“Yeah.”
“And you have more food and water at that machine?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, then I’m going to open a portal for you near the museum. They’ll never be able to find you once you step through.”
“Wait—what about you? You sound like you aren’t coming.”
“I can’t. I have a chip like everyone else. They can track the PICA in my shoulder as I pass through any portal. They knew we were in Tuzo Stadium. They’ll know we’re in this jungle too. They’ll trace the exact spot we ported to, but because we’re outside Hollow World, because we moved from the port-in, they can’t know exactly where. Once we split up, they won’t be able to find you at all.”
“Who’s they?”
“The murderers. Whoever that was in Pol’s office, I guess. I thought we’d stopped the killing. We didn’t. It’s obvious this isn’t just random. People are being murdered and replaced. We need to find out why. We’re probably the only two who know.”
“I bet Geo-24 knew—or suspected,” Ellis said. “That’s why he was investigating Pol. That might be why he was killed.”
“Maybe,” Pax said. “But Abernathy mentioned that it was Pol who contacted Geo-24 first. So what did Pol want from Geo-24?”
“Something suspicious enough to make Geo-24 ask questions that might have gotten him killed.”
“At this point it could be anything. All I know is that they’re after you.” A portal appeared in the dark. This one also led to a leafy darkness, just not as thick. “There! Go!”
Ellis hesitated. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me, run!”
“But I do worry about you. If I disappear, they’ll come after you.”
“I won’t tell them where you went. I swear.”
Ellis sighed. The electric filament that outlined the open portal painted Pax’s face and the surrounding giant leaves with a ghostly light. “I know you won’t. You’d die before telling them.”
“Yes…” Pax nodded, eyes grave, face desperate. “Yes, I would.”
“Which is why I’m not going through that portal. Not without you.”
“But I can’t go. I have a chip, and they’ll be here soon.”
Ellis let his hand settle on the pistol at his hip.
“No,” Pax said, lips trembling. “Please don’t.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“No more killing, please. Just go.”
The pain on Pax’s face was horrible to witness. This was the only living friend Ellis had. He would kill anyone who tried to harm Pax, and yet just then he was the one causing the pain. There had to be another way.
“What if we got rid of the chip?” Ellis asked.
Pax stared at him for a moment. “Do you have your knife in that bag?”
Ellis nodded.
“Okay, okay…” The portal snapped out of existence. “But let’s get farther away from the port-in. It will give us more time.”
Using his flashlight, Ellis led the way, pressing through thick ferns. They splashed through water and trudged over a tangle of roots and plants until they found higher ground at the base of a vine-wrapped trunk that afforded a small open patch. The ground was spongy, a buildup of organic material—dirt in the making. By the time they stopped, Ellis was soaked. Maybe it was the air condensing on him, the spill of water from leaves, or just plain old-fashioned sweat, but his clothes were plastered to his body, dragging on him like weights. His breath was also coming in gasps, that same harsh crackle. It hadn’t bothered him nearly so much in Hollow World. Now it was back. The shift in temperature and humidity wanted to remind him his life was on a timer.
Pax had already stripped away the frock coat and was unbuttoning the white shirt. There was something awful about watching Pax undress, like seeing a superhero forced to strip off a mask. Underneath, Pax was like all the others.
Ellis dropped his pack and drew out the hunting knife. Ellis had purchased the blade off Amazon’s website, which, at that moment—in his growing anxiety—struck him as ironic. “We should sterilize this somehow.”
“Why?”
“Prevent an infection.”
“There isn’t a germ on this planet that’s interested in my cells.” Pax sat against the tree. “Just make sure you don’t nick yourself.”
“Right.”
Ellis knelt beside Pax. Holding the flashlight with one hand and the knife in the other, he wiped his dripping forehead with his sleeve, but he only exchanged one wetness for another. “Do they put these things in deep?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think this is going to hurt.”
“Yeah, and you’d better hurry. They will eventually come here, and I’m not sure I…”
“What?”
“I’m not sure I won’t scream—I think I will, actually.”
Ellis tilted the light up and saw the glassy look of Pax’s frightened eyes. The light also shone off the big blade he held as if he were about to have a knife fight in some old western. What he needed was a scalpel, a razor, or an X-ACTO blade. Doing surgery with a six-inch Bowie knife was insane.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“Yes.”
“I mean, I know this was my idea, but I don’t want you to think you have to—”
“Do it. Just hurry.” Pax was trying to sound brave, and actually did a fine job—braver than Ellis felt, holding that knife handle slick with sweat. He’d never cut anyone before. The closest thing was digging a splinter out of Peggy’s finger with a needle. That ordeal had lasted almost fifteen minutes, with him pinching and probing and her jerking and crying. The stress of that tiny splinter had exhausted Ellis—this scared the hell out of him.
He struggled to take a breath as he held the big stainless-steel blade up against Pax’s perfect skin. It looked huge, as if he planned to use a barbecue fork to fish out crabmeat. He remembered the online product description: perfect for gutting a deer in the wilderness.Knowing he’d need his other hand, he gripped the butt of the light with his teeth, then firmly grasped Pax’s shoulder. If he was going to do it, he couldn’t pussyfoot. He had to cut deep and fast. Anything less would just add to Pax’s misery. Recalling where he’d seen the other scars, he made a best guess.
“Brace yourself,” he mumbled around the flashlight. Ellis took another breath and pushed the blade into Pax’s shoulder.
Pax cried out and jerked sharply, forcing Ellis to squeeze hard to hold Pax still. He shoved deeper. Pax cried louder. The sound was almost surprised—a consternated “Oh!” that lingered as if Pax were starting to sing “Oklahoma.” It only took a second to make a slice big enough that Ellis could have inserted a quarter in. Blood dripped out, but not as much as he had expected. Ellis had imagined a spray of some kind, like Pax was a balloon filled with blood. With the cut made, he had to find the chip, and there was only one way he could do that.
Ellis pressed his index finger into the opening and began to probe. Pax shifted, thighs drumming as if the ground were on fire. More blood was coming out. Several streaks teared down the full length of Pax’s arm, spilling on the back of Pax’s hand that spread out on the jungle floor like the roots of a tiny tree. Pax’s fingers dug into the mulch, ripping it, squeezing it. He could feel Pax’s body quiver, hear a shuddering breath. Ellis was uncertain which of them it belonged to.
Somewhere in the night the relative quiet of the jungle exploded into squawks and shrieks.
“They’re here,” Pax managed to whisper with a stolen intake of air.
Ellis ignored the sounds. A python could have slithered up his pant leg and he wouldn’t have cared. He had his finger buried up to the second knuckle in Pax’s flesh, worming its way around tendons and…he was pretty sure—yes, that was a bone. Just when he was starting to despair at not finding anything, Ellis’s fingertip touched something oddly solid. Wafer-thin, it might have been a tiddlywink. He inserted the blade again, excavating toward it. He forced himself to tune out the grunts and gasps, jerks and jolts. The best way to save Pax pain now was to just focus and get the job done.