“I’m not going to break my arm,” he scoffed.
“Ugh,” she said, and let go. “Your funeral if you do.”
He ran out into the snow and promptly fell down, skidding for several feet.
“Woo-hoo!” he yelled, laughing.
“Boys,” Riley said, smirking.
“Brothers,” Martina corrected her.
“Yeah, I don’t have to worry about that.”
“No, just a twin that’s a jerk.”
Riley smiled. “At least she makes me look good.” She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. “Come on.”
“Hold on. We can’t go anywhere.”
“I know that,” Riley replied as she jogged over to her family’s car. The doors were unlocked, so she got in on the driver’s side and motioned for Martina to get in on the other. As Martina opened the door and slid into the seat, Riley reached into the back and pulled a cloth bag off the floor. She fumbled around inside it for a moment, then pulled out a computer cable. From her pocket she retrieved an iPod, and used the cable to connect it to the radio.
“I downloaded the new Patrolled by Radar album yesterday. Have you listened to it yet?”
Martina had heard of the band, but didn’t know their music. “Not yet.”
“It’s great.”
Riley stuck the key into the ignition, and turned it so that the electrical power came on. As soon as the radio lit up, she reached over to punch the button for the auxiliary input.
“Wait!” Martina said, grabbing her friend’s hand.
Riley looked at her, confused.
“Listen.” Martina turned the volume up.
Static filled the car, but within the pops and snaps there was a voice. It would come in clear for a few seconds, then fade to almost nothing for a few more before cycling up again.
“…homes. So far there…arrests, most in connection with looting at… reiterated the importance of obeying the curfew…said the majority of the people seemed to…have also responded to several reports of gun…five deaths since the president’s speech this morn…listening to the voice of San Francisco on…”
When the voice faded away this time, it didn’t immediately return. Martina’s hand shot to the dial to try to regain the signal, but she couldn’t tune it back in. She moved up the dial, searching for anything.
A signal suddenly came in loud and strong. “…out of Washington confirms that the terror boxes have ceased working around the world. Several of the boxes are now being examined by experts, but no new information is available. The Department of Homeland Security has reiterated the need for all citizens to adhere to the nationwide curfew, reminding those who are thinking about violating it that they will be arrested and detained for the duration of the emergency.”
“Holy shit,” Riley said.
“I’m going to get the others.”
Martina threw open her door and rushed back to the cabin.
“The radio!” she yelled as she entered. “It’s working now!”
“What?”
“How?”
Mr. Weber said something about nighttime atmospheric conditions as everyone in the living room donned their jackets and hurried out to the car. Donny had already joined Riley. The only one missing was Laurie, presumably still pouting in one of the back rooms.
For an hour they crowded around the open car doors and took turns sitting inside as they listened to the news and a replay of the president’s speech. When the newscaster started reading information they’d heard twice already, Martina’s dad reached over and turned the ignition off.
“Dad!” Martina said.
“We’ve heard enough,” he told her. “We should all go in and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“He’s right,” Mr. Weber said. “Come on, everyone. Let’s go.”
Martina was at the head of the pack, so she was the first to see Laurie standing on the porch near the front door. The girl’s eyes were wide in shock, and she was absently chewing on her lower lip.
“Were you able to hear the reports?” Martina asked.
Laurie gave her an almost nonexistent nod, but her lip remained sucked between her teeth.
“Good thing we came up here, I guess.”
Mrs. Weber walked over and put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Come on, honey. Sleep will do us all some good.”
Laurie allowed herself to be turned and ushered back into the house.
Fifteen minutes later, the lights were out and everyone was lying down — the kids in the living room, and each set of parents taking one of the bedrooms. Try as she might, Martina couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind spun with the possibilities of what the next day might bring.
Several hours later, when she was finally beginning to drift off, she heard someone go outside. A moment later a car door opened, and she could hear the faint muffled sound of the radio.
Her dad, probably, or Mr. Weber.
She was tempted to go join whoever it was, but her eyes closed once more as sleep finally took hold.
She’d been the last awake, except, of course, for the person who’d gone out to the car.
Who was neither her father nor Mr. Weber.
28
Matt had been forced to call off the search for Brandon as sundown neared. He couldn’t risk losing anyone else as the cold night took over.
The biggest problem was that there had been no clear indication of which direction Brandon took. The best they could do was split up again and follow the paths Miller thought were the most likely. But as the afternoon wore on and there had still been no signs of the boy, Matt couldn’t help thinking it was more likely that those in the helicopter had taken Brandon.
Once back in the Bunker, he’d gone straight to the control room and had Christina bring him up to speed with what had been happening elsewhere. It turned out that most of Europe and Asia, and several countries in Africa, had jumped on the curfew bandwagon. Pretty soon the whole world would be on lockdown.
Maybe it would be enough, he thought. Maybe the virus will be stopped before it can even get started.
But he didn’t really believe that.
“Have there been reports about anyone getting sick?” he asked Christina.
“Not yet.”
Though no one in the control room would say it, they all knew that was odd. During the original Sage Flu outbreak, the time between exposure and first signs of infection was often less than half a day. The containers had started launching the virus into the air a day and a half earlier. There should have been some people already sick. Hell, not just some, but a lot. Even the deaths should have started.
For the first time, he began to wonder if maybe something had gone wrong. Perhaps prolonged exposure to the air had killed the virus. Or perhaps the virus itself had mutated into a nonlethal bug without the Project realizing it.
The president had said that “with the exception of a few minor variations,” it resembled the Sage Flu virus.
Maybe the variations were unanticipated flaws that would cause the Project to fail.
“Matt?”
With a start, he pulled himself out of his thoughts.
Rachel was standing in the doorway to the control room, still looking as if she were single-handedly carrying the weight of humanity on her shoulders.
He walked over. “How are you feeling?”
“Did you find Brandon?” she asked.
He hesitated, then shook his head. “We’ll start up again in the morning.”
“Josie’s been asking about him. I’ve tried to reassure her, but…”
He put a hand on his sister’s arm. “I’ll talk to her.”