Rain still falls, night still descends,

sun still rises over fertile front-yard beds,

rosebuds still dilate, exhaling familiar perfume,

Mrs. Sims still totters by, filling her withered chest,

and peers around the yard for a sign of little Billy —

a flying ball, a cloud of dust, an infectious smile.

Everything is the same.

But nothing is.

— EPITAPH FOR ARMY CORPORAL WILLIAM (BILLY) BODINE

(JANUARY 8, 2047–AUGUST 9, 2067),

BY LISA BODINE, HIS MOTHER, AND PATRICK BODINE,

HIS FATHER (DECEASED),

DECEMBER 16, 2068

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“What’s going to happen now?” I asked her.

“That’s partly up to you,” she said. “If you tell Wapner what you know about me, I’m sure he’ll lock me up. At the very least. I haven’t done anything to impair what’s gone on here, but he’d be afraid of that, afraid of me cooperating further with PAC.”

I allowed her to stew about what I was going to do. I didn’t know myself. “What about PAC?” I said. “When are they coming? And why is Wapner acting as if nothing is going to happen, as if he’ll just be able to carry on?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that last question. But I know he has confidence in the security of this place. And if it looks as if it’s going to fail, he’s got two secret backdoor escape routes.”

“Where?”

“Doors hidden behind panels at the ends of corridors A and C. I used the C door to get out at night and make my calls to PAC. To your mother.”

My mother. In it up to her ears.

“Which brings me to your other questions,” she continued. “I don’t know exactly when PAC is coming. It’s not easy for me to get away discreetly. I haven’t talked to your mother in more than a week, when I let her know that it was now or never. That the vaccine, as far as I could tell, was ready to step out on its own and change the world. But from what she told me then, and what you’ve said, it sounds like tomorrow. Possibly sooner.”

Sooner. And Dad was out there, fully vulnerable, maybe. Dr. Nuyen didn’t look afraid of what I might do with what I knew, but I decided to reassure her anyway. “Wapner’s a creep,” I said. “I’m not telling him anything.”

“Thank you,” she said. “That makes my life easier.”

“The damage is already done anyway.”

“Damage? You’ve studied history, Kellen. Would you really want to live in a world where men were in charge again?”

“You think women are perfect? Your big boss, for instance? And a vaccine wouldn’t put us in charge. It would just make it harder to slaughter us.”

“It would be a giant step in the wrong direction.” She labored to take a deep breath, trying to hide her efforts with a mask of calm even while that mask colored. Her eagle eyes remained on me. “Women are far from perfect,” she continued. “Some individuals have done unspeakable things. But women haven’t — and won’t — put all of humankind in jeopardy. Men, on the other hand, took this planet and its inhabitants to the brink of the abyss. Dr. Mack and her PAC mates found a difficult and painful way — but the only way — to bring us back.” Her eyes shifted from me to her watch. “But I don’t have time to debate you. I’ll just thank you again for not saying anything. If that’s still your intention.”

“I’m doing it for Merri, not you.”

“That’s fine.” She considered me again. “She really liked you, you know that? I didn’t think so for most of the time we were all living together; I thought she’d just discovered a new toy. But she was upset when we left so abruptly, and the main reason was you.”

I was halfway surprised, even considering the note on the wayfarers’ wall. Part of me wondered if the doctor was telling the truth. She could be lying to keep me on her side. But it didn’t feel like a lie. I decided to believe her story. This one, unlike Wapner’s tall tale about the vaccine, wouldn’t cost me. Or Dad. “Girls,” I said. “They just find me irresistible.”

Dr. Nuyen managed a smile. “Like the young woman you arrived with, for instance?”

“Tia.”

“I was thinking of the other one. Sunday. She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

Sunday? And this woman was supposed to be brilliant? But I remembered the library, the conversation when Sunday and I were alone, her sticking up for me later, volunteering to come along with me on this crazy dangerous journey. I thought she’d become just a friend. Just a loyal friend. But maybe the doctor knew what she was talking about. For a moment I questioned my feelings toward Sunday. But I didn’t need another complication right now.

I decided to get back to what really mattered. “Is there a way I can communicate with my dad?”

