by Kathy Reichs
While his younger partner watched, aloof, Mustache barked orders. “Grab the girl’s bag and that metal box. And bring the animal. It’s mentioned in the file.”
My temperature spiked as I realized our mistake. So stupid. Again.
Mustache had read Chance’s records. That morning, Candela’s document program had recorded two Js in the metadata. Two unauthorized viewings of his secret file.
We’d assumed Speckman had accessed the file twice. How wrong we were.
These bastards had also found our bait.
Mustache led us around a corner of the building. I obeyed meekly, barely able to process what was happening. Was this the last daylight I’d ever see? Would anyone ever learn what happened to us?
Once again, Ben’s hand found mine. His eyes were helpless, and full of rage.
I grabbed the closest hand on my other side. Shelton gripped back. I saw Hi link fingers with Shelton, and the Morris Island pack became a human chain. Small comfort, but it was something.
Chance walked alone a few paces away, his face a mask.
We were hustled to a narrow service driveway behind the main school building. Agents were forming up beside three black vehicles: a familiar sedan and two windowless cargo vans.
The back doors of the each van stood open. In the first, I spotted three huddled forms.
Cole. Speckman. Ella.
The Trinity.
Ella’s frantic gaze found mine. I could feel her terror. Shared it myself.
“We don’t know anything!” Speckman shouted. “Honest! You don’t want us!”
His pleas were silenced as the doors slammed shut.
I stopped dead, stunned by my own shortsightedness. How long had these men waited, closing a fist around Bolton’s grounds as we fought the Trinity inside? In trapping the small fish, we’d drawn a much larger predator down on our heads.
Authors of our own downfall. I’ve been such a fool.
I thought of Chance’s antidote, drying on the hardwood floor. Fought down panic. The Trinity should be safe—the serum had removed their flare powers. But what about my pack? What would these psychopaths find if they took us apart, cell by cell?
Mustache reached the second van and swept a hand inside.
This was our ride.
Was this the last thing I’d ever see? The dark interior of a kidnapper van?
Bolton’s high perimeter wall blocked any view from outside. I considered screaming, but knew it was pointless. No one would hear me. Not here, not on a Saturday. This ambush had been perfectly planned and executed.
“Put the mutt in there.” Mustache pointed to the black sedan. I watched in horror as two agents dumped Cooper into the town car’s trunk.
“Don’t you hurt my dog.” My voice was low, and full of menace.
Mustache ignored me. “Will you get in quietly, or do you need . . . help?”
I glared at the older man, memorizing his pockmarked features. His thick ash-colored eyebrows and uneven teeth. I committed the ugly face to memory.
Fingers pressed into my back. Chance, face taut. “Just do it, Tory. Climb inside.”
I nodded almost imperceptibly. What choice did I have?
Swallowing my fears, I climbed into the van without another word.
I had to trust Chance. It was all we had left.
Metal benches ran along each side of the van’s interior. Nothing else. Hi climbed up behind me, his hands shaking badly. Together we helped Shelton inside. Ben came next, a ball of caged fury. His teeth were clamped, his jaw tight as a snare drum. I knew the only reason he wasn’t fighting was me.
I looked back.
Chance was standing at the bumper, watching with sad eyes.
My heart leaped into my throat.
Chance made no move to get inside.
Oh no.
Ben’s eyes widened. “I knew it.”
I felt my walls collapsing. My mouth opened, but no sound emerged. I couldn’t breathe.
He really did betray us. And I fell for it, all the way down.
Then Mustache thumped Chance on the back. “Get in the vehicle. Now.” He signaled two agents forward as Buzz Cut watched impassively. “Or you’ll get our special treatment.”
Chance sneered at the crusty old man. Then he vaulted up into the van and took the seat across from me. I felt his temper simmering, but when he looked at me, I saw only pain.
“I’m sorry, Tory. This is all my fault.”
The doors swung shut.
• • •
Miles rolled by beneath our feet.
I couldn’t tell where we were going—our rolling prison was dark, spare, and windowless, stinking of gasoline and oxidized metal. A cracked light in the ceiling provided the only illumination. The benches were cold hard steel, bolted into place.
No one had bothered to cuff us.
Why would they? They’ve got nothing to fear.
I sat between Shelton and Ben. Hi and Chance rode the opposite bench. Our knees thudded together with every bump in the road, but no one cared. This was a funeral procession, and we all knew it.
Suddenly Ben’s hand shot out, grabbing Chance by the arm. “Why didn’t you fight? You can flare anytime you want!”
Chance batted his fingers away. “What did I say about touching me?”
Hi’s hand replaced Ben’s. “You said you had a plan. That’s what you said!”
Shelton looked up, daring to hope. “You know a way out of this?”
Chance hesitated, then nodded. “Of sorts.”
He leaned back against the side of the van. We rolled along in silence as Chance stared at a point above my head, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, I could wait no longer. “I don’t know who these men are, where they’re taking us, or what might happen when we get there. But I’m afraid this could be the last time we’re all together.”
Chance regarded me with the same sad expression as before.
I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking.
