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  Relief at the interruption washes over me followed immediately by guilt for feeling relieved in the first place.

  Enid and I glance at each other, awkward energy vibrating between us.

  17

  Before heading to Doc’s office, I make sure I have Dad’s letter tucked in one of the pockets of my jacket—this is my chance to find it—and add the DNA diagrams and formula to another pocket with a pen. Sadly, I can’t bring along Celeste’s book or my notebooks without my old bag, lost somewhere in Paragon during the escape.

  Enid goes to collect a few things as I review my notes and refresh my memory on what I’ve learned since arriving at The Shield. On the way out the door to meet with Enid and gather the others, I put a hand over the cover of Celeste’s book.

  “I’ll do my best to raise the shield,” I say as if she can hear me.

  When I reach the gangway, Enid has already gathered the others, those who were eager to join me in the fight against the Directorate and Paragon. I’m still unsure how the Protectorate will fit into all of this, but for now, I need them as allies.

  Noah claps a hand on my shoulder as he follows along toward Doc’s office and our eyes meet briefly. He doesn’t have to speak. The look we exchange says it all. They follow me because they believe in me. I only hope I don’t let any of them down.

  Our group reaches Doc’s office before Willow or Doc. There are seven of us in total—Sho, Leo, Rosie, Noah, Bri, Enid, and me. The second we step through the door, Lily rushes toward Sho and takes his hands, pulling him away with urgency.

  “Please don’t go,” she says to him in the corner of the room.

  I watch the two as everyone else gets comfortable.

  Sho’s brows pull together. “Ugene needs my help.”

  “It isn’t safe,” Lily says, her tone thick with anxiety. “People die on these missions. If the DMA doesn’t get them, the dangers of Pax do. I’m begging you. Stay.”

  Sho shifts his grip on Lily’s hands, cupping them as he pulls her closer to his chest. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I don’t expect you to understand, but this is something I need to do. I’ll be fine.” He tucks her dark hair behind an ear. “I’ll be back.”

  I duck my head, a little ashamed for eavesdropping on this intimate moment.

  Lily pulls away and shakes her head, then her entire body stiffens as she draws herself to her full height. “Then I’m going, too.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I won’t stay here worrying about what’s happening to you.” Lily shakes her head firmly. “If you’re going, so am I. Get it?”

  Sho smiles so sweetly at her that I feel like I’m invading their space. When I look away, Enid is staring at me with her big, beautiful eyes. But Lily’s urgency has seeped into my bones. What is she afraid of, exactly? How bad could it be?

  A male voice booms down the hallway. “You can’t do this!”

  I rush to the door. Enid and Noah stop beside me in the doorway.

  Miller halts dead in his tracks in the hall and turns. His shoulders slope downward dangerously, and his hands ball into fists at his side. His words are razor sharp. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can and can’t do.”

  Jayme slumps as he lumbers toward Miller. “I just don’t think this mission is a good idea in your condition. You’re unstable.”

  I dip back into the office, but not before noticing the way Miller’s fingers flex and twitch at his side. If he had his Powers, he would have thrown them at Jayme for sure.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Jayme says. “You know what I mean. It isn’t safe.”

  “I’m going.” Miller’s words are so final that even I know there’s no point in arguing.

  But Jayme is right. Miller isn’t himself, and if Lily and Jayme are both so convinced we will be in danger, Miller could be a liability in his condition.

  Miller storms into the office, and I jog a step to catch his stride.

  “Maybe he’s right,” I say. “You haven’t been the same without your Powers.”

  Miller drops into the armchair, slumping down as he glares at me. “You, of all people, should know better than to say that.”

  I flinch but have no argument.

  Jayme kneels in front of the chair, reaching for Miller’s hands. Miller snatches them back and shoves them into the pocket of his hoodie. His jaw sets with determination, and when I try to catch his attention, he ignores me. Jayme glares at me as if this is all my fault while I make my way to the sofa and sit on the arm beside Noah.

  “Is this everyone?” Willow asks as she strolls in with Chase on her heels.

