“Brenda?”
The middle-aged female looked at Ellyssa, sorrow tugging her doe-like eyes. “I’m sorry, but no. I think it’s better for you to leave.”
“Rein, I agree. Maybe if I go to them, I can lead them from you.”
“Majority rules.”
A sliver of hope entered. “What about Mathew? And Jason? They have not voted.”
“Doc’s vote is for you to stay, and Jason is temporarily suspended from his duties,” Woody said. “Ellyssa, you know as well as I do that nothing you say will stop them from looking.”
“There might be—”
He patted her hand. “You’re one of us now. Please.”
Ellyssa closed her eyes, wishing for a moment that she’d never followed Jeremy’s phantom voice.
“We need to hold a community meeting. Evacuation plans need to be implemented,” said Eric.
As their voices droned on about a section of the cave that needed preparation, Ellyssa listened halfheartedly. She should just leave and lead the
Ellyssa’s eyes moved from one face to the other as the members discussed plans. None of them had any idea how relentless her father was. Dr. Hirch wouldn’t stop until she was back in his hands; he wouldn’t stop until they had been annihilated.
She had inadvertently signed these people’s death warrants.
29
Hunched over, Angela darted behind an overgrown bush. She had her assigned electroshock weapon drawn, as if that would do any good. Even with the knowledge of Renegades definitely hiding in the forest, Dr. Hirch still forbade the use of guns, fearing an accidental shooting of his precious children. At least she had a real gun strapped to her ankle just in case she ran into one of the lowlifes. To hell with the consequences, they were armed.
She looked over her shoulder to see if Dyllon was in position. With a lift of his head, Dyllon acknowledged he was ready, then ducked behind a pile of rumpled tin sheets and rusted nails, the remnants of an old shed. A large oak grew from within the rubble.
The house hadn’t fared much better. The roof was nonexistent. As for the walls, only one still remained partially erect, crumbling bricks threatening to collapse at any moment. A variety of bushes and plants had taken root, slowly returning the man-made structure to nature.
She wished she’d thought better of listening to Micah. After all, he had been wrong about Davis. If she were to be truthful, her initial instincts had been wrong about the ranger, too.
The ranger had gone to Kansas City to visit his parents, just as he had said. The police who had conducted the interviews had found nothing suspicious, except that the ranger had loaded two small boxes into his truck before he’d left. Most likely supplies, and hardly enough to support a community of Renegades. Davis was nothing more than a quiet man who kept to himself. No wonder he was a park ranger. A perfect predetermined career for him.
Not only had The Center’s child screwed up her revenge upon Ellyssa, he’d screwed up her whole investigation, making her second guess herself by listening to him. First he wanted to waste time tailing Davis, then he insisted they wasted more time driving around, sightseeing.
Squatting behind a bush, Angela faced the woods. Trees grew densely around the overgrown field. She could make out a couple of rusted metal rods, leftovers of an old fence, poking from the ground.
They were wasting time. If not for Micah, they could be doing something more productive, like looking for clues to where Ellyssa hid. Instead, they were on this wild goose chase that Micah refused to talk about.
Angela had to admit, though, at first she had been convinced Micah had found something. After he had ordered Captain Jones to stop, he’d popped out of the vehicle to touch a toppled tree. Then Micah’s eyes leveled with hers, and he told her this was the place. After the drive had been cleared, there were signs of tire tracks and clumps of crushed grass. For the first time in days, Angela’s interest had been piqued and her hopes had soared.
Now though, after seeing the ruins of the old farm, she began to doubt. There was no way this wreckage held a secret storage cache.
She glanced at Micah, who had ignored her orders to advance slowly. His blond hair reflected the light of the Indian summer sun as he kicked the wreckage. He glanced at her before bending over and coming up with what looked like the edge of a broken tin sheet in his hand. Smugness traveled across his face before it faded. On first glance, she thought it was debris, but then she noticed the arc in which it moved, as if attached to hinges. His head bobbed out of sight, she heard the thud of the door closing.
“Dyllon,” she beckoned, while rounding the heap to where Micah had just stood.
Dyllon trotted after her, his forehead bunched together. She knelt on her haunches, poking through the ruins. Bricks, dead branches, and other trash littered the ground around the tin sheet. At first glance, the heap looked as if it was nothing more than rubble, but when Angela really looked at it, she saw the telltale signs. The bricks were arranged in staggering stacks, the branches aligned to hide the entrance. She shook her head and stood.
Once again, if it hadn’t been for Micah, she would never have seen it, mistaking the debris for what it appeared like, a mound of scrap. Although she hated The Center’s children, she had to admit their extraordinary abilities were useful.
“He went down there?” asked Dyllon as he pulled he grabbed the edge of the door. It opened smoothly and revealed wooden steps, leading into darkness.
Angela switched on her flashlight. Well-maintained steps led to a dirt floor. Sighing, she descended, sweeping her light back and forth, and stepped into a basement carved into the ground. Along the walls, vertical chinks marked where picks and shovels had been used to dig the hole. Rafters, covered in an oily substance, ran the length every two meters. Angela touched a post closest to the stairway. A preservative stained her fingertips. She wiped her hand on her pants.
“I can’t believe this,” she stated. “They must have been here for years.”
“It definitely took some time to dig out,” remarked Dyllon.
“It took more than that. It took a lot of help,” Angela said, moving deeper into the man-made storage area toward Micah, whose own light revealed cardboard boxes stacked against the farthest wall. “How else could they acquire these materials?”
“The park ranger,” Micah said, his palm touching a container. He sounded bored, but the look he gave her was one of self-satisfaction.
Angela’s pride plunged, like it was tied to an anchor. Of course, an operation this sophisticated couldn’t have happened without the ranger’s knowledge. Her initial instinct had been right all along, without the aid of genetically-enhanced perceptions. If she hadn’t let her hatred of The Center’s children, and her determination to prove herself an equal, affect her judgment, she would be standing before Micah a success. Instead, the boy would get the credit, and she, once again, had proven herself an incompetent failure.
Hatred and fury percolated.
Somehow, Angela would prove herself. And Dr. Hirch would see her as an equal. Until then, though, she’d work with Micah. She’d been making a bigger fool of herself fighting against him. Time wasted on small stuff when she could have everything, and show them all her superiority. It would be a lot easier if none of The Center’s children had been born.
Angela cast her gaze downwards as a smile graced her lips.
She would have her revenge.
“Detective Petersen,” Dyllon wore a confused frown. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course.” She waved him off. “How did you know?” she asked Micah.
“The daybook,” he said. “A lot of people had touched it, contaminating it. But I had caught a glimpse of a
