“We don’t have to be.”
“It’s in our DNA. It is who we are. That is why the Preservation Protocol was necessary, and may still be necessary. Humanity cannot be trusted with its own survival, or our species will perish.”
“But think about what just happened. What we just did.”
“A few of us might occasionally band together for a common purpose, temporarily. But our entire species? Against another species united in a way we never could be?”
“Maybe our individuality is our strength.”
“I’ve been . . . alone my whole life.” She heard a crack in his voice. “You know that now. You know my fear. You felt it. I find no strength in it. Do you?”
Being alone had made Eleanor strong, in a way. But she wondered if she could have been even stronger without that pain. That wasn’t a question she would ever be able to answer, but that wasn’t what she meant when she thought about individuality. “Each of us can choose what we want to do. We make those choices alone, but we can choose to work together. That is our strength.”
Watkins bowed his head. “I admire your optimism.”
Eleanor looked at him for another moment, and then turned away, resuming her trek through the Sky Caves, trying her best to find the way out. But there was no way of knowing, and she feared they should have found the exit by now, unless she had led them astray.
Their light flickered, plunging them into darkness for a terrifying second.
“The flashlight is almost out of power,” Watkins said. “Are we close?”
“I don’t know,” Eleanor whispered.
“Do you have another flashlight?”
“Luke had it.”
“I see.”
Eleanor felt the blackness closing in as if the tunnels were collapsing, and she struggled to breathe. Not only would they be lost down here, but they would be lost in total darkness.
“I’m scared,” she said.
Silence. “So am I. Let’s just keep moving as far as we can, and then we’ll feel our way.”
Eleanor nodded and took a step. Then another. The flashlight flickered three more times, over the next few minutes, and then it went out. Eleanor heard Watkins banging it with his palm, and even though the light gave off a dim, last gasp in response, it was gone.
Her eyes tried adjusting to a darkness they would never be able to see through. She saw phantoms and shapes trying to resolve themselves in front of her, emerging and disappearing back into the void. She felt lost in nowhere.
“Can you feel the walls?” Watkins asked.
“No,” Eleanor said.
“Have you tried?”
She hadn’t. Eleanor reached out her hand to her side, and her fingers touched cold sandstone. That simple sensation pulled her out of the void and anchored her. She reached out with her other hand and touched the wall on the opposite side.
“I feel the walls,” she said.
“Good. Keep contact with them, and let’s keep moving. The caves are no different than they were before. We simply can’t see.”
Eleanor nodded, and then she kept going, moving ahead by touch. They took a few turns, communicating as they went, now proceeding mostly by instinct. Over time, Eleanor started to feel the telluric currents of the earth through her fingertips, humming through the cave walls. She and Watkins arrived at another intersection, and she was about to turn right. But then she felt something else reaching out toward her through the stone, along the currents. An intelligence, but not an alien intelligence. Something else. Something familiar.
“Uncle Jack?” she whispered.
She heard Watkins’s footsteps halt behind her. “What?”
“I think I feel—my uncle Jack. Like he’s . . . searching.”
“Fascinating,” Watkins said. “Can you—can you feel where he is?”
The sensation had grown faint, but Eleanor remembered where it had come from. “I think so.”
“Then let us move in that direction,” Watkins said.
Eleanor nodded to herself, and turned to the left.
CHAPTER
13
FINN HAD CLIMBED OUT OF THE TRANSPORT AS SOON AS they’d reached the caves. There were at least a dozen openings in the rock, and he and Luke spent some time climbing around each of them, stepping partway inside, calling Eleanor’s name. So far, they had neither seen nor heard any sign of her, and the afternoon had become evening, soon to be night. They had the transport to sleep in, if it came to that, but Jack looked like he would need medical care soon.
And he worried about Eleanor.
“Hello!” Luke called again through cupped hands, into one of the caves. His voice echoed through the sandstone chambers, but Finn heard no reply. “Eleanor!”
