by Susan Adrian
Dedushka reaches his gnarled hands in and lifts the box, sand trickling from it. It’s dark wood, inlaid with a carving that’s crusted with dirt. It has four round legs, like a jewelry box. He studies it, holding it at eye level, then hands it to me. It’s heavy.
I rest it in my lap, and try to lift the lid. There’s no latch or anything, though, and nothing happens. I try again. “It’s stuck shut,” I say. “Or locked.”
Dedushka raises his eyebrows and smiles, lopsided. He looks like a deranged bear. “Is a Polish box. There is a trick. Hold it up?”
I raise it. In one quick motion he twists the front two legs forward, and the lid opens with a snap. I lower it to look. Nestled inside a red velvet interior is one glass vial, filled with a bright red liquid. It looks like blood.
Dedushka takes the box, runs a finger over the vial. “Red for stop,” he says, soft. “Milena’s idea.”
I sit back on my heels. “Red for stop…for stopping the power?” After he nods, it hits me, like a slap in the face. “Wait. Please don’t tell me if there was a red, there was a green. Green for go.”
He looks guilty. “She made green first, to see how it worked, how they started powers. To understand how to make red.” He closes the box and tucks it under his arm. “Vladimir destroyed it all, that one.”
“God, I hope so. That’s all Smith or Liesel or Jake’s dad would need. A handy serum to make anyone like him.”
Dedushka bites his lip. “If anyone asks, you do not know this, yes? There never was green serum.”
“If anyone asks, I’m mute.”
I fill in the hole while Dedushka stands and stretches like an old gray cat. We did it. We have the red serum. Now we can connect with Jake in D.C., he can take it, and hopefully this whole thing will be over.
I set the rock back over the hiding place. We just have to get Jake away from Smith.
Dedushka carries the box back out through the scratch-happy bushes, and I follow again, trying my best to hold them back. We’re almost to shore when I come up hard against him, standing still. He raises a hand, and points. I peek around him and gasp.
There’s a police boat tethered to ours.
21
MYKA
Bad Blood by Taylor Swift
Dad tours me around the base for a couple of hours at least. He’s so proud of it, every inch. There are two full labs, with white-coated techs working with tissue samples and petri dishes in one, and chemical mixtures in another. I itch to go into that one, to see exactly what they’re working on. To try out a few things myself. I wonder if I could help.
I’d definitely rather be there than in my fake bedroom.
We move on to a room where a scientist is testing a soldier, having him hold an object and try to tunnel. It doesn’t work, but they keep trying. Then through a bunch of diagnostic machines—an MRI, a CT, an EEG. And then a whole lot of boring plain rooms: offices, housing, a big lunchroom. Dad suggests we have lunch here.
I’m hungry, but I don’t want to have cafeteria food with Dad in front of a crowd of soldiers, everyone watching us. I think I’m ready to go back to Mom now, and eat with her. She’s probably worried, with me gone this long. I shake my head. “I’d rather have lunch with Mom.”
He looks a little hurt, but he shrugs. “Fine. I have one last thing to show you first. A big thing.”
Back in his office, he sits in his chair, and tells me to sit. Then he pulls something out of one of his drawers and nudges it across the desk towards me. It’s a wooden box, some dark wood. It has a crest of a bird carved in the top. I look up at Dad.
“Open it,” he says. “We’ll see how long it takes you.”
I frown. Okay. It’s a box. I try to open the lid, but it’s stuck. No…I look at it closer. It’s some kind of special lock. I turn it upside down, spin it around. I saw something like this once, at the museum store at the Smithsonian. It’s a puzzle box. You have to do something to get it to open. But there isn’t much to do. I look closer. No hidden panels. I press the carving, feel around the whole design. Not that. I push up on the legs, in case they’re fake levers. No, but they wobble a little. I try to tip one of them, and it moves, but nothing happens. The back ones don’t move at all. Interesting.
I tip the two front legs at the same time, and the top pops open.
