I almost reminded him that Del had lived at that house, too. But then I remembered, once again, that Rex had known Del as long as I had, that we had all been friends together, back when we were little and Del’s mom and my dad were still alive, when Rex was still Leo Byron, and life was, if not happier for all of us, at least less complicated.
Even after all these months, I still sometimes had trouble reconciling the fact that Rex and Leo were one and the same.
When we got to the street, Rex turned left and set off running. He fell into an easy jog, but his heavy boots, attached to his heavy self, thudded hard against the pavement.
“So?” I said, running beside him. The sun was lower in the sky, but it was still hot, and it still bathed the world in a golden haze. Perspiration quickly stood out on my face. Within seconds, I could feel droplets rolling between my shoulder blades. I shook my head, sending sweat flying.
Rex looked around again before speaking. “I recognized one of them.”
“What do you mean? One of who?”
“The photos they showed you. I recognized one of them. The guy with the bird splice.”
“You know him?” I said, my step faltering.
“Shh. Not so loud.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Well, for one thing, they didn’t ask me, they asked you. And second, I didn’t know if maybe you knew him, too, and just weren’t saying. But also, I didn’t know for sure if we should tell them at all.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’re starting to agree with CLAD!”
“No, of course not. But for whatever reason, they do seem to be taking a particular interest in you. Seems to me, we might want to find out why that is before the FBI does, in case it’s something that could hurt you somehow.”
“Agreed.” I had been thinking along similar lines, that I needed to find out why CLAD was talking about me and saving my life, keeping pictures of me around. It was more than a little bit disturbing.
We got to the end of the block, and as we turned the corner, both of us slowed to a stop.
“So who is he?” I asked, wiping a finger across my brow and flicking the sweat onto the pavement.
Rex did the same. He had a lot more sweat. “His name is Ogden. I don’t know him well. He’s a tech guy. He was part of Chimerica, but…he left.” He resumed jogging, slowly, and I fell into step beside him. “He actually used to work at Wellplant.”
I stopped. “Are you serious?”
He stopped, too. “It was a while back. He’s a bit older than us. This was long before he got his splice.”
“Do you know him well enough to ask him why his pals are getting me into trouble with the FBI?”
“Yeah, I think so. If I can find him. But before I do, you should probably decide how much you want to know.”
“What do you mean?”
We started running again. “I mean, you just told the FBI that you didn’t know any of the people in their photos. You were telling the truth and they probably believed you. Agent Ralphs seemed to, anyway. If I’m able to get information from Ogden…well, are you sure you want to put yourself into the position that the next time they ask, you have to lie about it?”
I was nodding even before Rex finished speaking. “Yes. I need to know what’s going on,” I said. “And like you said, if I can, I should find out before Agent Ralphs does. Or Scanlon.”
“So…should I ask around? See if I can get in touch with him?”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not, no. Whatever you want.”
“The only thing I don’t want is you putting yourself at risk by asking, getting into trouble or getting hurt.”
He laughed. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me.”
I laughed back. “Are you serious?”
“What?”
“Rex, in the months since you’ve come back into my life you’ve been arrested twice, you’ve been shocked, beaten, almost had your lungs altered, and been imprisoned in a mine. Yes, I do have to worry about you.”
He glanced at me. “Sounds kind of bad when you put it like that.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Wait a second, you’ve been through all kinds of hell, too. Threatened. Abducted, shocked, mine collapses, and hospital implosions.”
“Don’t forget about the mudslide,” I said helpfully.
“How could I forget about the mudslide?”
Rex had a point. We had both been through a lot, and a lot of it was together.
“So,” I said, “I worry about you, and you worry about me, right?”
“I guess so. We worry about each other.”
“I guess we do, yeah.”
“Well, if we’re going to worry about each other, I guess we should stop running before we both drop dead of heat stroke.”
I laughed, but he was right. I was dying out there. We stopped, turned around, and walked slowly back to the house.
TWELVE
Mom was disappointed that Rex didn’t stay for dinner, confused that he came all the way out there for such a short visit, and suspicious about our jog, as well. With all of it combined, I think she knew something was up. But I didn’t let on, and she didn’t press it.
The window for taking a nap had closed, and instead I stuck it out, yawning through dinner then going to bed early. I had nightmares about the bombing.
The next day was Saturday, but Mom had to go into work. I woke up at six as she was getting ready and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I stayed in bed reading. At eight thirty the phone rang.
Mom had already left for work, so I rolled out of bed and hurried downstairs in case it was Rex.
“Hey,” he said when I picked up. “Found him.”
“Ogden?”
“Yup. He’s staying at a squat in South Jersey.”
“That was fast.” Not to slight Rex’s investigatory skills, but if he had found Ogden that quickly, I wondered how far behind us the FBI would be.
“He can meet with us if you want. This afternoon.”
The squat was in what was left of a tiny town called Pedricktown, just across the Delaware River. Jerry had kind of given Rex his old truck, a long-term loan. I still didn’t have my license, and after being caught driving without it—even though I had very good reasons—I now had to wait another few months before I could get it.
We took the Commodore Barry Bridge into New Jersey. To get to the bridge, you had to take the Smartway around the city, meaning your car had to be in Smartdrive on the way. But the bridge itself had a lane for manual drivers. Some old federal law mandated that interstate crossings couldn’t be restricted to Smartdrive, even though all the roads leading up to them were. Rex enjoyed driving manually, so we were in the manual lane doing seventy as the cars in the Smartdrive lanes zipped past us at the legal Smartdrive speed limit of ninety-five.
At the midpoint of the bridge, I looked out at the drones crisscrossing the river. I glanced north, toward the city skyline, the cluster of towers shooting up over the older skyscrapers—Wells Tower the tallest of them. I tried to find the Seaport Museum, but it was too far away.