Inheritance

Torres drew back. “Give me your hands.”

Her heart pounding, Reese held them out, wondering if Torres was going to ask her to look again, but instead Torres pulled out a plastic restraint. The efficient jerk of the plastic against her already sore wrists drove a gasp out of Reese.

“Back downstairs,” Torres said, opening the door. “No funny business, Holloway.”

Reese didn’t resist as Torres pushed her out of the bathroom. At least her hands were in front of her this time.

CHAPTER 37

Griffin was a medic. Reese couldn’t tell whether she had been genetically modified like the other soldiers because she didn’t touch Reese, but there was something horribly wrong with Griffin’s right hand. It looked as if it had been cut off, leaving the blunt stump of her forearm behind. Out of that stump grew three fingers, nailless and limp. Griffin used her left hand to raise the needle to Reese’s shoulder and caught Reese’s eye.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” she said in a rough voice.

“Nothing,” Reese said, averting her gaze. “Please don’t give me any more drugs. They’re messing me up.”

“That’s the point.” But Griffin paused and squirted some of the liquid out of the syringe before she plunged the needle into Reese’s arm.

It was still dark in the basement when Reese awoke. She heard the sound of breathing from the other side of the room. David and Amber. She tried to focus her mind, to seek out David. She was still foggy from the drug, but it wasn’t as bad as the first time she woke up. David? There was no response, and she thought he must still be unconscious.

Reese scooted back until she bumped against the wall, and then pushed herself into a seated position. Her back hurt, her shoulders hurt, and her hands were numb from the restraints, but it felt better to sit up. She stiffened as footsteps sounded above.

Torres’s voice filtered through the floorboards. “Orders came in. We’ll move them after dark.”

“Who’s taking point?” Wilson asked.

“You’ll drive. Carter’ll sit in the back to keep an eye on them. The rest of us will go separately in the truck, and the agent will follow you.”

“You’re leaving them with just Carter?”

“You think he can’t handle three drugged-out teenagers?”

“No, ma’am. I mean, of course he can.”

There was a long pause, and Reese got the impression that Torres was speaking more quietly, but she couldn’t make out a single word.

“I’ll go check the vehicles,” Wilson said.

“You do that,” Torres said.

Reese heard the back door open and close. A chair dragged across the kitchen floor. Then nothing.

Reese.

Her head snapped in David’s direction. David? Are you awake? She got to her feet, her knees wobbling.

I’m awake.

She walked toward him carefully, trying to remember where he was in the dark basement. When her foot nudged David’s back she knelt down, her bound hands touching his shoulders and neck. He moved slightly. “Are you okay?” she whispered. He felt groggy inside, and beyond that there was pain in his jaw from where the soldier had struck him.

“I’m okay,” he said, wincing as he tried to roll over.

She helped him to sit up.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked.

“No. That woman, Torres, she stopped them.”

“Is Amber okay?”

“I think so. She’s still asleep.”

“How long have we been down here? We have to—”

“Shh.” Reese heard footsteps again and they both froze. Have the drugs worn off enough that you can hear me clearly? she asked him silently.

I think so.

The footsteps faded away. Then listen. She told him what she had heard right before he woke up. We have to get away from them. When they move us, that will be our best chance.

You think we can get past Carter?

We don’t have a choice.

* * *

When Torres, Griffin, and Wilson came downstairs a few hours later, Reese was back in her designated corner. Amber had woken up only a few minutes before, and Reese had wanted to check on her, but there was no time. Wilson pulled David to his feet, and Griffin went to Amber. “Where’s your shoes, E.T.?” Griffin asked.

Torres found one and then the other, kicking them over to Amber. “Put them back on,” she said before going to Reese and yanking her up. “Time to move.”

Griffin and Wilson went upstairs first, pushing their charges ahead of them. Torres drew Reese close and whispered in her ear, “Wilson will stop the vehicle. He’ll give you ten minutes. If you can deal with Carter and the special agent, you’re out. You owe me. Diego Luis Torres. Children’s Home of Los Angeles. Don’t forget.” She shoved Reese toward the stairs.

Stunned, Reese began to climb, Torres’s words echoing in her brain. You owe me. Torres was going to give them a chance.

She didn’t have long to be happy about it. Outside, it was nighttime and it smelled like the middle of nowhere: dirt and grass and nothing. A bare bulb over the kitchen door revealed a farmhouse with dingy, peeling siding. Several vehicles were parked on the concrete driveway. One was an army truck, and Reese saw movement in the back that made her suspect several of the Blue Base soldiers were inside. The second vehicle was a champagne-colored sedan, the same model as the one used by Agent Forrestal in San Francisco. She wasn’t surprised to see a man in black leaning against the side of it. The third was a blue van, the kind that paranoid parents on television always pointed to and said, “Don’t ever get into one of those.” Next to the van was the soldier who was going to escort them. Reese recognized him immediately as one of the men who had threatened Amber and beat up David. Carter.

Reese watched David and Amber climb into the van ahead of her. When she passed Carter, she saw a gun at his waist as well as what looked like a couple of blades. She began to think that Torres’s offer of help—if that’s what it was—left a lot to be desired.

The interior of the van had two benches in it, just like the SWAT vehicle they had arrived in. David and Amber sat down next to each other, and before Reese had a chance to say a thing, Carter said, “Other side, lezzy.”

Reese hesitated. He shoved her. She almost went sprawling but managed to find her balance at the last second. She sat down across from Amber, her heart pounding.

“Watch it, Carter,” Torres said. “They have a scratch on them when they arrive and I’ll cut off your balls.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carter said, sounding as grouchy as he could without pissing her off. “Ain’t Griffin gonna dope ’em up?”

“They’ve been doped too many times. We do it again and they might die. You saying you can’t handle three skinny teenagers, two of ’em girls?”

Carter’s shoulders stiffened. “No, ma’am.”