26

MIN

I stepped from his Tahoe, trying not to look impressed.

Noah’s house was a freaking castle.

We were up near the canyon rim, at the top of the valley’s swankest neighborhood. Noah unlocked the front door and disarmed the security system, waving us inside. He hadn’t looked at me once during the ride there.

“What a dump.” Tack strolled in like he owned the place, dropping onto a leather couch. “Is this public housing?”

Noah ignored him. Reset the alarm. “Wait here a sec.” He disappeared toward the back of the house, leaving Tack and me alone.

“Probably needs to check on his Sims.” Tack bounced up, walked over to a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake. “Pretty sweet digs. I wonder what the poor people are doing right now.”

“Our neighborhood is right behind that peak.”

Tack spun. “You could fit, what, seven trailers in this room alone? Seems a bit much for two people.”

“Sometimes my dad’s girlfriend stays over, too,” Noah replied, returning from wherever he’d gone. “It can get downright cramped.”

My eyebrows rose. Noah wasn’t usually sarcastic. I think he’d had enough of Tack’s wit for one day.

Good. A little spirit was a welcome change.

“Is your dad really out of town?” Tack said. “Helluva time for a vacation.”

The barb landed. Noah’s eyes tightened. “Flights were grounded after the asteroid hit India. I got a very thoughtful text explaining his predicament.” He turned to me. “But you didn’t come here just to insult my family, I assume?”

“Don’t be so sure.” Tack flopped back onto the couch.

I flapped a hand at Tack for quiet. But I didn’t know where to start.

Noah seemed to sense this. “Sit. Please. Do you want something to drink?”

“Got any Dom Pérignon?” Tack’s face was pure innocence. “Or a nice brandy?”

“Both.” Noah didn’t move.

“We’re fine.” I sat next to Tack and shot him a warning glare. He rolled his eyes. Shrugged. Then nodded. I’ll be a good boy.

Noah sat in a recliner across from us. And waited.

Here goes.

“What do you know about Project Nemesis?”

Noah didn’t flinch. “Nothing. Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s the name of an operation taking place here in Fire Lake,” I said slowly, choosing my words with care. “I first came across it ten years ago, when we got those shots at school.”

Noah tensed. A hand rose to rub his shoulder.

Does it burn like mine?

“It’s a large and well-funded conspiracy,” I continued, “involving prominent people in town, the government, and the military. You probably think I’ve lost my mind but—”

“No,” Noah said. “Actually, I think you’re right.”

I stiffened. “You do know about it? What is Nemesis?”

Noah looked at his shoes. “I have no idea. But I’ve seen things . . .” His head rose, but he didn’t meet my eye. “It’s the only answer that makes sense.”

“What things have you seen?” Tack demanded.

Noah glanced at him, as if considering whether to answer. “Trucks, for one.”

Tack shook his head dismissively. “We saw those too. The night of the Announcement.”

“I saw them last night. A line of gray ones, vanishing onto the federal land.”

“A second group?” I paused, digesting this. How many was that altogether? Suddenly, it felt awfully crowded in the valley.

“What else have you seen?” I asked.

Noah considered me a moment. “First, tell me what you wanted to talk about at school.”

“I’m a patient of Dr. Lowell’s. I know you are, too.”

“You said that already.” Irritation fought with embarrassment in his eyes. His therapy was clearly a touchy subject. I decided to not hold back. “I found your name on his laptop when I broke into his office on Tuesday night.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “Why’d you do that?”

“We did it,” Tack interjected, but we both ignored him.

“I wanted a look at his notes. To see what he was writing about me.” Noah listened without interrupting, but I could tell he was drinking in every word. “So Tack and I snuck in and had a look around. Found things.”

I took a deep breath. Telling Noah was a gamble, but one I had to take.

“Lowell is using us like lab rats.” I suppressed a shudder and forged ahead. “It’s a classified experiment code-named Project Nemesis, and lots of people are involved. People we know and trusted. Lowell’s computer has secret files under the Nemesis heading with our names on them.”

Noah rubbed his palms on his jeans. “You said something about the shots?”

“I first saw the words Project Nemesis that day—on a form the doctor filled out. I remember Principal Myers talking with strange men in suits, too.” I felt a slight quaver in my voice. “I don’t think there really was a pesticide spill.”

Noah squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Myers.”

“He’s been a part of it from the beginning.” I didn’t mention my mother, or their meeting that same day. Wasn’t ready to share that yet.

“There’s more.”

Noah nodded, though based on his expression, I wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “We found background files on everyone in our class.” I told him about the boxes in Lowell’s cabinet and the matching set in Myers’s office closet.

“You broke into the file room at school?” Noah asked incredulously. “This morning?”

Tack nodded, flexing his biceps. “Never scared.”

“I overheard Myers on the phone the morning after the Announcement. He was talking about Nemesis, and said everything was ready to go, whatever that means. He even mentioned Sheriff Watson.”

