Terminal

by Kathy Reichs

  I had a thousand burning questions. What came out first surprised me.

  “Why did you join the team?”

  “And leave the Tripod of Bitch?” A wry smile appeared on Madison’s face. “I needed a change. I got tired of spending all my time with people who don’t respect me. Or maybe even like me. Ashley and Courtney—” she actually shuddered, “—they’re not real friends. To them, everything is one big competition. That or a joke. I’m sick of it all. Done with them.” Her voice cracked. “I thought, maybe, if I was part of something else, like the team, people might forget how awful I’ve been. Might actually like me. I was good at soccer when I was kid. Always liked it. I only quit because Ashley said it wasn’t cool, and . . . and . . .”

  Madison sniffed loudly.

  Oh my God, she’s going to cry.

  Impulsively, I reached out and hugged her. Her. Madison Dunkle.

  For a few beats, she silently shook in my arms.

  In my wildest dreams, I would never have thought . . .

  Madison abruptly pulled away, perhaps feeling the same. I noticed Jason watching, an unreadable expression on his face. What could he possibly be thinking?

  Enough. There are bigger issues at play.

  “What did the person look like?” I prodded gently. “The one asking about me.”

  Madison ran a finger under each eye, then cleared her throat. “There were two men, both in black suits. One was maybe late twenties. In good shape, but he wore sunglasses the whole time so I didn’t get a great look at his face. Buzzed blond hair. Oh, and he had a fresh scar on the side of his face, like somebody had slashed him. But the other guy did all the talking. He was older, like my dad’s age, with gray hair and an eighties mustache. Bad teeth.”

  My head was shaking on its own. This didn’t sound right at all.

  “They weren’t younger? Maybe college age?”

  “Not even close,” Madison said firmly. “They acted like they were on official business or something. It was creepy. The creeps cornered me outside my house when no one else was around, and the blond one kept scanning the block to see if anyone was coming.”

  The more she described, then less sense it made. “What did they say?”

  “Mustache guy said they needed to ask me some questions privately.” Madison snorted, hugging her arms tightly. “Strange men in suits, wanting to take me somewhere alone? Not in this lifetime. I said no and started to walk away. That’s when he mentioned Chance. Then you.”

  An icy feeling crept through my limbs.

  Flashbulb images.

  A black helicopter at night. Cages. Masked scientists holding syringes and clipboards.

  “What’d you tell them?” I demanded.

  “Nothing!” Madison’s palms flew up. “I didn’t say jack, I promise. I dug out my phone, told them to get out of my way or I’d call the police. I was terrified they’d stop me, but after exchanging a glance they stepped aside and let me pass. I bolted up the block, then looked back. They were gone.”

  “What’s this about, Tor?” Jason wrapped an arm around Madison and began rubbing her shoulder. She melted into his side.

  The twinge returned.

  Stop it already. Did you think he’d follow you around forever?

  I told Jason the truth. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Then I reached out and squeezed Madison’s hand. “Thanks for telling me. I mean it.”

  She gave me a tentative smile. “Anything for a . . . a friend, right?”

  I tried the concept on for size. Realized it agreed with me.

  My grin matched hers. “That’s damn right.”

  • • •

  “Welp! That’s the ballgame.” Hi covered his face with both hands. “We’re as good as lab rats now. Dibs on the cage closest to a window.”

  “Stop joking!” Shelton snapped, his foot tapping incessantly as we huddled by my locker. “This is serious. The freaking Men in Black are on our tail!”

  Hi dropped his hands. “I wasn’t joking. We’re in trouble.”

  Ben’s voice floated up from my fingers. “This is all Chance’s fault.”

  I glanced down at the iPhone cupped in my palm. Ben scowled back angrily as he huddled against a wall somewhere at Wando High. I was risking confiscation—Bolton’s draconian cell phone policy outlawed all use during school hours—but this simply couldn’t wait.

