19

I picked myself up off the blacktop.

Ethan trotted to the top of the key and held up his hand for the ball. Derrick tossed it to him, his brown skin gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Toby stood beneath the basket, pale, pudgy, and annoyed at having to play on the “skins” team in front of the girls. His bald head only came up to Derrick’s shoulders, but he was trying to guard him anyway.

“Get your head right, Livingston.” Ethan set the ball on the ground, panting slightly as he tugged on his shorts. “It’s game point. You’re going down this time.”

“That was a moving pick,” Chris complained, tucking sweat-drenched red hair behind his ears. “You leveled Noah. That should be our ball.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Quit being a pansy. This is pickup basketball, not synchronized swimming.” Glancing at me, he adopted a singsong voice as he picked up the ball. “Did I foul you, Noah-bear? Are your feelings hurt?”

I shook my head. Ethan grinned, then fired the ball into my stomach. “Good. Check.”

I tossed it back just as hard. “Check.”

“Oh ho! Looks like somebody finally woke up!” Then he darted right, trying to muscle past me to the basket. Derrick and Mike backpedaled to give him room—it was clear he didn’t intend to pass.

Ethan is strong, but I’m quicker. We both knew I was the better player, but in the park I usually dialed it down. Ethan could be super-competitive, and these games meant nothing to me. I didn’t see the point in trying too hard.

But he was going at me harder than usual. I’d hit the deck three times, all courtesy of him. My competitive flame is slow to ignite, but that last forearm shiver had flipped a switch.

I snaked sideways and cut off Ethan’s drive. He tried to reverse his dribble, but I poked the ball away. Gathering it behind the three-point line, I turned to shoot.

Red-faced, Ethan lunged to block my shot. I head-faked and took a bounce to my left. Watched him fly by. Then I pulled up. Swish. The minute the ball zipped through the net, I knew it was a mistake.

“Game!” Toby shouted, slapping five with Chris before rushing over to me. He crouched down and tried to lift me up. “Noah schools Ethan for the win!”

Ugh. Thanks for nothing, Toby.

Ethan spat on the blacktop. “He traveled!”

Everyone looked away. I clearly hadn’t.

“No way, bro.” Chris was already walking toward the bench. “Game over.”

Mike followed his brother, ripping his shirt off and wiping his spiky red hair. He shot me a glance. Not smart. And he was right.

Derrick and Toby also drifted off the court, a subtle rejection of Ethan’s claim. Sensing he wasn’t going to get his way, Ethan turned and kicked the ball into the playground. “Cheaters can chase.”

I sighed inwardly. Walked after my ball. Ethan was exhausting sometimes.

I snagged it from under a jungle gym and trudged back to the group, thinking of ways to salve Ethan’s pride. At times like this, I honestly wasn’t sure we were really friends.

We were in the park beside town square. Everyone was playing it cool, like the Anvil scare never happened. The girls had shown up midway through the first game and were sitting in the grass, gossiping, voicing the occasional cheer when someone scored. Sarah had whistled for me after three made baskets. Ethan’s face got redder each time.

Reaching the bench, I was relieved to see Toby and Derrick taking off their basketball shoes. We wouldn’t be running it back. “I say we cruise by the trailer park,” Ethan said abruptly. “Noah can visit his girlfriend, and my good friend Tack might have more funny comments.”

This again? Ethan was obsessed. But I kept my mouth shut and let the jab slide, shoving the ball into my duffel bag.

“Had enough?” Ethan said. “Taking your ball and going home?”

Kind of stupid, since we were clearly done. Mike and Chris had changed into fresh tees, and Toby was slipping on his sandals. But I nodded anyway, grinning sheepishly. “Gotta quit before my luck runs out. You almost broke me in half.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but chuckled. “Nice shot, by the way. I almost flew to Spokane.”

We bumped fists, and I relaxed. Collapsed on the bench. The air was crisp on my bare skin, just a shade north of chilly. I glanced at my phone. Nothing from Dad. The time was 4:14. With any luck, I could be home in twenty minutes.

Although . . . if we did go by the trailer park, I might see Min.

I’d been thinking about our encounter all day.

What had she wanted to tell me? A reason I shouldn’t trust Lowell?