Dad laughs. “45 seconds. Well done.”
I laugh too, happy that I solved the puzzle. Then I actually look inside. It’s all red velvet, with a special indentation in the middle, filled with a glass vial. It’s half full of a bright green liquid.
“What’s this?” I ask. “Where did you…”
I stop, realizing what this has to be. This is the serum Jake was going to get from Vladimir. Dad got it first.
I meet his eyes. “This is the serum that can stop Jake’s power? Why did you take it? When?”
Dad’s eyebrows crease for a second. “You thought it would stop his power? No. From our analysis, this seems to be a formula meant to create a power like Jake’s. Except it doesn’t work. Not so far. Though we’ve just started trying.” He shakes his head. “I guess that old man was pretty reluctant to give it up, so he thought it worked.”
I set the box down, carefully, on the desk. I don’t feel like laughing at all anymore. I know the serum Jake was going to get was to stop his power. Were there two?
Why would Vladimir ever make one to start a power? And why would he give it to Dad, even “reluctantly”? Something in Dad’s manner changed after he gave me the box. He twisted somehow, got creepy.
I stand. “I’d like to go back to Mom now.”
“Sure, sure.” But he leans back in his chair, and stares at the ceiling. “I wonder…if we can’t get it to work in any of our subjects...because there’s a genetic component. Maybe it has to go into someone with a certain DNA.”
I go very, very still. I don’t think he wanted me here to protect me at all. I think he wanted me here to experiment on me. Just like Jake.
“I want to go to Mom,” I squeak.
“OKAY,” he says, and sits up straight, slamming his feet on the floor. He pushes a button on the phone. “Take her back to her room.”
“Yes, sir,” a voice replies, and instantly the door opens.
“You can eat lunch with your mother,” he says, his voice flat. “But then you are going to go to your room, and think about this serum. It could be a wonderful opportunity for someone. For you.”
I swallow, hard. I’ve seen all the trouble Jake’s power has caused him, first-hand. I don’t want one. And more, I do not want to be Dad’s guinea pig, stuck here forever while he tries out different things on me.
Right now I’ve just got to get out of here, while he lets me, and talk to Mom.
I turn and head out the door as fast as I can, like snakes are coming after me.
22
JAKE
The Monster by Eminem
I’m stuck in this room. I don’t see anyone, can’t hear anything. All freaking day. Except a Jones, once. The nice-ish one knocks about mid-day with some water, and tells me to take a bathroom break. He waits outside in the hallway, arms folded, until I’m done, then locks me back in the room.
What the hell is going on? I hate being in here. I start to get a touch of the claustrophobia that took me over after I got out of Montauk, that feeling that I’m going to scream if I can’t step outside of walls, breathe fresh air. I couldn’t handle being indoors at all for a while after I got out of there. I stare out the window, thinking, trying to keep from freaking out.
When there’s another knock on the door, I nearly jump out of my skin. This time it’s Bunny. She slips inside, leans against the door. In the dim room she almost glows, pale hair and white shirt. I expect her to write in her notebook, but she speaks instead.
“Mr. Smith has gone out, and you and I are going to eat lunch on the balcony,” she says, breathlessly. “It’s nice out.”
You don’t have to ask me twice. “Let’s get the hell out
of here.”
The “safe place” Bunny was talking about—apparently free from cameras and bugs—is outside on the balcony. It is nice. More, it’s outside. There’s plates and stuff laid out on a table with one of those big striped umbrellas, and the smell of food. I’m hungry, but I don’t even look at it yet. I stand there for a minute, breathing it in, the air warm, still damp from the rain this morning. A hint of wind. I take it all in. The view is amazing. We must be on the twentieth floor. Bunny touches my arm briefly, tentative.
“Thanks.” My voice is low. “I needed to be out here.”
