I steered the lifeboat north and prayed Scott would still have the flares waiting for us. The ocean was calm, the wind cool, blowing in from the south. I was careful to stay far enough away from shore that we wouldn’t be spotted. I looked west in time to see the orange sun dip below the horizon. The sky seemed to be celebrating with me, dripping in pink and orange light. The roar of the wave generator cried in the distance, like a wild animal that had lost its prey just before the kill.
Chapter Thirty-Four
We glided through the water in darkness. The raft didn’t have any lights or emergency kits onboard. All I had to navigate by was a thread of lights from the coast. Lighthouses dotted the shore and were spread out every few miles. As we passed them, I counted the rhythm of their patterns. The bulbs rotated every twelve seconds, sometimes eighteen, sometimes ten. There was a language in those lights, a romantic story they shared with the sea. There was no sound, other than the occasional planes flying over head, lost in the sky, their lights blending in with the stars. I didn’t have a single digital tie to the world and for the moment I relaxed in the quiet calm. It gave me time to reflect.
I watched the shoreline for the red flares. I had no way of contacting anyone now. My earpod was lost in the river, and I checked Pat for his, but it must have fallen out when I dragged him into the lifeboat.
Even though all I could see was blackness, visions ran through my head like a montage sequence—images of what might have happened to Justin, Clare, Gabe, and Scott. I couldn’t shake the memory of the cops trying to break into the LADC. Someone had tipped them off. But I knew it wasn’t Scott. In my heart, I was positive it could be only one person, and it made me sick to think he could turn on me. My father knew I was planning on freeing the kids in the detention center. He knew it was going to happen. But I never told him when. I didn’t understand how the information leaked out. How could he infiltrate something that had no trace? There were no files. It was as if my dad could see inside my mind.
Pat stirred next to me. He moaned as he tried to sit up. He blinked around us, at the coast in the distance and our tiny craft. He looked at me then, his face puzzled. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not every day you shoot your friend in the neck. But maybe we’d both been going insane at that minute. Maybe we were both desperate.
“The speedboat wasn’t small enough for you?” he asked, looking around at the dinghy.
It felt good to hear him joke. It settled my heart to think we could get past what happened.
“I wanted to downsize,” I said. “I thought we could use one more challenge.” He smirked and I told him I sacrificed the boat to the wave generators. “Call it an entrance fee,” I said.
He pressed his hand against the side of his neck where I had shot him a few hours ago. He winced. “Why do I have whiplash?” he asked. “We used to shoot each other with tranq guns all the time, but they never gave me whiplash before.”
I explained what happened to him, filling him in on the last two hours. I apologized for almost breaking his neck when I pulled him onto the raft.
“I was trying to save your neck,” I said. He was quiet for a few minutes as he digested this. I expected him to yell at me, to be irate. But he looked relieved more than anything. He gazed out at the coast a hundred yards away, sprinkled in a dusting of lights.
“Wow,” he said. “You pulled it off. I guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
I leaned over and rested my hand on his arm and he didn’t jerk it away. “I’m so sorry, Pat,” I said. “I just couldn’t give up.”
“I see that,” he said but his eyes avoided mine. “You take stubborn to a whole new level.”
“Are you mad at me?” I asked.
“Mad? For what? Shooting me in the neck?” He grinned. “That’s what friends do.”
“Thanks for being able to joke about it,” I said. We both fell silent. I was afraid to bring up what he said back at the dock. I didn’t want to start another argument. But I had to know if he meant it.
“You bailed on me, Pat. You were going to give up.”
He didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes on the water.
“Were you serious about turning Justin in?” I asked.
Pat sighed and finally looked at me. “No, I didn’t mean it. You made the right decision, Maddie,” he said. “I didn’t. I was stupid. I panicked. That’s why I don’t lead these things. I’m not cut out for this, not that I want to be. When I was younger I helped Justin out, but I always did it for the kicks, not for the cause.”
He looked out at the water. The ocean rolled the boat lightly back and forth.
“God, this is peaceful, isn’t it?” he said. “This is exactly what I want.”
I grinned at him. “What? To be stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean forever?”
He smiled. “To go with the flow. Life’s all about the pursuit of happiness, you know? I’m sick of trying to make the world a better place. So I’m quitting before I mess it up for everyone.”
I nodded because I knew this was coming.
“I’m starting to believe that all you can do in life is make yourself happy. And if you can make a couple of other people happy along the way, maybe that’s the best you can do. And I’m okay with that. I’m not some rebel leader. I don’t want to be.”
He put his feet up on the side of the boat and I studied his profile. His face was content. “This is a good way to end my last mission,” he announced. “You have to be crazy to keep this lifestyle going.”
“You mean, crazy to give in to the lifestyle that exists?” I tested him.
He cracked a smile.
“Don’t say that Justin corrupted me, Pat. This is how I feel, not because I’m pressured into thinking this way. He didn’t brainwash me.”
“I don’t think the world is so bad, Maddie,” he said. “People leave each other alone. There’s hardly any crime these days. It’s safe. Everyone is doing their own thing. Maybe this is the best it gets. Maybe you guys all expect too much.”
