We’re awake before nightfall and rise silently. I want to look out the window. I want to open the drapes and see water, miles and miles of it stretching off into the distance, shimmering in the half-light of evening.

I don’t. I take a veggie bar out of J.D.’s pack and begin chewing silently.

He just looks at me.

“Are you going to do it, or am I?” he asks, finally.

“You do it.”

After a moment, he walks over to the large plate glass window facing the lake. He takes a deep breath then pulls aside the fabric. Without moving from where I sit, I can tell there’s nothing. The lack of expression on J.D.’s face gives it away.

He lets the curtain fall back into place and walks over to me, dropping down onto the floor.

“What now?” I ask.

“You try again,” he says, reaching into the pack for something to eat.

After we’ve eaten, we step outside. Deciding not to don our masks right away, we pause to take in our surroundings. The moon is low and bright and clearly reveals the outline of the empty lake basin.

“Let’s walk up the lakeshore a ways,” I say.

We turn north and begin to hike along the levee. Occasionally, a lizard or cockroach scurries away as we approach, but for the most part, we’re alone. It’s quiet here, illuminated only by the moon and stars. The buildings of the city loom darkly beside us. After a couple of miles, we arrive at a steel pier stretching out onto the lake.

Reading my mind, J.D. takes my hand and helps me up the broken steps of the pier. Pushing through an old turnstile, we walk slowly toward the far end. Benches line the sides of the pier, and I picture the way it must have been a long time ago, when lovers strolled here or sat to enjoy the view. Maybe there were gulls to feed and old men dropping fishing lines over the side.

The pier is long, but too soon we’re at the end. J.D. and I lean forward to look over the railing. It’s dark below us, but clearly dry, and a thin wind stirs our hair.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “You can do it.”

I gaze at the lake, at the vast emptiness before me, and I whisper the words, the same words I always say. We stand together for a few minutes, but I think neither one of us is surprised this time when nothing happens.

“Maybe we should climb down into the lakebed,” he says. “Maybe if you were standing right down in it….”

“I don’t know, J.D. I never had to do that before. I can’t believe being able to make water was some sort of temporary thing like a cold or a rash.”

He glances at the twilight sky. “Maybe the stars are out of alignment. The fact that you could make water might have been this giant cosmic accident,” he jokes.

I turn, ready to argue, but the words die on my lips. We are found. Standing less than ten feet away, his arms crossed, his lips curved in a faint smile, is the man with the mustache.

“Having trouble, kids?”

I know it’s illogical, but my first desire is to bark at this person that we’re not kids. I might have been when I found my flower at the orphanage, but I’m certainly not now. That much should be obvious.

J.D. turns, slipping cold fingers into mine.

“It didn’t work, did it?” the man says, gesturing toward the lake. “Don’t feel bad. You’re just a little thing, and it’s a big lake. Give yourself a few years. It’ll come.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm.

“Of course, you do,” he says, softly. “But excuse my bad manners. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lukas Thorne.” He smiles at me. “And you would be Kira.” He turns to J.D. “And you would be J.D.”

When we step off the pier, we’re surrounded by armed men and directed to an armored rover. J.D. and I glance at each other, recognizing the futility of escape. We climb inside, not speaking to the man who climbs in behind us. Unable to see precisely where we’re going, it’s clearly within the city limits. We only travel a few minutes before reaching our destination.

We’re led into an ugly, squat building, about eight stories tall. Photovoltaic panels cover the roof and I spot an algae bio-fuel pump off to the side. We follow the man named Thorne to the third floor and into a small bare room with two beds, a small table and a couple of chairs.

“This will be your room,” he says.

We step into the room cautiously and turn to look at him.

“How long are you planning on keeping us here?” I ask.

“There’ll be plenty of time for discussion later, Kira. I promise to explain everything. Right now, however, I have an important meeting to attend. Everyone’s going to be so pleased that you’re safe and sound.”

I don’t ask the obvious question, which is Who is everyone?

“A member of my staff will be stationed outside the door at all times. If you need anything, just let him know. Are you hungry?”

So we’re to be guarded. I’m not surprised, although I don’t understand the point of it all … and I am hungry. I catch J.D.’s eye, and he gives a barely perceptible nod. “I suppose we could eat,” I say.

The barest flicker of a smile crosses our captor’s face, and I want to hit him for finding amusement at our expense. Actually, I just want to hit him, period. A good solid punch to the gut.

“I’ll have Michael send something up,” he says. He turns to leave, then pauses to give me a direct look. “You two may share this room,” he says softly. “I know you’ve been traveling together for a long time, and I can only imagine what you’ve had to endure. I want you to rest and relax and enjoy three square meals a day. However, if you abuse my hospitality, you’ll be separated. Am I clear?”

J.D. and I glance at each other then nod our agreement.

“Good.”

As soon as he’s gone, we investigate the room. The bed frames are made from solid iron bars. A thin memory foam cushion serves as a mattress. The table’s made from hard plastic, same as the two chairs. We have one window, and I hurry over to get our bearings. The glass is filtered, so we’re protected from the sun’s rays, and a window shade can be pulled down to shut out the light.

Shoulders touching, J.D. and I stare out at our surroundings. The building we’re in is located on a small rise. Below us there are warehouses, a couple of office buildings. Everything looks empty and run-down. There’s no fire escape outside our window, no visible way to exit the building except for the way we entered.

“We’re well and truly stuck,” I say, turning to him with a frown.

“We don’t want to get out,” he whispers into my ear.

“We don’t?”

He shakes his head. “We need to find out what he wants. There’s no point in trying to escape ’til we know what it is he’s after and how far he’s willing to go to get it.”

I see his reasoning. “Okay. I’ll stay put for now. But I don’t trust that guy. Something about him gives me the creeps.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he wants us for dinner,” J.D. jokes.

“I refuse to find a bright side to this situation.”

“Patience, Kira.”

“It’s not my best quality.”

“I know.”