The Countdown (The Taking) (26 page)

“I HAD A SON ONCE,” DR. CLARKE SAID, HER FACE masked in the eerie blue glow coming from the gel inside Adam’s tube. She stepped around it, so we could see her more clearly, but she never released her grip on the syringe in her hand. It stayed where it was: ready to kill Adam with just the flick of her thumb.

“You don’t have to do this,” Tyler said, his eyes moving between the needle and her tortured expression. I didn’t know how he managed to sound so reasonable.

Dr. Clarke focused on Tyler. “I’m doing this for him,” she explained slowly. Softly. “All of it. This project.” She
blinked against the tears she could no longer hide. “He was taken at the same time the other children were.” Her eyes fell on me. “Not long before you were taken.” A single tear slipped down her cheek and she used her shoulder to brush it away. “Only
he
never came back. Not even after all these years.” Her voice cracked. “Do you know what that does to a parent?”

Agent Truman lowered his gun as I eased past Tyler and stepped in front of her. I swallowed the lump in my throat, but my chest ached. “I do, actually. My dad . . . he’s not the same as he was before. It
broke
him.”

She jiggled the tubing, letting me know I’d come far enough. “He was fifteen,” she whispered, eyeing me desperately. “And if I can find him . . . If we can go up there and bring him back, he’ll
still be fifteen
.”

From behind me, Tyler reached for my shoulder, maybe trying to tell me not to, but it had to be said. She needed to know. I shook my head. “All you’ll do is make things worse,” I told her. “Get the rest of us killed too. You don’t want that, I know you don’t.”

It had been painful to admit the truth out loud—how damaged my dad had been by my taking—but looking at Dr. Clarke I couldn’t help thinking maybe it wasn’t her fault.

And maybe it wasn’t my dad’s either.

I took a step toward her. “Dr. Clarke, your son—” I faltered; she’d never said his name.

“Nathan,” she moaned. “My son’s name, it’s Nathan. Do you know?” she asked. “Did they tell you . . . ?” She took a
shaky breath. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

Nathan Clarke.

I didn’t want to answer her. How could I?

But I knew the truth. They’d downloaded all that information into my head. I knew who’d survived the experiments. I’d seen his face. I knew what they’d done to him.

A quiver ran along my spine even before I found the strength to shake my head. Dr. Clarke’s face . . . her entire bearing crumpled. I turned to Tyler, wishing he could do something, anything to fix this.

But no one could.

Her mouth fell open, and I thought she might scream or howl, but all that came out was an arid gasp. It was like watching someone take her dying breath.

“No,” she finally mouthed.

Her head dropped forward, her chin collapsing against her chest. But her fist was still closed around the tubing, and I was worried she might take it out on Adam, exact what small revenge she could. “No, no, no.” Her voice was almost nonexistent, in mute denial.

“Please,” I whispered. “Nathan wouldn’t want this.” My gaze fell on Adam and she followed my eyes. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to drag others into this because of him. I know because
I
wouldn’t have wanted that. None of us would.”

I could feel Tyler behind me, silently agreeing with me.

She stood there trapped by uncertainty as she contemplated my plea. I guessed she was thinking of her son and
considering what he would, and wouldn’t, have wanted.

Finally, she exhaled and dropped the needle.

Everything inside me uncoiled, like a clock’s springs wound too tightly.

“Let’s get him out of there,” she said. “And then I’ll do anything you need me to.”

FREEING ADAM HAD BEEN LIKE FREEING MYSELF—I saw the world more clearly. My senses were boosted.

The moment the three of us touched, it was like a jolt—the connection . . . our connection—sizzling through my veins. Thrumming beneath my skin.

I began to see images, like clips of broken film. A network of light shining over the dark spots of my broken memory, until all at once it came flooding back.

Kyra and me on the swing set the night she was returned . . .

Me, pulling an all-nighter to draw a chalk pathway between our houses . . .

Leaving her a copy of
Fahrenheit 451
—my favorite book.

Our first kiss . . . and then our second.

Kyra’s face when she realized she’d cut herself in front of me.

I had no idea if Kyra was seeing this or not.

Agent Truman protested, “Jesus-H. He smells like a rotting corpse.”

Okay, so that part wasn’t entirely wrong.

