BECKETT
The helicopter rose from the concrete without us, a large black mass retreating into the gray sky. It was Dad inside. I knew it was. He tricked us all.
Sage was on board, and Jack jumped higher than I’d ever seen him. He caught hold of the landing skid, fifteen feet up in the air. Of course, he’d been sprinting across the pavement, so his velocity helped with the height, but still, it looked impressive—and after living with Jack since the day we were born, it took a lot for my brother to impress me.
As Jack climbed inside the helicopter, I stood frozen on the concrete landing pad, helpless, thinking that maybe Jack would somehow save her.
The helicopter rose higher.
Across the sand, a hundred feet from me, the ocean tide rolled in. The rhythmic timing of the waves clashed against the roar of the rotor blades, polar opposites grating against each other.
The helicopter flew out over the ocean. And then, Jack was dangling outside the helicopter, Sage still inside.
I couldn’t breathe. It felt like a body slammed into me and knocked out my air. Panic washed through me.
Jack would not fall without her. He wouldn’t let that happen. This was Jack.
I saw Sage’s arm reaching for him, and I held my breath, waiting for a miracle.
Something. Anything.
I couldn’t make out what happened from there. I only knew the exact moment my heart stopped: Jack was falling, dropping from the helicopter without Sage. A wave of horror washed through me, my entire body immobile, paralyzed in shock.
Jack failed at very few things in life. Why did Sage’s rescue have to be one of them?
A red parachute opened as he catapulted toward the ocean, and it slowed him to a painfully leisure descent. The helicopter lifted with Sage still inside. It hovered for a few seconds, and then it rose higher, flying farther and farther away, until it was only a dot against the gray sky.
I hardly noticed the ten guards that surrounded us on the pavement. Imogen lowered Finn’s legs, no need to carry him any further in his unconscious state—our ride had already left without us. Or actually, our real ride, the one provided by Dr. Cunningham, had never arrived.
And now Dad had Sage.
And Jack just landed in the Pacific Ocean.
And Dad. Had. Sage.
A guard raised his gun and shouted at me from a few feet away, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Because without Sage, I wasn’t myself. Without her, I lost everything. Without her, none of it felt real: the farm, my life in Kansas, my connection to the real me. Without her, that stable guy inside me disappeared, and I didn’t want to be anyone else. I hated the uncertainty in my life before I met her, and I hated who I was without her.
The guard shouted again.
I glanced toward Finn’s giant, mutated body—the boy who I’d considered a brother for the last three years—unmoving by Imogen’s feet, the cloth around his arm stained with blood from his bullet wound.
Imogen looked at me, her eyes willing me to snap out of my momentary paralysis, to overcome my lack of ability to fight back. Maybe it was my crazed state or the near dozen guards in front of us, but she recognized the futility in fighting. She began to raise her hands in surrender, pausing only long enough to clench her curly red ponytail in two hands and growl in frustration, angry at the idea of giving up, or perhaps at utterly failing our mission. Finally, she pressed her lips together and raised her arms all the way.
The guard leveled his gun at me and shouted again.
Sage was gone. Everything was gone. My body felt hollow.
Numbly, I lifted my arms.