THE LIGHT BLINKED on. A man with thick stubble looked straight at me. He muttered something extremely nasty-sounding in another language.
Then he looked away.
Behind him, a woman wearing a Massa cap peered inside. Her eyes circled the closet.
My back was jammed against the wall, my palm firmly on the Loculus. I held my breath. Cass was clutching my arm so tightly I wanted to scream. I wanted to remind him that invisibility depended on contact, not grip strength.
The two began to argue. The woman reached up and shut the light. Slowly the door swung back.
We waited for the click. Even then, neither of us dared take a breath for a few seconds. Until the footfalls had faded into the distance.
“That was close,” Cass said. “I owe you, Jack.”
“Stay alive,” I replied. “That will be the best payback. Now let’s get out of here. Hang on to my arm.”
I held on to the invisibility Loculus, and Cass took the flying one. No one would be able to see us. I carefully thrust the handle down, pushed the door open, and stepped into the hallway.
It felt great. Too great. You have no idea what your body feels like when you’re invisible. Solid but weightless. It’s the opposite of being underwater. There you have to adjust to the resistance. You push harder. Every motion is exaggerated. With invisibility, it’s the opposite. You feel like your arm will fling off with every swing, your feet will slip and thrust you into the air. You have to pull back. It makes you want to giggle.
And I could hardly imagine a less giggle-worthy moment.
I turned left. At the corner I peered around to see the exit. At the end of the long hallway, in front of the exit door where we’d seen Dimitrios minutes before, three burly men stood guard.
Cass’s grip tightened on my arm. We lifted off the floor, only a few inches, to avoid having to make footsteps. I sucked in a lungful of the dry desert air that blew in through the open door. It felt liberating.
Unfortunately the ceiling was too low for us to fly over the guards’ heads. So we hovered, waiting.
The sound of a truck stopped the men’s conversation. Through the door I could see uniformed men piling out, rifles and ammo belts across their chests. We shrank against the walls as the small militia ran inside, shouting.
I shivered. Cass stared wide-mouthed.
The soldiers were fitted out for war. They were here to find us.
As the guys spread out to the different hallways, the three guards turned back toward the open door. They were looking outside again, shoulder to shoulder.
What do we do now? Cass mouthed.
With my free hand, I reached for the pouch on my belt and mouthed back, Call MacGruber.
By now, the container of ice cream was melted and gooey. I tossed it, and it landed about three feet behind us with a dull thud. It was totally visible, totally a mess. For good measure, I threw the bottle of vegetable oil after it.
The guards turned. Their faces scrunched in bewilderment, and they began walking toward it curiously. Leaving the door. Heading directly in front of us.
We backed away, flattening ourselves even more.
One of the guards bumped against my shoulder. Solid. I nearly dropped the Loculus.
He staggered back with a gasp. In his eyes I could see two and two coming together reluctantly. These guys must have been taught about us. About what we had found.
The man called sharply to the others. All three reached into holsters, pulling out pistols.
Two of them walked slowly toward us, their eyes unfocused but intent. The third moved to the door, blocking escape.
The guard closest to us grinned. “We know you are there. Exactly where, you cannot get away. I will be proud to be the one to bring you in. So. You have to the count of three to appear, or I will shoot. One . . .”
I looked at Cass. My fingers were sweaty and slippery on the Loculus. I wedged it under my arm.
The guard poked me with his rifle butt and laughed. “Three!”