She smiles, sadly. There’s a whole conversation there, about how sorry she is that I’m back, about that terrible tunnel this morning, about helplessness. But the smile disappears, and she moves on. “I have something I think you should tunnel with. But we need to do it before anyone comes out or anything happens. Let’s sit. It’ll look like we’re eating in case anyone peeks.”
We sit under the umbrella. There’s pizza in a takeout box, and breadsticks on our plates. I tear into one while Bunny rummages in her pocket. She tells me to hold out my hand and drops the object into it, watching me.
I know the feel of it the instant I rub my thumb over the surface. But I peer at it, just to make sure.
Jesus Christ, it is. It’s Dad’s tie tack. The one Myka hid in the library for me, ages ago. The one I was holding when I met Rachel again.
“Where did you…?” I start. But I remember. “Smith. He took it when he kidnapped us.”
She nods. “Same time he got the medicine bottle. He took Dr. Miller’s gun too, but he’s put that somewhere else. I managed to get hold of this. I thought it might help to know where your dad is. It’s not your mom and sister. But it’s the only lead I have so far. And I think…” She bites her lip. “I think you should do it and see.”
I nod, rubbing my thumb over and over the familiar shape, the Air Force logo. Can I deal with seeing Dad again? He’s in a base somewhere, surely. Underground. Still trying to make people tunnel. It’s not what I hoped for, but it would be good to see what he’s up to, if he’s looking for me.
I grip the tie tack tight, close my eyes. I go silently, just in case.
West Virginia. An underground facility hidden in the hills outside of Green Bank. The GPS coordinates flash through my head. Dad is in a small room, featureless, gray, just a table and two chairs. He’s standing, leaning on the table with one hand, talking to someone. He looks the same as always, maybe a bit more tired. The other person has their back to him, and I can’t see clearly.
He has to convince her. This isn’t working, but it has to. He makes his voice calm, reasonable, even while he’s pacing. “I don’t see why you don’t understand. It’s for your own safety. For hers. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else. Someone worse.”
The person turns, and I barely stay in the tunnel. It’s MOM. Right there. Arms crossed, anger radiating out of her. “That’s bullshit, John. I don’t know why you really did it, but you have to let us go. This is intolerable. I need to find where Jake is, if he’s okay. What does he think happened to us? Where does he think we are? You can’t do this. I don’t care what government branch you’re part of.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know why you refuse to understand, Abby. With the mess Jake’s gotten himself in—gotten all of you in—it’s the only safe place for you right now. Especially Myka.”
She goes steely quiet, treacherous. He remembers that look. That look never bodes well for him. “You stay away from Myka. And none of this is Jake’s fault. It’s all you, John. Every bit of it is you.”
I try to dip into him, gently, to see if I can control him. If I could have him send Mom and Myka away, when I'm closer. Rescue them like that. But the second I do, the second I start to expand, he lifts his head, sharply. It's like when I tunnel to Myk. I think he senses I'm there.
I back out of it as fast as I can, the tie tack biting into my fist, and stare, unfocused, at the table.
“You okay?” Bunny says softly, from my left. “What did you see?”
My lips feel numb, somehow. I feel numb. All this time I’ve been wrong.
Why am I always wrong when it comes to him? Why do I always underestimate how much he’ll lie?
“He has my mother and sister,” I whisper. “They’re not here at all. They never were.”
Smith didn’t have them. Ever. I assumed he did, and threw myself at him, uselessly, to get them back. He just played along. And now I have to get myself out of it again, get to the real bastard who took them: Dad.
Christ, did he kill Vladimir too? Is he really that much of a monster?
“Did you know?” I ask her. “Is that why you gave me this?”
She grimaces. “I was pretty sure Smith didn’t have them, so I wondered who did. It was a decent guess.”
I grip the tie tack hard. The good news is I don’t have any reason to stay here anymore. I can leave with Bunny—with her help, we can get out. Smith doesn’t have a hold on me I can’t break.
Shit. Except Lucas.
The headache slams into my brain with no warning this time, wipes me completely out with pain. I lose all awareness of everything around me. There’s only the pain, the pounding in my head. I think I fall. I think I scream.