True to her word, Dr. Clarke had helped us extract Adam from the canister they’d been keeping him confined in.

“He’s been in a sort of stasis for years,” she explained while she drained the solution he was suspended in. “We took him out only when Dr. Atkins ordered it.” It was shocking to hear her say that Molly was the one in charge. She hadn’t struck me as the decision-making type. “She would do things to him”—Dr. Clarke blanched as she stumbled over her words, her hands shaking—“
horrific
things. I’m not sure how he’s even survived all this time.”

But we had him now. He was safe, even as he slipped in and out of consciousness—shock, most likely, from being outside of his tube, according to Dr. Clarke.

His body was practically weightless, light like a bird’s, and Kyra and I carried him as if it was nothing. His skin was no longer moist from the blue gel but it had a sticky feel. Not in the syrupy sense, but like one of those gummy rubber balls from a candy machine outside the grocery store.

And he stunk, just like Agent Truman said he did.

“They won’t have to see us on the cameras, they’ll smell
that SOB coming from a mile away,” Agent Truman muttered.

But then Dr. Clarke put the facility into evacuation mode, entering the codes herself, and overriding every safeguard they had in place. Her access allowed her to declare a state of emergency that required the entire operation to shut down until the facility could be safely cleared.

There was a self-destruct sequence as well, she told us, in the event of a
real
emergency, but her security clearance didn’t allow her to initiate that. We’d need someone with higher access codes to do that.

“Find someone with Level Three clearance—Dr. Atkins or someone who works on the EVE project. Then you can blow up the entire fleet . . . the entire facility,” she explained. “They’ll lose everything. They’ll never be able to duplicate the technology.”

For now, all she could guarantee was that the building would be clear, giving us at least a chance to save the planet.

“I’ll stay here and lock the lab down,” she’d told us. “You get to the Basement. That’s where you’ll find the ships.”

Then she handed us her key card and gave us her access codes. Once she was locked inside, I turned to ask where she wanted us to meet her, when she nodded to us once from behind the glass door—a
Farewell
or
Good luck,
or maybe it was an
I’m sorry
—right before she plunged the tip of the needle into her arm.

I wanted to tell her to stop, but it was already done and the words died on my lips.

She collapsed.

I stood there stunned, waiting for something to change. To realize I’d seen wrong. But then she exhaled, a shuddery breath, and foam escaped her lips which were already turning blue.

I heard Kyra inside my head, and even though I could feel her shock as well, she was right. We needed to go. To get Adam out of here.

Back home.

I WAS DAYDREAMING ABOUT ALL THE WAYS I COULD snap Molly’s neck when the sirens started. There was nothing subtle about what we were hearing.

An automated voice began repeating,
“Attention! Attention! There has been the report of an emergency. All personnel are to evacuate immediately. Please remain calm
.”

Each looped message was followed by a jarring siren that would penetrate the most effective earplugs, while red lights flashed continuously up and down the hallways.

Willow flashed me a think-that’s-about-us? look.

Suddenly all I could think of was Kyra. I needed to find her, before it was too late.

The sirens were annoying, but I might be able to use them to my advantage.

I started to call Molly’s name to create a distraction, but Willow, apparently, was already two moves ahead of me.

“Hey bitch!” she shouted before I had the chance, and at the same time she shouldered me out of her way.

When Molly jerked her head just the barest amount in Willow’s direction, Willow swung as hard as she could. Her fist slammed into Molly’s cheek—hard, but not quite hard enough. Molly staggered but managed, somehow, to keep her grip on the gun.

She was just getting her balance again, when the fire extinguisher struck her near the base of her skull. I heard the hard
whack
above the shrill sirens, and even I was revolted by the sound.

Ben stood triumphantly, holding the red canister while the rest of us watched to see what would happen.

For a moment it looked like Molly was going to stay on her feet, but then she swayed. And after another second the gun dropped sluggishly from her hand as her eyes rolled back in her head. Then her entire body just went . . . limp, and she dropped to the floor.

It wasn’t until I glanced at Jett and saw his face go ashen that I realized something was wrong.

“Damn,” Jett breathed, and then he pointed to the blood
that was pooling on the tile floor . . . blood seeping from the wound at the back of Molly’s head. “She’s a Returned . . .”

