30

MIN

I slept until midmorning.

Only a few hours—after sneaking past Mom and curling up on my side of the trailer—but I’d needed them badly. The memory of last night would scar, I knew.

Two men had died, at least. Tack nearly, too. And for what? Just a glimpse of some men we already knew were conspiring against us.

School was canceled, so there was no point getting up early. Martial law at least got me away from Principal Myers. Eventually I trudged into the living room to find that my mother had left me breakfast on the coffee table.

I flipped on the news. Nothing about the violent death of our sheriff, not that I’d expected anything. His body was probably in a ditch somewhere in “Grid Four.”

Sheriff Watson was part of Project Nemesis. Had served it for decades. He’d helped the government experiment on schoolchildren in his jurisdiction for at least a decade. Such evil was hard to fathom.

But he saved Tack’s life. Gave his own.

Too little, too late. Watson had let the monsters through the door. I thought back to him questioning me as a child. Those memories now had a sinister quality. Had he known then what was happening to a scared little trailer-park girl?

My mood hardened.

I ate my cold eggs slowly, watching the comet panic. Riots had closed the port of Tokyo. Large sections of Frankfurt were burning. There was fighting on the floor of the UN General Assembly. The president made another address, trying to ease tensions, but crowds still filled the streets of major US cities, protesting military control.

Also freakier stuff. The Australian Seismological Society reported increased activity along fault lines in the Pacific Rim. Volcanoes were smoking across Indonesia, and portions of the wild bird population had fled.

Things were falling apart. Right as Nemesis was ramping up.

We’re running out of time.

I jumped as the door opened and my mother stepped inside. “About time you were up,” she said briskly, unwrapping her scarf and hanging it on the hook. “Just because school’s out doesn’t mean you should sleep the whole day away.”

I watched her cruise the trailer, attending to tasks she’d neglected over the previous few days. She seemed . . . different. Not as scared. Or morose. Or just plain numb. There was purpose to her movements as she squared away our tiny domain.

Upon completing her tasks, Mom nodded to herself. I noticed she’d never removed her jacket. “There’s nothing to eat in this place. I’m heading down to the store, rationing be damned. Is there anything you need, Min? Anything at all?”

We made eye contact for the first time. I saw a well of emotion, quickly shielded.

Hard questions fluttered to the tip of my lips.

Why’d you sign the form, Mom? Do you know what happens on my birthdays?

“No. Nothing.”

She nodded, eyes lowering as she slipped back outside.

I rose and went to the window, watched her stride out of sight. There was more lurking in that woman than most people saw.

I don’t trust her.

I punched the wall, tears burning in my eyes. I hated this. Hated what Project Nemesis had done to me. To my family and friends. My town. It was a hidden cancer destroying everything it touched.

I wondered again at the name.

Nemesis.

Does it refer to him? Is the black-suited man my nemesis?

But that made no sense. Why build a secret government project around a psychopath killing teenagers? What purpose could that serve? The idea gave me the shakes.

Or did it go deeper? Darker? I rubbed my eyes, tired of thoughts that ran in circles. Maybe “Nemesis” had come up in a random name generator and meant nothing at all. Wouldn’t that be perfect?

I picked up my cell. No signal, so I tried the landline and got a dial tone. Score one for old-school tech. I was about to call Tack, then hesitated. He’d been hard to deal with lately, wrapped up in his disdain for Noah. Though, admittedly, Noah hadn’t covered himself in glory last night. He’d locked up when the soldiers cornered us, and never snapped out of it, still in a daze as he dropped us off at the trailer-park gate.

He’s all alone in that big house.

Then I sucked in a breath.

I hadn’t told Noah something. Something important.

But would he really want to know?

I would. And I’d be furious if he kept it from me.

With a heavy heart, I punched in his number.

•   •   •

We met in town. Almost nothing was open, but rocking chairs lined the waterfront by the marina and we sat. The temperature was cool but not cold, fall holding on gamely in the face of winter’s approach. The sky was gloomy and overcast, with a steady breeze lapping waves against the pier.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Then Noah nodded toward the burned-out mechanic’s shop at the end of the wharf. “The Portland quake caused that fire. I came down here to avoid Ethan and the others, and saw it blazing like a matchstick.” He pointed to a side street. “That’s where they met. The Nemesis men. I saw Black Suit with them, and ran.”