“I’m sure he took a talkaloud with him. You could get him on that. But the frequency is unsecured. Anyone on the lab network, including Wapner, can listen in.”

“How did you call out?”

She glanced at her watch again. “PAC set me up with a satellite phone in the woods. I sneak out, take a short hike, walk up to a big cedar, reach inside a hollow space in its trunk, and pull out a phone. It’s like something from an old spy movie.”

“So we wait?”

“You wait. I have work to do. The other women are expecting me to help them put the finishing touches on more vaccine and get it ready to move if we have to, along with data and instruments.”

“You’ll still help them?”

“It’s why I was hired, but from here on out, what I do for Foothills is strictly for show. My job is to help PAC bottle up this threat.” She gathered together some papers and headed out the door, leaving me alone and pondering what to do next.

I noticed her computer screen was still alive. It was cluttered with icons, most of which were numbered and lettered with meaningless (to me, at least) labels. In the top right corner, though, was a mound-shaped icon I could at least make some sense of. It was labeled FOOTHILLS PROJECT.

I touched it. An organizational chart with names and titles and photos and contact information appeared. Dr. Wapner headed the chart. Below him were three sets of people: Team T, Team V, and Security. Four male scientists and a male lab assistant were on Team T. Four female scientists, including Dr. Nuyen, and a female lab assistant were on Team V. Dad’s name and photo were included on the ten-man security team roster. Gunny and Miller were also there.

At the base of each lab team grouping was a label: GENERAL INFORMATION. I touched the one for Team T. In its place a small padlock appeared, along with the words PASSWORD PROTECTED, FORMULA T TEAM ACCESS ONLY, and a box for password entry.

I left it and pressed the Team V GENERAL INFORMATION label. Instantly, it was replaced with the words CURRENTLY LOGGED ON, and a moment later the screen filled with a page of notes, headed with the word VACCINE. I skimmed through it. It was the introduction to an article on the origins and objectives and parameters of the project. I scrolled to the last page. At the bottom was the word DATA. I touched it. Another padlock icon and the words FURTHER ACCESS SECONDARY PASSWORD PROTECTED, FORMULA V TEAM ONLY appeared.

I didn’t have a password, secondary or whatever; I wasn’t on anyone’s team. I wouldn’t be going any further. But I’d learned something. I knew who belonged where. I knew Team V — for vaccine— was made up of females only, which made sense. It would be dangerous and probably deadly for males to be exposed to Elisha’s Bear during research. I wasn’t as sure why Team T — for treatment, I supposed — was all-male.

Before I left the desk, I navigated back to the screen Dr. Nuyen was showing when I’d started snooping. The spy might not appreciate another spy.

It was too soon for the girls to be done with their showers. I slipped out of the room and headed down the corridor, trying to act cool, like I wasn’t doing anything wrong. And I wasn’t. Yet. Nobody was around to check out my act anyway. I took a right at the hub and hurried down corridor C until it dead-ended.

I didn’t see a panel. But according to Dr. Nuyen, a door should have been hidden here someplace. So I began looking for secret buttons, levers, compartments, openings. I waved my hands, hoping to trip a sensor. Nothing.

I looked up. Mounted high in the corner, too high for me to reach, was what looked to be a lens of some kind. I retraced my steps, opened the first door I came to, and peered inside. It was a small storage room. On all four walls, floor to ceiling, were shelves, filled with boxes. In one corner stood a broom. I grabbed it and returned to the end of the hallway.

Waving the business end of the broom in front of the lens, I hoped for something to happen.

Nothing did. At first. Then I heard a click, a whir, and overhead a panel slid back, a metal ladder descended and unfolded. I waited, but not long. In a few seconds the base of the ladder was on the floor and the panel was all the way open. I couldn’t see anything but weak light beyond the gap.

I was tempted to go up; I needed to talk to Dad, to let him know he was being used as a lab monkey. But was that what Wapner wanted? Me wandering around up there with no clue of where Dad was? Was Dr. Nuyen in on the whole thing? And what about the girls? They wouldn’t know where I’d gone.

I waved the broom in front of the sensor again.

