“You with me?” Teresa asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. I didn’t convince myself, either. “Fuck, I hate fire.”
“I know. Ethan and Landon are gone.”
“Already?”
Teresa blinked, but didn’t say anything. Guess I was out of it for longer than I’d thought. “I’m sure the police will be here any moment to find out what happened. Right now we’re going with ‘unknown Metas’ as the enemy.”
I snorted. “I can see it now. Six Metas handed their asses by two, film at eleven.”
“Bastards had the element of surprise.”
“We still lost. Again.”
“We’ll beat them eventually.”
“I’m glad you believe that.”
Her determination cracked briefly. “I have to.”
I pulled her into a hug, grateful to have her here and not asking questions. Maybe I’d tell her about the fire and the compound one day, but not here. Not now. “How are we going to get home? The one person who could have flipped the Sport back over is airborne and out of range.”
“Working on it.”
Turns out that the Pennsylvania State Police don’t like Metas very much, and they were more than eager to help us get on our way. In less than an hour, we’d secured a rental car and were back on the turnpike, heading east. Teresa looked kind of pale after our latest encounter with the clones, and Thatcher hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car in a decade and a half, so I was driving. Bethany stayed blessedly silent in the backseat with Thatcher.
We hadn’t found any decent clues about the direction the clones had gone, or how they’d been traveling. Jasper was thin and wiry, and even at super-speeds, I couldn’t imagine him carrying Sledgehammer around. It was like trying to imagine a ten-year-old hefting a two-hundred-pound football player. The police promised to tow the Sport; we’d collect it later.
Teresa managed to find one working phone in the wreck and she called ahead to let HQ know we were alive, but that Ethan was coming in with an injured Meta. She kept the conversation brief and professional—my guess was she was talking to Marco. We made the drive home in a haze of silent wariness, everyone on the lookout for another sneak attack.
I don’t know how I kept us on the road. Halfway home, the enormity of what happened on the roadside hit me. My hands didn’t shake, but I felt the tremors deep in my bones. If the entire quartet of clones had been there they could have easily killed us all. We were trapped in that vehicle for nearly a full minute—more than enough time to blow it up or crush it into tiny bits. Instead, they waited for us to get out, and then they tried to kill Landon.
Why him?
I didn’t dare broach the question with Bethany in the car. The last thing we needed was for her to freak out in an enclosed space. Once we were back on the island, I’d ask Teresa her thoughts. Most likely, the frown lines on her forehead were because she was already pondering the question—she’s smart like that.
The only thing I knew for sure was that the Overseer was going to find out very soon that the kids were with us—if he or she didn’t know already. Maybe Uncle, too, if they weren’t the same person.
Bethany eyeballed the puddle-jumper with disgust before she climbed on board. Gage and Sebastian were waiting near the helipad when we landed back on Governors Island, and questions started flying before most of us had both feet on the ground.
“Are you all right?” “Is anyone else injured?” “What happened out there?” “Is that blood?” I kind of lost track of which one was asking what.
Teresa made a time-out gesture with her hands, which shut them both up pretty effectively. “I want all Alpha leaders in the conference room in thirty minutes for a briefing,” she said. “If Dr. Kinsey can’t be there, I want him on video feed, since this involves the clones.”
“Done,” Sebastian said.
She turned to face Thatcher, who kept looking at the HQ building like he wanted to storm it—and he probably did. Landon was inside, condition unknown. “I need you at that meeting.”
“As long as Landon is stable, I’ll attend,” Thatcher said stonily.
“Good enough.”
“Can we go see him now?” Bethany said in a familiar whiny tone. Several new bruises had darkened on her face and arms during the trip home. She’d taken a pretty good banging when the Sport tumbled over.
“Yes, Renee can take you to the infirmary. You need to get looked over, anyway.”
Bethany grimaced, but didn’t argue (for once).
I groaned inwardly, even though getting volunteered as tour guide shouldn’t have surprised me. I was Thatcher’s official babysitter, after all.
“What about you?” Gage asked, pointing to the bandage at Teresa’s hairline.
“It’s a cut, it’s fine.”
I didn’t wait around to see if the cut turned into a larger argument. I headed toward the HQ entrance, not bothering to check to see if Bethany and Thatcher were following me. We got a few speculative looks as we marched down the main corridor, mostly from the youngest Metas in residence. Everyone knew about Thatcher by now, but Bethany was new and therefore interesting.
The infirmary waiting room was mostly empty. Only Ethan and Aaron were there, pacing in one corner of the room. The two exam cubicle curtains were open, their areas empty, which meant all of the doctoring was happening in the rear rooms, hidden behind a large swinging door. Conversation stopped abruptly when we walked in, and I couldn’t even appreciate the awesomeness of the glare Aaron shot at Bethany because she bolted for the door at the rear.
“Hold on a second,” Ethan said. He got in her way before she could burst into the back and interrupt something important.
She pulled her right hand back like she was going to hit him, but Thatcher snagged her wrist. “How’s Landon?” Thatcher asked.
“He’s being operated on,” Ethan replied. “Dr. Kinsey said the wood shard nicked his lung, so he has to repair that before he can property treat the burns.”
“How long has it been?”
Before Ethan could answer, the door swung open and Jessica Lam stepped out. She wore blue scrubs and still had a mask hanging around her neck, but she’d removed all other evidence of her recent surgery—good tactic for not scaring the family. She nodded at me, then gave the two newcomers a curious look.
“How’s Landon?” Thatcher asked.
“He’s stable and resting,” Jessica replied. “And you are?”
“Derek Thatcher. I’m his father.”
Her eyebrows arched.
“And I’m his sister,” Bethany said.
“Not biologically,” Thatcher added.
She gave him a withering glare. “Like I’d claim you as a sperm donor.”
I covered a bark of laughter with a cough.
“Can I see him?” Thatcher asked.
“In a few minutes,” Jessica replied. “Dr. Kinsey will come out when it’s all right. In the meantime, is anyone else injured?”
All eyes went right to Bethany, who heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, I guess me.” Then she gave Jessica a second, more appraising look. “Definitely me.”
The girl just didn’t stop.
Jessica took her to the nearest cubicle, then pulled the curtain. Their voices continued behind it, muffled and soft.