I stared at Pat. How could he say this to me, especially after what I experienced the last six months? He saw it with his own eyes today—hundreds of people that had been mentally beaten and were enduring torturing sentences, just for wanting a choice. People were dying, just for wanting a life outside of their screens. I looked at Pat like I didn’t know him anymore. Maybe I didn’t.
“I want to be more than just okay with my life,” I said.
“Life is what it is,” he said.
“Life is what you make it,” I argued.
“Is this how you want it? Running from the cops, almost getting arrested, almost getting killed. I know Justin gets some sick high off of it. He’s an adrenaline junkie. But I think it’s a waste of time.” He looked at me. “You don’t have to do it either, you know.”
I nodded. “I know that,” I said. “I’ll never do anything I don’t want to do. Trust me, it’s not in my personality. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But you lost faith in all of us. You turned on Justin. You don’t turn on people, even when you panic, because trust is impossible to win back. Believe me, I learned that the hard way. Justin would take a bullet for you, and you were ready to hand him over to the police. And you called him selfish. I’m going to forget about what happened back there, because I know you’re quitting and I believe you were scared. I’ll never mention it to Justin because I believe you’re sorry. But”—I eyed him coolly—“if he ever gets handed over to the cops, if anything ever happens to him, you’re the first person I’m coming after.”
He nodded. “I’m done, Maddie. I promise.” He dipped his hands in the ocean and wiped them together with a symbolic gesture. “I’m washing my hands of this. It’s all yours.”
I leaned back in my seat, satisfied. “And what you said about Justin being dangerous. I know he’s dangerous. You don’t have to warn me. It’s one of his best traits.”
He nodded. “Yeah, after today I’m pretty sure you two are p
erfect for each other.”
I sighed and looked out at the coastline and that’s when I caught the faint red glow in the distance. I pointed out the flares to Pat and turned the boat in their direction. As we approached the lights, we saw a fire lit on the shore, and dark silhouettes moving, mixing light with shadows. The moonlight coated the wet beach in silver. The light of the flares caught our boat and a few people turned to look at us. People ran closer to the shore, and a girl screamed my name. I waved back and called out it was us. Her scream was contagious and soon everybody on the beach was there, circling our boat by the time we met the sand.
“Maddie?” I heard Scott’s yell and the next thing I knew people were dragging me out of the boat by my arms. Scott wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him. I stood there, stunned that Scott was actually hugging me.
I patted his back. “Um, I missed you, too,” I said.
He let go of me and grabbed Pat next, practically lifting him off the ground.
“What’s with all the brotherly love?” Pat asked him.
“How did you guys get out of there?” Scott asked us, shouting over the crowd that was piling in around us. I was afraid they were going to crush us and Scott yelled for people to back up and give us room.
“You turned the propellers off,” I reminded him, like it wasn’t a big deal.
“I didn’t think it worked in time. Justin took the plane back for you guys and saw the debris from your boat floating around the wave farm,” Scott said. “How did you survive that?”
I tried to explain what happened, filling him in on the lifeboat and how I pulled Pat and myself onboard, but I kept getting interrupted by screams and strangers throwing their arms around me.
I was pulled deeper into the crowd, through a mob of fans screaming my name. Everyone wanted to congratulate me. Some guy with long, shaggy hair wrapped his arms around me and announced he loved me. It was starting to freak me out.
I searched through the crowd for Justin or Clare, but Gabe found me first. He picked me up in his arms and lifted my feet off the ground. He hugged me so tight my ribs squeezed together.
“Ow,” I said into his shoulder, and he set me down.
“We thought we lost you,” he said. Clare found me seconds later and tugged me away from Gabe. She threw her arms around me with so much force, I stumbled backwards. She said something to me, but I couldn’t hear her because her face was smothered in my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” I assured her, and hugged her back. Her swollen eyes looked into mine with relief.
“Maddie,” she said, and then she started crying and couldn’t find her voice. I wasn’t prepared for this much drama. I just wanted to find Justin and the nearest place to crash.
“You guys are acting like I died,” I said.
She leaned back and nodded. “We did think you were dead,” she mumbled. “These past three hours, we thought your boat was torn up. We were just about to call your parents and tell them—”
“Whoa, I’m fine,” I interrupted her. “Stop talking like that. I’m right here.” I looked at her and tried to smile. “It was a close call, but we did it.”
I scanned the beach, on the prowl for one person, craving one person. Where was Justin? I looked for the tallest guys in the crowd, trying to locate him. People were already beginning to disperse. I grabbed Clare’s arm.
“Is Justin here?” I asked, and she hesitated. “Where is he?”
Clare and Gabe exchanged looks.
I felt a chill run over my skin. Why were they stalling? “What happened?” I demanded. “Is he all right?”
“He’s . . . okay.” Clare seemed at a loss for words.
“Just okay?” Was he shot? Hurt?
Gabe finished for her. “You don’t understand, Maddie. It’s been like a funeral here the past couple hours.”
Clare nodded. “He went back to look for you and saw what was left of the boat . . .” She trailed off again. “He told us there weren’t any survivors. All we had to track you with were your earpods, and the last signal we got was twenty feet underwater at the wave plant. And you know he blamed himself,” Clare said. “Again.”
