patted her jacket.
Valentine surveyed the room and her face fell. “John?”
Winter shook her head and sighed. “Reminds me of when they first found him. He just kept saying, ‘I can’t.’”
Malcolm couldn’t let his sister dwell on John. Moving quickly, he set a wide sheet of paper and his flashlight on one of the pool tables. The others gathered around and examined the markings.
“This is what Val saw. We’re guessing it’s the third level.” He pointed to each area as he described it. “She jumped in next to these panels. Those are computers and work tables on the other end. To the side is a staircase, and these are possibly batteries or generators. Remember, this is not an invasion. We observe, that’s all. We’ve done our job if no one realizes we were there.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Winter challenged.
Malcolm looked to Valentine, and she stepped up to the paper. “Okay, here’s the plan.”
Be strong, Malcolm told himself. Be strong for them. They faced each other in a tight circle, waiting as he worked through the watch menu. Their destination came into focus, and his finger hovered above EXECUTE.
Malcolm took a long, slow breath and examined each of them. He wanted to really see them, and for them to believe he meant this.