  “Chance is playing some kind of double game,” Ben swore. “He knows way more than he’s telling us.”

  I nearly shook the phone in frustration. “These men were asking about Chance, too. He’s not with them. We need to find out who they are.”

  “Claybourne is hiding something,” Ben insisted stubbornly. “I know you sense it, too.”

  “I’m with Ben.”

  My glare whipped to Shelton, but he didn’t back down.

  “We’ve always been careful with our secret,” he said. “But a few weeks with Chance being Viral, and suddenly it’s all black helicopters and CIA spooks on the streets. Coincidence?”

  “They’re right, Tor.” Hi cracked his knuckles as he spoke. “The only thing that’s changed lately is Chance. He’s gotta be the source of this, though it might not be his fault.”

  “Or Speckman,” I countered reflexively, though their logic was starting to take hold. “He’s Viral, too. Maybe the Trinity caught the attention of . . . of . . .” my hands worked uselessly, “—whoever these agents work for.”

  Hi’s face was skeptical. “How could the Trinity dime us without getting caught in the same net?”

  I didn’t answer, temporarily out of arguments.

  “Listen to reason, Victoria,” Ben scolded from my iPhone. “Chance has been shady from the beginning. He’s holding back.”

  A second, longer pause. Students streamed back and forth in the hallway behind me, unaware of the tension surrounding my locker.

  “Crap.”

  They were right.

  Chance must know more.

  I slammed a fist against my locker. “Right after school.”

  “Finally!” Ben shouted. “I’ll beat it out of him if I have to.”

  “No.” A cauldron of anger began simmering inside me. “I’ll talk to Chance alone.”

  “Fine by me.” Shelton shirt-wiped his glasses and stuck them on his nose. “I’m happy to pass on that meeting.”

  Hi shrugged. “Your call.”

  “If you think I’m not—”

  I hung up on Ben before he could finish.

  “Just Chance and me.” I let the fury boil, heating my skin from within.

  If he’s playing me again . . .

  “He’s going to tell me everything. Once and for all.”

  We met beside the flat, still surface of Colonial Lake.

  I’d given him little choice. A text that reads: On my way to your office. We are meeting RIGHT NOW! leaves no room for debate.

  Chance had replied immediately: Not here. Outside. I’ll come to you.

  I didn’t know why his office wasn’t acceptable, but the detail didn’t concern me.

  I wanted to know what Chance was hiding. I was going to find out.

  After last bell, I hurried off campus and strode down the concrete embankment on Ashley Avenue. I scanned the benches bordering Charleston’s cherished tidal pond. Man-made, shallow, and occupying a full city block, Colonial Lake is a favorite gathering spot for dog walkers, baby strollers, and ducks. On any other day, the place would’ve made me smile.

  I spotted Chance seated at the northwest corner of the lake. He wore an expensive-looking gray suit and silver aviator sunglasses. Something about his posture seemed . . . resigned. Chance was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped before him.

  He saw me approach but didn’t wave, his expression suspiciously neutral.
/>
  Ben was right. He is hiding something.

  “Tory.” Nothing more.

  “Chance.” I chose to remain standing, forcing him to look up at me.

  An awkward moment stretched.

  Arrrgh. Fine.

  I hate losing a test of wills, but I did demand the meeting.

  “You’re keeping something from me.”

  Blunt, and to the point.

  A ghost of a smile curled his lips. “Why would you say that?”

  I crossed my arms. “Because two weirdos in black suits are asking questions about us.”

  The smile vanished. “Where did you hear that?”

  My head tilted. “Does it matter? You’re clearly not surprised.”

  For a moment he didn’t respond. Then, “No.”

  Chance leaned back against the bench, exhaling a tired sigh. “No, I can’t say that I am.”

  I threw my hands up, furious. “What the hell, Chance? Why are you still keeping secrets? I thought we were in this together!”