Noah’s face became unreadable. “Lowell, Myers, and Watson. In a military conspiracy code-named Project Nemesis. Happening here in Fire Lake.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“It’s not.” He barked a laugh. “Not at all. In fact, I nearly crashed one of their meetings.”

My turn to be stunned. “What? Where?”

Noah rubbed his eyes. “Yesterday. After the quake.” He paused, as if deciding how much to tell. “I was down by the waterfront. Came up an alley, and stumbled onto them.”

“Did they see you?” Tack asked sharply.

Noah shook his head. “It was Myers, Lowell, Watson, and some military guy. The other psychiatrist, Dr. Fanelli, was with them too.” He opened his mouth again, then seemed to reconsider. “There’s your conspiracy, right there.”

My fingers dug into my hair. I couldn’t believe it. Noah had actually seen the bastards together! Fanelli? Him, too? “Did you hear what they said?”

“No. I . . . I didn’t stay.” Noah rose and walked to the windows. He stared down at the lake without saying more.

I sensed he was holding back. Something potentially big.

Don’t push. Not yet.

I chose a different tack. “The metadata on Lowell’s computer,” I began, hoping he’d come sit back down. “It described you and I as ‘beta patients.’ For what, I have no idea. But we don’t have background files in the storage boxes either. Us and two others.”

Noah’s head turned at that. “Who else?”

“We don’t know. The count was sixty files—four less than the entire class. I’m guessing there are two more betas.”

“Terrific,” Noah breathed.

“This isn’t a joke.” Tack leaned forward and tapped the coffee table. “We found a collection schedule in the file room. An exact route to seize every sophomore from their home, one by one. Sheriff Watson has a copy.”

“Of course it’s not a joke!” Noah pivoted, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’m a super-special test subject, remember? But for what?”

Now I looked away. We’d come down to it—the part of my story even Tack didn’t know. The terrifying pattern I’d never shared with anyone. But I couldn’t put it off any longer. Not after Noah had confirmed almost everything.

“I think I know,” I said quietly, eyes on the carpet. “Some of it, at least.”

Tack’s head swung my way. I felt Noah’s eyes dig into me.

Here I really go.

“Something’s been happening to me.” I hugged my knees to my chest, goose bumps rising all over my body. “For years. I’ve never told anyone about it. Not since I was little, anyway.”

A soft thump. I looked up. Noah had dropped back into his recliner and was staring at me.

I continued before I lost my nerve. “I’m being stalked. No, worse than that. Hunted. Every two years, by the same person every time. No matter what I do, this man in a black suit finds me and attacks me. I’m never able to outrun him.”

“What!?” Tack grabbed my shoulder, his face stricken. “Min, why haven’t you told me this before?” Then a light dawned in his eyes. “Your birthdays,” he whispered.

I nodded. Cleared my throat. I didn’t look at Noah, wanting to get it all out before anyone started calling me crazy. “This man . . . He doesn’t just hurt me. He kills me. I know it sounds insane, but he’s murdered me five times already, and he’ll do it again in two years.”

And there it was. That look in Tack’s eyes. The one I’d always dreaded.

Confusion, mixed with horror and . . . pity? Unease? Was it . . . embarrassment?

What do you think now, Tack? Am I still so great?

A high-pitched sound startled me. I whirled, eyes rounding.

Noah was bent over with his head in his hands, his mouth locked in a grimace. A keening escaped his throat, like an animal in pain.

Tack leapt up. “He’s having a seizure!”

I grabbed my friend’s arm as he lunged to help. “No! It’s not that.”

And I knew.

Seeing Noah’s horrified expression.

Without a shadow of a doubt. Noah and I had the same problem.

I rose, walked slowly to his side. Tears were spilling down his cheeks. I reached out and grabbed Noah’s hand. He flinched, but I didn’t let go.

“Noah.” As soothing as my voice could be. I lifted his chin until our eyes met. “It’s okay. I think I understand.”

His breathing slowed.

“Does your scar hurt sometimes?” I asked quietly.

He nodded.

“We share a birthday. Do you ever wake up in the woods?”

Noah sat upright in the recliner. Wiped his eyes, but wouldn’t look at me.

He nodded again.

My legs almost gave out.

It’s happening to Noah, too. I’m not alone.

Tack was standing behind me. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” he asked quietly. So I turned and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Laid it out as succinctly as possible.

“Every two years, on my birthday, a man in a black suit finds me and kills me.”

Tack blinked.

“I’m serious, Tack. It’s been happening since I was eight. Remember when I disappeared from the park? I was actually thrown into the canyon.”

“But you’re not in the canyon,” Tack said slowly.

I shook my head. Noah was coughing into his fist, seemed to be getting ahold of his emotions. “I don’t seem to die, though,” I said. “Every time, no matter how or where I’m killed, I wake up in the same clearing. I die in one place, and then I’m lying in another. I have no idea what happens in between.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I’d agree, but it’s been happening to me for years. Noah, too, I think.”

