by Susan Adrian
She smiles, small. “One of the Joneses—his real name is Bradley—is a friend of mine. If something goes wrong, he might help.”
“A real friend?” I ask. “Or a friend like I was to you at Montauk?”
Her mouth quirks up, but she doesn’t answer.
I won’t know when this escape is going to happen until it does. It could be tomorrow, or a week from now. She’ll just come in and tell me it’s time.
I’m really hoping for tomorrow.
24
RACHEL
Caught by Ari Gold
I’m praying that Vladimir didn’t have drugs or spy stuff or anything else incriminating on this boat.
Dedushka and I sit together at the back, watching five Coast Guard agents comb the boat for “suspicious paraphernalia.” Drug raid, they said—there’s been some kind of drug activity in this cove. Which is kind of a relief, since both Dedushka and I assumed the boat had been reported stolen from the dock and we were being arrested straight off.
That may still come. One of the agents, a short one with a big belly, is running the registration on the boat. They’ll run info on us too.
Who knows what Liesel or Jake’s dad have put into the system. I know by now how tricky they are. I could be tagged as a runaway, or having a record. They could whisk us off to jail. To a CIA or DARPA cell. To an underground lab. We could be locked up by the end of the day.
I can’t stop shaking. I’m not great at this part, the lying and keeping to a cover. I don’t know how Jake—or Dedushka— can handle this obscene level of pressure. Of course you don’t want to get good at it. If you’re good at dealing with stuff like this, and it doesn’t bother you, your life has gone wrong somewhere.
Dedushka is pissed off, at least on the surface. He’s sitting there with his fists clenched, his face a volcano about to burst. “It is my friend’s boat,” he repeats again. “You will find this. We are hiding nothing.”
And will they find that Vladimir is dead? Has that been reported yet? Then we might be held for murder too.
I shove my trembling hands under my legs.
At least we saw them before we strolled on board with that box—I’m sure they would’ve confiscated it. We abandoned the box itself behind a bush on shore, and Dedushka stuffed the vial in some sort of hidden inside pocket in his pants before they spotted us. Which is great, unless we get searched. A vial of bright red liquid won’t be a trigger at all for drug agents.
I wanted to run when we saw them, or stay there on the shore and hide. But Dedushka said it wouldn’t work. Said we had to bluff it out and take our chances.
I watch the short one, on the phone. He looks bored, standing there in his yellow vest, waiting. Like this isn’t exciting enough for him. He has pale red hair, and a probably permanent sunburn. I bet he’s married, with a belly like that. I bet he has little kids. I wonder if he’s nice, in his regular life, or if he’s always borderline hostile and bored.
His face changes as I watch. One of the other agents pushes past him, but he barely notices, focused on whatever he’s listening to. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, with a glance at us. There’s excitement in his voice. “I understand.” He whispers something to the agent near him, who immediately stops searching and turns around to face us, his hand on his gun.
Oh God.
“Sir,” he shouts. He goes to the stairs below deck, shouts down. “Info on the boat came through. You’ll want to hear this.”
I look at Dedushka. I wonder if he has a back-up plan, a way to get out. He meets my eyes and frowns at me, small.
I breathe, too fast. Yeah. I don’t have a back-up plan either.
The leader comes up on deck, a buff guy with an oddly flattened nose whose vest is straining on him. The two of them have a low conversation. Figuring out the best way to arrest us, probably. Which thing to arrest us for, out of their many choices. I bite the inside of my lip to keep my teeth from chattering. Not from cold, just nerves. I don’t know what to do. What would Jake do? Punch someone and swim to shore, then run?
There has to be another way out of this.
The leader’s phone rings, and he holds it to his ear. “Yes,” he says, his voice amped up. “We have them right here. What did you get on—” He frowns. “Are you sure?” He turns his back and walks away. I can’t make him out anymore. But he keeps talking. Arguing for a while, one arm flailing. Then he goes quiet for a long time, and comes towards us again. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
He clicks off the phone and holds it for a moment, looking out to the ocean, before turning to his crew. “Pack it up!” he shouts. “There’s nothing here.”
