27

NOAH

They left twenty minutes later.

Min’s mother called, and, miracle, it got through. I checked my phone to see if Dad had reached out. Of course not.

We agreed to meet again later and form a plan. That’s how far we’d gotten coming up with one, but what were we supposed to do?

I slumped on my couch, practically in a daze. The news was getting worse. Mobs had formed in several major cities, protesting the government’s travel lockdown. Troops clashed with protesters, and reporters were being kept away. Churches were packed. In less developed corners of the globe, groups with old grudges were turning on each other, wild accusations being thrown left and right.

Right. Blame your different-colored neighbor for a comet storm. Great thinking, guys.

Stomach rumbling, I trudged to the kitchen, trying not to let the madness infect me. As I put water on to boil—our cook hadn’t shown up all week, and mac and cheese is the pinnacle of my culinary abilities—the president came back on the air, condemning the violence. “Destroying each other gets us nowhere. This is a time for pulling together. We have to remain calm.”

But what came next blew that possibility out of the water.

“Minutes ago, I learned that three comets NASA is tracking will strike Earth in the next twenty-four hours. Let me be clear—these are small objects and do not represent an existential threat. However, the local devastation will be severe.” A map appeared, with angry red circles over Germany, central Russia, and the Korean peninsula. “NASA has calculated the likely impact zone for each comet. To those residing within these regions: if you have a safe means of exiting the area, please do so immediately. God bless you.”

A wave of relief swept over me—not Idaho, not America, and not Italy, where my father was—but it was quickly replaced by guilt. Fire Lake might be a hemisphere away, but thousands had just been given a death sentence. Even the president looked shaken.

A White House science adviser was projecting the impacts in terms of nuclear weapons, estimating the force of each would be “about 100 to 200 times Hiroshima.” I gulped. Hordes were already clogging the roads in Germany, and casting off from the docks of Seoul in anything that would float. Those poor bastards. At least Siberia is empty.

The one thing no one could do was explain it. NASA understood that a group of comets in the Oort cloud had abruptly changed course and accelerated, but they were at a loss to explain why. Plenty of others had ideas, however. The Internet invited every crackpot with a theory into my kitchen, each certain they knew the “real” reason. Aliens. God. The Iranians. Thor. All were “attacking” our planet, along with too many others to count. It was the tinfoil-hat community’s finest hour.

I stepped out onto my deck. Took a breath. The air was cool and damp, hinting at rain. I gazed down at the lake, which rippled in the fading afternoon light. The postcard view usually calmed me, but today it was almost a taunt.

Everything’s fine, ha-ha, just kidding, it’s really, really not.

I crossed the porch and stepped down to the driveway. Started walking. There’s only one direction to go from my place—downhill—and soon I was by the waterfront.

The lake seemed less malicious up close. Relaxing a fraction, I began strolling west, toward the Plank, thoughts swirling as I walked. It felt like my private universe was in shambles, everything I’d considered firm suddenly unstable beneath my feet.

I’d been played for an idiot. Had naively accepted a buffet full of lies without questioning the narrative. My brain wasn’t the scarred and scrambled mess I’d been led to believe.

So . . . who am I now? What am I?

Am I still the same person?

I found myself desperately hoping not. That I didn’t like me came as no surprise. But I’d always operated under the assumption I was doing the best I could, given my condition. That was gone now. I could do more. Be more.

But my crutches were gone as well. Dr. Lowell and his pills. The handy explanations. A bottomless bag of excuses. Those things had been ripped from me, too.

I may not be crazy, but I’m still weak. And totally alone.

I was a mile down Shore Point Road before I realized where my feet were taking me.

I sped up.

Min wasn’t weak. Her struggles had made her fierce. I didn’t fool myself into thinking we were really friends—the only thing connecting us was Nemesis—but at least she understood. What an unexpected gift, even from someone who might not like me.

I nearly missed the cutoff. I’d never been to Rocky Ridge Trailer Park in my entire life. Dad might’ve grounded me just for suggesting it. They have to live somewhere, he’d grumble, on the rare times we’d drive through this part of the valley. My villas don’t clean themselves.

