I reached for the rifle, then remembered the Rebel’s words. I couldn’t take myself out, not now. I had to stay free and stay alive. I started for the hole, then paused.
Gathering my courage, I reached for the helmet. And twisted it off.
It was empty.
A wisp of smoke curled lazily from the space suit’s neckhole, floating up the hollow core of the tree. Grabbing the rim of the collar, I tilted the semi-rigid suit forward and peered into the torso. Nothing inside.
Like the Queen, he’d turned to gas.
I didn’t wait around to contemplate this impossibility. Charging through the hole in the tree, I yanked on my backpack and shot to my feet. Through the netting of the branches, I saw the nearest pair of Drones hurtling upslope.
Between them they carried a massive whirring blade. It took a moment for me to recognize it as a backhoe undercutter that had been removed and retrofitted to be carried at either end. It was basically a giant chain saw designed for cutting rock and ballast. The armored carbide plates moved in continuous 360-degree rotation. I watched with amazement as the Drones came straight at a tree, the blade held between them. The teeth buzz-sawed through the trunk, and the massive pine slid away. The Drones barely even had to slow their pace.
Bursts of mist shot out of valves around the necks of their helmets, producing the ear-rending screeches. Were they caused by gas expanding with the heat of rage?
Several more screeches cut through the leaves all around me, leaving me disoriented. I turned in a full circle, assessing my options. Up at the ridgeline where Patrick and Alex had crashed the truck, trees nodded furiously, then dropped from view. Another Drone team must have moved ahead of the vanguard to pursue them. That left me a course to the west.
I ran.
Pine needles whipped across my body. My boots slid through mud, and several times I went down. I ran until my breath fired through my lungs, until my legs almost gave out. Eventually the sounds of crashing trees receded, but I could still hear the Drones among the trees, pursuing me. Several times I thought I’d gotten clear of them only to have a screech fly out of the foliage right beside me, nearly stopping my heart.
I braced myself for the sound of a gunshot signaling Patrick’s or Alex’s death but heard none. They might have been cornered and taken their own lives already. The screeches would easily have drowned out the noise of a bullet or two.
Somehow I got out of the valley.
Running blindly, I kept to the woods. I didn’t stop, didn’t slow. Trunks flickered past me, the landscape strobing by. I made it to the fork in the road, barreling into that ring of Rocky Mountain Douglas firs where we’d camped so many nights ago. Leaning over, I vomited twice, then dry-heaved more times than I could count.
I couldn’t catch my breath.
I didn’t have time.
Wiping my mouth, I kept on, winding my way down toward the cabin. Just before nightfall I saw the straight line of the roof appear through the brush. It took everything I had not to collapse with relief.
Dead on my feet, I staggered through the front door.
“Patrick? Alex?”
A sweeping glance told me that no one was there.
Were they dead? Captured?
I remembered the Rebel’s words: You have one job: Stay alive.
We’d thought it was a one-way mission, but there was so much more at stake now. I closed the door behind me, then drew all the blinds.
I drank down three glasses of water, then kicked off my boots, sat on the bed, and stared blankly at my toes. I stayed that way for a long time, fighting back tears. Patrick could be dead. Alex could be dead.
I could do nothing but wait and wait some more.
Alex had kissed me right here in this very spot. I remembered how she’d leaned in. The softness of her lips.
I wondered how I’d feel if she came back without Patrick.
Or if he did without her.
What if they didn’t come tomorrow? Or the next day? How long would I wait before heading back to Creek’s Cause?
I was too exhausted to sleep. At the slightest sound outside, my heart leapt with hope, but every time I peered through the curtains, it proved to be branches rubbing together or the barn roof creaking.
I tried to process everything that the Rebel had told me, but it all seemed too huge, and it made me miss Patrick and Alex even more. I took solace in the fact that I’d heard no gunshots. What if something happened to me but Patrick remained alive out there somewhere? How would he ever know what he meant for our survival?
Sometime after midnight, sick with worry, I sat on the floor, pulled out my notebook, and started writing.
ENTRY 44
Okay. I’m here. I’m finally caught up, but my eyes are so heavy. It’s almost light out now, and at last I might be tired enough to-
I hear footfalls outside.
Patrick and Alex?
The sun is coming up, so I have to be careful when I peek through the curtains.
ENTRY 45
I’m dead.
There are Drones all around the cabin in every direction-above, below, both sides. They don’t know I’m here, not yet, but they’re walking in patterns through the woods, just like Mappers, leaving no stone unturned. Except this time the spiral’s not expanding.
It’s closing in.
I see them flickering behind the trees. I hear their boots trampling the underbrush. There is no way to slip through, not this time.
Every second brings them closer.
I won’t kill myself. After what the Rebel said, I know I owe it to everyone to try to stay alive as long as I can, but-
I just heard the barn door bang open. They’re probably searching the stable now. There’s nowhere for me to go. Nothing left to do. My only chance is if Patrick and Alex made it out. If they did, they’ll come for me. I know they will.
The problem is I probably can’t stay alive until they do.
I can’t help but think of the coming Hatch, those pulsing stomachs about to give birth to a new age. All the kids at the cannery I can’t help. The others around the world who I’ve failed. JoJo and Rocky and Eve, back at school, who I can’t even protect from Ben.
I’ve never been this scared.
I’m gonna hide this book now. If you’re the one who discovers it, find Patrick Rain. And give it to him. He’s the only one besides me who can carry out the mission, and he has to know everything. Pray he’s alive. He’s the last chance we’ve got.
Or I should say the last chance you’ve got. I don’t know what will happen to me, but judging from those kids I saw floating on the metal slabs, it won’t be good. If the Harvesters find out who I am, it’ll be even worse.
I can hear leaves crunching just beyond the front door. The Drones, taking their final turn around the house. They’re coming. They’re coming for me.
I only have time to scribble a warning on the front cover of my notepad. Please read this whole account and read it well.
Good-bye and good luck.
We’re counting on you.
EPILOGUE
The document you are reading does not-cannot-exist. If you’re reading this, your life is at risk. Or I should say your life is at even greater risk than it was already. I’m sorry to burden you with this. I don’t wish you the kind of harm that came to me and the others from Creek’s Cause. This is what I’ve managed to piece together since it all began. I wrote it down knowing that words are more powerful than bullets-and certainly more dangerous. All is probably lost already.
But maybe, just maybe, these pages will give you a chance.
I hope you’re up to it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks go to:
– Lisa Erbach Vance of the Aaron M. Priest Literary Agency, for whom I’ve run out of superlatives.