Click. Whir. The ladder retracted. The door closed. I was standing alone at the end of an empty hallway with a broom in my hand. I needed to get moving. I needed to do something.

I stashed the broom back in the storage room and hurried to security. The door was open; I went in. Jimmy was at his console. He was intently eyeing the screens, all of which were still monitoring the exterior, and he didn’t notice me at first.

“You’re back,” he said finally, after I was halfway across the room. His gaze swept from me to the monitors and back and forth across them. He was expecting something.

“Do you know my dad’s location up there?” I asked.

“I know where almost everyone is,” he said. “Come here.”

I stood by Jimmy’s side. He touched an eyeball icon on his screen. A numbered grid appeared. Inside it was an irregular outline, nearly the boot shape of what once was Italy. Spread around inside the boot were eight pulsing dots, each a different color, each with a small number in its center. Jimmy referred to a card taped to the top of the console desk.

“Your dad’s the green one,” he said. “Number three.”

As I watched, the yellow dot, number two, began creeping from left to right. “How do you know?”

“They each have a GPS, transmitter, and identifying color code and number. The rest is just up to the computer.”

“So where is he?”

Jimmy studied the screen. “Sector J,” he said. “Inside the cleft in the big rock, I’d say, or possibly up higher where he can see better. Right above the fail-safe box, maybe. Elevations aren’t precise.”

“Fail-safe box?”

Jimmy gave me a look, like I was pressing my luck. “I don’t know how much of this I’m supposed to tell you,” he said.

“Dr. Wapner gave us the run of the place.”

“Not exactly,” he said.

I held my breath, hoping not to tip the scales in the wrong direction.

“But I guess the cat’s kind of out of the bag now,” he added.

I breathed. “It is.”

“Besides the door you used to enter this place,” he said, looking almost grateful for the chance to talk, “there are two other entrances, or exits. One of them leads to a tunnel that eventually opens up at a spot deep in the woods. The other one goes to a tunnel that terminates inside a cave.”

“The cave inside the cleft.”

“You saw it on the way in?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you notice the box?”

I nodded.

“It’s locked — you need the combination to get in — but inside it is another touch pad. Hit the right numbers and a button, and this whole place implodes, the cliff collapses. It’s to prevent anyone from getting at the work that’s been done here. Strictly as a last resort, of course.”

“The other back entrance — it has a fail-safe box, too?”

His eyes stayed mostly on the walls, dancing from screen to screen. “It’s the other option, depending on which way people get out. But they both touch off the same explosives. You wouldn’t have a prayer if you were anywhere in this complex, the tunnels, or the topside building.”

“Dr. Wapner showed us one of the doors,” I lied. “The one at the end of corridor C. Where does that one go?”

“Deep woods. About four hundred yards of tunnel to get to the opening. The door in corridor A leads to the cave. But it’s six hundred yards to the door out, and you’d be more exposed once you leave the cave.”

“Who has the combinations?”

“Not me. Nobody on the security team, as far as I know. Wapner for sure and maybe one or two of his trusted people.”

“So if I left by the door at the end of corridor A, I’d end up out by my dad?”

“Within shouting distance. As you can see,” he said, pointing at the moving yellow dot, “some of the guys are on patrol, but Charlie — your dad — is a static sentry. He’ll be there until I get orders to move him.”

“Is Dr. Wapner out there?”

“Could be. But I couldn’t tell you where. He’s got a GPS but no transmitter. He doesn’t like to be monitored. He’s kind of like a god — sees all, hears all, knows all, but elusive and shadowy and defined mostly by his deeds. And the faith of his followers.”

“Will Gunny appear on the screen once he gets back on the grounds?”

“He’ll be a red dot, number four, going pretty fast, but he’s not here yet.”

I glanced up at the two monitors showing the cutoff from the highway. No sign of Gunny or anyone else. Below the screens the four cell doors were still shut tight. But someone had turned off the light behind the window on the far left, and for some reason that gave me an unsettled feeling in my gut.

“You going out there?” Jimmy said.

“I need to talk to my dad.”

Jimmy handed me a talkaloud. “This will do it.”

“Face-to-face.” I tried to hand it back to him.

