BECKETT
We sat on the steps of the building.
Jack wrapped his fingers together with a piece of sport tape—one of the many first-aid items Imogen brought outside at some point during our brawl. I tried to ignore my guilt at his injury.
The tension in my body had deflated with the physical exertion—or maybe the concussion.
“Well, I hope you’re both happy.” Imogen sat on the step next to me and handed me another piece of gauze. I placed it on my eyebrow where I’d hit the tree root. “How do you lads think you can actually accomplish the job of getting Sage back if you’re going at each other’s throats every fifteen minutes?”
“The two are completely unrelated,” I said. I took a bite of the tasteless granola bar Imogen found somewhere inside as well. It felt chalky and dry between my teeth, but it’d been so long since I’d last eaten that it didn’t even matter.
“Oh, yes, that’s it. They’re unrelated, completely.” Imogen looked at me in disbelief. “Did you actually just say that out loud?”
The door at the top of the steps opened, and Dr. Cunningham slipped his head out. “We’ve got Sven on the screen.”
Jack didn’t look up from his wrap job.
“We’ll be right in,” he said, speaking his first words since he rammed me into the tree.
Cunningham stood there for a moment, observing the three of us.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Imogen said. “Like Jack said, we’ll be right in.”
Cunningham nodded once, pulled the door closed, and disappeared back inside. I still didn’t like him, and I still didn’t trust him.
“We don’t need these people to help us, you know,” I said. “We can do it without them.” I knew if I prodded enough, Jack might agree.
“What if I go in alone and take inventory? Scout it out while faking my loyalty to Dad’s side?” I said. “Before Dad left the island, he told me he hoped I’d join him and help him expand the reach of the code. What if I went in and pretended I’d agreed? We get the intel, and then get Sage out.”
Jack pondered this, looking partway sold on the idea.
Imogen’s voice was skeptical. “If we bail on Cunningham now, how are we going to get there?”
“We can walk to a bank, wire money, buy a car.” I nodded between me and Jack. “We both remember Dad’s bank account number, assuming it’s the same.” I tossed my granola bar wrapper into the basket with the bandages and tape, and stood up. “But I don’t want anything to do with Cunningham.”
Jack lowered his hands to his lap, the roll of tape still attached to his fingers. “Wiring money makes no sense. It would let Dad know exactly where we are.”
“Well I don’t care. Let’s hitchhike then, and get there without money. All I know is, now that we’re in the States, we can do this alone, and it’d be better than partnering with him.” I nodded toward the building.
“What about Finn? Cunningham won’t help Finn if we bail,” Imogen said.
It’s his son, why wouldn’t he? I wished I could say that. I wanted to say that, but now that I’d met Cunningham, I wasn’t so sure he would.
“Part of your plan works,” Jack said. “You go in, get intel of the mansion, scope it out. Find out how many extra guards they’ve brought in for the gala, what parts of the mansion they’re opening up for the party. I don’t want to rely on just Dr. Cunningham’s guy feeding us information, because I agree with you, something is off.
“This way,” Jack continued, “You can connect with Dad, make him trust you, make him think you’ve changed your mind about it all. And then, we take Sage when they’re least expecting it. Maybe even without this Sven guy knowing when we’re going to make our move. But to get there, we need access to Cunningham’s supplies. Plus, Imogen’s right. For Finn’s sake, we should probably make the doctor think we’re a united team.”
Jack’s plan made sense, but I hated the way he always did this, always stated everything like he was the man in charge and that he commanded the final say. How long would I have to live with Jack’s words, Jack’s plans, Jack’s ideas, Jack’s opinions always trumping mine? He assumes that everything always goes exactly the way he decides.
“Whatever,” I said.
The smallest seed of another fight planted itself in my chest.
Imogen stood up with the basket of first aid supplies. She looked at me, looked at Jack.
“Can we please not do this anymore? You guys are fighting because you both want to win a girl. Sage is getting mixed up in the middle of some longtime sibling rivalry. We’re all human. The grass is always greener—it’s a psychological reality to want what we can’t have. Don’t misunderstand me, Sage is a nice catch—cute, sharp, friendly enough. But there are other girls out there.”
I pulled the bloody gauze from my brow, throwing it into Imogen’s basket. Her words tasted sour in my mouth.
“I love Sage. Not because Jack wants her, not because the Corporation wants her, not because she has some special code inside her. I love her because of who she is. I knew her on the farm—really knew her. No one can take that away.” I stormed up the steps toward the door.
“It does beg the question, though,” Imogen called after me. “Is she really that same farm girl?”
I waved her off without turning around, dismissing her comment, and jerked open the door. But as I stepped inside, I thought about Imogen’s words, and they terrified me.
Maybe Sage had changed. I could already tell Vasterias and the island had hardened her—they’d made her more skeptical than ever. What else about her had changed?
And, after all this was over, would Sage even let me help her find her old self again?