  “Oh, we are.” He grimaced slightly, before schooling his face. “More than you’re going to like, I’m afraid.”

  I actually stamped a foot. “Then talk!”

  Chance’s sardonic grin returned. “Will you at least sit? We can ditch the theatrics. I’ll tell you what I know.”

  I considered refusing out of spite, but relented. Dropping down beside him, I reached out and snatched the shades off his face. “Go. Spill.”

  Chance looked me dead in the eye. “We’re in serious trouble.”

  My breath caught despite myself. With afternoon sunlight filtering through his thick black hair—bathing his chiseled cheekbones, chin, and nose—Chance’s attractiveness smacked me full in the face. I sometimes forgot how beautiful he was.

  A perfectly formed human male. If he wasn’t such a jerk.

  Focus Focus FOCUS!

  Deep breath. “Why are we in trouble?”

  “My office has a leak.”

  “A leak?” I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  His eyebrows rose. “It means, someone has been talking about my experiment.”

  I sat back, thinking. “It must be Speckman.”

  Chance grunted. “So I thought, at first. But it makes no sense. Will is infected, too. He faces the same dangers from exposure as the rest of us.”

  Thoughts pinballed in my brain as I tried to make sense of things. “But why would they ask about me, then? I’ve got nothing to do with Candela.”

  “You haven’t told me who was asking,” he countered pointedly.

  “Because I think you already know.”

  Chance said nothing. I gave him a level look, to no effect.

  “You are the most frustrating . . .” I paused to shake off my annoyance. Then, in even, measured tones, I summarized what Madison had told me.

  Chance’s jaw tightened as I spoke. “This is worse than I thought. If these agents—whoever they are—have gone so far as to track Madison down . . .”

  He didn’t need to finish.

  But Chance hadn’t answered my question. “Still, how could these sidewalk interrogators know my name? I wasn’t part of your supervirus project.”

  “That’s how I know there’s a leak.” Chance sounded matter-of-fact, but he was staring across the pond with a grim expression. I could tell something troubled him deeply.

  Which frightened me badly.

  “I don’t think Will Speckman is responsible,” Chance said finally. “I have . . . personal files. Kept separately from the parvovirus experiment. Only those documents mention either you or Madison.”

  I straightened. “You have files on me?”

  He breathed a low chuckle. “A few, yeah. What can I say?”

  Then Chance blasted me with eye contact a second time.

  “You’ve always intrigued me, Tory. I might be a little obsessed.”

  A hot flush crept up my neck and invested my cheeks, no doubt accentuating every freckle on my face. I had to look away.

  What did he mean by that?

  I could feel his eyes on me. “I’ve been recording everything about you for months,” Chance continued. “What you do. Where you go. Who your friends are. At first, I did it because I knew you Morris Islanders were hiding something. And I was right.”

  “Doesn’t give you the right to spy.” Spoken weakly, still totally thrown.

  “Debatable. I think I had a right to know why I went crazy.”

  My mind raced for a response. A way to regain control of this encounter.

  But Chance didn’t leave an opening.

  “After being infected, I began to understand.” His casualness felt forced—I could tell this conversation was important to him. “Suddenly the four of you made . . . sense. Your actions became, if not rational—I still can’t fathom why you stick your noses into everything—then at least understandable. So I wanted to know every detail. I felt a . . . connection.”

  Chance’s voice sharpened in a way I can’t define. “You became all I could think about.”

  I felt pressure on my wrist. Glanced down.

  Found his smooth, warm hand covering mine.

  My eyes rose, rounding with terror. Chance was looking right at me.

  “You’re still all I think about.”

  What. Is. Happening?

  My breath came fast and furious. Every nerve went on high alert.

  But I didn’t move my hand. Not one inch.

  Chance pulled away first, intertwining his fingers in his lap.

  My skin tingled where his fingers had touched mine. For a hot second, I considered grabbing his hand back, but the notion made me jibber with panic.

