The rain outside slows, then stops, until all that’s left are fat drops of water that fall from the branches overhead to splat against the roof of the car. The sun starts to shine again, runny and thin.
“Time to keep moving.” Wes reaches for his door handle, but I put my hand on his arm as something on the radio catches my attention.
“Wait. Listen.”
So come on down to Bentley’s Hardware where you’ll find half-price Peter-brand shovels and discounted mowers for the summer season. Sale ends Friday. That’s Bentley’s Hardware, one-six-seven Eleventh Avenue, New York, New York.
“Did that just say . . .” I whisper.
Wes frowns. “Bentley’s Hardware.”
“What does it mean?” I turn to look at him. “Is it a coincidence? Is there another Bentley’s Hardware?”
“It must be.” But I hear the doubt in Wes’s voice. “This is the future. Maybe your family moved to New York City after Montauk was flooded.”
“It said Peter-brand shovels. There are no Peter-brand shovels. And Peter is my grandfather’s name.”
“You can’t know all the brands of shovels, not in twenty forty-nine.” Wes turns down the radio, but I am breathing too hard to hear the silence. “Lydia, don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why was it on a New Washington radio station? It’s a New York store. It doesn’t make sense. Someone knows we’re here and is trying to send us a message.”
“You can’t know that.”
“You’re the one who said you don’t believe in coincidences, remember? And that far south, Eleventh Avenue is basically the West Side Highway. There are no family-owned hardware stores over there.”
Wes leans toward me, resting his hand on the gearshift between us. “Lydia, the city could have changed.”
“In just thirty years?”
It is Twenty-two who answers, the edge in her voice even sharper than normal. “It’s not likely that a small hardware store would be in that area.” She waits a beat. “I take it this name means something to you . . . Lydia?”
Wes opens and closes his mouth, realizing his mistake. He turns to face her in the cramped space. “Twenty-two. We, Seventeen and I—”
“Knew each other before? I’m getting that.” She gestures at Tim. “What about you? You don’t seem surprised.”
“Leave Lydia alone,” he says. “Can’t you see how much this is affecting her?”
Wes looks at Tim. “You know her name. She told you her name.”
“She—”
“Can we please concentrate on what’s important here?” I raise my voice a little and they all fall silent. “I think this is a message for us. A location and a date. It might be from the Project. It says the sale ends on Friday. That’s in two days. We have to get there before then.”
“Lydia . . .” Tim leans forward between the seats and Wes pulls back, pressing into the side window. “You don’t know this was for you. There are a lot of Bentleys in the world. It could just be an advertisement, picked up by another channel. A coincidence.”
“It’s meant for me, for all of us. I can feel it.”
“You’re tired,” Wes cuts in. “We all are. We’ll keep moving, we’ll find a car, but it’d be impossible to get to New York in two days.”
“What if I went alone? What if I found help for us and came back for you guys?”
Tim is shaking his head before I even finish the words. “You have no proof this means anything. We can’t let you do it.”
“If they capture you, then we’ll all be at risk,” Twenty-two adds.
I catch Wes’s eye. He looks tired in the pale sunlight, a streak of dirt painted on the side of his cheek. “I can’t just sit here, doing nothing, waiting for those swarms of soldiers to find us,” I say. “This could be what we’ve been waiting for, the Project reaching out to us. This might be the only chance we have. Can’t you see that we have to try?”
Wes sighs, and I know he wants to agree with me, wants to give me something in exchange for what he took. But then he says, “It’s too dangerous, Lydia. And too much of a risk for something that’s probably a fluke.”
I take in their set expressions. They will never agree. But it isn’t a fluke. There is no such thing as a coincidence when you’re a recruit for the Montauk Project. Wes was the one who taught me that, almost a year ago.
No matter what happens, I have to make it to New York.
Chapter 11
I push my way between the gnarled branches. From somewhere through the trees I hear the highway, the soft whoosh of cars as they pass. I just need to find a house, or a small town, anyplace where I can steal a vehicle to take me north.
It wasn’t easy leaving Wes and Tim behind in the clearing. The rain had sent us west, close to the edge of the woods. I left them sleeping, grabbing the last few minutes of rest before we tried to steal a car from a nearby home. But we all knew how small our odds were and were silent as we made camp earlier. Twenty-two went out to scout again, to see how close the Secret Service was. I was supposed to be on patrol, but I decided I would leave as soon as the two boys closed their eyes. I am tired of looking for ghosts in the trees, of wondering how we will be tortured if we’re caught. The others might not believe this message meant anything, but I know it did. It has to be from the Project. If I can get to New York in two days, then I can come back with a new team and save everyone else. It’s the only chance we have of making it out of here alive.
I am stepping past the black trunk of a tree when a hand reaches out and yanks me against something solid. I do not