“What if she doesn’t come out?” Finn asked.
“Let’s pretend you didn’t just ask me that question, kid.” Luke cupped his hands again. “Eleanor!”
But Finn had to ask that question. Eventually, Luke would have to ask it, too. They couldn’t stay around here forever. Finn wondered if maybe Jack had made a mistake, and this wasn’t the place. Maybe the pain he was dealing with had messed up his memory. What if Eleanor had already climbed out of a cave somewhere else?
There was also the yeti.
It was still out there, and even though it hadn’t attacked them the night before, Finn didn’t think they should take that for granted. He looked at the setting sun and realized they probably wouldn’t be driving away that night, regardless.
“Eleanor!” he shouted.
Still nothing.
He and Luke kept calling for her, until the sky lifted up the first few stars.
“Maybe we should go into the caves,” Luke said.
“Jack said it’s a maze in there.”
“Maybe that’s why she can’t find her way out. Maybe she’s lost.”
Finn had already thought about going in a couple of times. Maybe if they fashioned some kind of trail to find their way back out, like Theseus and the thread that Ariadne gave him to find his way out of the Minotaur’s labyrinth. They didn’t have mythical thread, but they could carve or draw on the walls.
“Maybe we—”
“Shh!” Luke held up his hand, turning his head.
Finn listened. He heard a distant voice, coming from inside the caves.
“Eleanor?” he shouted.
“Eleanor, this way!” Luke shouted.
“Luke!” they heard her reply. “Finn!”
“We’re here!” Luke repeated. He turned to Finn. “Go tell the others we have her.”
Finn nodded and ran. When he reached the transport, he opened the hatch and jumped inside.
“She’s back,” he said, closing it behind him to save heat.
Jack sat up higher in his chair, groaning quietly, and craned his neck. “Where?”
“She’s in the cave,” Finn said. “But we heard her. She’s coming.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jack lay back down, his whole body sagging, and Finn realized it was the first time he’d seen the big man truly relax. Next to him, Badri smiled, looking relieved at the news. So did Dr. Von Albrecht. Betty looked past Finn, through the hatch outside.
“Probably too late to move out tonight, though.”
Finn looked over his shoulder. “Probably. But do we—” He glanced at Jack. “Can we afford to stay?”
Betty shook her head and shrugged at the same time. “I guess we should deal with that when we’re all together.”
Finn nodded. “I’m going back to the cave.”
Then he left the transport and scurried back to stand by Luke.
“She’s getting closer,” the pilot said.
Finn peered into the darkness, which was even deeper now that night had fallen over them. “Eleanor!”
“Finn!” Eleanor replied. She did sound closer.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“We’re fine!” she said.
Finn turned to Luke. “We?”
Luke
looked at Finn with puzzlement, and then called into the cave, “Who is with you?”
The response took a moment to arrive. “I’ll explain when we get there.”
“It’s gotta be Watkins,” Luke said.
Several minutes passed, with calls and answers, until Eleanor was close enough that Finn could hear her footsteps. He expected to see her flashlight at any moment, but instead she simply emerged from the darkness. She seemed fine, unharmed, and Finn sighed. Then Watkins came out, wearing baggy fatigues, like he thought he was some kind of general. Finn still didn’t understand what had happened to bring Eleanor and their enemy together, but he was just happy to see her safe and put that question aside.
“Eleanor!” Luke said.
Eleanor pulled the pilot into a hug, closed her eyes, and said nothing as she hung on to him for a moment. Then she gave Finn a hug, too, and he felt her hair brush his cheek.
“Good to have you back,” he said.
“Good to be back,” she said. “You have no idea.”
“It’s getting cold,” Luke said. “Let’s all head to the transport.”
“You have one of my transports?” Watkins asked.
“None of your guys seemed to want it,” Luke said.
