36

ALORA

APRIL 4, 2147

A scream tears out of my throat as I fall. This shouldn’t be happening. This isn’t how I should die.

The ground is fast approaching. I’m going to die unless I do something. Unless I can shift. I stare at the space directly below me, then close my eyes, picturing the pavement below in my mind. Picturing myself, standing there.

Please work. Please.

And then I feel solid ground beneath my feet. My knees immediately buckle, and I crumple to the ground, shaking. I did it. I’m alive.

If Professor Jackson was here, I’d kiss him right now for forcing me to practice this kind of maneuver. But hopefully I’ll never have to do it again.

I look back up at the sky, which is now a swirling mixture of dark blue, purple, pink, and orange. The building is so very tall, like a finger pointing in accusation toward the heavens. I can’t believe I survived falling from there.

But Bridger is still not free. In the distance, the shuttle is a speck against the sky. There’s no way I’m going to try to shift in there. One, I’ve never attempted shifting into a moving vehicle. And two, I don’t want to alert General Anderson and Mr. Creed to the fact that I can shift to a place just by visualizing a person. The fact that I have an almost-unheard-of Talent would really make them hate me even more.

No, I have to wait until they get to their destination, and then I’ll go and free Bridger and his grandmother. I’ll give them an hour, because I suspect they’re not going too far away. Not if what Bridger said is true about them being responsible for the bioweapon.

His words echo like thunder in my brain. I don’t understand why General Anderson and Mr. Creed would want to set off the bioweapon, or why the people who helped them—weapons experts, scientists who specialize in creating biological-based weapons, other DTA personnel—would do it. How could all of them think that people like me are such a threat? It doesn’t make sense. I can understand that coming from Bridger’s father. He’s a clone now. No matter what kind of drugs are developed to stabilize them, it seems like they never work for long, and from his behavior on the roof, he’s obviously started losing his sanity. I think of Halla Fairbanks, and all she has to do to keep Vika from going completely crazy.

And Bridger said his father was working alone, only completing solo assignments. So who’s even monitoring him to see that he’s taking his meds when he needs to?

But it’s harder to explain General Anderson’s behavior. I remember from my trip to 2126 that he spoke out with such hatred against Project Firebird. His prejudice against Dual Talents was obvious. But even knowing that, how could he justify killing innocent people? He’s acting like a psychopath.

I need to warn as many people as possible. Elijah. Tara. Everly. Professor March and his sister. Mom.

Hopefully they’ll believe me.

Suddenly, Dad appears a few feet in front of me. “Oh, thank God you’re alive,” he says. “I tried to shift to you, but I couldn’t at first. I was too angry at Creed. I couldn’t connect to you.”

I rush over to him and throw my arms around him. He winces slightly, favoring his left arm again.

“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling back and gingerly reaching out to touch his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” he says.

“What happened to you since I last saw you? I know that the feds raided Lincoln’s farm and that both of you got away.”

Dad lowers his gaze. “What else do you know?”

“I know that Lincoln died in the Unity Day bombings.” I pause for a moment, thinking of Zed. “One of my friends was killed in the blast when he was shot.”

Dad turns almost ghost white. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could have put a stop to everything Lincoln was doing years ago. It’s just …” he trails off. I know he’s remembering Lincoln’s threats to have me killed if he didn’t comply.

“I also heard that one of the bombers got away. Was that you?” I ask in a soft voice.

Dad’s eyes glisten now. “I didn’t have a choice about helping with the bombing. I feel like such a coward. The only thing I’m grateful for at this point is that I was able to shift away without setting my explosives off. I saw Lincoln get shot and killed. When I was shot, I was afraid that if I died my bomb would go off as well, and the blast would take out even more people. So I immediately shifted away.”

“Where did you go?” I ask gently.

“Home.”

He doesn’t have to explain. I know he went to Willow Creek. “You didn’t go back to Aunt Grace’s time, did you?”

“Oh, no. Although, God knows, I’d love to see my sister again. But I would never put her in danger. I just went to the museum they made of her house in this time. I got rid of the explosives, found a doc to patch me up, then holed up for a few days to try to heal. Good thing I came back when I did. You had no business being up there by yourself.”

We both look up at the sky, where the shuttle is flying north, and growing harder to see by the second. “Do you know where they’re going?” Dad asks.

“No, but I know I can get to Bridger. But I think we need to give them a few hours before we shift to them, to make sure they aren’t still in the air when we shift.”

“I’m going with you.”

For the first time in days, I feel happy. I’ve missed having my dad in my life. “Okay,” I say. “But first we need to get Mom, and warn the others about evacuating the city.”