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  “Okay,” Deep Voice says. “We will sweep each property. Are you sure it was him?”

  “I would recognize that weasel anywhere,” Terry says.

  “Then we need to call this in.”

  Crap!

  Their steps recede, and I ease up over the porch window’s trim, peering through the ripped screen. They are gone, but it won’t be long before they find us.

  “How long do we have?” I ask Jayme. He’s our Pax and DMA veteran.

  Jayme shakes his head. “Not long. If they’re DMA, this place will be crawling with troopers soon.”

  “Can we make it back to the others?” I ask.

  “Not if they’re starting sweeps. They’ll spot us for sure.”

  So, we’re trapped. If we stay, we’re caught. If we flee, we’re caught.

  “I’m not going back there,” Enid says with a wave of fervent anger that sends a chill down my spine. Those are the first words she’s spoken since she dropped the snow globe.

  None of us want to go back. We need a plan. A way out. They will sweep the neighborhood, which means we need to figure out which house they will search last.

  “We aren’t going back,” I say confidently, moving toward the screen door. “Follow me.”

  “Where are you going?” Jayme asks, rushing up to my side.

  “To the last place they will look for us.” It isn’t a great plan, but it’s a start.

  22

  An ominous weight presses in on us from the shadows along the street and darkened windows. We do our best to seem small and move fast, zigzagging between houses, but it’s hard to shake the sensation that someone is watching.

  The hum of a DMA shuttle approaches from the distance. Backup is almost here. I glance across the street to an apartment building. If we hurry, we might be able to get back to the rest of our group before the DMA backup arrives. Jayme doubted, but I can’t help holding onto hope.

  As we round a corner, a squad of DMA troopers climb the front stairs of a house. We duck back and change course. The squad blocks our path across the street, our path back to the rest of the group.

  We huddle close to the side of the house where the attack was first launched, and I peer toward the street. The squad is still there on that porch. We can’t cross.

  I signal toward the open window of the house. Jayme grimaces then pulls himself up through the window. Once he’s inside, he pulls up the others. I follow at the end, and he yanks me roughly through. I tumble to the floorboards and something skitters across the wooden floor.

  Biting down a nasty comment, I brush myself off and join the others in the dining room. All of us hunker down with our backs pressed to the outside wall near the window, facing the remnants of the root-wood barricade.

  Silence hangs over us as if even the smallest whisper will draw the DMA straight to us. We can’t stay here forever but hiding in the house we started in should buy some time to plan a way back to the group.

  Miller kneels in front of Jayme, trying to move the vest to get a better look at his wound, but Jayme keeps swatting his hands away. The vests are bulletproof, so there’s a good chance the bullet grazed his side.

  Enid sits so close to me against the wall that I can feel the warmth of her body. My fingers itch to pull out the bundle and inspect it, but leaving it tightly bound together is probably best for now in case we need to run again. I don’t want to risk dropping anything.

  A way out. We need a way out.

  The hum of DMA shuttles grows closer. Multiple shuttles.

  It’s me. Terry knew it was me and they are sending all of these troopers in to get me. But that also means I can use myself as leverage to get the others out of danger.

  Outside, troopers exchange reports on the status of the sweeps, but without Parabolic Hearing, none of us can hear exactly what they are saying.

  At Paragon, Terry was given an injection of some sort of serum. I saw the video myself, saved it to the drive that Miller still possesses. Is his new Power a side-effect of that serum, or did they develop something else? Jayme seems to think Terry and the others are part of the DMA, but if that’s true, then Paragon is delivering their successful test subject experiments to grow the DMA’s force. Why is Paragon working so closely with the DMA? What will they gain from this partnership?

  I rub at my forehead as if trying to coax out the answers. Jayme inches closer to the only open window in the room, peering out into the street.

  For years, Paragon has touted its research into ending regression. Those videos I saw didn’t seem to have anything to do with regression therapies though. Paragon did something that pumped an influx of Power through the subjects. Some of them died as a result. Jade. Vicki.