“Keep it. You may want it later. And if you decide to go out, take the main door. I don’t think the doctor would appreciate your using the other ones.”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t think leaving here is a good idea. PAC could show up anytime.”

“We’ve got the vaccine now,” I reminded him, knowing I was only half right.

He shrugged. “The Bear may not care.”

I hurried out and made my way to the girls’ bunk room. I knocked. Sunday came to the door. She was dressed in someone else’s clothes — shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair was a shade darker, still wet. Scrubbed free of sweat and grime, her face shone. Only her earrings — thin silver hoops with tiny blue stones — looked the same. Behind her Tia sat on a bunk, pulling on her shoes. She smiled.

“Where you been?” Sunday asked. Was I imagining the concern in her voice? How would I feel if she or Tia disappeared, even for a few minutes?

I walked in, closed the door behind me, and began telling them everything they’d missed, starting with my visit to Dr. Nuyen.

“I guess I was wrong about Wapner,” Sunday said when I got to the part about half of us getting fake vaccine. “He is a dirtbag.”

She didn’t need anyone saying “I told you so.” And I didn’t have the time. I went on, covering the rest of it — the secret door, Jimmy — as fast as I could.

“You can’t go out,” Tia said to me.

“He’s my dad.”

“He left you — again,” Sunday said.

“You could be in the control group,” Tia said, pacing now. “Your dad might have gotten the real stuff.”

“I’m going,” I said. “If I get out and back before PAC shows up, it doesn’t matter who’s immunized. I can save both of us.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Tia said. “You might need some help.”

We both looked at Sunday. Her jaw quivered but set. “You ain’t smart after all, Kellen,” she said. “And I ain’t putting my kiss of approval on your idiot plan. Besides, I’m hungry.” She turned and stomped out of the bunk room, heading for the kitchen. I was tempted to follow her. My stomach was achingly empty, but more than that I was confused and pissed. Why had she picked now to go off on her own?

I didn’t have time to chase after her. Tia and I moved toward the hub. “What’s with Sunday?” I asked.

The olive skin of Tia’s face reddened a little. She shrugged. “She’s…worried about you.”

Maybe. We climbed the stairs and tried the door. It was unlocked on both sides, almost as if Wapner had issued me an invitation to get out and go for a walk.

No one was in the upper room. Everyone was busy, concocting or watching or scheming. Outside, daylight faded. June 21 got closer.

I had to find Dad.

Tia and I hurried away from the little building. It felt good to be moving, breathing fresh air, but I couldn’t help nervously scanning the woods, the hills, the sky above them, for some sign that the Bear was coming early. PAC knew what was going on here; they knew where here was. Whether they showed up in five minutes or five hours, I knew they’d come soon. The stakes were way too high for them to stay away for long.

I didn’t see any sign of intruders.

“It’s quiet out here,” Tia said.

“Like a funeral,” I said.

We rounded the stone wall and kept going another quarter mile or more, heading for the opening between the outcroppings. I moved out a bit so I could spot Dad or he could spot me if he was somewhere above the cave, keeping watch from the trees.

At a place directly out from the gap, we stopped and stared up at the rock, the trees and undergrowth above it. I couldn’t see anyone; the woods were in shadow now. They looked like an impenetrable fence. I waited, hoping Dad would step out and call my name. I fingered the talkaloud in my pocket, wondering if I should try it. But I didn’t want Wapner and everyone else listening in.

“Can we get up there?” Tia said.

“Dad might have, according to Jimmy’s grid. I don’t know how, though. I don’t see a trail or anything.”

“Should we try?”

“He could be somewhere down here, too, back in the opening or the cave. If we go up, we could miss him.”

“What do we do?”

I stared into the breach, at the surrounding stone, the trees. “Dad!” I yelled. “Dad!” My voice echoed and hung in the air. I wondered who, if anyone, had heard it.

I only wondered for a moment. An egg-sized rock landed in the dirt at our feet and bounced away. We looked up as another one arced out over the outcropping and touched down nearby, raising dust. A moment later, Dad stepped out of the trees and waved. He was above us and maybe forty yards away. He raised a finger in a wait-a-minute gesture and disappeared into the woods to his right.

