Terminal

by Kathy Reichs

  FINAL ASSESSMENT: The Phoenix Inquiry was without merit.

  RECOMMENDED ACTION: Due to the sensitive nature of the associated detentions and medical testing, it is hereby recommended that all records pertaining to the Phoenix Inquiry be destroyed immediately.

  [END CLOSING REPORT]

  I crawled out of bed at sunrise.

  Trudged to the bathroom. Snagged my toothbrush.

  Monday morning. School day. Ella had already texted, reminding me to pack my cleats. We had a game that week, and I intended to play.

  Life. Returned to normal.

  I thought of Ben, and smiled as I scrubbed.

  Not completely normal, but that part was okay.

  Thirty minutes to get ready. My boyfriend would be waiting down by the dock.

  Ben. My boyfriend.

  Boyfriend.

  Wow.

  I swished the remaining toothpaste. Spat.

  Wiping my mouth, I caught my eyes in the mirror.

  They were green. Always would be, now.

  A sob erupted from somewhere deep inside my chest. I choked it off.

  No. I will not cry. If I start now, I might never stop.

  I’d been given a wonderful gift, then lost it. Painful, but I was better for the experience.

  Am I?

  I dropped the towel. Gripped the counter with both hands.

  Stared at the freckly, red-haired girl in the mirror. The one with sad eyes.

  I spoke to her.

  “What I’ve lost does not define me.”

  Just words.

  “I am not less than I was.”

  Not true.

  I trembled. Tears pressed at my eyelids.

  My voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m still whole. I am not broken.”

  A lie. But necessarily said.

  “I won’t look back. Only forward. My life will go on.”

  As a shell, a remnant.

  But this was required. Needed to be internalized.

  Breathing deeply, I prepared for my first full day of not being Viral.

  My head dropped.

  I thought of Coop. Ben. Shelton and Hi. My pack, severed by cruel luck and worse men.

  The sadness morphed to anger. White rage burned through my system.

  I don’t WANT to change.

  Something clicked in my brain. Shifted. Reset.

  My hands stilled.

  Warmth surged through me.

  Suddenly, I felt at peace. As if the pain had washed away, replaced by a quiet strength I’d never felt before.

  My fingers began to tingle. An electric jolt traveled my spine.

  Outside, Cooper howled.

  I looked up at the mirror.

  My breath caught.

  A confident girl stared back.

  Poised. Unbroken.

  Her eyes smoldered with pale blue flame.

  Acknowledgments

  Terminal was only possible through the wonderful support of Arianne Lewin at G. P. Putnam’s Sons and everyone at Penguin Young Readers Group. You guys make it all happen. We are forever in your debt.

  Our continuing thanks go to Don Weisberg at Penguin and Susan Sandon at Random House UK for supporting Tory and her pack from the start. And, as always, we are deeply in debt to Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and the team at William Morris Endeavor Entertainment. Thanks for keeping the Reichs boat afloat.

  Finally, an emphatic and heartfelt thank-you to our loyal readers. You are the reason we get up in the morning, write all day and night, and limit our naps to reasonable afternoon intervals. Thanks for taking this journey with us and giving it a purpose.

  11 Dr. Keegan was erratic and uncooperative during the latter phase of this investigation and determined to be unreliable for continued Level 5 security clearance. Given his direct knowledge of the Phoenix Inquiry and his irrational advocacy of the failed venture, the potential exposure to the Agency was deemed unacceptable. Therefore, Agent Rogers invoked ICP 51.A-4.3 at the time of the project’s disbandment. The matter is thus closed and containment assured.

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