COLD, THEY’RE SO COLD. I forget about running and stare at them, fascinated: I’ve never seen a group of human-looking bodies with no red glow in my life. I’ve never seen people who look like a swarm of shadows in the twilight, but this must be what everyone else sees all the time. Even the air is warmer than they are; I guess they’re still chilled from the sea.
“Ada! It’s them! It’s the mob! I don’t know how, but somehow they got through the fence!” Ophelia is twisting in panic, not sure which way to go, and one wing slaps at my arm. I think she’s flapping unconsciously.
“No. It’s something else. I don’t think they’re here to hurt us, Ophelia.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They’re cold. Cold-blooded. They’ve just—gone beyond what we are.”
She gives a strange, sobbing laugh. I’m not sure she believes me.
“Ada? There’s something I have to tell you. I did something I knew was wrong. Gabriel said—but I shouldn’t have listened to him. Please don’t hate me. I’m really sorry.”
I turn to her. She’s staring at me, and the glitter of her eyes seems quicker than usual, even desperate. “I wasn’t spying for my dad, Ophelia. I would never do that.”
“I know that now. For a while I let Gabriel convince me, but I don’t think—in my heart I knew it wasn’t true. Oh, Ada, no!” She isn’t looking at me anymore, but behind me, toward that maw of broken glass that used to be the lobby window. I start to turn.
And that’s when something big, heavy, and huffing comes slamming through the air and knocks me flat on my face. A heavy body drops on top of mine, its hard wings clacking. Meaty hands on arms with too many joints pin my wrists to the ground. They’re glowing bright red, like he has a fever.
“Bad, bad Ada. Thinks she’s a normal human. Thinks I’m no good, but she’s the bad, horrible, sneaking liar. She has to die. Now. But I’m sad to kill you, Ada.” He gets both my wrists in one hand, and his free hand moves down. He must be reaching for my throat. I try to struggle, but he’s too heavy.
“Martin, let her go!” Ophelia aims a vicious kick at him, but he’s so bulky and she’s so fragile that he barely grunts.
“You’re really pretending you care what happens to Ada?” Gabriel’s voice asks from somewhere pretty close by. He almost sounds like he thinks it’s funny, but in a cold, numb way. “After what you did to her?”
Martin moves so he has one knee pressed between my shoulder blades and his hand across my mouth. All at once I understand: he’s not planning to strangle me. That leaves too many obvious marks that the human mob would notice. He’s breathing heavily, maybe crying, as he works up the nerve to snap my neck.
That’s something they can say happened by accident.
Ophelia gives a shriek and flings herself on Martin, but this time she doesn’t seem to be punching him. I can’t quite tell, but I think she’s got her hands on his back, prying at something. He lets out a high, shocked grunt, and his grip loosens. “Ophelia! Don’t hurt my wings!”
“Let Ada go, or I’ll tear them right off!”
The kime army is close enough now that I can hear the rubbery flapping of their feet. With all the drama going on, I think Gabriel hadn’t even noticed them, but he does now. My face is crushed into the grass, so I can’t see what’s happening, but I hear his sudden intake of breath. It’s dark enough that I wonder if he’s making the same mistake Ophelia did, thinking they’re human.
Martin sort of reels back in confusion, trying to shake off Ophelia. He’s still straddling me, but at least my hands are free again, and I can push myself up enough to look around. This time I think I see a sliver of red glowing way back in the crowd of bodies, but what sense does that make?
Then Martin sees them too and starts making a low, terrified babbling.
Because they’re all around us now. One swoops down without breaking his stride, grabs Gabriel by the knees, and swings him over his shoulder. Gabriel screams and flails, but it doesn’t do him any good. They look more or less like the chimera that opened the door for me, tall and pallid and greenish, but there are variations—like somebody was trying to come up with the perfect saltwater frog person and wanted to see which way worked best.
One of them grabs Martin by the back of his neck and casually flings him into the grass. Those scrawny arms they have are stronger than they look. I’m struggling to my feet, soft green skin sticking to me and slurping free again with every passing touch—and then I get scooped up too, but a lot more gently than Gabriel was. One of the kimes has me wadded up in its arms the way a little kid would smoosh a pet cat. I don’t see Ophelia, but she must be here somewhere.
And now the metallic crashing is starting again: louder, steadier, more determined. In a jumbled way, I understand that the mob is working seriously to batter down the gate. And after what those people did to the scientists at Novasphere, how can I think that they won’t do the same to us?
I hear a chorus of screams starting at the bottom of the hill, then breaking apart. Some of the kids are running for it, off to hide the best they can in the woods or the water—but except for Rowan, probably nobody has much hope of getting out of here. Can anyone else dive deep enough to get through that hole?
Rowan. Where is he?
There’s one thing that mob isn’t expecting, though, and it’s the mass of amphibious kimes carrying me and Gabriel. As we sweep over the top of the hill and start charging down, one thing is absolutely clear: that’s where we’re going. The gate.
Maybe Gabriel is about to get the war he’s always wanted. Maybe most of us, human and chimera, are going to die tonight, torn and stabbed and wallowing in blood. Will I see stars in the horror like Dr. Jacoway did?
Then something hits me. “Marley,” I gasp to the chimera holding me. “She can’t run. She can’t move at all by herself. But you and your friends—you can carry her to the cave? You have to help her!”
“Aah—aah,” it says. From its tone I can tell that it’s trying to calm me, hush me. “Aahd—aah. No. Not Maar—lah.”
That’s the closest they’ve come to really speaking, but it’s enough for me to know that they can learn to say English words—and also that this kime can understand me. It knows who I am, and it knows who Marley is, too.
“Not Marley? How can you say that? She’s helpless, and she’s—your sister! You can’t let them hurt her.”
It looks down at me, sharply. The movement of its run shakes through my body, but there’s just enough light for me to see the reproach in its eyes. “Not. Hurt. Maar—lah.”
“You’re saying no one will hurt her?” I ask. But it’s not looking at me anymore. It’s gazing ahead to the gate, and when I turn that way, I see the night broken by streaking headlamps and floodlights. I hear the methodical booming of a heavy truck, squealing back and then slamming forward again and again. Bodies like red flames in a gust, jumping and fearful and ready to blaze higher; from here I can’t tell which ones are humans and which are chimeras.
Then I hear the violent, wrenching roar as the gate finally gives way.