I glanced to Ben, who wasn’t like us. Who should never have been exposed to Molly’s, or any of our, blood.

“Aw, hell.” I dropped to my knees and tried to wipe it away, mopping the blood with my hands and Molly’s own hair . . . anything that might stop it from going airborne.

But we all knew it was too late. Whatever toxins Molly carried—whatever Code Red he was going to be exposed to—it was already out there.

“None of that matters,” Ben said, reaching down and scooping up her gun. “All that matters is we can fix this mess. That we save the Earth from being attacked. I don’t care what happens to me.”

You will
, I thought, remembering the way Tyler had looked after he’d been exposed . . . when his skin had blistered and peeled, and later, when he’d gone blind.
You just don’t realize it yet.

WE USED DR. CLARKE’S KEY CARD TO GO straight to the place she’d called the Basement. The floor had been cleared—not a single soul in sight.

What we found instead was beyond imagination.

When we’d been told there was a fleet, I’d imagined ten, maybe fifteen spaceships like the EVE.

But what we faced was nothing less than an entire squadron . . . hundreds of ships. No wonder the M’alue believed we were preparing for a war.

“Why would they build so many, without even knowing how to power them?” I asked.

Tyler shrugged. “I guess they were confident they’d find the solution.” He gave me a sidelong look. “If not a Replaced, then some other way.” He lifted his head. “Someone’s coming.”

“You kids get your asses down there,” Agent Truman ordered, pointing to the hangar deck. Behind us, the elevator hummed to life, and he’d already positioned himself in front of the closed doors to cover us. “Figure out how to wake that thing and get him airborne. This whole plan falls apart if we can’t get him back to his people so he can let them know we want peace.”

We didn’t argue. It wasn’t just Adam who needed us . . . who needed this to work. The entire world was banking on it.

Like the first time, when I’d approached the EVE, these ships responded to our presence—to mine and Tyler’s and to Adam’s.

Adam stirred as well, rousing again.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, when he opened his unusual glowing eyes and looked into first Tyler’s and then my own.
You’re safe
, I thought when I realized words were unnecessary.

You’re going home
, Tyler added.

But there was something else there between us as well. Something coming from Tyler.

An awareness of everything he’d been wanting to say to me . . . everything he’d been holding back. Everything he felt.

I looked into his eyes, because he knew I was hearing him, his thoughts.

I forgive you
, he said.

I let the sensation surround me. Cocoon me. And then I nodded, because there wasn’t time for anything more. Adam was ready.

A staircase descended from the hull of one of the spaceships; as if Adam had already decided which craft he’d fly. But he was weak, and unable to stand on his own, so Tyler and I hoisted him up, carrying him inside.

It took us a moment, but we managed to strap him to the seat. Only, then his head lolled to the side.

Tyler sat back and studied Adam. Even if I hadn’t been able to read it in his head, the worry was written all over his face.

“I know,” I voiced out of habit, because I was thinking the same thing: I wasn’t sure Adam was up to this.

It hadn’t only been his body that the ISA and their experiments had damaged, it was his mind too. He was still in there, I could sense and feel and hear him, but he’d withdrawn . . . a self-defense mechanism against all the torture he’d endured. Years and years of torture.

But the M’alue wanted him back. And now that was one of their conditions. Even after all the humans they’d taken and experimented on . . . all the ones who’d never come back . . . they demanded Adam’s safe return.

And the thing is, even if they hadn’t insisted, I was desperate to send him. He didn’t belong here. On Earth. He wasn’t like Tyler and me, with a lifetime of human memories and experiences to define him.

He was M’alue, plain and simple. Maybe
they
could undo the damage that had been done to him.

Before I could even form my own conclusion, I
heard
Tyler’s, and I shook my head, denying him. “No way, Tyler, it doesn’t make sense for you to do it.
I’ve
flown one of these before.
I’ve
been to their ship.
I’ll
take him.”

The truth was—and Tyler knew, even if I didn’t say it out loud—I couldn’t live with the idea of anything happening to him.

“And you think I don’t feel the exact same way?” he said.

“
I’ll
do it.” The gruff voice came from my dad, and Tyler and I both whirled to face him.

His head was poking up through the opening in the floor.