We went to the entrance of the narrow canyon, where I felt a little less vulnerable. The air had grown chilly. Tia moved nearer, nudging into me, and I managed to put an arm halfway around her waist. Suddenly, I no longer felt the cold.

A minute later, Dad appeared from out of a small fissure in the rock right near us, a fissure I hadn’t even noticed. His rifle was slung across his back. I dropped my hand from Tia’s side. I didn’t want to invite any crap from him.

“What are you two doing out here?”

“I had to talk to you.” I told him why, with Tia filling in the blanks when I took time to catch my breath.

Dad’s face darkened as he listened to our tale. “The PAC tyrants murdered my dad,” he said. “And billions of others. They locked up Paige. They’re planning on wiping us out. Wapner’s doing something important here. Something that could change the world. And he’s always been straight with me before.”

“How would you know?” I said. “And why would Dr. Nuyen lie?”

“Look, Kellen, I appreciate your coming out here, but I knew when I volunteered to do this today — Gunny, too — that there were no guarantees on the vaccine. We’ve got sentries all the way to the highway. If someone heads this way, I’ll hear about it. I’ll have plenty of warning. If the wicked witches show up, I promise I’ll run to the lab for shelter.”

“What if they sneak in through the woods?” Tia said. “Kellen says they know where everything is.”

“They’re so blinkin’ comfy here they’ve installed a phone in a tree,” I said. “They probably know every square yard of this whole compound. They could be watching you now. We still have time to take off for the hills. PAC wouldn’t come after us. They’re coming for the Foothills Project and its scientists. For Wapner.”

A little grin appeared on Dad’s face. A hint of brightness. “You inherited your mother’s fire.”

“It’s not funny,” I said.

Dad’s gaze lifted to the distant peaks. “There are no guarantees up in those hills.”

“Elisha’s coming here,” Tia said.

“I know these woods pretty well myself,” Dad said. “And even though it looks like the bad guys are on their way, I’m confident they’re not here yet.”

Something beeped insistently. Dad reached in his pocket, took out a talkaloud, raised it to his face, and pressed a button. “Winters.”

“I’m back,” Gunny’s voice said. “I just turned off the highway. But PAC picked up my scent. By the time I got to the cutoff, there were two PAC cars and a cop car in my rearview mirror, trying to look inconspicuous.”

“Did you get the supplies?” Dad said.

“Yeah. No worries there.”

Another voice cut in. “Where are you now, Gunderson? And where are the authorities?” Wapner.

“I’m stopped, a hundred yards off the highway, waiting to see if they follow me in. So far, they’re not coming.”

“Proceed to the lab,” Wapner said. “We’ll deal with them if they start up the road.”

Another voice — Miller’s, I thought — broke in. “They’re not moving in,” the man said. “I’ve got my glasses on ’em, and they’re setting up a roadblock at the spur. Four cars now, and what looks like an armored vehicle under a tarp on the back of a transport truck. They’re getting ready to off-load it.”

“Affirmative on that.” Jimmy’s voice this time. “I’ve got ’em on the monitors. No turning back, Gunny.”

Wapner swore, un-scientist-like. I took out the talkaloud Jimmy had given me and touched the power button. It came alive. Now I could practically feel the anger in Wapner’s voice. “Are all the mines in place?” he demanded.

“Buried,” said Jimmy. “I’ll arm them as soon as Gunny passes. I’m monitoring the cameras at all three sites.”

“If anyone besides our team members ventures up the road,” Wapner said, “at your first opportunity, blow them back to creation.”

“Yessir,” Jimmy said.

“Are you moving, Gunderson?” Wapner asked.

“I’m on my way.”

“Anything else to report?” Wapner said. “Anybody?” He paused. “I shall see you at the building, then, Gunderson. In ten minutes. The rest of you continue your diligence.”

I formed a picture in my head of the mad scientist creeping through the woods. “How about now?” I said to Dad. “Will you come back now?”

“They’re not moving in yet,” Dad said. “They’re just making sure no one leaves. And Wapner wants us out here. Regardless of his methods, if there’s a way to salvage the work he and the other scientists are doing, I think I should help.”

