This was the plan:
We were all supposed to go invisible—Warner borrowing his power from me and Nazeera—and jump out of the plane just before it landed. Nazeera would then activate her flying powers, and with Warner bolstering her power, the three of us would bypass the welcoming committee intent on murdering us. We’d then make our way directly into the heart of the vast compound, where we’d begin our search for Juliette.
This is what actually happens:
All three of us go invisible and jump out of the plane as it lands. That part worked. The thing we weren’t expecting, of course, was for the welcoming/murdering committee to so thoroughly anticipate our moves.
We’re up in the air, flying over the heads of at least two dozen highly armed soldiers and one dude who looks like he might be Nazeera’s dad, when someone flashes some kind of long-barreled gun up, into the sky. He seems to be searching for something.
Us.
“He’s scanning for heat signatures,” Warner says.
“I realize that,” Nazeera says, sounding frustrated. She picks up speed, but it doesn’t matter.
Seconds later, the guy with the heat gun shouts something to someone else, who aims a different weapon at us, one that immediately disables our powers.
It’s just as horrifying as it sounds.
I don’t even have a chance to scream. I don’t have time to think about the fact that my heart is racing a mile a minute, or that my hands are shaking, or that Nazeera—fearless, invulnerable Nazeera—looks suddenly terrified as the sky falls out from under her. Even Warner seems stunned.
I was already super freaked out about the idea of being shot out of the sky again, but I can honestly say that I wasn’t mentally prepared for this. This is a whole new level of terror. The three of us are suddenly visible and spiraling to our deaths and the soldiers below are just staring at us, waiting.
For what? I think.
Why are they just staring at us as we die? Why go to all the trouble to take over our plane and land us here, safely, just to watch us fall out of the sky?
Do they find this entertaining?
Time feels strange. Infinite and nonexistent. Wind is rushing up against my feet, and all I can see is the ground, coming at us too fast, but I can’t stop thinking about how, in all my nightmares, I never thought I’d die like this. I never thought I’d die because of gravity. I didn’t think that this was the way I was destined to exit the world, and it seems wrong, and it seems unfair, and I’m thinking about how quickly we failed, how we never stood a chance— when I hear a sudden explosion.
A flash of fire, discordant cries, the faraway sounds of Warner shouting, and then I’m no longer falling, no longer visible.
It all happens so fast I feel dizzy.
Nazeera’s arm is wrapped around me and she’s hauling me upward, struggling a bit, and then Warner materializes beside me, helping to prop me up. His sharp voice and familiar presence are my only proof of his existence.
“Nice shot,” Nazeera says, her breathless words loud in my ear. “How long do you think we have?”
“Ten seconds before it occurs to them to start shooting blindly at us,” Warner calls out. “We have to move out of range. Now.”
“On it,” Nazeera shouts back.
We narrowly avoid gunfire as the three of us plummet, at a sharp diagonal, to the ground. We were already so close to the ground that it doesn’t take us long to land in the middle of a field, far enough away from danger to be able to breathe a momentary sigh of relief, but too far from the compound for the relief to last long.
I’m bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath, trying to calm down. “What did you do you? What the hell just happened?”
“Warner threw a grenade,” Nazeera explains. Then, to Warner: “You found that in Haider’s bag, didn’t you?”
“That, and a few other useful things. We need to move.”
I hear the sound of his retreating footsteps—boots crushing grass—and I hurry to follow.
“They’ll regroup quickly,” Warner is saying, “so we have only moments to come up with a new plan. I think we should split up.”
“No,” Nazeera and I say at the same time.
“There’s no time,” Warner says. “They know we’re here, and they’ve obviously had ample opportunity to prepare for our arrival. Unfortunately, our parents aren’t idiots; they know we’re here to save Ella. Our presence has almost certainly inspired them to begin the transfer if they haven’t done so already. The three of us together are inefficient. Easy targets.”
“But one of us has to stay with you,” Nazeera says. “You need us within close proximity if you’re going to use stealth to get around.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“No way,” Nazeera says flatly. “Listen, I know this compound, so I’ll be okay on my own. But Kenji doesn’t know this place well enough. The entire footprint measures out to about a hundred and twenty acres of land— which means you can easily get lost if you don’t know where to look. You two stick together. Kenji will lend you his stealth, and you can be his guide. I’ll go alone.”
“What?” I say, panicked. “No, no way—”
“Warner’s not wrong,” Nazeera says, cutting me off. “The three of us, as a group, really do make for an easier target. There are too many variables. Besides, I have something I need to do, and the sooner I can get to a computer, the smoother things will go for you both. It’s probably best if I tackle that on my own.”
“Wait, what?”
“What are you planning?” Warner asks.
“I’m going to trick the systems into thinking that your family and Ella’s are linked,” she says to Warner. “There’s protocol for this sort of thing already in place within The Reestablishment, so if I can create the necessary profiles and authorizations, the database will recognize you as a member of the Sommers family. You’ll be granted easy access to most of the high- security rooms throughout the compound. But it’s not foolproof. The system does a self-scan for anomalies every hour. If it’s able to see through my bullshit, you’ll be locked out and reported. But until then—you’ll be able to more easily search the buildings for Ella.”
“Nazeera,” Warner says, sounding unusually impressed. “That’s . . . great.”
“Better than great,” I add. “That’s amazing.”
“Thanks,” she says. “But I should get going. The sooner I start flying, the sooner I can get started, which hopefully means that by the time you reach base, I’ll have made something happen.”
“But what if you get caught?” I ask. “What if you can’t do it? How will we find you?”
“You won’t.” “But— Nazeera—”
“We’re at war, Kishimoto,” she says, a slight smile in her voice. “We don’t have time to be sentimental.”
“That’s not funny. I hate that joke. I hate it so much.”
“Nazeera is going to be fine,” Warner says. “You obviously don’t know her well if you think she’s easily captured.”
“She literally just woke up! After being shot! In the chest! She nearly died!”
“That was a fluke,” Warner and Nazeera say at the same time. “But—”
“Hey,” Nazeera says, her voice suddenly close. “I have a feeling I’m about four months away from falling madly in love with you, so please don’t get yourself killed, okay?”
I’m about to respond when I feel a sudden rush of air. I hear her launching up, into the sky, and even though I know I won’t see her, I crane my neck as if to watch her go.
And just like that— She’s gone.
My heart is pounding in my chest, blood rushing to my head. I feel confused: terrified, excited, hopeful, horrified. All the best and worst things always seem to happen to me at the same time.
It’s not fair.
“Fucking hell,” I say out loud.
“Come on,” Warner says. “Let’s move out.”