They left the Sky Caves and climbed down to where the vehicle waited. When they opened the hatch and stepped inside, the looks on everyone’s faces said they were just as uncomfortable at the sight of Watkins as Finn had been.
“Ell Bell,” Uncle Jack said.
Eleanor gasped and rushed to his side. “You told me you were fine!”
“I am fine,” he said.
“He’s not fine,” Betty said. “He needs medical attention.”
Eleanor’s face paled. “Uncle Jack, you—”
“Did you do it?” Jack asked. “Did you shut it down?”
“Yes. Yes, we shut it down.”
“Good. I tried to find out by sensing it, but I couldn’t.”
Suddenly, Eleanor was crying. “I sensed you,” she whispered. “We got lost in the caves. Our light went out. But then I felt you, and that’s how we made it back. You brought me here.”
Uncle Jack nodded. “It’s good to see you, Ell Bell.”
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then she turned to Betty. “We need to get him help.”
“We can move out as soon as we decide to,” she said. “But it’ll be more dangerous at night. What does everyone think?”
“I want to go now,” Eleanor said.
“He needs help as soon as possible,” Badri said.
Watkins cleared his throat. “I would suggest—”
Luke spun on him. “You don’t get a say, you miserable old bastard.”
Watkins held up his hands. “I only want to point out—”
“I don’t care!” Luke said.
“Luke,” Eleanor said. “Just let him finish.”
Finn didn’t know what to make of Eleanor sticking up for Watkins. Something had clearly happened since the last time he’d seen her, but he couldn’t imagine what would prompt this reversal. Maybe it had something to do with the alien ship.
Watkins waited. Luke finally turned away with an exasperated grunt.
“I only wanted to say,” Watkins continued, “that there is more danger here than you realize.”
“What danger?” Dr. Von Albrecht asked.
“I gather from Mr. Fournier that you are all aware of a certain creature? A large primate in the mountains around us? Possibly a relic Gigantopithecus?”
“The yeti?” Finn said. “Yeah, we’re aware of it. Why?”
“Well.” Watkins pushed his palms together in front of him, and then opened them up. “When we built the Yggdrasil Facility, we, well . . . that is, we inadvertently destroyed its den.”
They waited.
“And?” Finn said.
“And,” Watkins said, “in doing so, I—we injured one of its young.”
“So that’s why,” Finn said. “That explains everything.”
“We didn’t mean any harm,” Watkins said. “And the animal seemed fine. We treated its injuries and released it.”
“You make enemies out of everyone, don’t you?” Luke said.
Watkins looked at him with a scoff. “That is often true of those who make the difficult choices.”
“Leaving you behind in the snow won’t be a difficult choice,” Finn said.
“We can’t,” Eleanor said.
Everyone turned to her.
“I need him,” she said. “We need him.”
“Watkins?” Badri said. “Why?”
“Because there’s an alien ship,” Eleanor said. “It landed at Stonehenge.”
“We heard about it,” Finn said.
“It poses a threat,” she continued. “If we’re going to shut it down, Watkins and I are going to have to work together.”
“And you think he’s just going to start helping you now?” Luke’s face was red with anger. “We’re just supposed to trust this walking pile of lies?”
Finn looked at Wakins, whose mild expression hadn’t changed at all during the exchange.
“Yes,” Eleanor said. “We can trust him. On this.”
“On this?” Finn said.
Eleanor nodded. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth, and you shouldn’t either, but I know he’ll help me shut down the alien ship if I can get us there. And Uncle Jack needs medical care. So I say we go now, before it gets much darker.”
“I agree,” Watkins said.
“And what about your people?” Luke asked. “Your whole base just got buried.”
“I am certain the distress call has been sent,” Watkins said. “As soon as I am able, I will get a status update. But for now, there isn’t anything I can do for them, is there?”
Watkins was right, and Finn knew it.
“Let’s move out,” Eleanor said.