I hold my breath.
“But sir—” the short one starts.
The leader shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve been cleared, the boat’s clear. Time to go.” He steps to us, inclines his head. “I apologize for the trouble. My people will get out, and you can be on your way.”
I don’t believe him, even a little. I don’t trust them anymore. We haven’t been cleared. They have something on the boat, on Vladimir. Whatever boss he just talked to wants to let us go for some other reason. Or was told to let us go.
Why? Who would have enough pull for that. DARPA? John?
Dedushka tilts his head, like royalty acknowledging a subject, and we watch them go. They’re off the boat, speeding away, within three minutes.
I let my head drop between my knees, take deep breaths.
Dedushka strides to the wheel, scribbles something on the pad there, and hands it to me.
The words are in a thick scrawl. We are probably bugged now. Do not speak.
I nod, understanding flooding through. Maybe that’s what he wanted, this mystery boss. To catch us on something bigger…the serum. Or follow us to Jake.
Will they follow us? I write.
He shrugs, and writes once more. Not if we help it. He starts the engine with steady hands. He brings the boat around in a wide curve and heads out of the bay, while I hold onto the seat as tight as I can. Spray splashes across my face. At least I have confidence he’ll know how to deal with a tail. That’s something Dedushka knows well.
I close my eyes in relief for a second. We didn’t get arrested, at least for now. We made it through.
I want to throw up—adrenaline and Vladimir’s sandwich sour in my stomach—but we made it through. We have the vial. Now we just have to get to Jake.
Now we just have to get rid of surveillance and tails, and get to Jake.
I have to believe we can do that, somehow.
25
MYKA
Piece by Piece by Kelly Clarkson
Dad is keeping me away from Mom.
I think he’s just doing it to be cruel, because we want to be with each other instead of with him (ever). He let me eat lunch with her like he said, and then he had his soldiers push me over to “my room”…and that was it. I’ve been in here ever since.
I haven’t cried, because even though I don’t see any cameras, I think he’s probably watching. But I want to. I think I heard Mom’s door open a while ago, but nothing since. There are bottles of water on the shelf now, bags of snap pea crisps, and Oreos.
I pull the blue comforter off the bed, wrap it around me, and camp on the chair, staring at the door. For a long time—hours, I think—I don’t do anything else. Then I have to take a few Oreos. I’m not looking at the books he got me, though. I’m not giving in.
I think it’s night now.
I keep thinking about what Dad said about that formula, how it might have to have a genetic component.
It makes sense. Otherwise whatever they did to Dedushka back in Russia—it would’ve worked on a lot of people, right? And if it had worked on a lot of people, Russia would probably be using those powers all over the place. So it didn’t work on a lot of people. It only worked on Dedushka, as far as I know. And then whatever it did to him, he passed on in his DNA to Jake.
Why not Dad? Why not me? If Dad got a power and I was the onl
y one who didn’t, I’d guess it was sex-linked to the Y chromosome. But neither of us got it…or got it so that it expressed. That probably means we just didn’t get the gene.
But that doesn’t necessarily mean that we wouldn’t get a power if we had some of that formula like Dedushka did. It could trigger something, maybe. Without knowing how the gene works…and would stem cells from Jake affect anything?
Ugh. I don’t know anything about how it works. I admit, I really wouldn’t mind trying to figure it out, in the lab. If I even could. I bet even Mr. Pallon back at school, the head of Chemistry, would want to try to figure it out. But I’m 100% sure I don’t want to be Dad’s test subject.
It’s weird enough having one freak in the family, with everyone after him. It’d be unbearable to have two.
A soldier comes in with a tray: a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. My favorite dinner when I was five. Dad seems to think I stopped changing when I was five.
“I want to go to my Mom,” I say. “Please let me go see my Mom.”
He shakes his head and shuts the door behind him.
I eat the dinner even though it’s stupid. Eventually I turn off the light and lie there in the chair, still wrapped in the comforter.
I cry a little when they can’t see, before I fall asleep.