“Dad, no.” I didn’t say it the same way I had to Tyler, like his offer was a legitimate solution. Instead I blew him off. “You wouldn’t have the first clue.” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

After Dr. Clarke’s breakdown, I saw my dad through a different lens. Maybe I’d been too hard on him. He’d already suffered so much . . . lost so much. And here he was, offering to launch himself into space . . . for me.

He came up another step or two. “You said yourself this thing practically flew itself. All it needed was a jump start.”

“Not exactly what I said.”

“But close enough,” he challenged. “I heard you, the thing was intuitive. That it read your mind.”

“That’s because I’m M’alue.”

My dad shook his fist at me. “Don’t you say that.
Don’t
you dare
. . .” His face had gone all blotchy and red. “You’re as human as any of us.” I didn’t remind him he was the only true human here, everyone else left was at least half M’alue. And after taking a second to collect himself, he blew out a breath and tried again. “You said the ship seemed to know where it was going. Like it was on autopilot.”

I had to concede that point at least. I’d only been in control during takeoff. After that, the ship had had a mind of its own, navigating into space without me. “Still—” I started, but my dad cut me off.

“You can’t stop me, Kyr.”

I wanted to tell him that’s exactly what I could do. Didn’t he realize how strong I’d grown—ever since I’d gone up there, to that M’alue’s ship? Even being in Adam’s presence made me feel more . . .
powerful
.

I could, and I would, stop him if that’s what it took to keep him safe.

But he wasn’t finished just yet. “I’ve been infected—the Code Red thing. I’ll be sick within hours. Dead within days.” He just threw it out there—like a bomb . . . like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was huge, his news, and I had a million questions about how and when and who, but none of those questions found their way to my lips. I was dizzy and heavy and tangled all at the same time.

Tyler must’ve been inside my head and realized how disoriented I suddenly felt, because his hand shot over to find mine.

“Listen, kiddo,” my dad finally said. “Going up there . . . with them, it might be my only shot. Maybe they’ll help me, the way they helped the kid there.” My dad nodded at Tyler.

I glanced at Tyler, and could hear what he was saying, that his case was different. They’d come to get him. They’d chosen to take him.

Besides, hadn’t they already said: no more Returned?

And even if that wasn’t the case, he went on,
Your dad would be forcing himself on them. And he is old. Older than the rest of us.

But what about Agent Truman?
I countered, because they’d taken him when he was around my dad’s age.

I had to believe he at least had a shot.

Tyler stopped arguing, probably because he knew he’d lost. I’d already made up my mind.

“And you call me stubborn,” I said as I reached for my dad’s hand, pulling him the rest of the way into the ship. The two of them helped me move Adam out of the pilot’s seat. We did our best to make Adam comfortable on the floor with a cargo blanket we found.

Tyler disembarked then, giving my dad and me a few minutes alone, and because good-bye was too hard, I started showing my dad what he’d need to do, which was almost nothing. I’d already tapped into the ship’s systems, or it had tapped into me . . . either way it was already powering up, preparing to launch.

I indicated the ship’s control panel, which mostly
consisted of the joystick and was pretty basic, really. From below, I’d navigate the thing myself, if necessary, until he was safely through the bay doors. After that, he could handle it until the M’alue took over.

Then, when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I leaned over and kissed him lightly on his whiskered cheek.

Swallowing, because the last thing I wanted was for my voice to wobble, I said, “’Bye, Dad.” I said it like he’d be back soon. That everything would be 100 percent fine. “Be safe.”

I started to straighten, and then changed my mind. There was no way I could leave things that way. This was no time to pretend this wasn’t a total mess.

I dropped back down, over the top of him and wrapped my arms around his neck. I buried my face in his beard, and when I tried to talk, my voice fell apart. “I love you, Dad. And I don’t blame you for what happened,” I told him, because he needed to know before he went. “I’ll never blame you.”

He was already strapped in, but my dad managed to reach his arms back up and around me too. “I love you too, Supernova. Don’t ever forget who you are. You’re my girl. You’ll always be my girl.”

I didn’t have to see him to know he meant it. He wasn’t doing this for the world; he was doing this for me.

Watching as the bay doors opened, I was caught in a strange sort of limbo between agony and relief.

My dad had done it. The hardest part was over, the ship was launched and Adam was on his way home.

