by Emily Henry
We crouched, waiting, eyes locked on Nick in the truck’s cab.
It all came down to this.
“I do,” Arthur said, without looking up from the plugs. “Love you.”
“I know.”
Arthur smiled faintly. “You’re like a brother to me, Franny.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved him, tried to hide the spasm of pain that passed through me, but Arthur didn’t miss the hiss of air between my teeth. His smile faded and he faced Nick again. “Let’s save the world.”
The semitruck’s horn blew once, quick and severe.
A beat of silence and then a second blast. I lifted my hands, fingers spread, ready to go.
Nick hit the horn a third time, held it down so that it blared out like a siren across the lot, and we flew into action, stabbing the prongs of the three master power strips, each completely loaded with six more power strips, into the outlet.
The sea of light unfurled.
The calm night filled with sound, began to roar, with fans and vacuums and KitchenAid mixers, ten-foot-tall pumpkin inflatables and antique neon bar signs and static-filled TVs, old boom boxes with cassette tapes still in them and hair dryers and clippers, and alarm clocks and electric knives like the one Mom used to insist on—badly—carving our Thanksgiving turkey with.
So much power, but it wasn’t enough.
Soon the helicopters would be back. They’d see us here. Actually catch us—and then there was Remy, what must already be happening to him with every minute that passed—
We’d lose whatever tiny edge we imagined we had.
The quiver of energy began in my chest, rising to meet my anxiety, offering itself to me. Here, it seemed to say. I have what you need.
I closed my eyes.
I had to be careful. In control. I couldn’t lose it all or there’d be no way to get Remy out. Just a little bit. A tiny bit.
The energy in me was buzzing, thundering, a tremor all through my veins. I felt it curl down the lengths of my arms, extend through my fingertips like rapidly growing claws.
A tiny bit, I told myself as I released it. Just the smallest—
* * *
* * *
Darkness, whole, absolute.
Silence. As if I were trapped beneath tons of water.
A voice broke through it. “—DID SHE—”
The darkness shuddered, cracked.
Flickering light passed overhead. Color, almost. Dim, gray. Vibration beneath, around. Warmth and another voice. “—on. Wake—”
The darkness reared up, crashed over everything. Nothing but solid black. Nothing, I was nothing. Bodiless, floating like a—
It pulled back and I saw dark clouds were swirling ahead, on the far side of glass. Rain splattering. Windshield wipers squealing.
Nothing. There was nothing. A feeling cooler and darker than sleep.
“—ODDAMMIT, FRANNY, WAKE U—”
Absolute darkness. Aloneness.
Pain flaring through me. Metal in my mouth. Water in my throat. My eyes flew open as I coughed. Hands passed over my back, pushing me up to sitting.
Hands patting my shoulders roughly as I coughed, the tangy, thick liquid spilling out of my mouth and into my lap. My body ached. I tried to stretch but my feet met resistance. Window, I thought dimly.
Dark fields and telephone poles whipping past below my shoes. Wherever I was, I was moving. To my left were two shadowed bodies, kneeling. Two shadowed faces.
Moonlight hit them in ripples, lighting them up in ghostly blue. Arthur and Sofía.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Arthur’s voice came out scratchy, like he’d been screaming. I tried to stand, but Sofía’s hands pressed me back down by the shoulders. I was vibrating. Everything was vibrating.
Another voice came from over Sofía’s shoulder. “We thought you were dead,” Nick said, and threw a look over his shoulder.
Finally the pieces came together. I was lying on the mattress in the cab of the semi, just behind the seats, where Nick and Levi were sitting. Droog curled up on the floor between them. Thin strands of rain rushed up the windshield as we sped down Old Crow Station Lane, and wind batted at the sides of the truck with so much force that Nick had to keep jerking the wheel to the right to keep from wandering into the other lane.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Arthur said again.
He was right; I felt like Nick had driven the truck over me, then backed it up to do it again.
