SAGE
The helicopter landed on concrete, thirty yards away from a parked airplane.
The nose of the plane angled toward the hangar of a small municipal airport, big enough for private airliners but certainly not meant for anything commercial.
Miles of dense, tropical foliage separated us from the south side of the island where I’d seen the community of people. The airport felt like an entirely different world from that little town, void of feeling, void of life.
Portable stairs led up to the open plane door, and three men waited at the base: one in a suit, two in security guard uniforms. For some reason, Dr. Adamson stiffened at the sight of the men, or perhaps he was uncomfortable with the plane itself, I wasn’t sure.
A hundred yards behind the airplane, the dense forest of green beckoned me. Was escape even possible? And where would I go if I did make it off this concrete? They’d search until they found me, for sure, even if I made it to the south side of the island—even if I jumped in that red boat with that old man and tried to paddle away. And what about Ollie? I needed Ollie so desperately right now that my dog felt like a rational explanation to wait. Or was I just a coward? Every mile I rode in that plane would take me farther and farther from Finn. I knew that.
Dr. Adamson eyed me, as if reading my mind. “Remember what I said. Nothing stupid.”
The helicopter blades slowed to a stop. Only after the noise dissipated did I realize how the rhythmic beat had pounded through my entire body for over two hours.
Dr. Adamson unstrapped himself, and then, gun in hand, barrel trained on my shoulder, he stuck the key into the handcuffs.
If I were going to try, this would be it.
This was my chance.
But as the handcuffs clicked apart, the helicopter door opened and a guard stood before us.
“Dr. Dallamore suggests we take it from here,” he said.
Dr. Adamson’s eyes narrowed at the guard. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
The guard interrupted by unstrapping my seatbelt himself and pulling me from the helicopter, oblivious to the gun in Dr. Adamson’s hand. Dr. Adamson climbed out behind us. Despite the guard’s grip on my arm and the fact that the sun remained hidden behind the clouds, the fresh air cooled me, a stark contrast to the confined helicopter cabin.
The tall man in the suit by the airplane watched me cross the pavement, his left wrist casually held by his right hand in front of him. He wore a security headset. When I reached the stairs, his stance didn’t shift, nor did the position of his arms. He nodded for me to climb aboard. When Dr. Adamson made to step onto the stairs, the man held out his hand to stop him.
It was a strange moment, and I paused without realizing it. In less than a half-second, two sides had been established, and all with the simple motion of that man’s hand. I knew I couldn’t fully understand what was happening. I only felt I was on the precipice of a mountain, either side held equal amounts of danger and trouble, but at least Dr. Adamson was trouble I knew.
“She’ll meet you at the mansion,” the man in the suit said. He nodded for me to continue up the steps. “Go on.”
My moment for escape had come and gone. The more I fought at this point, the more closely they’d watch me later.
Wait for the right time. It will come.
I felt Dr. Adamson watching me go, like a prize racehorse being exchanged. I glanced back only once, wondering if Dr. Adamson was the safer enemy, wishing those green eyes weren’t his, but Beckett’s instead.
If Beckett were here, we’d escape. We’d go to that red boat together, talk that old man into letting us buy it. We’d climb aboard, find Finn and Jack and Imogen, go to some deserted island and hide forever. We’d fish, and forage for tropical fruit, and forget that our fathers were totally worthless ….
Inside the jet, the smell of new leather hit my nostrils. A round man sat in one of the cream leather seats, looking comfortable. He wore a suit and a dress shirt that fit snuggly around his large belly.
“Pretzels?” He held up a small bag of snacks. Grayish, ruddy hair grew around his ears but refused to cover the top of his head.
“Please, have a seat. I’m Dr. Dallamore, your escort to the Vasterias mansion.” When I hesitated, he added, “You needn’t be afraid of me,” and waved again to the chair across the aisle.
I felt frozen. Unable to make a decision, as if a single step farther into the plane sentenced me to something horrible and unknown.
Maybe there was some untapped part of my brain that would provide the information I needed to fly a plane? Is that how these heightened capabilities worked? If pressed hard enough, maybe my mind could do anything I asked of it? If so, then why wasn’t I hearing things like before? Back on Vasterias’s island, I heard the helicopter coming even miles away. And why were my numbers so quiet—the usual hum in the back of my mind all but silent?
The man named Dallamore studied me with curiosity, unaware of all the thoughts racing through my head.
It all felt like too much. I couldn’t think about any of it for a second longer.
I dropped into the seat across the aisle from him, defeated. The scent of new leather washed up into my nostrils.
“Fine choice,” Dallamore said. Was he referring to my seat? Or that I sat down instead of running?
Out the window, Dr. Adamson waved his hands as he shouted at the man in the suit at the base of the stairs. Dallamore gazed out his own window and smiled.
Dr. Adamson scowled up at the plane and dropped his arms, shoulders stiff with the forced surrender.
He stormed away from the steps, his cell phone already out—no doubt calling in orders of his own. Whatever had been said, whatever line had been drawn, whatever rules had just been outlined for him, he wasn’t giving up. This was only the beginning.
“A grand party is happening at the mansion,” Dallamore said. “And you’re the guest of honor. Someone’s already picked out your dress, and it’s the perfect color for your skin tone. You’ll sparkle wonderfully in the spotlight when we make the announcement for people to bid on your eggs. People need a visual. They need to see what they’re getting. They need to see you.”
My breath caught in my chest. If I let myself fully absorb the words Dallamore just said, I knew I’d fall apart completely.
I wanted to talk with Jack and Beckett. They’d know what was going on and how to handle their father. They’d get me out of here. Even Imogen’s crass jokes would be better than nothing at the moment. But no one was here. No one could help me sort things out; no one could help me escape.
Dallamore furrowed his brow, perhaps registering my feelings on some level. He held up the pretzels, silently offering them to me again.
Ollie loved pretzels. He’d be happy for the treat when I saw him. I accepted the snack, settled deeper into the cushioned seat, and placed the bag of pretzels in my lap.
“How long until we arrive at the mansion?” I said. My voice sounded tired, even to me.
“We’re at the front end of an eight-hour flight and a two-and-a-half-hour drive from the airport.”
“And my dog, Ollie, is it true he’s there? At this mansion?”
Dallamore appeared surprised by my knowledge of this. “Yes … yes, as far as I know, the gardener took him in, and I believe the animal is still there.”
I nodded and closed my eyes. For just a moment, I would forget that the cells of my body were some highly coveted scientific prize and would let myself get lost in the simple consolation of holding my dog sometime within the next twenty-four hours.