  “I think so,” I say, not sure who she’s really asking.

  Willow doesn’t respond. She slides a holograph projector onto the coffee table, activating it with a touch. A 3D image of Pax lights up in front of us. I lean closer, examining the narrow streets and cramped buildings.

  “We are taking a transport truck to this location,” Willow says, pointing to a red building in the blue holograph, “using the night to cover our movements. We will stay in the adjacent building overnight until it’s safe to move around in the morning. Under no circumstances are any of you to leave that building during the night. Pax will have DMA troops patrolling the streets, and the people who roam the streets of Pax at night are dangerous. If you step out that door, you’re likely to get killed or captured. Either way, we can’t help you.”

  Even though she speaks generally, Willow’s eyes lock onto me.

  “Our primary objective is to meet with our head operatives in Pax so they can begin gathering those at the greatest risk to fall into the Directorate’s hands. We need to cut them off at the source before they can recruit too many citizens into their ranks. Before the meeting, we will stop at a clinic here,” she continues, pointing to one of many narrow buildings a few blocks from our starting point, “where a supply of medicine is waiting for pickup. Our meeting with the operatives is scheduled for noon at this location.” Willow points out another narrow building. Her attention turns to our group, gauging each of our reactions. “Whatever you do, don’t attract attention to yourself. The Directorate’s always watching for suspicious groups or gatherings. Which is why we will split up into groups of three. You must stick with your group. If you get separated, we can’t guarantee you will make it back to The Shield.”

  This news draws a few uneasy movements. Lily reaches over and grasps Sho’s hand tightly in her own. Bri straightens, shifting her body a little closer to Noah. I just stare at the holographic map, struggling to stuff down my growing anxiety while simultaneously wondering where in that mess of buildings the package my dad left behind could be.

  As much as I want to be paired with Enid and Sho—his Echolocation will be handy to find the coordinates—I also know that Willow won’t let it happen. In fact, I know what Willow is going to say before the words come out of her mouth.

  “I want two of you to every one of us, so we can be sure you are protected,” Willow says. “I don’t care how you pair up, as long as there are only two of you.”

  Maybe I can get Jayme to be my escort, then. But, judging by the shade he’s throwing my way, I don’t think he wants to.

  “Ugene is with me,” Willow says, waiting for me to challenge her, but I don’t see the point. I doubt anything I say will change her mind.

  Jayme sits upright, resting his arms on his knees. “Miller and I were hoping he could group with us.”

  The proclamation sends a jolt of surprise through me.

  “I don’t care,” Willow says. “If I had my way, he wouldn’t be going at all.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, mimicking Jayme’s posture. “But how is your mind-bendy Power, whatever it is, going to protect me better than his Natural Energy?”

  Chase chuckles, a deep rumble that makes my skin crawl.

  Willow cocks her head, amused as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I think you of all people would appreciate that Powers aren’t the onl
y way to protect yourself.”

  “Yeah,” Jayme says, “she may not be Somatic, but she can crush you in a fight.”

  The jab at my expense isn’t lost on me, but I don’t react.

  “When we finish,” Willow continues, “a team will stow us in the back of a couple armored DMA shuttles, which will take us to the extraction point, where our vehicle will be waiting to bring us back here.”

  Willow reaches toward Chase, who produces a military-issued vest. “You will each get a vest for emergency use only. It contains two smoke bombs, a stun gun, zip-cuffs, a switchblade, a flashlight, and a cyanide pill, just in case. I can’t stress this enough. If you use weapons while we are in the city, the DMA will be on us in a matter of minutes. In fact, don’t use anything in this vest unless you are confronted by the DMA.”

  What is the cyanide pill for? I don’t want to think about a situation where it might be useful.

  Enid presses her back against the sofa near me, arms folded tight over her chest. I glance at my friends, and all of them have the same anxiety written all over. We are about to try and take on the Directorate, and the last thing we need is the DMA’s attention.

  “Code words?” Jayme asks as if he is used to this sort of briefing.

  “Turnip and tulip.” Willow straps on the vest. “Let’s go.”