Sofía laid her cheek in my lap and wound her arms around my waist. I wrapped my arms around her, giving an approximation of a hug, and when my hands came away, dark prints stayed behind on her white T-shirt.
Blood. That was what I’d coughed up. I could taste it now. I cleared my throat. “Did it work?”
Nick laughed in the front seat. “Oh, it worked.”
I crawled toward the window, peering out at the houses flying past. Dark. Every window, every porch light. But then again, it was the middle of the night. Later than the middle of the night, possibly. I glanced toward the dashboard clock.
“4:22,” I read aloud.
“Yeah, sorry,” Levi said softly. “We tried to get you up in time for 4:20, but—” He winced as Nick’s hand flew out and smacked the back of his head.
“It’s out,” Arthur confirmed. “Everything’s out from Walmart to here, and maybe farther.”
I pushed my sweatshirt sleeve up, searching for the web of scars. “No,” I choked out. No, no, no, no.
Gone. It was gone. My head spun. I pitched sideways and Sofía caught me, pushing me upright. I hunched over my knees and gripped the sides of my face in my hands. “No,” I managed. Tears mixed with the blood in my throat. I wanted to hit something, to throw sparks in every direction, but I couldn’t.
My arm was smooth and blemishless, my body was wrecked, and whatever part of Molly I’d had was gone.
It was all gone.
Arthur shook my arm. “It’ll be okay.”
“It’s gone,” I gasped. “It’s gone and—”
I shook my head and Arthur grabbed my face. “Stop it, Franny. You’re not in this alone, okay? You don’t have to figure this out by yourself.”
“Remy—”
“We’ll get Remy,” Arthur promised.
“I won’t be able to do anything,” I said.
“We’ll get Remy,” Arthur said.
“Of course we will,” Levi said.
“Damn straight,” Nick said.
“Look.” Sofía pointed to the window on our left. A black SUV whipped past, followed by another, and another, and another. Light poured onto the windshield, turning the raindrops to diamonds as a parade of helicopters flew over us.
They were heading toward the source of the blackout, toward our Ferris Bueller dummy.
The engine growled as Nick pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
THIRTY-ONE
THE CAMP WAS IN turmoil. Voices and uniforms passing back and forth, flashlights snapping on but doing little to crack the darkness that had engulfed the field.
The final blast of my energy had done the job: The blackout had reached all the way to here.
We pulled off the road alongside the corn just before Jenkins Lane, and for a beat, sat in silence, preparing for the stupidly impossible and impossibly stupid thing we were about to do.
Levi opened his door first, and Droog dove out, disappearing into the corn before I could grab her.
My stomach bottomed out. How would the soldiers react if they saw her running through the dark at them?
Sofía touched my shoulder. “I can see her. I think she’s leading us. Or Molly’s leading us through her.” She blinked, eyes clearing, and headed toward the trail of broken cornstalks that zigzagged ahead through the field, where Droog had gone. “Come on.”
We left the
passenger door ajar as we siphoned into the field, following the herky-jerk path all the way to the back of the plasticky tent.
We crouched in the corn, a few yards away, trying to see if and how she’d gotten inside.
A vicious gust of wind picked up a tattered strip of the tent material, slapping it against the tent’s side. “There,” I whispered, pointing at the distressed dip in the dirt just below the tear. She’d dug her way in.
The question was how long until a circling guard spotted the hole. Even if we managed to scramble in after her, how were we going to keep from being caught in there?
“Should you try to find Remy?” I whispered to Sofía.
She was staring up toward the roof of the tent, at three vaguely triangular shadows that appeared to be mounted there. “I think I have a better idea.”
Wings lifted, fluttering from the center shadow’s sides. Blackbirds, I realized.
“They must’ve been here that night,” she whispered. “I can see from them, which means I can keep watch, at least on the exterior guards.”
“And what about everyone inside?” I asked.