26
JAKE
Run Away (The Escape Song) by Oingo Boingo
When Bunny comes in my room the next morning, I’m awake, dressed, and sitting on the edge of the bed. I’m ready to get out of here, as fast as I can. I tried to tunnel to Dedushka late last night, to tell him about Dad, but I missed him again, asleep. If it’s time to escape now, I’ll just tunnel to him after, when we’re out.
But it isn’t time to escape. Smith wants me for a tunnel, she says. Now.
He’s pacing the big room, prowling like an animal. Projecting so much tension the air crackles with it. I don’t even really want to walk in. There are two Joneses, the big one guarding Lucas’s door and the nice-ish one behind the sofa, his hands behind his back. Neither one looks at me.
I try to picture myself taking down even one of the Joneses, if that was our escape plan, and fail. I’d need to know karate, or at least be able to fight, to accomplish it. But that’s not what I do.
“Sit,” Smith growls. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I sit. He nods to Bunny and she rummages in her pocket, hands me the bag with a weird little thumb-size eagle figurine in it. I take it out, feel it in my fingers. Heavy, the wings rough.
“Okay already,” Smith snaps. “Go. It’s a judge, in his chambers. When you go, I want you to control him. You’re going to make him sign something for me.”
I clench the eagle against my palm, hard enough to hurt. “What?”
He frowns and leans back against the desk, hands braced on the edge. His eyes shine oddly in the light. “Lucas showed me what you can do. What you’ve been hiding from me this whole time. You can control people remotely. That’s how you got out of Montauk, isn’t it, Mr. Lukin? That’s your big secret?”
I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. I just sit there, staring up at him.
He’ll never let me go. Even if we escape, he’ll hunt me down and find me. Even if I do take the serum, he’ll be pissed. If I don’t…I’ll never have another free day.
“So now you’re going to make it up to me for lying and use your secret. Just a little one, to start. You’re going to tunnel to this bastard, have him sign a document I’ve got ready on his desk. Got it? Good. It’s almost time.”
I swallow, though my throat feels full of dust. “I won’t.”
He bangs the desk with the flat of his hand, glares down his nose at me. “You will. Or I’ll hurt your beloved little sister.”
I’ve never been more grateful of timing. I know, as of yesterday, that he doesn’t have her, that he can’t touch her. I’m almost—almost—grateful to Dad for smuggling her away. Just for this moment.
No, I’m not. But I’m damn glad Smith doesn’t have her.
“No,” I say. I try to sound even, confident.
“No?” His voice goes high. “You’d sacrifice your sister?” There are lines on his forehead I don’t usually see, a wildness in his eyes. He’s lost whatever control he had. I can picture him smashing me in the face, laughing while he does it. “I’ll do it, you know. Don’t think I won’t.”
I press my lips together. I don’t even know what document he wants me to sign, but I can’t do it. He can’t see me control someone for real. It’s the edge of a precipice, and I can’t take that step.
He studies me, his eyes narrow. Then his gaze shifts to Bunny, and he smiles. “Jones. Give me your gun.” He stands and strolls around the desk, wiping his hands on his gray suit pants.
Nice-ish Jones behind the sofa hesitates, but hands a gun to Smith, butt out.
No.
I try to stand, but I don’t make it far.
In one second flat Smith cocks the gun, drags Bunny off the sofa by her hair, and presses the muzzle to her head. She screams, her eyes huge. I struggle, but Jones grabs me, his hands on my shoulders pinning me relentlessly. I can’t move an inch.
I have to stop Smith.
“Tunnel to the judge,” Smith growls. “Or I swear to God I’ll shoot her.”
I stare at him, at Bunny. We’ve gone through so much together. I liked her even when I was in Montauk. I’ve always felt like I wanted to protect her. And now we’re going to escape together. I need her.
I can’t let him do this. Should I tunnel? Should I do what he wants?
He shoves the gun against her head and she twists, trying to wiggle away, but he holds her firm. A cat with a bird in its mouth. “Tunnel, Mr. Lukin. Now.”