  She and Chase lead us out of the office and up the stairs to the top level of The Shield.

  Should we let Miller have the weapons in that vest knowing he’s struggling with suicidal tendencies? I watch his slumped back as he walks alongside Jayme, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Everything about his body language makes me nervous. Jayme glares over his shoulder at me, and I quickly avert my gaze. What’s his problem?

  Instead of focusing on them, I turn my attention to our trek to the upper level of The Shield. We follow Willow to the end of the long hall of cells and around the corner until we come face-to-face with the steel door I tried to open about a week ago. Willow places her hand on the scanner. A moment later, the lock releases and the door hisses open.

  The hangar on the other side of the door stinks of fuel and rubber. I cover my nose and mouth. Concrete floors are coated in dirt and sand from the massive tires on the vehicles. Every one of these vehicles is ancient—old military jeeps and trucks and cargo vans rusting along the edges. Someone tried to cover the rust with camouflage paint, but it didn’t really work. Three camo trucks with sharp edges and flat sides sit closest to the blast doors leading out of the hangar.

  Only a few people are on duty. Along one wall, an observation room overlooks the hangar through glass windows. Two people sit in there, watching old computer monitors. The Protectorate has gone through a lot of trouble to find tech they can use, and it must have cost someone a lot of Power to get this stuff up and running.

  My friends are just as awed as I am by all this ancient crap the Protectorate has running as we follow Willow and Chase in wide-eyed disbelief.

  Doc hovers near the edge of one of the angular trucks with a tablet. Six people climb in the front cab of the truck—Willow, Chase, Leo, Rosie, Lily, and Sho. The rest climb into the bed of the truck, three on each bench facing each other with a canvas canopy over the back. Vest are distributed as we pile in.

  Before I climb in with them, Doc calls for my attention. I pause, wondering what he could want at this moment, trying to keep my nerves steady.

  “Remember, we are after the same thing,” Doc says. “I feel as you feel, and I would like to see as many people survive this as possible.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat and nod.

  “Think big,” he says, then lets go of my arm.

  For a moment I stand there, searching his aging eyes for more wisdom, but he just nods and turns away.

  I sit across from Miller. Enid settles on one side of me with Noah on the other. Bri sits directly across from Noah, with Jayme on Miller’s other side. The engine starts, much quieter than I expected for such a big truck.

  Enid leans toward me and whispers in my ear, “How will we get out to find the package?”

  I just shrug. We will probably have to sneak off during the night, get the stash, and get back before anyone wakes.

  The truck rolls through the blast doors and down a long tunnel, the only source of light being its headlights through the dark space. It’s hardly the most comfortable ride, but it is incredibly smooth. And at least we are conscious this time around, unlike when the Protectorate brought us in.

  Jayme continues to glare at me as he leans back and stretches his arm across the bench behind Miller. What is his problem?

  18

  Nervous tension fills the truck. As soon as the truck leaves the tunnel, Bri starts fidgeting with her vest. Soon after, Jayme leans forward, his leg bouncing as he strains to stare out the front windshield. Willow continually glances in the rearview mirror, and I’m not sure if she’s looking at us or watching for trouble. Chase keeps his focus so firmly on the road that I’m not sure he would notice anything else unless it hit him in the head.

  The canvas cover we are crouched beneath has no windows and, at the angle I’m sitting, I can’t see out the narrow front window. Everything is faded light and drab colors indistinguishable as anything. The smoothness of the ride doesn’t give many clues as to what conditions we are driving over either.

  Enid reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze, and I can feel her shaking ever so slightly. The only person who doesn’t seem to care what sort of danger we might be riding into is Miller, with his hood drawn and his body slumped down. No one else speaks. Knees bounce. Hands fidget. Bodies shift. But no one speaks.

  When the truck pulls into a large garage and Chase turns off the engine, Jayme adjusts the straps on his vest, then pulls his jacket on over it. The rest of us quickly follow his lead, putting on our vests and checking straps to make sure it’s secure as Willow and Chase hop out of the cab. The doors slam shut with a finality that makes both Bri and Enid jump in their seats. A moment later, Chase opens the zipped flap on the back and lowers the tailgate. Willow stands beside him.