I pass out.
23
JAKE
Me Against the World by Simple Plan
I come to still outside, on the balcony, with a view of something I can’t figure out at first. Tubes, running together, and a big, round circle…oh, the table. I’m lying under the table.
“Jake? You okay?”
Not really. My head is still throbbing. I don’t know how long I was out, but passing out doesn’t get rid of the pain like the T-680 does. Just lets my body have a little break during the worst of it. It’s still there, thrashing to get out. I look back over my shoulder—there’s Bunny, sitting next to me—but that hurts, so I stop. Scowl. “Urgh.”
“No one noticed,” she says, then lowers her voice when I flinch. Every sound is magnified with the headache. “Even when you screamed, they didn’t come. I think the glass must be soundproof. If you can get up soon, look normal, I think we’ll be okay.”
I groan again. I don’t really care if anyone hears me at this point, if they’re all standing around me in a circle watching. I can’t move. It’s excruciating.
But it would be bad if Smith found out I was tunneling with Bunny. It might make it a lot harder to get out of this place. And I want to get out soon.
I push myself up and bang my head on a chair. Swear. Have to lie down again.
Bunny tries not to laugh, and I brave the pain to turn and glare at her.
“Sorry.” She muffles her mouth with her hand. “Nervous reaction. I do it whenever anyone hurts themselves.” She giggles again. “It’s not funny, I know. I can’t help it.”
I scoot out from under the table inch by inch and sit up, holding my head. “Not helping.” I find the tie tack still curled in my other hand, shove it in my pocket. This I need to keep.
“I know. Sorry.” She pats my leg. “Can you tell me more about what you saw? Your dad has your mom and sister?”
“Yeah.” The shock comes roaring back, along with swirling anger. “I can’t believe he did that. And I came here, thinking Smith had them…”
“I never thought he did,” she says. I push myself slowly to my feet—ow—and she helps me. “The way he answered you—it was off. And I never heard anything about it. He doesn’t hide Lucas at all. I would’ve known something. Or one of the Joneses would’ve said.” She shrugs. “I didn’t really know if your dad had them.”
“I can’t believe he took them.” I shake my head. “The unmitigated jerk.” I manage to sit at my place, though the food looks totally unappetizing now, and the cheese smell makes me feel sick. I can’t eat with my head pounding like this. “I have to get them back.”
“Where is he?” she asks. “In a lab?”
/> I sigh. “West Virginia. Green Bank. Another base.”
She bites her lip, and stares out at the city for a couple minutes. “So…you’re ready to leave with me then?”
I nod, wearily. “Ready to plan. Do you have a plan?”
“Oh.” She smiles, and I see an evil glint in her eye that I like. “I have a plan. I’ve been here for a long time, long enough to figure out what needs to be done. It’ll have to wait until I get a few things in place…”
“I have to bring Lucas with me. He doesn’t have to like it, but I have to bring him along. I can’t leave that kid with Smith one day longer than he has to be.”
She tilts her head. “I knew you’d say that. I agree. And he won’t know anything about it until it’s too late for him to object. He’s been here for a long time. I don’t know how he’d react to leaving. To you.” She sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sooner. I wanted to. There was no safe way, and it was too risky—”
“I get it.” I drop my elbows on the table and rub my temples, hard. It doesn’t help. I give up and flop back in the chair. “It must’ve been hell, being stuck with Smith all these years.”
She covers her mouth with her hand and looks away, but I can see her fight off tears. She taps her hand once, twice, across her lips. “Yes” is all she says. “Now.” She sniffs. “The plan.”
It’s pretty simple, considering. It involves the release of gas through the vents—with gas masks for us—Smith’s master key, and using her car to get out of here. She has all the heavy lifting, and the knowledge of how we can dodge Smith after we’re out of here. But it’ll depend on opportunity, too, when Smith and all the Joneses are in the right places. Smith being gone, hopefully.