“Back in the gym,” Chance began slowly, speaking to the whole group, “I wouldn’t have taken the cure. Even if you guys had. I don’t want to lose what makes me different, even with the risks. But I drew these bastards to us, however unintentionally. This is my fault. I’m truly sorry.”
“We trusted you enough to get into this van,” I said quietly. “Tell us your idea.”
Chance took a deep breath. Then he reached down and rolled up his pant leg. “They really should’ve searched us.”
A small bundle was strapped to his left calf. Chance unrolled the gray parcel and pulled its Velcro flap. Five green vials were nestled inside.
Shelton lurched forward in his seat. “Is that what I think it is?”
Chance nodded. “I thought it prudent to have a backup stock, just in case. For emergencies.”
“Exactly five vials.” Ben’s frown deepened. “More damn secrets.”
Chance snorted. “I’d say this was a fairly smart one, wouldn’t you?”
Chance’s plan was obvious now. To escape this trap, we had to take the cure.
Make ourselves normal. Boring. Ordinary.
To regain our freedom, we could no longer be Viral.
Ben edged away from the bundle. “I . . . I still don’t want to do it.”
Shelton ripped off his glasses. “We’re past that now, Benjamin! Look where we are!”
Hi began dry-washing his hands. “Will it work? We were infected by a different strain.”
“It’ll work.” But I heard a tremor in Chance’s voice. “The genetic response of our bodies was essentially the same for both viruses. This antidote negates those effects.”
Hi looked at me. “What do you think, Tor? We’re in a jam. I don’t see another way out.”
I stared at the vile green liquid. Ha
ted it with every ounce of my being. I wanted to smash these glass cylinders to the ground, just like the last ones.
The serum would change me. Unmake me. I didn’t want to let it.
But this time, there was no choice.
“I’ll drink.”
Hi nodded slowly, as did Chance. Shelton seemed almost eager.
“I won’t do it!” Ben swore.
“We can’t let them get the supervirus.” Hi shivered as he spoke. “Ask yourself this—why do these government creeps want us in the first place? To make weapons, dummy! Viral armies. You want that on your conscience?”
“I want to see my mom and dad again,” Shelton said. “I want y’all to see yours, too.”
Ben jerked away. Punched the side of the van.
I put a hand on his knee. “We’ll always be a pack, Ben. No matter what.”
He didn’t respond.
Suddenly, we all lurched sideways as the van made a sharp turn.
“Out of time.” Chance looked from face to face. “Who’s first?”
Shelton reached out a hand. Chance carefully unstoppered a vial and handed it to him. Tears leaked beneath his black specs. “Love you guys.”
Shelton downed the liquid in one go. Chance handed the next vial to Hiram.
Hi flashed a shaky smile, then winked. “Cheers, eh? See you on the other side.” He drank his dose in two swallows, then smacked his lips. “Tastes like cabbage.”
Chance looked at me. I gestured for him to go ahead.
Chance held a delicate pipette close to his face, swirling its contents gently. “I wish I’d never found you,” he whispered. Then he knocked the serum back.
Two doses remained. I looked at Ben. Knew he’d resist.
The van decelerated, took another sharp turn, then bumped onto an unpaved road.
I crossed my arms. “If you don’t drink, Ben, then I won’t either.”
Ben’s expression became hunted. Then he slammed a fist into his thigh. “Damn it.” He glared at the floor, eyes narrow and face miserable. “You know me too well, Victoria.”
Ben reached without looking. Chance handed him a vial. Ben closed his eyes, mumbled a prayer, and drank.
The van abruptly stopped. Doors opened and closed. Chance shoved the last dose into my hand, then gathered the empties and stuffed them back into his Velcro case.
I stared at the green liquid.
Keys rattled. Voices boomed outside the rear doors.
Everyone watched as I hesitated. The moment had come, yet I froze.
This isn’t fair.
But when is life?
I lifted the slender tube. Opened it. Tipped it into my mouth. Swallowed the detestable liquid.
Then I smashed the glass to the floor, grinding it to dust.
“Deny everything!” I hissed.
Chance shoved the Velcro case behind his belt, then whispered something to Hi, who nodded, grim-faced. Shelton inched away from the rear of the van, eyes wide behind his glasses. He backed into Ben, who put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
Everyone flinched as the metal doors swung outward. Mustache and Buzz Cut stood in the opening, the former smiling darkly, the latter expressionless.
“Let’s go.” Mustache waved us out, glancing at his watch. One by one we stepped from the van, blinking like moles in the bright afternoon sun. A chill passed through me as I took in our surroundings.
I knew the place. Had been there once before.
We were standing in front of the low-slung building near the military base. A single black-lettered sign above the entrance read: D.O.D. SPECIAL OPERATIONS ANNEX. The area hummed with activity—a half-dozen guards in nondescript uniforms surrounded the structure, casually holding weapons, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. The windows were reflective, blocking any view inside the building, but I sensed dozens more inside.
Behind me, a familiar gravel road wound up to the rusty gate I’d huddled behind the previous evening. There could be no mistake—we’d been abducted by our own government.
But what branch? What agency? For what purpose?
Who did these men answer to?
Hi’s elbow found my side. “Look.”
