“There has to be a solution,” Lucy said.
“We should make camp here for now,” Seeley said. “Let me put some feelers out and see what I can uncover, then we make a plan.”
Lucy exhaled, clearly unhappy, but nodded.
Seeley held out his phone. “I’m going to have to walk up toward the road to find service. You two get a fire going. It’ll be dark soon.”
He headed off, leaving the girls in tension.
“It’s going to be okay, Lucy,” Zoe said, touching the girl’s arm.
Lucy yanked it away. “I have to know, Zoe. I can’t stop until I know,” she said, then started toward the woods.
Zoe, now alone in the middle of nowhere, watched her go. There was nothing she could do. Lucy was determined to remember. Even if it meant getting them all killed.
TWILIGHT WAS GONE, and all that remained was starlight, a half-moon, and the fire that Seeley continued to stoke. The last couple of hours had seen him and Lucy going over a dozen different plans, with Zoe watching and trying to keep up, trying not to let her panic destroy her nerves. Each idea ended in ruin. They couldn’t agree on anything. Seeley was trying to reach McCoy and wandered to the road each hour to check his phone. It felt like they were stuck in an endless cycle of hopeless plans and irrational ideas. All Zoe could see was their clear end: being captured or being killed. Or both.
Lucy had gone out to get more firewood, and Seeley sat across the fire from Zoe, carving away at a stick.
“Are you whittling?” Zoe asked.
“It’s good for training steady hands,” Seeley answered without looking up.
“And probably comes in handy when you need a tiny sword.”
Through the firelight, Zoe could see his face turn up in a smile. He looked up at her. She chuckled softly to herself and was thankful for the momentary escape from the constant horror that was playing in her mind. But it was only momentary. The fear captured her thoughts again, and she dropped her eyes back to the fire.
“What are the chances any of this works out without us all getting killed?” she asked.
“You don’t believe in us?” Seeley said.
“We are three people against the government.”
“But one of us is Lucy.” He held up his sharpened stick. “And I have a tiny sword.”
She laughed but couldn’t keep the terror that was racing through her blood out of her expression. She knew he saw it clear as day, and they returned to the stillness that was only disturbed by the crackling flames.
“We’re going to be okay,” Seeley said.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t, but if I don’t stay positive then I place us all in danger.” He looked up at Zoe. “And so will you.”
Zoe heard his message and nodded. She would do her best, though it felt impossible given their current circumstances.
A stick snapped to their left, and Seeley dropped his project and grabbed his gun.
Lucy’s frame came into the light of the moon, and Zoe watched his grip on the weapon ease. He grabbed the fallen stick and returned to whittling. Lucy released the pile of wood from her arms and dusted her hands against each other.
Zoe opened her mouth to tell Lucy about Seeley’s tiny sword when Lucy jumped with a small gasp, like she’d been stung by a bee. A moment later she wobbled. Zoe leaped toward her just as she headed backward toward the ground. Seeley did the same, the two catching Lucy before she passed out.
They moved in from all sides then, armed to the teeth, masked, black, and nearly invisible in the night.
Seeley calmly laid Lucy on the ground, then stepped back. He didn’t even steal a glance at Zoe, and her mind continued to stumble over what was happening.
“Agent Seeley,” a male voice said.
Zoe turned to see a tall, suited man appear from the darkness.
“Director Hammon,” Seeley said, looking surprised. “Out in the field?”
“I wanted to oversee this one myself,” the director said. “It’s too important.”
Zoe felt like her mind had gone numb. She was trying to process what was happening.
“Take her,” Director Hammon said, indicating Lucy. “We can’t be certain how long that tranquilizer will last.”
Several soldiers moved to hoist Lucy up off the ground.
“Don’t touch her,” Zoe shouted, but they ignored her. She looked at Seeley for help, but he was just watching it all happen.
“Miss Johnson,” Director Hammon said. “We finally meet. Take her too.”
More soldiers started toward her. Zoe took a step back and nearly stumbled into the fire. She suddenly remembered the rifle that was lying along the short tree trunk where Lucy had been sitting before she went to grab firewood. She reached for the weapon and yanked it up. It caused her pursuers to pause. Maybe I could shoot them all was the last thing she thought before the end of a weapon touched her scalp.
Seeley stood beside her, his gun aimed at her head. “Drop the weapon, Zoe,” he said calmly.
The reality of what was happening crashed in fully. No, she thought. After all he’d promised. After all they’d faced. She’d known from the start. She’d known and she’d let herself get fooled.
“Seeley,” she said against the truth pounding inside her head.
“Weapon down,” he repeated. There were too many shadows on his face to see his eyes clearly, but she imagined they would reflect nothing. Because he felt nothing. He’d played her.
No, she’d played herself.
She lowered the gun, and the others rushed to apprehend her. The pain and hurt and betrayal inside her chest turned to rage.
“How could you?” she said in barely a whisper. “You lying—!”
Some invisible force took over her body, and she started thrashing at the men holding her. Their grips tightened, and she used all her core strength to pull her knees up toward her chest and kick out at the man who’d promised her safety, who’d even wormed his way into her heart. She shouted into the night, cursing him for his betrayal. He grasped her ankles with his hands and squeezed. The pressure sent pain racing up her calves, which made her thrust harder.
“Control her,” Director Hammon ordered.
Two more men joined the force trying to tame her rage, and all she could feel was the desire to slit Seeley’s throat. She was about to tell him so when a thick black bag came down over her head and a heavy hilt smashed into her skull.
TWENTY-FOUR
MY HEAD SWAM with stars as pricks of light started to filter back into my vision. My temple was throbbing, my ears muffled as if filled with cotton, and I could hardly feel anything from my shoulders down. Slowly my body started to return to me. Arms, torso, hips, legs. I curled my fingers and rolled my ankles.
I was whole but confused. My eyes were wide but my vision not yet clear. Where was I? Where had I been last? I tried to conjure up my last memory as my surroundings started to come into focus.
I was in a dark room, the boundaries hard to define, but a very bright white overhead light lit my immediate surroundings. I was strapped down to a cold, hard table. I wasn’t in the clothes I remembered. Instead I was covered in itchy, lightweight, gray-colored pants and a matching T-shirt.
I smelled like lemons. I’d been bathed. My heart rate started to rise. My eyes completely clear now, I searched the room for anything else and found very little. It was just me, strapped in place, clean and alone. I yanked at the restraints and found they wouldn’t budge. They’d been locked with heavy-duty silver links only a superhero could bend.