The closer they got, the more of their conversation I understood.
“Are we supposed to just trust that Red’s OK?” one Hazel asked. The anger in her voice made me suspect it was Rainbow. “You won’t even let us talk to her!”
“We’re a little distracted at the moment,” an agent responded sourly.
“And that ambulance means Alpha’s still here, right?” she pressed. “Aren’t you evacuating her?”
“We’re waiting for a doctor to accompany her,” the agent said. “Can you give it a rest? Both girls are perfectly safe.”
“Yeah? Because your track record sucks.” I could vividly imagine Rainbow’s glare.
I shifted in the grass and immediately regretted it. Moving made the cold stains on my clothes feel even grosser.
“Once we’re out of here,” Mom snapped, “I want to talk to Director Facet.”
By now, their shoes were only feet away from my face. I instinctively held my breath.
“Noted,” one of the agents said. “Look, I—”
“Code eight!” someone yelled. The voice came from near the medical research barn. “Code eight!”
I could guess what “code eight” meant.
They’d found out Alpha was missing.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Two of the agents ran across the lawn toward the medical barn.
There was a whirlwind of panic near the vans. I caught snippets of shouts and alarmed questions—about trolls, about broken windows, about the evacuation—and saw more sets of feet running toward the barn.
“Get into that black van, all of you,” the agent ordered.
“I heard something about trolls?” Rainbow spoke fast, like she was rushing to get the words out.
“Get into the van!” the agent barked. “We’re evacuating! Now!”
“Trolls?” another Hazel said, alarmed. “Are you sure? I thought we’d gotten rid of them in Damford.”
The direction her voice came from suggested it was Alpha. I was suddenly very grateful I’d filled her in on the events she’d missed.
The Hazels moved away. Within moments, car doors slammed shut, the engine roared, and they were gone.
More agents ran to the medical research barn. Some searched the building, but most fanned out, checking the nearby fence and woods beyond.
They’d expect Alpha to run. They wouldn’t look under the ambulance. Not right away, at least.
For what felt like an eternity, I lay pressed in the grass. Goose bumps covered every inch of my body. I shivered so bad it hurt. Across the lawn, the evacuation had slowed to a trickle, with most vans gone and only a handful of researchers still scurrying between buildings and hauling along bags.
Then, abruptly, the search stopped.
Agents exited the medical research barn, trickled from the woods, and emerged from behind other barns. Fear clenched my heart: Was I too late? Maybe the rift was expanding farther and they’d gotten the call to abandon the search for Alpha.
The agents didn’t seem panicked, though. Harried, yes. I caught scattered conversation as they headed toward the nearby vans.
“—us to search the damn woods?”
“They spotted enough trolls that it couldn’t be a coincidence—”
“—same direction—”
“—kept their distance—”
“—she must’ve run straight into the woods—”
The cold had numbed my brain enough that it took several seconds before I connected the dots. The MGA knew the trolls were linked to Alpha. If anyone in the evacuating cars spotted trolls beelining away from the house, they probably assumed they were following Alpha, which would mean she wasn’t near the grounds.
As long as the evacuation kept moving swiftly, it’d take the MGA a while to realize the trolls weren’t following a lone girl through the woods, but instead were following the van containing Mom and the Hazels.
Three cars took off within moments of one another. The world fell abruptly silent. I scanned my surroundings for signs of life, but the only movement came from researchers across the lawn.
My frozen joints protested as I wriggled out from under the ambulance. Wind blew past my mud-smeared clothes and skin. I wanted to stretch, to wipe myself down, to collapse and cry—but Neven came first. I needed to get her free.
I set off across the lawn at a jog, shifting between barns to stay out of sight of the remaining researchers, until I reached the rift barn. Part of the back wall and roof had been blown out, but most of the barn was intact. I could simply use the main entrance. My knife made quick work of the lock, and then I was inside, the entrance hall of the building cool and dark. Only faint emergency lighting lit the building.
“Neven?” I called. Her name echoed off the walls.
No answer.
I strengthened my voice. “Neven!”
She had to be in here. She had to be—what if I was wasting time I didn’t have—?
I ran through wide, dim halls. Several doors stood open. Offices looked hastily exited. I saw a half-eaten bowl of soup in one room, and in another, a mug full of coffee abandoned under the coffee maker.
I turned another corner. On the right-hand side, a tube of emergency lighting flickered. The other lights had been destroyed. Something had smashed into a wall nearby. Long gouges dragged across the floor, like oversized versions of the claw marks the trolls left behind in Damford.
I sped down the hall. One wall had partially collapsed. I stepped past the rubble and into an observation room of sorts. Thick glass stretched across the entire length and height of one wall. I rested my hands against it, trying to peer through. I had to make do with the glow from the emergency lights in the hall behind me—which wasn’t much.
“Hazel,” a familiar voice said. It sounded muted.
“Neven!” I pressed closer to the window. The faint outline of Neven emerged from the dark: the curve of her belly as she lay on the ground, the thick claws on one extended paw. “Are you all right?”
“Mm.” Something moved—her head, I thought. She slurred, “The rift? I can feel it. It’s not right.”
Her voice seemed to come from above. When I looked up, I spotted the reason—air holes dotted the glass near