  But Terry didn’t.

  So, what has changed?

  Dr. Cass could have used your biology to selectively offer those Superpowers to anyone. Willow’s warning felt a bit stale before, but now…

  Did Dr. Cass give Superpowers to Terry? I shudder at the thought.

  “He’s making that epiphany face,” Sho whispers, pointing at me.

  The sound of his voice pulls me from my thoughts. I look at Jayme and Miller near the window, but instead of watching the street they’re both staring at me.

  “Out with it, genius,” Miller says.

  A woman screams to be released. “I didn’t do anything! I pay my taxes!”

  I join them at the window and peer over to see a family huddled in the street as troopers storm the house. Another squad knocks down the door to the house beside it. The DMA doesn’t care that it’s late at night. They storm into houses both abandoned and inhabited. Searching for me. We need to get the heck out of here.

  Shuttles can hover over the houses, so if we try and sneak out the back door, they may still catch us. If we try to run across the street, we will surely be spotted. One way or another, we need to take the risk. We can’t sit here forever.

  But we can use our Powers to escape. It wouldn’t be inconspicuous if Enid used that fog I once saw her create in the Survival Test at Paragon. A wall of fog will at least provide us with cover. Sho can use his Echolocation to detract from our exact location so the DMA can’t use Powers to pinpoint us.

  But when I open my mouth to speak, a familiar voice calls to me from outside. One that sends an initial bolt of shock through me.

  “Ugene!” Forrest’s voice echoes off the houses along the nearly empty street. I haven’t seen him since he ordered his sister’s death during the Paragon escape. Just the sound of his voice makes my blood burn with rage. “We know you’re still here. Come out and no one will get hurt.”

  A lump swells in my throat and my stomach drops. How did he get here so fast? Is he part of this partnership between the Directorate and Paragon? Which side is he working for?

  Enid grabs my arm in quivering hands.

  Miller scowls at me and shakes his head in warning.

  “I’ll give you one minute to show your face,” Forrest calls, “Citizens, harboring a fugitive will result in immediate expulsion from the city, but you will get one free pass. Right now.”

  This is what Willow feared. Paragon wants me back. This is why Willow didn’t want me coming to the city. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  Directly in front of me, two tiny trees that were once inside the snow globe Enid broke now lies on the floor with branches broken. Scattered around the trees are small bits of pink confetti meant to be petals of the cherry blossom tree. It’s just like the one I gave to Mom for Mother’s Day when I was eight.

  Scrambling forward, I pick up the base of the snow globe, still intact. The front of the base has a quote about the change that comes with the petals of the blossom. I turn it over. On the bottom, scratched in with a knife, is my name and the year.

  I don’t believe it.

  I dig in the pockets of the vest and find a switchblade, then slide the blade between the base and its bottom to work them apart as carefully as possible. Everyone else
starts crowding around, watching me pry this thing open. It finally pops off, and we panic for a moment, imagining the sound to be much louder than it was. I pull out a square of paper and unfold it. A small data drive falls out. Sho picks it up as I read the brief note Dad left with it.

  DMA Action Plan: Purification Project

  “What is it?” Jayme asks, leaning toward the drive.

  I hold the note to him and all four crowd around to read it.

  “What’s the Purification Project?” Enid asks, but the anxious tone in her hushed voice reveals she suspects the same as the rest of us.

  Paragon and the DMA aren’t planning on curing regression. They are working some kind of a purge. Maybe just like the government did to people with Powers during the Change.

  “So be it!” Forrest calls from the street. “Search all the houses. I don’t care who lives there. I want him unharmed.”

  We’re out of time.

  23

  It’s only a matter of time before the DMA finds us huddled in this house. We’re surrounded. We can either fight our way out or I can turn myself in while they escape. Or I can pretend to turn myself in as we fight our way free.

  “How fast can you run?” I ask Sho, slipping out of my jacket, where the bundle we found in the floorboards and the new hard drive are zipped up safely.