  Tripping over Chance Claybourne, again?

  A voice in my head began scolding me, recounting every time Chance had betrayed me. Every lie he’d told. Every trick he’d used to manipulate my feelings.

  Hell, I was sitting there right that second because he hadn’t been honest.

  I shoved my emotions into a box, locked the box in a trunk, and kicked the trunk under a bed inside a closet. Then I swam back up from the bottom of a lake.

  When I spoke, the words were firm and clear. “We should focus on what to do next.”

  “Of course.” Chance rose and pushed his sunglasses back into place, as if the last thirty seconds had never happened. “I can handle my own office. I’ve been handling it, actually. That’s why I didn’t bother you with my suspicions.”

  Arrogant, irritating boy!

  Heat infused my voice. “No more secrets, Chance. No lies, no sins of omission. You go ahead and bother me next time. If you want to be a part of our pack, you need to understand the rules. Virals don’t lie to one another. We don’t mislead one another. We tell the truth.”

  Chance snorted. “Like Ben did?”

  A hot spike of anger. “You leave—”

  His hand chopped the air to cut me off. “You’re right. I’m sorry. My mouth sometimes runs ahead of my brain. I won’t mention it again.”

  “I’m serious, Chance. Total honesty, from this moment forward.”

  He flashed a million-dollar smile. “I promise.”

  Why am I not reassured?

  I took another cleansing breath. “Who are these men asking questions?”

  “No idea.” His palms rose as my expression darkened. “I don’t know. Really. They seem to be conducting some sort of covert investigation. Likely for a shady government agency.”

  I shivered despite the temperature. “The helicopter.”

  Chance nodded grimly. “You don’t see those in the private sector.”

  Facts began linking in my brain. “Those same men might’ve tracked us to Fort Sumter. But how? We went on a whim, straight from the bunker.”

  “Don’t jum
p to conclusions,” Chance chided, dusting his jacket sleeves. “Maybe the spooks were tracking the Trinity instead, or were simply investigating the damage under cover of darkness.”

  “The Trinity?” My eyes narrowed. “But you said Speckman wasn’t the leak.”

  “I don’t think it’s Will,” Chance answered smoothly, sunlight reflecting off his lenses. “But until we’re sure, let’s not discount any possibility. I’m still half convinced this is some rival pharmaceutical outfit, looking to steal corporate secrets. It’s happened before.”

  My turn to be skeptical. “Do most drug companies own stealth choppers?”

  “I didn’t say it was my top theory,” Chance huffed.

  Then, abruptly, we both laughed. Some of the tension dissipated.

  I’d never felt more paranoid—not since the first days of my sickness from the supervirus. Unknown Virals rampaging across the city. Secret agents prowling the streets. The situation bordered on surreal. If you can’t laugh then, you’re already dead.

  “I’ll find out who’s screwing me at work.” Chance’s voice hardened. “I still own the damn company. Time to track down the cockroach going through my trash.”

  From the look on his face, I pitied the one he discovered.

  But that left the bigger issue unsettled. “How do we figure out who these agents are?”

  Chance shrugged, his tone still frosty. “We wait. Hope they pop up somewhere we can anticipate. What else can we do?”

  I nodded, rising and smoothing my skirt.

  Not a satisfying answer, but I didn’t have a better one.

  “You have the paint flecks from Fort Sumter?” I asked. “The canvas flag?”

  “Being analyzed as we speak, along with samples scraped from my statue. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “And Speckman?”

  “Him, we find.” Chance straightened his tie in the manner of someone concluding a routine business meeting. “Gather the others and meet me at CU’s administrative building in an hour.”

  I bristled at the curt instruction. “Dorm room check?”

  Chance nodded. “Will is the key to finding the rest of the Trinity. I’m worried this might hit close to home.”

  That surprised me. “How so?”

  “Speckman only left Bolton two years ago. He was very popular.”