“I call him Black Suit,” Noah whispered, staring at his hands. “Dr. Lowell told me he’s a bad dream, and that I’m a chronic sleepwalker. He said I have a—”

“Severe dissociative disorder?” My lips curled into a scowl. “Lying bastard.”

“Wait.” Tack held up a hand. “Just hold on a second. Let me get this straight: there’s a deranged psychopath murdering both of you on your birthdays, but you don’t actually die? How is that even remotely plausible?”

I shrugged, relieved to finally be talking about it. “It’s not. But it’s also true. And let’s not forget, we just figured out that Noah and I are beta patients in a secret government shit-show called Project Nemesis.”

“Holy crap,” Tack whispered. “So Lowell’s been playing you guys for . . . years?”

“And Myers.” My jaw clenched. “Sheriff Watson, too. Whatever sick experiment is being conducted, it started at our elementary school ten years ago, under their supervision.”

“But I got a shot that day too,” Tack persisted. “Nobody’s ever tried to kill me.”

“Not tried. Understand, Tack—this man actually murders me. He succeeds. Every time.”

I glanced at Noah, who nodded reluctantly.

“But who is he, then?” Tack pulled on his hair with both hands. “Where does this lunatic come from? And what’s the point of this . . . insane . . . blood sport?”

“No idea. To me, he’s always been a ghost.”

“A nightmare,” Noah mumbled. “Except he’s not one. He was at the meeting, too.”

I started. “What?”

“In the alley yesterday. Black Suit was there, with the others. He seemed to be in charge.”

I was speechless.

There it was. The final connection.

The black-suited man, tied to Project Nemesis.

The killings are part of the program.

“I tracked him to his hotel.” Noah slumped in his chair like he needed to change batteries. “He’s monitoring us by computer. Tracking us somehow.”

This was one blow too many. “You followed him to his room?”

Noah smiled faintly. “Wasn’t too hard, actually.”

I listened in amazement as he detailed his morning espionage. The chalet. The iPad. Glowing red and blue dots, and a countdown ticking toward zero. When he finished, I had no idea what to say.

“That was ballsy, man.” Tack’s voice carried grudging respect. “If that dude had seen you—”

“What?” Noah cackled harshly. “He might have killed me?”

I barked a laugh as well. Our eyes met, and I felt something pass between us. “Okay. So. We know the players, but almost nothing about the game. What are we beta patients for? What could these killings accomplish?”

“There were four dots,” Noah reminded me.

I nodded. “We have to find out who the other betas are.”

“The red dots were both in town, but I couldn’t tell where before I bolted. The countdown was at six days, but the timer seemed to be accelerating.” Noah waved at his television. “Right as things are spiraling out of control.”

“Slow down.” Tack held up both hands, shaking his head in astonishment. “I believe you guys. Honestly. It’s freaking nuts, but I trust you. But what I don’t get is how all of this”—he fluttered both hands—“murder business . . . ties in with what’s been going on around the world. Project Nemesis might be up to some shady business here in Idaho, but they can’t make asteroids strike Asia! Or start earthquakes in Seattle. That’s impossible.”

“Everything is connected,” I said fiercely. “I can’t explain it, but I’m positive.”

“But how?” Tack whined.

“The vans on television, Tack! Don’t forget.”

Tack was silent a moment. “That’s not enough. Those might be part of martial law or something. Could be a coincidence.” But he didn’t sound too confident.

“Vans?” Noah glanced from my face to Tack’s.

I explained what we’d seen on TV. The starburst we couldn’t decipher. Noah closed his eyes. “Too big,” he muttered, pinching his nose. “Too much.”

“That’s the Noah I know!” Tack quipped.

Noah popped from his chair and stepped nose to nose with Tack. “I’ve spent the last six years of my life being told that my mind was broken, by the only person I ever really trusted. Who, it turns out, was using me as a guinea pig the whole time. My dad left the country over a week ago, and for all I know, might never come back. Meanwhile, a serial killer has been dropping by every twenty-four months and murdering me. Now I know he’s real—I saw him yesterday, in town, chatting with the sheriff and my high school principal. The scheme they’re running—the one ruining my life—is secretly backed by the US military, and may involve worldwide devastation. And we put all of this together roughly ninety seconds ago.” He jabbed a finger in Tack’s face. “So why don’t you cut me some freaking slack, Thomas. Would that be so tough? Huh?”

Tack gaped. “Jeez. Noah. I’m sorry. I . . . I didn’t . . .”

I pulled Noah into a hug. He resisted a beat, surprised, then clutched me back. After a long moment I stepped away, ignoring Tack’s startled glance.

“We’re in this together,” I said to Noah. “From now on, no one has to be alone.”

“Hey, I’m in too.” Tack shuffled forward and self-consciously chucked Noah on the shoulder. “We’ll figure things out. Together, like Min said. As friends.”

Then he tried to lighten the mood. “Look at us. Team of heroes.”

The three of us stood in an awkward circle.

On the mantel above the fireplace, a clock ticked.