  “Pretty fast. But I don’t like this.”

  I hand over the jacket. “Enid will provide cover. You run as fast as you can and get my jacket to Willow. Everything is in there. Get help.”

  Miller snaps out of a trance. “No.” He moves into the broken doorway, then stabs a finger at my chest. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a terrible idea.”

  Why does he always have to fight me? I step toward him. “We don’t have a choice. Enid can use fog as cover. I’ll distract them. You all escape across the street. Sho runs for help. It’s the only way you all get out of here.”

  “And you give that prick exactly what he wants,” Miller hisses.

  “We don’t have time to argue.”

  Jayme inches toward us and takes Miller’s arm. “He’s right. We get across the street and we can regroup and rescue him.”

  “No.” Enid shakes her head.

  “Please, Enid. I need your help. Use your fog to cover your tracks. I’ll distract Forrest and the DMA. You can regroup with Jayme to get me out,” I press on with more confidence than I feel. “This will work.”

  Miller appears ready to voice his strong distaste for this plan, but he bites his tongue and leaves with the others as I turn away and move toward the front door. I wait until the others are all out of the line of sight before stepping out.

  Three massive black military-grade shuttles barricade each end of the block. Forrest waits beside one of the shuttles in street clothes, a bullet-proof vest over his polo shirt. He watches as nearly two dozen men and women in DMA tactical gear fan out to search each house.

  If this doesn’t work, we’re all in serious trouble. I clear my throat and call out, “Forrest! I’m right here.”

  Forrest scans the houses, searching me out.

  I step forward and the wooden step of the front porch creaks beneath me. In seconds, DMA troopers surround the porch on all three sides with weapons aimed at me. I raise my hands so they don’t think I have a trick up my sleeve or a weapon or Power to use against them.

  “Where are the others?” Forrest asks as he strides toward the porch.

  “Others?”

  “Don’t play coy, Ugene.” Forrest stops behind the backline of troopers surrounding me like he actually thinks I’ll stand a chance against such a force. “I know you well enough.”

  “You wanted me. Here I am.”

  Two of the troopers inch up the steps. They begin a search by stripping off my vest. I don’t resist.

  “No. I said no one would get hurt.” Forrest turns his attention to one of the troopers, and my stomach drops out at his next words. “Continue the search. If they resist, shoot. Try not to kill them. If you can help it.” The last was more of an afterthought.

  The troopers around the porch break off into small groups as the two with me take my arms and twist them behind my back. The force sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder. One of the troopers pushes me forward down the porch steps toward Forrest.

  “Didn’t realize you were part of the DMA,” I say as nonchalantly as I can manage. Whatever happens next, I won’t give Forrest the gratification of seeing how anxious I am. I can only hope the others will regroup and come to my rescue soon enough. “Research get boring without me around to prod?”

  Forrest walks alongside me as the troopers escort me to one of the shuttles. “I’m actually a little disappointed in you. I thought you would want to stop regression, get a Power.”

  I scoff. “Come on, we both know that’s not what this is about. Regression is nothing more than an excuse. I think genocide is a better word.”

  “You don’t comprehend.”

  “No, but I’m starting to.” I turn to face him at the back door of the shuttle. “Was Bianca’s death really worth all of this? How do you look your parents in the face?”

  Forrest grins in a manner I can only describe as evil.

  Rage burns in my chest. Does he think her death is a joke? I sneer, and my voice fills with predatory hunger, “You should have restrained me.”

  I lunge at Forrest, wrapping my fingers around his throat and digging my nails in, growling. Hate boils in my veins and I squeeze tighter as he claws at my hands. One of the troopers grabs my shirt and attempts hauling me back, but all he does is pull the collar of my t-shirt tight against my throat. I gag, cough, my eyes water, but I don’t let go. Not when I can watch with satisfaction as Forrest’s face grows red. Not when I can feel him struggling to breathe, clawing and beating at my hands and arms feebly.