He didn’t allow me another chance to argue. He gave us a quick hug and slipped back into the fissure.

On our way back there was no sign of Wapner or anyone else. I wondered if he’d be disappointed that I wasn’t staying outside long enough to field-test his vaccine. I wondered if he was watching us right now.

Nothing had changed in the upper building. We’d left the door unlocked; it was still unlocked. No one was inside, and the hatch to the lab area was still open. We closed it behind us and descended the stairs. Nobody was in the hub or hallways.

What now? I was starving, but Wapner’s little speech about blowing people back to creation had me feeling even more ambivalent about him. I wanted to be in the security room, studying the monitors, letting Jimmy explain to me what was going on.

“Can we get something to eat?” Tia said.

“Sure. Something quick, though.”

“Let’s check with Sunday first.”

We went to the bunk room. Sunday’s stuff was there, but there was no sign of her.

“Maybe she’s still in the kitchen,” Tia said.

But no one was in the kitchen. We could see that from the doorway.

“Where else could she be?” Tia said.

“Bathroom, maybe?”

We hurried to the bathroom. It was empty. I was beginning to feel like we were the only ones here. Every door we passed was closed. And locked.

We ran to Lab Two. It was locked. I knocked. Loud. No answer at first. Then a voice — Dr. Nuyen’s. “Who is it?”

“Kellen,” I said. “And Tia. We’re looking for Sunday.”

The door clicked and opened. Dr. Nuyen slapped a magnetic QUARANTINED sign on the outside of the door and pulled us inside. Tia’s face was pale. I took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Dr. Nuyen headed toward her desk. “When did you last see her?”

“Half an hour ago,” Tia said. “Maybe a little longer.”

“We went outside to talk to my dad,” I said. “Sunday stayed here to get something to eat.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Dr. Nuyen said, sitting down at her computer, touching a screen to life. “I was hoping someone on Team T would let his guard down once the excitement and panic levels rose over Gunderson being followed. So I came back here. And I was right. I was able to fish out a password to access Team T data.”

“Why?” Tia asked.

I inched closer to Dr. Nuyen and her display, wondering what she was looking at or for, and like Tia, why she was looking.

“Curiosity, mostly. I wanted to tie up a loose end before I lost the opportunity.”

“You need some help?” I asked. “Tia’s good at worming her way into files.”

I expected her to say she was a scientist, she didn’t need help from kids, but she just mumbled a distracted “no thanks” and something about too many cooks.

“Why is Team T all male?” I asked, half-afraid Dr. Nuyen would wonder how I even knew about the makeup of that team. Tia gave me an impatient look and a tug back toward the door.

“Good question,” Dr. Nuyen said. “Availability, maybe. Coincidence, maybe. I hope to have answers soon.” She was concentrating now, barely glancing toward us as we edged toward the door.

“We have to go,” I said. Now I knew what it felt like to lose someone I cared about — even for a few minutes — and I didn’t like it. I wanted to find Sunday.

“Set the lock,” Dr. Nuyen said, still staring at her screen. “And leave the sign up.”

Out in the corridor I glanced left and right, hoping for inspiration.

“Can we try the kitchen once more?” Tia said. “She told me she was starving.”

“Why not,” I said. “Maybe she was just on her way from one place to the next when we were there.”

The kitchen still appeared empty, but it was a big room with a corner we couldn’t quite see from the doorway, so this time we went all the way inside. Nothing. Nobody. I was getting jumpier by the second, not quite believing she’d be this hard to locate.

Tia picked up an apple from a table and nibbled at it. She took a step. “Yuck!” she said, staring down at her feet, where a half-peeled banana was squashed against the concrete floor. Part of it — a blob the color and texture of pus — clung to her shoe. “Why don’t people pick up their messes?”

I didn’t answer her. Something else had grabbed my attention. Something silvery and blue, near the banana but under the table where Tia couldn’t see it.

I walked over and picked up Sunday’s earring and showed it to Tia. “Maybe the banana’s hers, too,” I said, imagining lots of things, all bad.

“It could be someone else’s,” Tia said.

“The earring or the banana?”

“Both?” It wasn’t even convincing for a question. I let her think about it, though.