“One problem at a time,” she said.
“More like one hundred,” Levi said.
“Who’s going in?” Nick asked.
Arthur balked. “All of us.”
“How’s that for discreet?” Nick hissed. “Four kids, a dog, and the jolly red giant.” He jerked a thumb at Levi, whose bearlike silhouette bristled.
“Well, I’m going in,” he said. “Remy’s my cousin. He’d go for me.”
“You’re twice Remy’s size,” Nick said. “You’ll be lucky if the tent doesn’t get caught on your head and turn this whole thing into a Marmaduke comic.”
“I’m going—” Levi began.
“No way,” Nick argued.
Art shushed them. “Give it up, Nick. He’s going—you and I will keep watch out here, make a distraction if we need to. Now give Levi your pocketknife.”
Levi held up his hands and whisper-yelped, “I’m not going to stab anyone!”
Art rolled his eyes. “It’s not for stabbing. That border-collie-sized hole in the tent isn’t going to cut it for you.” Nick slapped the knife into Levi’s hand, and Arthur’s sharp gaze wandered across us. “Everyone clear on the plan?”
“That there basically isn’t one?” I said. “Got it.”
“All right then.” Arthur stuck his hand into the center of the little circle we’d formed. Nick followed suit, then Levi, then I did, and finally Sofía put her hand on the top of the stack. “Team Molly, as quietly as possible, on three,” Arthur said.
We pumped our hands three times, and breathed the words as one: “Team Molly.”
Still crouched, Sofía and I turned toward the tent, each taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes, concentrating, finding her bird’s-eye view. No sooner had she settled into it than she released a gasp.
Her eyes snapped open, and she snatched at my hand.
“Now!” she whispered, and took off, dragging me toward the tent, Levi bounding after us with the knife. Sofía reached the structure first, throwing back the torn piece of tarpaulin—or whatever it was—and shoving me in. My eyes pinballed, searching, as I dove through on all fours and found myself in a small, stuffy room.
Empty, I thought with relief, then lurched forward as fast as I could at the sensation of Levi’s face colliding with my butt. He was caught at the shoulders, Sofía stabbing through the material in hasty swipes around him. I reached out to try to tear more open but withdrew my hand just as fast as the knife swiped toward it.
A panel fell away and Levi was through, Sofía scrambling in after him. I faced the inner wall, a clear plastic panel with a zipper running through it to form a door. There was a small metal table lined with paper on my right, and on my left stood a jar-topped cart, full of swabs and cotton balls and medical tools.
It was an exam room.
Outside, the storm was picking up. A gust of wind tore down the side of the tent, rattling it, slapping the torn flap against the side. The whole structure stretched upward, shivering, then relaxed again, plunging the dark tent into silence as the wind let up.
“What now?” Levi whispered. Sofía gave a shake of her head and closed her eyes, a crease drawing between her brows as she concentrated. My eyes went instinctively toward her elbow. The scar had shrunk again, shriveled up like dehydrated roots. There was no more than a half inch left.
What happens if we get to him? I thought. What if we get in but can’t get out?
Sofía’s arm flew out and grabbed a fistful of my sweatshirt, keeping me still and low to the ground seconds before voices drifted toward us, muffled by the plastic.
My throat clenched. Pain pulsed behind my eye and throbbed in my bad ankle as two figures, blurred by the material, appeared in the hallway outside the exam room.
They moved past at a steady clip. When they’d disappeared, Sofía’s grip loosened and she moved forward, whispering, “We have to get to the center.”
Levi and I followed, bent like cartoon bank robbers. I pressed my face to the plasticky wall, trying to see down the hallway as Sofía unzipped the door and beckoned me and Levi through with a tip of her head.
The wall on our right was obscured, a nearly opaque white, but two more empty exam rooms were visible through the plastic sheeting on the left, metal tables and tool carts barely visible in the darkness.