A quick glance between them all confirmed that they agreed, reluctantly. But Finn also thought about the fact that the man the yeti apparently blamed for injuring its child was now on board their transport, and he suspected that might make the vehicle the creature’s next target. But he still didn’t know what it meant that Watkins, the man who had been hunting for them across the globe, the man who was directly or indirectly responsible for every bad thing that had happened to them in the past several weeks, was sitting there comfortably in a seat next to them.
Betty went up front to the cockpit and started the engines as everyone buckled in. The transport heaved forward, and Finn tried to settle for the ride but found it difficult. His anger made the seat incredibly uncomfortable.
“You’ve ruined our lives,” he said to Watkins, before they’d traveled far. “You’ve torn my family apart.”
Watkins’s voice turned somber. “I realize why you would blame me, but I blame the Freeze. I blame our common enemy—our real enemy—the rogue world.”
Finn considered that for about half a second. “No, you don’t get out of it that easy. The Freeze doesn’t give you an excuse for a single thing you’ve done. That’s on you. All of it.”
“I accept responsibility,” Watkins said. “But I make no apologies. I did what was necessary in response to a crisis. I did what I was authorized to do.”
Finn balled his hands into fists and pressed them into his thighs as fury took him. He knew this old man would never be held accountable. Watkins didn’t regret what he’d done, and he would never pay for it, and there wasn’t anything Finn or anyone could do about it. That wasn’t fair, and Finn almost couldn’t handle his rage, because he had nowhere to put it.
He turned to Eleanor. “What about you? You just gonna sit there and forget that he almost got your mom killed in the Arctic?”
Eleanor scowled at him. “I think saving the world is more important than my anger right now.”
Finn couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping open. “But it’s all his fault! All of it!”
“Not all of it,” Watkins said
.
Finn glared at him. “I think you better just keep your mouth shut.”
“But Finn,” the old man said, “there is at least one thing that is your fault.”
“I’d be careful, Watkins,” Luke said. “You’re poking at a live coal.”
Finn liked hearing that. He felt a fire burning in him. “What’s my fault?” he asked, like a challenge, or a dare. “Please, Mr. G.E.T., tell me what’s my fault.”
“You made the choice to leave your father and brother behind. I didn’t force you to do that.”
Finn clamped his mouth shut. He’d expected Watkins to offer up a huge target, something for Finn to fire rage at, but instead, the old man had disarmed him.
“If your family is ruined,” Watkins continued, “it’s because of the choice you made.”
Finn wanted to fight back, but his anger went out as if Watkins had doused it with ice water. He slumped back in his chair, feeling empty and lost, and no one in the transport spoke for a few minutes.
Then Badri said, “What good is blame? We each have choices to make, and we make them. Blame is often nothing but misplaced regret.”
“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked.
“Sometimes we don’t like our choices,” she said. “Sometimes in the moment, sometimes afterward. In such situations, it’s easier to pretend the choice wasn’t ours. We blame someone else, and somehow, blame makes us feel better. Or at least, we think it makes us feel better. Blame is an illusion.”
She was right. What Finn truly felt was pain at the choice he’d made. Not regret, exactly, because he would do the same thing again. But he had made his choice back in Cairo. Watkins had absolutely created the situation, but he hadn’t made Finn’s dad choose one way, and he hadn’t made Finn choose the other. Finn still thought Watkins was wrong, in almost every way, but he realized now that there actually were things he couldn’t blame on Watkins.
“Where is my dad now? And my brother?”
“Madrid,” Watkins said. “They flew from Cairo with Eleanor’s mother, heading for Madrid.”
At least they were free of the riots.
After that, Finn rode in silence. He tried not to think about his dad, or Watkins sitting there only a few seats away. Instead, he imagined the yeti up in the hills. He wondered if it felt better in some way after causing the avalanche. Did it bring the creature peace, in whatever form a yeti could feel it? Or would it still roam the mountains angry at the injury to its child, the loss of its home? Finn couldn’t blame the yeti for what it had done.
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