Julian was counting as we approached him. His eyes finally met mine, and he let out a huge breath of air. No one had ever looked that happy to see me in my life. I would have smiled, if I hadn’t been trying to ward off a panic attack.
“Ten,” Julian said, and then counted again. “We’re missing one. Who are we missing?”
“Me.”
I turned to see Zoe trudging toward us, the knees of her pants dirty but otherwise unharmed. I wondered if she hid instead of joining the fight. She stared at the ground.
“Jesus.” Julian pressed the palms of his hand to his forehead. “You all made it.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Dorsey said dryly.
“Look at this.” Julian gestured to the bodies around us. “It’s a miracle.”
Patrick wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “I thought you were gone for a minute there.”
“Me too.”
“I think . . .” Julian closed his eyes for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. “I think we’re going to have to help with these bodies. But let’s move to the side for a minute while the paramedics grab the injured.”
We followed him back to where we’d started, the median with the bikes. There was a big hole where the scooters had been. We clustered together on the other side, near the trees.
Medics ran out of ambulances and onto the street. Julian examined the cut on Patrick’s head, then inspected a wound on Laila’s arm. He stopped in front of me.
“How bad is that?” he asked quietly.
I blinked. “What?” I remembered suddenly that a scrab’s claws had caught my arm. “Oh. No, it’s fine. Just a scratch.” The pain felt dull and far away. My brain was buzzing.
He nodded, but didn’t move right away. His arm moved toward me, then dropped back to his side, like he’d thought better of it. We were surrounded by other recruits, and so far, we’d kept our relationship secret.
He took a step back. “You guys can sit,” he said to the rest of the team. “Relax a minute.” He scanned the area. “I’ll be back.” He headed in Grayson’s direction.
I sat down on the curb and examined my arm, which was starting to burn as the panic wore off. Four angry claw marks ripped into my skin. I touched the edge of my fingertips just below each one.
“That was some shit,” Dorsey said, after several minutes of silence.
Priya let out a semihysterical laugh and roughly wiped tears off her face. Gage was trying to light a cigarette, but his hands were shaking too badly. Archer reached over and took the lighter from him, flicking it to produce a flame. Gage gave him a grateful look.
“This is the darkest timeline,” Edan said. “I want a different one.”
“No way,” Noah said. “I read science fiction. The Nazis always win in the other timelines. I’ll take the monsters.”
“That’s a really good point,” Edan muttered. “Second darkest timeline.”
“Agreed.”
Silence settled over the group again, until I broke it. “We should have stuck together.” My voice was too quiet, and I could tell that Laila and Archer, on the other side of the group, hadn’t heard it. I cleared my throat. “We should have stuck together.”
“Yeah, a lot of the teams were working as a unit,” Noah said. “I think it’s a better strategy.”
“I don’t know, we all made it,” Patrick said. “Maybe we’re OK as is.”
“What’s the point of having a team if we all run off and do our own thing?” Noah asked. “Besides, like Julian said, it’s a miracle. I don’t know about you guys, but I almost died, like, three times. I think some of this is just dumb luck.”
“Same,” Edan said.
“Same,” Laila said. “I don’t know about dumb luck, though.” She touched the cross around her neck.
“I’m only alive because Clara pulled me out of the way just in time,” Dorsey said, shooting me a smile. “So I vote we stay together next time.”
“Agreed,” Madison said.
“Together, then,” Noah said. “I’ll tell Julian that’s what we want to do.”
We were quiet again.
22
GRAYSON ST. JOHN FIGHT SQUADS DEFEATED IN PARIS
Massive casualties call training methods into question.
The news reports about our first battle were not kind.
The UK squads had encountered some scrabs, as had teams in Beijing and Tokyo, and they’d suffered some casualties, but not like us. We’d taken failure to a new level.
I slipped my phone (the team phone?) into my pocket and headed for the door. The rest of the girls on team seven were still sleeping. Their alarms would go off soon, but I’d woken up early, hungry and still vibrating with terror from yesterday.
I walked down the hallway and descended the stairs to the ground floor. I could hear the murmured sounds of people talking behind closed doors, but the complex was mostly quiet, everyone still asleep or in their rooms. As I passed through the lobby, I saw some of the Australian teams outside, doing yoga on the grass.
I pulled open the door of the cafeteria. It was empty, except for Grayson. He sat on the floor in the back of the room, knees bent, his head down. Next to him were several large paper bags.
The door banged closed behind me, and he looked up with a start. His eyes were red, and he quickly wiped his hand across them.
I hesitated, taking a step back. Was it kinder to pretend I hadn’t noticed him crying and just leave? Or should I stay?
“I bought croissants.” He gestured to the bags. “If you want one.”
I started across the cafeteria. If he wanted me to leave, he wouldn’t have offered me food.
“Everything OK?” I asked, even though I knew it wasn’t. I didn’t know what else to say. I barely knew Grayson.
He leaned his head back against the wall and let out a long sigh. “I bought croissants to apologize for getting everyone’s
