Another round of bullets.
—and two more on top of the exterior walls.
Ford popped up and ran toward the back of the stage, shouting at Mason, “Come with me.”
“Divide and conquer,” Mason yelled back, giving a loud war cry and running the other way.
The men in ski masks all turned to look at him, and while they were distracted, Ford jumped on the lever Bucky had used to activate the trapdoor, opened it, and leapt through.
There was no bag this time, and he landed hard on his hurt ankle. It twisted out from under him, and as he staggered to right himself in the darkness under the stage he tripped over something, making it clang. He stopped moving and held his breath. Had they heard? Were they coming after him?
His heart was racing against his ribs, and his lungs contracted. Don’t panic, she whispered to him, keeping her breaths long and regular. Breathe and think.
It worked. She sensed his attention sharpen as he took in his surroundings: light from the left, a sink across the way, tall shelf full of umbrellas.
Why would Bucky need a dozen umbrellas? Ford wondered.
There was a—moan?
Sadie held her breath, and so did Ford. Was there someone there?
Another moan.
“Do you need help?” Ford whispered.
The sound stopped. But it was close by, he thought, stepping around a pile of chairs, just—
“Oh, Bucky, no,” Ford whispered, collapsing on the floor next to him. The hair on Bucky’s forehead was matted with blood, his left leg was at an unhealthy angle, one eye was swollen shut, and his lips were caked with blood.
“Who did this?” Ford demanded. Sadie felt his rage sweltering like a foundry in the summer, a hairbreadth away from complete combustion.
He needs water, she urged Ford, to focus him. And a blanket. He’s in shock.
“Water,” Ford’s mind echoed, and he twisted around, assessing. Getting to the sink without making noise was going to be challenging.
There’s a blanket to your left, Sadie told him. He looked to his left and was pleased to see a blanket. He put it on Bucky and started for the sink.
“Gotcha!” a voice—male, jovial—said, and a volley of bullets from above flew through the stage within inches of Ford’s position.
He leapt back toward Bucky and stood stock-still.
“Lost him. Anyone got a chirp?”
Another guy, this one slightly nasal sounding. “No chirp.”
Chirp? Sadie repeated. What did that mean? How had they known exactly where Ford was standing?
“He’s still down there.” This voice sounded older, and familiar.
The boards of the stage creaked with the weight of the gunmen as they moved over it in slow, concentric circles, searching for Ford.
The one with the sniffles said, “Stupid chippy thinks he can hide from us.” Chippy. Sadie and Ford both repeated the word in their mind.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, chippy.”
Sadie’s mind wouldn’t let go. Chippy. Chip. Could they be referring to—
No, she protested against the thoughts pushing their way into her head. Her conscious mind dug its claws in, trying desperately to deny it, but she couldn’t. They were tracking Ford with his Sycnopy chip.
With a shock, Sadie realized she’d known. Known subconsciously, and repressed it, like Ford repressing his memory of walking in on James and Cali. She’d kept her mind busy with misdirected suspicions about other people’s influence on Ford, resenting Plum and Mason, how open he was with them, worrying they might hurt him when—god, the irony—she was the danger to him. She was the one leaving him completely vulnerable and unprotected. It was because of her they could hunt him this way.
James’s “magic power” hadn’t been that he was invisible, she realized. It was that he couldn’t be tracked because he didn’t have a chip. He was free. Safe.
Her presence stole that security from Ford.
The same chip that makes me care for him makes me betray him, she realized, horrified by the irony. By her powerlessness to stop it.
Anger filled her now, not Ford’s but her own. Against her will she had become Ford’s implacable, inescapable enemy. Somehow she’d been tricked, turned into an unwitting pawn in the Pharmacist’s sick game.
“Yoo hoo, chippy,” a voice coaxed from upstairs. “We’re bound to get you. You might as well come out.”
An unwitting executioner.
Ford took a step forward and said, “I want to talk to the Pharmacist.”
I want to punch the Pharmacist, Sadie thought.
There was a deep, swaggering laugh. “Sure thing, chippy. Just come a little more to the center of the—gotcha.”
The bullets started to fly again, nearly on target. Ford took two steps back toward Bucky, and the guns stopped.
Was it a trick?
From upstairs the older voice said, “That dead chippy down there’s interfering with the relay. We need to pull him out.”
Bucky’s chip was blocking their ability to see Ford’s when they were close together, Sadie and Ford realized simultaneously.
But then Ford took a step forward, away from Bucky. What are you doing? Sadie yelled as a hailstorm of bullets flew around him. He jumped back to Bucky and the bullets stopped.
Yep, looks like that’s how it works, he thought.
That was not a hypothesis that needed to be tested, Sadie seethed at him.
“Go get that dead chippy,” the older voice ordered.
“Could be an ambush,” the one with the sniffles said. “They could be waiting with weapons down there.”
Good idea, Sadie heard Ford think. He could make them think he had weapons even though he didn’t. His eyes roamed the room for anything within hand’s reach.
On the floor near his feet, Bucky groaned. “You weren’t supposed to come,” he said. “Card only for emergency purposes. All went wrong. So sorry.”
“What happened?” Ford asked, leaning in close. “Do you know who the Pharmacist is?”
Bucky shook his head. “These are just thugs. Paid guns.” He made a gun with his fingers. “Bang.”
“Why are they here?”
Bucky grabbed Ford’s arm and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry. I saw—Fourth of July. They made me watch. That. This—” He rolled his eyes. “My punishment for not telling. Never tell. But hated seeing what they did to you.”
Ford smiled at him. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”
Oh god, Ford, I love you, Sadie thought.
Bucky tried a chuckle, then gulped air. “Hurts too much.” His hand squeezed Ford’s hard, eyes closed against the pain. “I didn’t tell. All still there for you.”
“All what?”
Bucky opened his eyes. “The treasure.”
“We’ll have some fun with it when this is over.”
Yes, Sadie vowed. You will. I promise.
“No, Citizen F. This is the end for me.”
“Don’t you dare say that, Bucky,” Ford threatened, as if the force of his will could keep him alive. “Don’t give up. I’m not going to let you go. We’ll get out of this.” I’m not going to lose anyone else, Sadie heard him think.
But something had changed in Bucky. His eyes were clear and alert, and he seemed calmer. He said, “Was always jealous of James. Not because of him.” Bucky’s hand clutched Ford’s, and his eyes closed as a fresh surge of pain rolled through him. “Because of you. Always wanted a brother like you.”