to be Q rescuing them, not the bad guys coming to finish them off.
But Jay’s eyes were narrowing in suspicion. “I don’t know you,” he said. “You weren’t here before.”
Clair half turned, and froze to hide her surprise.
Beside her Jesse literally gasped.
“You don’t need to know me, Mr. Beaumont,” said the young woman standing in front of the booth. She was wearing dark, practical clothes similar to Clair’s and holding a pistol that could have been the one Clair had just recycled. In every other respect, however, she was the exact opposite of Clair.
It was Libby. The only thing missing was her birthmark. But where had she come from?
“All that matters is that you’ve done as you were instructed,” Libby said. “Now it’s time for me to take over.”
“What’s going to happen to them?” Jay was hesitating. His shotgun hovered in no-man’s-land, between his prisoners and the young stranger who had come to deal with them.
“Go back inside the saloon, please, Mr. Beaumont,” Libby said, moving one step closer to him. “You don’t need to see any more.”
Clair couldn’t take her eyes off her. There was something odd about her, something not quite right. Something more than the missing birthmark.
Jay nervously licked his lips. “Just don’t do it here,” he said. “Don’t do anything to them on my porch.”
He lowered the shotgun and went inside, brushing within arm’s reach of Clair as he did so. His eyes stared fixedly at the ground.
The door shut and locked behind him with a terminal click.
Jesse’s hands came down.
“Libby?” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Libby waved him quiet with the pistol. She was watching the saloon intently.
“I don’t think he heard,” she said. Her demeanor relaxed, and her voice changed too. Clearly she had been acting before, playing the role she needed to play. But instead of becoming Libby as Clair knew her, she became someone else.
“Get in the buggy, both of you, and get out of here. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.”
“Q?” said Clair, feeling as though she had been sucker punched in the gut. “Is that you?”
“You guessed! I wasn’t sure if you would.” She clapped her hands, but then stumbled and steadied herself against the porch. “Oh, you really need to get moving. ‘Dylan Linwood’ left Columbia five minutes ago. He’s d- matting to the San Andreas Memorial as we speak, and that’s only two and a half miles from the rendezvous. If you don’t move quickly, he will get there before you. Clair, are you listening?”
Q approached and Clair physically recoiled. She was Libby, but she wasn’t. It wasn’t
“How did you do this?” asked Jesse, staring in amazement and shock. “You made Libby a dupe!”
“Not really . . . it’s hard to explain.” Q turned to address him, tangling her feet in the process. “Please, Jesse. The longer I stay here, the less control I have over the situation. You must leave immediately while I use the booth to go back to the way I was.”
“Get out of her body,” said Clair. “Please get out of her body.”
“I will,” said Q, “as soon as you’re gone. I promise.”
Q approached with one hand outstretched. The hand was shaking as though with palsy.
The horror in her voice shocked even Clair. Q backed away, counterfeit face crumpling in dismay.
“Come on, Clair,” said Jesse, taking her by the shoulders. “She’s right. This can’t hold us up. We need to get in the buggy and get the hell out of here, right now.”
Clair didn’t disagree. She didn’t agree, either, but she did allow herself to be led away. The buggy was ready to go, humming impatiently to itself, the sandwich Q had made for her still resting on the seat. Clair pitched it as far from her as she could. She felt sick to the stomach. Sick to her very heart.
Q had put her own mind into Libby’s body.
So where was Libby now?
Jesse got in and put the buggy into motion. It accelerated hard up Main Street, heading for Route 4. Clair looked behind her just once, at the figure standing alone under the porch light. It turned and walked into the booth. Vanished.
39
CLAIR LEANED FORWARD and ground her palms into her eyes. The bouncing of the buggy and the whipping of the wind weren’t helping her nausea.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Jesse. “You’re thinking that we have proof now. Proof of everything, thanks to Q. The dupes are real, and so is everything else Gemma—”
“Shut up.” It was true. That was exactly what she was thinking, and it wasn’t remotely a happy thought.
When had they become a
An intersection came into view ahead. Jesse slowed them to a crawl.
“Which way, Clair?”
“You decide.”
“That’s your job, remember? We had an agreement. You navigate; I’ll drive.”
She forced herself not to dwell on what she’d just seen.
Her original intention had been to take the most comfortable but now much less direct route to the airfield through a place called Angels Camp. There was an alternative, a more direct course that brought them close to the rear of the airfield. It was less than twelve miles by road, with a short overland leg at the end.
She weighed up the two routes in her mind. Fear made thinking easier. Fear of being left behind, of being stuck in the wilderness forever, of being shot, ultimately, and of losing the real Libby forever.
Comfort was no longer an option.
“North,” she said. “Route 4 for three miles, then take the left up Pool Station Road. Don’t stop until I tell you.”
“Okay,” he said. “Time to really put the pedal to the metal.”
That one she didn’t understand, but its meaning became clear as the buggy’s engine jumped an octave in pitch and their speed rapidly increased.
The helmet rocked at her side, nudging her hip. There hadn’t been so much as a squawk from the open channel since they had left Tulloch Dam, and according to the map the airship hadn’t moved. Figuring their position was largely blown already, she slipped the helmet over her head and selected the open channel.
“Got held up,” she said. “Expect company.”
“Understood” came the brief reply—Ray’s voice—then silence fell again.
Clair slipped off the helmet and sat for a moment, exhausted. She had decided which way to go in the short term. She was helpless now to do anything other than wait for the consequences.
“Moon’s rising, which means dawn’s on its way,” Jesse said, indicating the thin sliver creeping over the rumpled horizon to their right. “I’m worried we’re going to run out of time. They won’t keep the airship anywhere near the ground during the day, when it’s most vulnerable.”
Clair could do nothing to reassure him. Their vulnerability was gnawing at her as much as the airship’s. Not to mention Libby’s vulnerability.
“How does duping
Jesse glanced at her, then back to the road. “Are you asking me or Q?”