The hallway dead-ended, jerking to the right at a ninety-degree angle, but Sofía stopped us just shy of the corner, waiting and listening.
Another trill of wind hit the top of the tent, punching the material down so loudly I bit my tongue to stop from shouting in surprise.
I looked up, peering through the darkness to watch another breathy smack hit the material, followed by two more. I pulled my focus back to the tent, instead of the storm brewing beyond.
Sofía peered around the plasticky corner, then took off running again, her steps crinkling in the post-wind silence against the squishy material lining the ground.
As Levi and I jolted after her, a pulse of pain went through my ankle, so severe that my knees buckled. Levi caught my arm, hauling me upright on a diagonal without slowing.
Halfway down the back hallway, Sofía stopped abruptly, and when I froze, I heard the soft squish-squish-squish of even footsteps coming from the tunnel that bisected the one we were in.
Sofía turned and pointed frantically back the way we’d come, shoving us along.
We sprinted back, spinning clumsily around the corner. Sofía grabbed a handful of my hood and stopped me from going any farther. Through the dark, I could see her pantomiming listening, cupping one hand around her ear.
The steps were getting quieter, until they were altogether gone. I studied Sofía, trying to communicate, WHAT THE HELL NOW. She nodded and turned back, and then we were off again down the back hall.
We paused at the intersection to listen, but the wind was pummeling the compound walls like massive fists. It was impossible to hear anything over it.
A sudden cramp in my abdomen doubled me over, and the shift in my weight made my ankle feel like it was cracking in half. I stuck out a hand to brace myself against the tent, but the whole wall was bucking now, waving and billowing.
It’s going to come apart, I thought dizzily. The storm’s too much.
Levi pulled my arm around his neck, balancing me against his side.
I shouldn’t have come with them. I was slowing them down. I wanted to tell him to go on, but I couldn’t do anything except grit my teeth through each new spasm and burst of pain.
Sofía leaned around the bend, checking that the coast was clear, then shot a look over her shoulder that was somewhere between ecstatic and terrified.
“This is it!” she whispered. “Droog came this way!”
She tu
rned the corner and ran, Levi and I stumbling through a three-legged race after her.
The walls and zipped-shut doors on either side of us were opaque, but Sofía knew where she was going now. She stopped at the third door on the left and bent, pressing her ear to the wall.
Outside, the tornado-watch siren started to wail.
Even if Remy had been in there screaming our names, we might not have heard him.
Sofía stepped back from the door, appraising it.
There were no tears or scratches in the door panel. If Droog had made it in there, she’d done it without ripping through it.
More likely someone had found her. If she was lucky, maybe they would’ve just tossed her out, chalked it up to more strange animal behavior like the cow stampede or the suicidal birds.
But what would stop them from hurting her?
The world swayed. I could still taste globs of blood trapped around my molars, and the back of my skull throbbed where I must’ve hit the cement when I passed out in the theater parking lot. The inside of my body felt like hot, burbling poison, and the outside felt brittle. Levi pulled hard at my arm, keeping me on my feet as I sagged.
We’d made it this far, but this one last moment—this was going to be what sent the whole thing crumbling down.
Sofía blew out a breath and closed her eyes, concentrating. Trying to find Remy or Droog, or maybe just checking the bird’s-eye view from outside, I wasn’t sure.
When her eyes snapped open, there was a look of shock on her face. She glanced toward the inside of her arm.
There was no sign of the raised ridge running along her skin. She shook her head. Gone.
Her power was gone, just like mine.
THIRTY-TWO
THE SIREN WAS STILL screaming, punctuated by shouts from within and outside the tent, indiscernible in the chaos. Soon they’d be swarming us, and we had no extra line of defense. No electrokinesis, no telepathy, no Remy, and no time.
My stomach spasmed. There was nothing else to do: I pried myself free of Levi, stumbled forward, and reached for the zipper.
Before my fingers ever got there, it started to move.