Beyond our vehicle was the second van. Doors open. Rear compartment empty.
Where had they taken the Trinity? Were we next?
I thought of Ella, kidnapped a second time. My heart nearly broke.
At that moment, a burly bald man in a spotless white lab coat strode from the facility. Red-faced and bearded, with a thick bull neck, he stormed up to Mustache while anxiously glancing skyward. “Are you insane?” he shouted. “Unloading outside, in broad daylight!”
Mustache showed the agitated scientist his wristwatch. “There’s no sat coverage in this sector for another fourteen minutes, Dr. Keegan. We’re deep in the woods, and this facility doesn’t have an underground—”
“Just take them around back with the other three.” Keegan was already retreating toward the building. “Do it now, before you’re seen!”
Mustache watched him go, then spat on the ground. “You heard him. March.”
No one moved.
Mustache grabbed Shelton’s arm. Ben shot forward and shoved the agent aside, then stepped between them.
Buzz Cut turned. Straightened his tie. His face never twitched behind the dark shades.
But I could taste the impending violence. Sensed that Ben welcomed it.
Mustache straightened, his hands finding his pockets. “So it’s like that, eh, boy? I wouldn’t test my partner’s patience, if I were you.”
Soldiers turned our way. Things were about to get ugly.
“We’ll cooperate.” I motioned Ben back, speaking directly to Mustache. “But there’s been some kind of mistake. I don’t know what you people want with us, but no one needs to get hurt.”
Ben took a deep breath, unclenching his fists.
“Mistake?” Mustache laughed, buffing a pockmarked cheek. “I was on that rooftop, girl. I saw you kids fly. There’s no mistake here.”
Soldiers surrounded us, gripping their odd weapons. Fingers found triggers.
My gut screamed for me to run. Make a dash for the woods. Take my chances. But I had to remain calm, or the situation might turn violent.
Taking Shelton’s hand, I started toward the building. He followed meekly.
I caught a covert glance between Chance and Hi.
What are they up to?
Mustache’s strike team fell in around us, herding us to a dirt path running alongside the building that was hemmed in by trees on both sides. Mustache and Buzz Cut followed on our heels. I still didn’t know their names.
The trail narrowed a dozen paces into the woods.
Behind me, Hi started coughing uncontrollably.
I glanced back. My friend was hacking into a fist, his chubby cheeks growing redder by the second. “I think I swallowed a bug,” he wheezed.
Chance began pounding Hi’s back, but this only made him cough harder.
“I’ve got asthma, too,” Hi sputtered. “And gingivitis.”
“What’s going on?” Mustache growled. “No tricks, fat boy. This old dog knows ’em all.”
The guards halted, uncertain what to do. Mustache pushed his way forward, knocking Chance off the path to reach Hiram’s side.
Hi had dropped to a knee, body trembling, tears streaming down his face. “My sciatica!”
But I was watching Chance.
Saw a hand slip under his shirt, remove the Velcro case, and drop it into the pine needles.
Ditching any trace of the cure.
I looked away, trying not to draw attention to Chance.
Thankfully, Hi was laying down an Academy Award performance.
I cursed myself for crushing a vial inside the van, but
quickly dismissed the concern. Even if the agents thought to look, there wasn’t much left to recover.
The cure was gone. That’s what had drawn them to Bolton Prep.
But what about the supervirus? What about our DNA?
Chance slipped back onto the path and resumed patting Hi’s back. Almost instantly, the coughing subsided. Hi straightened, wiping his eyes. “Man, pollen is a killer this year.”
Mustache grabbed Hi by the shirt and pulled his face close. Buzz Cut watched from the back of the group, reflective shades revealing nothing.
Hi stared back at the agent gripping him, afraid to blink. An eon passed, then Mustache grunted, releasing my friend roughly. “Let’s get these kids inside,” he barked. “I’m not getting chewed out again.”
He shoved Hi down the trail toward me. As I caught him, I saw Shelton clamp Ben’s arm with his own. The line lurched forward again. Another twenty paces brought us to a metal door in the rear of the building. Mustache pounded twice with the heel of his hand.
A security camera zeroed on his coarse face.
Locks clicked. The portal swung inward. Single file, we were forced inside.
Lambs to the slaughter.
• • •
I awoke in darkness.
Rubbed groggy eyes. For some reason, I was sure hours had passed.
My head pounded. Lifting a hand to my temple, I felt cool, filtered air tickle my side. With a sharp shock, I noticed the medical gown enveloping me. I wore nothing else.
I sat bolt upright, fighting a surge of panic. Flashes came back to me. A long, brightly lit corridor. Unsmiling men in white lab coats, carrying clipboards. Being forced into a tiny white-walled room.
My breath caught as more memories surfaced.
Ben. Shouting, punching, clawing his way toward me.
Soldiers tackling him, pinning his writhing form to the floor. Ben squeezing his eyelids shut, straining with every muscle. Yet nothing happened.
I remembered Hi diving onto the pile. Mustache grabbing my friend in a headlock, holding him down while a white coat stuck a needle in his arm. Bodies swarming over Ben until he finally stopped struggling.
