“I…” Was it better to say yes, so he’d go in and I could leave? Or better to say no, so he wouldn’t suspect anything? But he already suspected something.
My mind bumbled through these machinations far, far too slowly.
His mouth pinched in. “Stay here,” he ordered as he pushed past me into the bathroom.
Yeah, right.
Struggling not to feel like I was dying, I limped and coughed my way toward the nearest exit and found myself on the side of the building.
No sign of Ford.
I jogged, or as close to it as I could come, to the front of the building, expecting to see the taillights of the van pulling away with Ford at the wheel.
But the van, weirdly enough, was still there. I hurried over, not sure what I’d actually do if I caught up with her—other than, you know, die—but the van was as empty and abandoned looking as it had been when I’d checked before.
I sagged back against the sun-warmed metal, my legs shaky. I suppose Ford could have just taken another vehicle—lack of keys wasn’t exactly an obstacle for her—but the parking lot was dead. No cars coming or going at the moment. So where had she gone?
It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. But that wasn’t possible. As far as I knew.
Lowering myself to the ground, I tried to think, so much harder now than ever before. Not just because of my oxygen deprivation but because I felt like I was playing at a level way above my head.
Ford was gone. And Ariane was trapped at Laughlin’s facility, even if she didn’t realize it yet. And Quinn, I couldn’t forget about him, being tortured at GTX. What would Dr. Jacobs do with him if Ariane wasn’t at the meeting point? I had no idea, and I didn’t want to find out.
So…what the hell was I supposed to do now?
Assaulting Laughlin’s stronghold was out of the question, and so was just walking in, obviously.
My brain spun through various scenarios, each as improbable and fantastic as the last.
I pounded my fist into my leg. I’d tried to warn Ariane. But she’d wanted to believe them so badly.
And sitting here now, the perfectly paved asphalt burning through the fabric of my pants to my skin, I could think of only one thing to do. A single action that might stop Ford and save Ariane.
Maybe.
But Ariane…oh God, Ariane would never, ever forgive me, and that was if it even worked.
I pulled my phone, the anonymous one Ariane and I had bought together, from my pocket. The sunlight reflecting off the screen slashed at my eyes.
If I did this, Ariane might never be free again. And I would have to live with that. Live with never seeing her again. Live with knowing that she hated me.
But I could feel the seconds ticking away even as I wrestled with the idea. The longer I waited, the farther away Ford got and the less likely Ariane would ever make it out of Laughlin’s alive.
The memory of Quinn screaming in the video resurfaced in my mind, only to be replaced by an image of Ariane, held down and screaming, while scientists in white coats and surgical masks cut away pieces of her flesh.
I couldn’t…I just couldn’t.
With fingers fumbling and numb despite the heat, I pulled up the browser on my phone and typed in what I was looking for.
The phone number popped up instantly. All innocent, blue on the white background, just like if I’d been searching for a pizza place or dentist. Rather than the person who would determine the fate of the girl I loved.
I took a deep breath, pressed the link, and then lifted the phone to my ear with a shaking hand.
Oh God, Ariane, I’m sorry.
“Good afternoon, this is GenTex Labs. How may I direct your call?” a perky-sounding woman chirped almost instantly.
For one crazy second, I thought about saying, “Connect me to the secret lab in the basement. You know, the one with all the alien experiments.”
What would the cheery and completely unaware receptionist say to that?
But there was no point in stirring up that kind of trouble and no time to waste. “Dr. Arthur Jacobs, please,” I said, and because I was suddenly so weary of fighting, I added, “Tell him it’s Zane Bradshaw calling.” That, if nothing else, might get his attention.
The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone told me that the receptionist was, perhaps, not as ignorant as I’d assumed. Someone had told her I might be calling. I wondered if Ariane’s name was on the list. Or my mom’s.
My mom. Had she felt this torn and sickened when she’d realized what Dr. Jacobs was really up to at GTX? When she’d seen Ariane huddled in her cell and made the choice to keep working there, in the hope that something good would come out of it?
Suddenly, I could see new shades of gray in her decision, ones I’d been blind to before.
“Uh, just a moment, please,” the GTX receptionist said with barely repressed excitement.
I hated her for a second then, that anonymous voice on the other end of the phone.
While I waited, hold music played. And then ads for GTX Community Outreach, their community service division. Serving Wingate; it’s our hometown too.
It made me want to throw up.
“The youngest Mr. Bradshaw,” Dr. Jacobs said, after a few moments, in a fake hearty tone. “To what do I owe the—”
“Stop. Just stop.” Resisting the urge to hurl the phone away from me, I clenched it so hard in my fist that the plastic cover cracked. “We both know exactly what’s going on here.” I paused. “Actually, that’s not true. I know what’s going on. You don’t.”
There was a significant pause on Jacobs’s end. “What can I do for you, Zane?” His tone was cool, curious, but not unduly so. As if that would fool me anymore.
I leaned my head against my knees. “I think Ariane’s in trouble.”
“What happened?” he asked sharply, all pretense of casualness gone.
And with bile rising in my throat, I told him everything, finding my mom, how she’d been tricked into working for Laughlin, and meeting the hybrids. How they were supposedly controlled, Ariane’s plan to free them—or as much of it as I knew—and how Ford had broken loose, which meant Ariane was stuck pretending to be Ford.
“So, she’s in Laughlin’s facility now, you say,” Dr. Jacobs said. His voice had taken on a peculiar echo. He’d probably put me on speakerphone so someone else could hear.
I didn’t care. Now that I’d done it, now that I’d crossed this line, I wanted him to do whatever needed to be done to get Ariane out of there.
“Pretending to be Ford, yes,” I said.
“And the other one,” he said with disdain, “this Ford—”
“She was here at Linwood Academy, but she’s gone now.”
“Where?” This was an unfamiliar male voice. One of the spectators in Dr. Jacobs’s office. Perhaps the new head of security now that Mark Tucker was no longer around.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Zane—” Dr. Jacobs began.
I cut him off before he could give me whatever litany of excuses he had prepared. “She has my old phone,” I said. “She put the battery in. She’s going to make a call, if she hasn’t already.” I had no idea who Ford would be calling, but regardless, it was a stupid move, using my phone. Unless, of course, she wanted people (GTX, Laughlin, God only knew who else) to chase after her. But I couldn’t figure out why that would be.
There was a flurry of unidentifiable activity on the other end. I pictured black-clad GTX retrieval teams loading up with weapons and pouring out the door.
“So, if we can track her down, you’re suggesting we attempt a trade?” Dr. Jacobs asked.
“No,” I snapped. “I’m suggesting a hostage exchange, since neither one of them has any choice in the matter, thanks to you and your douche bag friends.”