Something about her had gotten under my skin. When the guys got Neanderthal drunk and started rating the hottest girls in school, Min’s name never came up. I thought that was crazy.

Am I the only one who sees it?

She’d shown guts defending Tack. Min didn’t back down from Ethan like everyone else. She definitely had more balls than me. Just like when we were little. When that weird doctor took us away from school.

I sat up straight. Where had that come from?

I ran a hand over my eyes, sweating anew as memories came roaring back.

The questions. Shots. Min had held my hand that day. Had been my buddy.

Principal Myers had ushered us into an SUV and shut the door, then argued with that doctor in the parking lot. The doctor had shoved two pieces of paper into his hands. Myers had yelled something at him, nose to nose, before limping back inside.

Then the ride. We’d gone to some building in the land reserve, and then . . . then . . .

I don’t remember what happened next.

How can that be?

My heart began to pound. Min said we might be involved in some weird project. She’d learned something important. And now she’s pissed at me.

I shot a hooded glance at Ethan. At times I almost hated him, despite how hard I tried to get him to like me. Then I blinked. Ducked my head.

You’ve got your own issues. Don’t go looking for more.

I never did. I might hate the cowardly voice in my head, but I always listened. It occurred to me that it sounded a lot like Dr. Lowell.

“Well, Noah?” Ethan boomed.

I started. The others were looking at me, wearing their typical Noah-zoned-out-again expressions. Chris seemed amused as he zipped up his bag, while Toby crossed his eyes. Derrick shook his head, muttering something about ADHD.

“Sorry,” I said, quickly pulling on a clean shirt. “What’d you say?”

Ethan closed his eyes, shook his head with exaggerated slowness. “What color is the sky in your world, Noah?” I forced a laugh with the others. “We want to hang out at your place,” he continued, obviously repeating what I’d missed. “Your dad’s still gone, so it’s cool, right?”

“When’s he getting back, anyway?” Derrick yawned, stretching all six and a half feet of his lean frame. “He’s been gone awhile, right?”

I shrugged. “Whenever he feels like it. Two weeks. Tomorrow. Who knows?”

Derrick sighed wistfully. “Man, you’ve got it good. Wish my parents would take off for a week. I’d throw a party every night.”

Chris bumped fists with Derrick. “Noah’s dad is in Italy right now, with a model half his age. Drinking wine and doing whatever the hell he wants. That guy is the man!”

Yeah. He’s great.

“So?” Ethan threw his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, Livingston. Let’s go to your place. I want to shoot pool.”

I tried to think of a way out. Blanked. “Sure. Okay.”

“Good.” As if he’d never considered I might refuse. Cupping his hands, he yelled across the park. “Hey, ladies! We’re all going to Noah’s house. Meet us there in twenty.” Jessica waved as the girls began gathering their things.

Irritation sparked. Typical Ethan, calling the shots, even when they weren’t his to call. My anger was so hot and unexpected, I gave voice to it before I thought better. “Is it your house or mine? Hard to tell.”

Ethan halted, surprised, then amused. “You got a problem with—”

He never finished.

The earth beneath our feet leapt. Everyone went tumbling as a groan echoed across the valley. Toby careened into the bench, opening a gash on his forehead. The others scrambled around like crabs, faces terrified as the ground shook like a living thing.

“Earthquake!” Chris shouted needlessly. His brother staggered over and threw an arm around him. I watched with sick fascination as a swing set shook off its moorings. There was an explosion somewhere up the block. Car alarms screamed as glass shattered all along Main Street. The lake roiled and hissed.

The vibrations stopped. I rose unsteadily, overwhelmed by all the alarms going off at once. The girls streaked over to where Derrick was examining Toby’s cut. Jessica was crying, holding her elbow. Everyone else seemed okay.

“Yo, look at that!” Chris pointed to black smoke rising from the docks. “Is that coming from the marina?”

Mike shook his head, jarred into actually speaking. “Mechanic’s shop next door. Oil drums, I bet.”

Toby winced as Derrick pressed a sock to his scalp. “They better get on that blaze, or the whole waterfront might go up,” Derrick said. As if in response, a siren joined the clamor.