  Pressure on my head pulses as Forrest attempts to stop me with his Divinic Power. A noble effort. A pointless effort. Never in my life have I hated someone so much. I want to squeeze until he can’t breathe, until his eyes pop from his head, until the whole thing just pops off like the zit he is, an unwanted blemish on the skin of humanity.

  Sudden, sharp pain twists at my temples. I try to fight it off, but it feels like my head is getting pinched in a vice. I grind my teeth and try to fight through it, but the pressure is overwhelming, forcing me to let go of Forrest and press my palms to my temples. It has little effect.

  “Don’t kill him!” Forrest rasps, rubbing at his throat.

  The pain lessens, turning to a dull throb that disorients me. Not enough to prevent me from seeing the blood I managed to draw from Forrest’s neck with my nails.

  I take a moment to gasp for air and recover, then lunge forward again.

  Strong hands grasp my wrists and hold my arms tight behind my back.

  “Load him in the shuttle,” Forrest says.

  As I’m pushed toward the back of the shuttle, the road beneath our feet begins to quake. It isn’t a massive quake, just enough to throw us both off course. My captor releases me as he stumbles. I grasp the edge of the shuttle for balance, then push off the back and run. A wall of fog rolls up the street toward me.

  Enid!

  My friends had a chance to regroup! I bought enough time. I just hope all of them managed to escape the DMA earlier.

  I tuck my arms tighter to my sides and pump my legs, putting all the steam I can muster into running into the fog. It’s still half a block away, crawling toward me.

  “Don’t shoot him!” Forrest yells from behind.

  Each step feels slow despite my speed, like trying to run through molasses in a nightmare.

  A set of boots pound against the pavement behind me, but I don’t dare look back. With the ground quaking, I can’t afford to take my eyes off the road ahead. The fog rolls closer. Did Enid escape then? What about the others? Did everyone scatter?

  The boots are closing the gap. It’s a Somatic giving chase. It has to be. Even if I reach the
fog in time, whoever this is will be right on my heels, able to catch me. I need to get off the street.

  To the left, an apartment building sits mostly dark, its corner encased in fog. Only a few lights are on in windows, but no one looks out. I veer toward the door, and in seconds I’m at it, yanking the rusted metal frame open. But it doesn’t immediately shut when I let go. My pursuer is only steps behind.

  The inside is an old apartment building foyer. Minimal light stretches inside from long thin windows. No lobby lights are on, probably because of the extra cost of running them. The light from the windows is just enough to see the weak, worn-out wooden steps going up. They might hold my weight, but Somatics are naturally denser. My pursuer may be too heavy. I turn and run to the stairs, launching my light body up as quick as I can, two steps at a time. The stairs protest, creaking and cracking against my weight.

  One of the stairs snaps behind me, and my pursuer yelps.

  I glance over my shoulder as I round the top of the steps, but it’s too dark to get a good look. I’m being chased by a female, judging by the momentary glance at the shadowy form, but I don’t pause to learn more. I need a place to hide until she passes so I can slip back out. This may be my only opportunity to lose her. She may be able to catch me in a footrace, but not if she can’t find me.

  Another quake throws me off balance, and I stumble into the wall. Dust rains down from the ceiling. This whole building might collapse if that quaking doesn’t stop.

  I run along the narrow hallway, feeling my way in the dark, testing doors along the way. All locked. I need a place to hide before she reaches the top of the steps. I can hear her weight and the stairs protests increase threefold. With nowhere else to go, I grab one of the handles, turn, and throw my weight against it. The door pops open and I slip inside, easing it shut behind me.

  The apartment is dark. Too dark to get my bearings, and I can’t risk pulling out my flashlight. I inch deeper, feeling along the wall for a closet door or bathroom, even a cupboard to hide in. Before I can find a place, the door shatters off the hinges into the apartment. My pursuer crashes into me so hard the force puts both of us through the cracked tile floor.