But my dad . . .

I clamped my eyes shut.
I can’t do this now
, I told myself as I checked the clock.
Less than an hour until the M’alue launch their attack.

We’re running out of time.

I didn’t know the whole story, only that it had been Molly who’d exposed my dad after she’d pulled a gun on them and he’d hit her with a fire extinguisher. Griffin and Thom had caught up with them shortly afterward, and now everyone was here as my dad’s ship cruised away.

If we’d had more time, I would’ve asked to hear everything, but instead, we had to finish this thing.

“You all need to leave,” I said, turning to face them.

Simon scowled. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, get as far away from here as possible.”

“What about you?” I was surprised to find Griffin’s big brown eyes pooled with worry. It wasn’t like her.

I tried to explain. “This isn’t about me. We don’t have the security code we need.” I held up Dr. Clarke’s key card as I looked around at their faces, people who’d become my friends . . . and Agent Truman. “But even if we did, someone would have to give up their codes, and no one with that level clearance is gonna cooperate willingly. We’re running short on options. But, look . . .” I showed my hands as threads of electricity sparked between them. “Whatever
this
is, I can use it. I can bypass their security and blow this
place
sky-freaking-high
. And trust me, you won’t wanna be anywhere near here when I do.” I grinned, but no one was smiling back at me.

Tyler shook his head. “No way. I’m not leaving you,” he insisted.

Not to be outdone, Simon stepped up. “Me neither.”

But they weren’t getting it. “Look, guys. This isn’t some Feats of Strength contest where you win the girl in the end. There’s no prize for being the bigger hero.” I made a face at them. “Think about what you’re saying. Staying means you don’t walk out of here, and
neither
of you gets the girl. Or any girl, ever. Don’t be stupid, I don’t need your help.”

But Tyler wasn’t buying it. I knew as much because I heard it from him. The thing was, though, I only had to convince him to go—he didn’t need to understand why.

I glared at both of them. “If I’m being honest, your being here is a distraction, and the last thing I need is to be distracted. I said this isn’t about me, but the truth is, it isn’t about any of us. We need to stop this whole thing from happening. We need to convince the M’alue we’re no threat, and the only way to do that is to blow these ships up. I can’t do that with you two breathing down my neck.” Silently I begged each of them to trust me on this. I couldn’t let myself think about the part where this would be the last time I’d ever see them—any of them—again. “Please, if you care about me at all, just get away from here.”

Tyler gave in first, probably because he was inside my
head and could sense how serious I was and how hard this was for me. But that didn’t mean he was okay with it, I knew that too.

His only outward answer was a silent nod.

But seeing that nod, Simon finally exhaled loudly. “Yeah. Fine. Okay.”

We couldn’t afford anything longer than the briefest of good-byes, and I was totally okay with that. Anything more and I might’ve lost my nerve.

Agent Truman barely nodded before going to wait in the elevator, while Griffin, Thom, Willow, and Jett tried to make it as painless on me as possible. Jett was the only one who cried, and when he did, I punched him in the arm and called him a baby. Comforting him would’ve pushed me to my breaking point.

Simon made Tyler go ahead of him, needing, as always, to have the last word.

Tyler looked uneasy with Simon standing so close by, which was definitely the point. Simon wouldn’t want to make it simple for Tyler and me. He never had.

But then Tyler reached for my hands and our skin connected. Electricity moved back and forth between us. He told me without words the things he’d been trying to say since I’d come back from the M’alue’s ship, and he said it all in one simple phrase:
I’ll remember you always.

I blinked in surprise, my breath catching in my throat as I searched his eyes to see if he truly understood what he was telling me. Those were our words, something he’d told me
the night I’d first been returned . . . and then he’d written them in chalk on the road between our houses.

And now he was using them again.
I’ll remember you always.

A dimple cut through his cheek, the same dimple I’d traced with my fingertip once upon a time.

I almost couldn’t believe it. He’d more than forgiven me,
he remembered
. He remembered us.

And with that, he leaned down and kissed me. His kiss wasn’t tentative or exploratory like this was unfamiliar territory, which was what I’d been expecting since for so long he’d had no memory of the two of us. Instead it was the deep-emotional-
memory-laden
kiss of someone who cherishes you. Someone who knows you.