“She left here in a hurry,” I said after a bit, trying not to let anything scary come out in my voice.

“We need to hurry,” she said, tugging me toward the door.

“Security,” I said once we were back in the hallway. “Sunday must be in with Jimmy, watching the monitors.” Anything was possible.

The security door was unlocked, which was a relief. And Jimmy was there, still at his console.

But Sunday wasn’t.

“Have you seen Sunday?” Tia said. Her voice had tears at the back of it.

“The other girl?” Jimmy said. “Not since you were all here together.”

“Not even on the monitors?” I said.

Jimmy shook his head and gestured toward the walls, reminding me that the screens were all tuned to outside cameras.

I wondered if that had been the case the whole time we were outside. “But where could she have gone?” I said.

Jimmy shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. Instead, he looked jumpy.

“Can you switch some of the monitors back to inside views?” Tia said.

“No.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Dr. Wapner’s orders. And anyway, there’s secret stuff going on in the labs.”

“How about the corridors?” Tia said. “All the rooms that aren’t labs?”

“You’re welcome to check those yourself.”

I was about to ask him once more if he’d seen her on the monitors if not in person, maybe following us outside, when I heard a noise. Tia heard it, too. I could see it on her face. It was the same kind of noise I’d thought I heard earlier, coming from the holding cell at the end of the room. A woman’s muffled voice. I looked. Dim light filtered out from a window again, but it wasn’t the one on the far left.

It was the window on the far right.

“Who —?” Tia began, but at that moment the room erupted with sound: first a horn, then a stranger’s voice, bloated with excitement, over the sound system.

“Helicopters! Three helicopters, crossing the perimeter at high speed. Heading your way! ETA less than three minutes!”

“I’m nearly back!” Wapner’s voice, urgent. “I’ll secure the main door. Jimmy — check all other openings, airways, and filters. All personnel on outside security, disperse immediately. Get as far away from the lab as possible.”

Jimmy sprang up and raced out the door.

A heartbeat later a thunderous explosion sent a shudder through the room. The floor quaked and rolled. The walls trembled. Debris sifted down from the ceiling. Were the helicopters here already? Had someone set off a mine?

Tia’s fingers dug into my arm. Dust dulled her dark hair. I was wobbly but frozen, thinking of Dad, closer than anyone else to the lab. If the helicopters were still on their approach, he had less than three minutes to get his stubborn ass out of harm’s way. But Wapner would be securing the door, shutting out Dad and everyone else. Could Dad make it to the cave in three minutes?

What about Gunny?

The door swung open, and for an instant I was wondering how Jimmy had gotten back so quick. But it wasn’t Jimmy; it was Dr. Nuyen, breathing hard. She was covered in chalky grime. She was wearing a small backpack, also covered.

“What was the explosion?” I asked.

“Me,” the doctor wheezed. “I blew the filters. You two have to get out of here. Now.”

“You blew the filters?” I said.

“We can’t leave Sunday,” Tia said.

“You can’t help Sunday,” Dr. Nuyen said. Her eyes shifted to the end of the room, the far right holding cell. “You need to get out.”

We didn’t get out. We sprinted to the cell. Tia pounded on the door while I twisted and pulled futilely at the doorknob. Over our noise, I heard something from inside the chamber. Tia continued to pound while I kept turning and tugging and Dr. Nuyen tried to pull us away.

A palm pressed firmly against the inside of the wire-crossed glass. The top of a head appeared. The blond hair was matted down but familiar.

Too familiar.

Sunday’s face rose above the bottom of the window frame. It was pasty-white and sweaty. Her green eyes were teary and terrified. A silver hoop earring with a small blue stone hung from her left ear. Her right earlobe, empty, was smeared with dried blood. She mouthed a word, and even if I couldn’t have heard her frightened voice through the sealed door, I’d have had no trouble deciding what that word was.

“Run.”

Her face disappeared. For a moment her hand lingered, pressed against the glass, as Tia sobbed and my stomach tightened into a throbbing knot.

“What’s wrong with her?” Tia wailed.

“I’ll tell you,” Dr. Nuyen said. “On the way out.”