I still don’t know, hovering at that edge. It’s an impossible choice.
I can’t. I can’t let him see me control someone. But mostly I can’t do what he wants. I can’t make a judge sign anything, just because Smith is threatening me. It’s too important. Who knows what else he’ll make me do tonight, or tomorrow. For years.
Jesus Christ.
I make myself meet Bunny’s eyes. I can’t do it. I hope she understands. I see it sink in, that I’m not going to stop this. Her face falls. Her round blue eyes fill, drip down.
I am a terrible person. I feel like I’m frozen, unable to move either way.
I can’t let her die. Maybe I’ll do it this time, and find some other way to end it…
Then she takes a ragged breath and her expression hardens. She juts out her pointed chin.
“I was going to betray you anyway,” she whispers. She stares at me, so intense it’s like it’s just us in the room. No Smith, no gun. No choices. I know, without a shred of doubt, that she’s telling the truth. “So I could work with your father. That was my plan all along. I was going to take you to him and turn you in, and…” She gulps. “I’m sorry…”
“Oh, you are useless,” Smith says. “I don’t need you anymore.” He pulls the trigger. Her head explodes in a bloody mess, and he lets her drop, lifeless, to the floor.
Time quits, for a while. It stretches and stretches and stretches and never ends, that moment. That horror.
I howl and shove against Jones, but he shoves me down, a heavy weight. Smith holds his bloody hands high, like he had nothing to do with any of it. “Your fault. I warned you. You’re worse than useless. Let that be a warning. I will make you do the next tunnel, I swear to God.” He points at the Jones by Lucas’s door. “You. Go get someone to clean this up. I have to go do damage control with this judge.” He nods at the Jones behind me. “Get him out of here.”
He throws the gun on his desk and strolls away, out the door towards my room, and the other Jones follows him.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Bunny is crumpled on the floor, like trash he didn’t need anymore, part of her head blown away. Dead. For no reason. Because of me.
It’s worse than Eric. Maybe Bunny was going to betray me. I did
believe her. But for her life to just be over—it doesn’t make sense. None of it makes a drop of sense.
God, and now we can’t escape, either. I can’t do it on my own. Now I’ll never get out of here with Lucas, I’ll never see my mother or sister again…
Wait. The gun is lying there too, abandoned. Within easy reach. All the blood rushes out of my head, leaving that one point of focus. There’s only one Jones. His hands are still on my shoulders, but just resting, light. He must’ve been surprised too. I have one chance.
I slide out from under his hands, scoop the gun off the desk and spin, cocking it as I go. I haven’t pointed a gun since I was in Eric’s body, but it works the same. It’s heavy, I’m shaking like a goddamn leaf, and my vision is blurred, but I point it in the right direction.
I expect a fight, a shout, a tackle. But nice-ish Jones holds up his hands in surrender, his jaw clenched tight. “He told me to get you out of here,” he says. His mouth crooks. “I’m following orders. Go. Fast. Take Lucas with you. Go down the far stairs. I liked Cecile.” His voice softens as he looks down at Bunny. “I liked her a lot. She…” He swallows hard. “She didn’t deserve that. And with my gun.”
“Are you Bradley?” I ask.
He looks back up at me. “Get out of here.”
I nod once and look at Bunny myself, one last time, what’s left of her. Think of the first time I saw her, in her doctor’s coat, buzzing around so excited about testing me. Her excitement about everything, always. She sure as hell didn’t deserve that.
But there’s no time. I take him at his word and run through the door towards Lucas. We’ve got to get out of this nightmare.
27
JAKE
Brothers by Penny & Sparrow
The door shuts behind me and I take a second to lock it, take stock of the hall. I need to get Lucas to come with me and then get the hell out, as soon as possible. Go down the stairs, he said. Bunny wanted us to leave that way too, take her car. Of course I don’t have her keys. Or Smith’s master key. I don’t have Bunny with me to convince Lucas I’m okay, to bluff anyone who asks questions. Because Bunny’s in there dead with her head splattered all over the floor.