He bowed his head. “I’m pretty good at running from things.”

“Hey.” I touched his arm. “Stop it. You’re officially allowed to run away from a serial killer. It’s in the rule book and everything.”

Noah smiled. He had such a strong face when he wasn’t moping, or totally checked out. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” he asked.

“I . . . I was thinking about something Tack and I found in Lowell’s office.”

Noah nodded for me to continue. I hesitated. He was already down about so many things. Why add to it?

Noah must’ve sensed my reluctance. “It’s okay, Min. I can tell it’s bad, and involves me. Might as well just tell me and get it over with.”

Deep breath.

“My consent form—the one for Nemesis, that my mother signed? It wasn’t the only one in Lowell’s files. There was one for you, too.”

“Figured as much.” Noah rocked back in his chair and sighed. “I’m not surprised. Honestly, I’m shocked my father even cared enough to sell me. But my God, what an unbelievable prick. All my life he’s mocked my problems. Therapy. The way that I am. Yet he knew the whole time.”

I stared at the floorboards. “Your father didn’t sign the form, Noah.”

He straightened. I felt his eyes. “Then who did?”

“Your mother signed it.”

Noah popped up from his rocker. He took a few steps backward, staring at me, then turned and strode away down the wharf.

I hurried after him. “Noah? You okay?”

He didn’t answer, continuing along the waterfront at a brisk pace. As we neared the center of the town, he slowed, then stopped, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

“Noah, I’m so sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

A hand rose. He stared out at the lake. “Thank you for telling me.”

I drew closer, but didn’t speak. Hoped my presence might provide some comfort.

“You know, it’s weird,” he said slowly. “In a way, I’m kind of relieved. At least my dad didn’t betray me for my whole life. He’s a jerk, and we hate each other, but it’s honest. I bet he has no idea about Nemesis. He’d never allow a Livingston man to be used like that.”

“Hey, I got you beat,” I quipped, trying to keep my voice light. “My dad abandoned me when I was a baby. He didn’t even stick around to ignore me. But my mom hugged me every day before school, for years, despite signing that form.”

His sparkling green eyes locked onto mine. I had to look away.

I kicked myself. Why’d I bring up my parents?

“You’re right.” Noah’s voice was full of self-recrimination. “I didn’t even consider . . . Typical me. Spoiled little rich boy, wrapped up in his own problems. Never thinking about anyone but himself.”

“No!” I turned him to face me. “I didn’t mean it like that. The last thing we should do is make each other feel bad.” I forced a crooked grin. “It occurs to me we have a lot in common.”

“We do?”

I nodded. “Our fathers are total disasters. And our mothers—”

“Have secrets. Sold us like lab rats, and we don’t know why.”

I ran a hand through my hair. Spotting a bench, I motioned for him to join me. We sat together this time, his leg pressing against mine. I didn’t pull away.

“This one’s tough,” Noah said candidly, scuffing his shoe on a plank. “I don’t remember much about my mother, but what I do is . . . nice. Warm hands. Silly songs. I like to think my life would’ve been different had she lived. Finding out she signed me over to Lowell . . . That’s hard to take.”

I put my hand over his. “I see my mother every single day. It kills me. The thought that she’s been a part of my misery for all these years, and kept it from me . . . I sometimes can’t even breathe. But I still can’t talk to her about it.”

He flipped his hand over, twining his fingers with mine. “I’m sorry, Min. For both of us. It seems impossible that they would do this. There must be a reason why.”

“I’m going to find out. I will.”

Noah sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if we should even bother. No one cares about our problems. Not right now.”

“It’s all connected!” I squeezed his hand without meaning to. “Our murders. These disasters. That’s impossible, I know, but somehow it’s true. I don’t care if the planet implodes tomorrow, I’m going to find out what’s been happening to me. Why these men did this.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I think you will, too. No matter what. That’s what makes you, you.”

I didn’t pull away. “I keep going over everything we’ve learned. There has to be a pattern. And what did that countdown clock you saw mean?”

“Let’s just sit for a minute. Relax. Think.”

He pulled me in. I let him, resting my head on his shoulder. Noah shifted, brought his other arm around me, hugging my back to his chest. I nuzzled closer.

We sat like that for a long time, gazing at the lake.

It felt good.