“Busy week for those guys,” Chris joked. Ethan glared at him, and the smile vanished.

Commotion down the block. People had gathered in front of a broken store window, their backs to us as they mobbed something we couldn’t see. Cries erupted from the group. A woman spun away, hands covering her mouth.

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

“I don’t want to know,” Jessica whined, hugging her body tight. I was surprised to discover I felt the same. I was past my stress limit. I wanted to go home and hide in my room.

Ethan began jogging across the square. After a slight hesitation, we all followed. Approaching the storefront, I swallowed hard, certain we were about to see something horrible. A crushed body, or some poor sap impaled by a lamppost.

But it was much, much worse.

Valley Home Entertainment Specialists is a tech shop owned by Charlie Bell’s mom. Half the display screens were busted, but a 65-incher still worked, tuned to CNN. Onscreen, in vivid 4K OLED, was a nightmare.

“The devastation in Portland defies comprehension,” a shaky voice said as a helicopter flyover filled the screen. “Officials believe the epicenter of the massive 9.2 earthquake was twenty miles offshore, along the long-dormant Cascadia subduction zone. As you can see, very little of downtown remains standing. After the initial destruction, a tsunami swept in from the coast, washing all the way to the I–5 corridor. It’s already being called the worst natural disaster in the history of North America. Fires are burning in the neighborhoods of—”

A second voice broke in as the feed cut to another city. Seattle, people whispered, their faces slack with shock. A helicopter zoomed in on the remains of the Space Needle, which had snapped in half like a chopstick and lay in ruins on the streets below. The rest of the city looked like a war zone. In hushed tones, the narrator reported similar scenes of destruction in Tacoma, Vancouver, Astoria, and a dozen other places, with tens of thousands feared dead, drowned, or trapped beneath the rubble.

“Holy crap.” Toby was staring, wide-eyed. “The Pacific Northwest just got smashed.”

I didn’t want to see any more. A familiar panic was rising in my chest, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I slipped to the back of the crowd, then ducked down an alley toward the lakefront.

Smoke billowed along the wharf as the fire department battled near the marina. Thankfully the fire appeared small, and the millions of gallons of available lake water gave our volunteers the upper hand. I walked west for three blocks, then turned back uphill, planning to bolt home. I’d lock myself in, and if the others came by, I’d pretend I wasn’t there.

Instead, I stopped dead.

Stared.

Halfway up the alley, Principal Myers was huddled with Sheriff Watson. The two were arguing heatedly, Myers pounding a fist into his open palm as he made some point. Then a shift in the breeze cleared more smoke, revealing several others.

Dr. Lowell was standing beside Myers, frowning with his arms crossed. Beside him loomed a tall, thin-faced man in a bow tie—Dr. Fanelli, the town’s other psychiatrist. The two shrinks were rumored to dislike each other, and I’d never seen them together before.

Myers cut off abruptly as another man raised a hand. Though his back was to me, I could tell he was wearing a military uniform. The others listened with varying degrees of impatience as he spoke. When he finished, everyone started talking at once.

My instincts warned me not to be seen. I was witnessing a conference no one was supposed to know about, I was sure. So I slunk back to the corner and took cover, then peeked around again. Min’s warning echoed in my head.

A cell rang. The officer removed a phone from his vest, listened a moment, then hung up. “We need to wait. He’s coming now.”

I stared, torn between curiosity and a deep impulse to leave and forget the whole thing. Why get involved in something I could avoid? I hesitated, unable to get my feet to move. Then another man joined the circle, and my world collapsed around me.

Polished boots. Silver sunglasses.

Black Suit strode from the whirling smoke, a nightmare come to life.

He was here. He was real. He was speaking to my goddamn psychiatrist.

I’m not asleep. God help me, but I’m really not this time.

I collapsed to the curb, then scrambled out of sight. My stomach heaved and I vomited on the pavement. Dazed, I rolled over and lay there, staring up at the char-stained sky.

I was never asleep. Not for any of it.

Everything Lowell told me was a lie.

Then another thought exploded in my head.

GET OUT OF HERE NOW OR HE’LL KILL YOU AGAIN.

Staggering to my feet, I ran as fast as I could.