“Does he know I’m alive now?” I asked.
She shrugged. “We sent him a message. But I haven’t seen him in the past hour. He took off.”
“Took off? To where?”
I didn’t wait for her to answer. I turned and headed for the airport hangar.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I walked inside the airport hangar, where students would be staying for the next few days, until they could go back home or find more permanent housing. Inside, neat rows of cots were lined up, and stacks of clothes were folded along one wall. It was amazing Clare had coordinated all of this in one week. Volunteers handed out plastic-wrapped sandwiches and bags of chips and fruit. Kids were already filling up the beds.
There were hundreds of people inside. But I could tell Justin wasn’t one of them. An energy was missing.
I walked out of the hangar because I couldn’t relax until I found him. I walked around the side of the building and found myself in what looked like an airplane cemetery. There were parts of planes heaped on the ground; rusted engines, wheels, propellers, and entire crafts sitting on the side of the abandoned runway. Tall weeds and grass grew around the edge of the cement. I stopped and listened. I could feel he was close by. There was a spark in the air. Or maybe I felt like I was being watched.
I turned and found him. He sat on the ground, in the shadow of an abandoned building. His hair was standing straight up, as if he’d been pushing his hands through it for hours. His arms were around his drawn-up knees. He looked broken, as if he’d fallen apart and been crudely put back together without anything aligned. He lifted his head and I could see silver reflected in his eyes. They were wide. He was looking at me like I was a ghost.
“Did you hear we made it back?” I asked him.
He nodded slowly. He was still in shock. “It’s not every day somebody comes back from the dead,” he said, his voice so flat it didn’t sound like his.
He dragged himself up and leaned against the wall. We stared at each other. His eyes traveled down my face and back up again. They were half lidded and glassy and dull. So much of the fire I loved about him had burned out. It was like watching a statue crumble. I was careful to stay where I was. He reminded me of how I used to feel at the DC, slowly waking up out of a nightmare, when all your emotions are still singed from the heat. It takes time for your mind to cool off.
“I told you to go with Pat,” he said. The skin under his eyes was puffy. His cheeks were wet. He pulled his hand through his hair. “Then,” he continued, “when Scott told me what was happening, I suggested you head for the river. It was my idea.”
“And I’m fine,” I announced, my voice starting to get shaky from seeing him so upset. “It worked. We got out of there.”
He wasn’t listening to me. His eyes were dazed. He was still living in the nightmare. “I thought you could hide out until I came back for you. I thought the canyon was safe.”
“We escaped. Stop blaming yourself for things that didn’t happen.”
He turned and looked out at the broken plane yard. His face was numb. He grinned but there wasn’t a trace of lightness to it. “All I wanted was for you to be safe. I told you to risk anything. And it almost killed you.”
He was scaring me. I needed him to wake up from the trance his mind was in. I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him until his doubts fell out.
“I am safe, Justin. Look at me.”
Thick tears welled up in his eyes and started to roll down his face, so large I could see each one falling. He didn’t wipe them away. They looked unbelievable on him.
“I’m not Kristin,” I said. “That won’t happen again. You need to forgive yourself for that.”
I took a couple steps toward him until we were close enough to touch, and I grabbed his arm. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He didn
’t respond at all.
“Look, tonight was terrifying, I’ll give you that. It was a close call. But we did it,” I told him. “Haven’t you heard? Everyone escaped. All the students are safe. This mission was a complete success. I’m alive. Why don’t we focus on that?”
He looked down at his feet. I couldn’t imagine what state I would be in if I thought Justin was dead, if I had been brooding for hours, imagining I had played a role in his death. But it was killing me to see him like this. It was worse torture than staring at the slicing wave generators. I squeezed his arm tighter, trying to jerk him awake. Couldn’t he understand that he saved me? Until he stopped blaming himself, I knew he wouldn’t be able to see me.
I took a deep breath and focused my eyes on his. “Look at me,” I said. He turned and watched me, numb, his face lifeless.
“You’re not responsible for me. I need you to accept this. I’m not going to quit, so don’t even think about pushing me away again. It’s not about you. Maybe at first it was. Maybe I wanted to follow you because it was exciting and dangerous and I wanted to break ties with my dad. But now it’s just as personal for me. So you can say anything you want, but I’m not backing down. Ever. So why sit around wasting time dwelling on what could have gone wrong? Shouldn’t we be celebrating all the things that went right?”
He reached his hand up and touched my cheek, delicately. His fingers were cold. He cupped my face in his palm and his eyes focused on mine but he still couldn’t see me—he was still in shock. His cheeks were wet and light glistened off of them. I wanted to wipe them dry but instead I put my hand over his and we stood like that. I closed my eyes and leaned closer to him but his hand went limp and slipped out from under mine. He turned and I watched him sleepwalk away.
I wanted to yell after him, but I thought about all the times he’d stood in my shoes over the last six months, all the times he’d wanted to pull me back and rescue me. I realized how hard that must have been, how much it hurt when you know the only way to help someone is to give him distance. So I let him go.
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