I slipped through the gate, unsure where to find Min. A black-haired man in jean shorts gave me a suspicious look when I asked, but he nodded toward the back row. There, luck was with me—she was sitting in a lawn chair beside a cold fire pit, her legs curled up beneath her.

She started upon seeing me, running a hand through her hair. She wore a long-sleeved Vampire Weekend tee and jeans, a shade more casual than my khakis and blue sweater. I got the sinking feeling she wasn’t happy to see me.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted, all but confirming it.

I froze in the act of sitting. “I, uh . . . went for a walk. Ended up here. I can leave if you want.” My cheeks burned scarlet as I took a step back.

“No! Sorry.” Was her face red as well? “It’s just . . .” Min waved a hand, and I suddenly understood. She’s embarrassed. “Not quite up to your standards,” she finished, trying to make it a joke. I thought of how she must feel, having been in my dad’s opulent house.

“I couldn’t care less about that,” I said, and meant it. So what if Min was poor? My dad’s money didn’t make me happy. It hadn’t saved me from being a lab rat right alongside her, either. Black Suit kills me just the same.

After a moment, Min nodded slightly. “Honestly, you’ve never acted like a snob. I’ll give you that much.” Unspoken were the volumes she wasn’t giving. Baby steps.

Min stood up as I sat. “If it’s all the same to you, a walk sounds nice.”

I rose eagerly. She was allowing my company. I’d take whatever terms were offered.

“Where to?”

“Wherever the wind blows us.” Min smiled softly. I was struck again by how pretty she was. It felt like a secret only I knew about but should be obvious to everyone.

She led me behind her trailer to a fence bounding the park. Pointed to a break in the wire. “I keep this open, despite the coyotes.” Her expression darkened. “I had to get out this way once.”

I decided to test this new concept of sharing. “I once took a boat out onto the water.” A snort escaped. “Can you believe it? A freaking dinghy, in the middle of the lake.” Then my smile faded. “He still got me.”

A floodgate opened. We began swapping stories, haltingly at first, then freely. Her experiences were so much like mine, yet different, too. We actually laughed when she described hiding behind the summer camp. I began to feel a little of what Dr. Lowell said would happen during our visits but never did. Some of the pain disappeared. But the mood dampened as I related my most recent murder.

Min was chewing on her thumbnail. “So he got me in the morning, then came for you after dark?”

I nodded. “You know how I said he never spoke? Well, he did on Sunday. He told me it was the last time.”

Min stopped walking. Our path had taken us to the canyon rim.

“The last time, huh?” Min gazed out over the gorge. “Myers told someone Project Nemesis was a go. I saw a memo saying the same, and you found a freaking countdown clock in our killer’s hotel room. Whatever they’ve planned, it’s happening now.”

“What can we do? We still don’t know what the project is.”

She gasped. Grabbed my arm. “On Lowell’s computer the file names were gibberish after you and me, except for one other folder. It was named ‘VHG Federal Land Reserve.’”

“Where the trucks went,” I breathed.

“Where they took us, in kindergarten.”

“In the alley, I saw a uniformed officer talking to Black Suit. We know for a fact the military is involved.”

Min nodded. “Soldiers chased us from Lowell’s office the night we broke in, and he and Myers are hiding military documents. The whole chemical spill story was clearly just a cover for Nemesis.”

A pause. Min looked me in the eye. It was all I could do to not look away.

Why did she make me feel like such a fraud?

“Those troops are a part of this,” she said quietly. “And we know where they’re hiding.”

I swallowed. Nodded weakly.

“Then that’s where we go next.”

“Not without me,” a voice called. I spun, alarmed.

Tack emerged from the trees. “Thought I was invited to these meetings.”

“It’s not like that,” Min said patiently. “Noah came by here without planning to. We talked about a few things, and just a second ago decided what to do.”

“Then you must’ve been headed to find me,” he said drily. “Saved you a trip.”

His face was unreadable. I wondered how much he’d overheard. Had Tack been spying?

“We’re going to see what’s hiding in the eastern woods,” Min said. “It could be dangerous.”

“You go, I go. You know that.”

Great. Should be fun.

I turned to Min. “When do you want to try?”

The sun was setting beyond the mountains, and soon it would be full dark. Min began striding back toward the trailer park.

“Right now.”