  “We are heading through the first door on the right at the top of the stairs,” Willows says as we pile out. “There is a connection from the window to the next building, where we are staying for the night. Follow Jayme. He knows the way.”

  I stretch cramped muscles from being slumped over as I walk down the ramp connected to the tailgate. As I do, I also take in the dark space of the garage. Even in the dark, I can tell this place is abandoned. Dirt and debris cover the floor. The stench of mildew is stifling. A stack of old rotting pallets leans against one wall. Graffiti colors another wall—a burning earth, words and phrases that imply the end of the world and hopelessness. Some of it I can’t really make out. Windows covered in layers of grime are so high up on the wall that I can’t see out. High above, the beams supporting the structure are rusting out. We can’t be in Elpis yet. This place is so clearly a remnant of life before the War and Purge.

  Jayme leads us through a wide doorway out of the docking room and into the main warehouse. It shares the same lack of charm as the docking room. We climb a broken set of concrete stairs. Along the edge of the stairs lies thick, packed-in layers of lime mortar shaken free from the wall. The others use the rusted railing as they climb, but it looks unstable. If we slipped, that rail might just snap off the wall. It wobbles unsteadily as we climb, and I hold my breath, hearing only the pounding of my heart and the scratch of the railing brackets against the wall.

  The group turns through the first door on the right, and Jayme leads us to what must’ve been office space. Now it’s a graveyard of a world that no longer exists, all dust, dirt, and broken furniture.

  A plank bridges the broken window to the adjacent building. Willow explained on the ride that we have to move buildings because there isn’t a secure place to sleep in the warehouse garage. Now, one by one, we walk the plank.

  It’s only a couple feet, close enough t
o reach out and lean on the opposite building for support. I don’t trust the stability of the structure, though, and hesitate at the edge of the plank.

  “Get a move on, Ugene,” Jayme says. The way he says my name reminds me of Jimmy the Idiot—my high school bully—calling me Pewgene.

  Clenching my jaw, I step onto the plank and hold my breath as I cross. The one floor down to the ground feels like a long way, and I stiffen up in fear. Sadly, I’m also afraid that Jayme will move the plank on me, but Willow would probably kill him if he harmed me. Still, even after everything I’ve been through, I maintain a healthy fear of people who dislike me.

  In a matter of seconds, I’m safely on the other side, exhaling and sagging against the wall. I close my eyes and take a moment to get control of my nerves.

  This room is large enough to hold all of us comfortably for the night. Near the front of the building, dirty windows hide us from prying eyes. The floor is surprisingly clean, maybe from recent use or someone sweeping it. Willow pulls open a metal cabinet door and the creak shatters the silence.

  “Sleeping bags are in here,” Willow says. “Set yourself up for the night. In the morning, we put them back. Keep your conversations to a minimum. We don’t need people hearing us out in the street.”

  People? There’s no way we are in Elpis. This place is a relic!

  I move toward the windows and peer out at an angle. It’s hard to see through the dirt, especially when it’s already dark outside. I squint and lean closer, almost pressing the side of my face to the edge of the window to see through a sliver of non-grimy glass.

  Across the street, red brick buildings with cracked or crumbling facades butt up against one another. Windows are boarded or covered by bars. Cracked and broken concrete steps lead from the narrow sidewalk to decrepit porches. Tin roofs on rotting wooden posts cover the porches. No lights are on in the houses. One porch hosts a group of guys who lean against the metal railing, which looks ready to snap under their weight. They watch the street and talk amongst each other.

  Only a few people move along the cracked road, their gazes averted from the group on the porch, steps hastening as they cross to our side of the street to pass. No other vehicles are on the road. Most people in this part of town can’t afford it, and transit doesn’t run at this time of night anymore because of the rise in crime. How did they not notice our vehicle? The engine was quiet, but surely driving past them would have gotten attention. Unless we entered from a back alley.