We have exposed the Montauk Project and saved the recruits. I am no longer beholden to the Project, not because they’ve stolen my grandfather, and not because of the destiny that the future Lydia laid out for me. I’m free.
The cost of that freedom was Wes. He sacrificed himself so that I could have the life I wanted. But he was always supposed to be a part of my future, and I do not yet know how to believe that he is gone.
The smoke is still trickling out of the bunker, though it’s thinner now and more gray than black. Another fireman emerges, a child in his arms. I wonder if they are finding the labs, or any proof that this underground Facility was run by the government.
I can’t stay still for much longer or I will start to think about what happened to Wes. I turn toward where Dr. Bentley is tending to the children, but something makes me stop.
A soldier comes out of the smoking door of the bunker, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his skin covered in black dust. He is bleeding from his cheek, from his shoulder, but I watch the way he moves, even graceful when he stumbles on the wet grass.
“Oh God,” I whisper, and then I am running, pushing soldiers and doctors out of the way.
“Wes.” I scream, I whimper, and I throw myself at him, my body slamming hard against his. He takes a step back, his arms folding around my waist.
I feel my legs give out, but he pulls me up against him. He is an anchor, holding me in place.
“I hate you.” I say the words into the skin of his neck, tasting ashes and Wes. “I hate you so much.”
“I know.” His voice is like sandpaper.
“I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m sorry.” He winces as I squeeze him tighter, and I know I should loosen my hold, but I can’t.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”
He lays his hand on my hair, heavy and strong. “I know.”
The Project is destroyed and he is alive. The nightmare we’ve lived is over. We’re together now. Nothing else matters as he pulls me closer to him in the sunlight.
Epilogue
Mary slumps down onto the bed, her white dress falling around her like deflated meringue. “I just can’t believe Suze isn’t here. How could Mick choose today to come back from the war? It was supposed to be next week!”
I pick up the veil she flung onto the floor only a minute ago. “I don’t think he had much of a choice.”
“Oh, applesauce. Stop being so cheerful, Lydia. My life is ruined.” She throws herself back against the pink bedspread.
I laugh. “Your life is not ruined, but your hair might be if you don’t sit up.”
She pops up again, smoothing the soft curls that frame her face. Suddenly her back goes straight and she smiles. “Why don’t you be my bridesmaid? I thought about asking you in the first place, but Suze has been my oldest friend for forever and it just didn’t seem fair to her, what with you getting back into town only a month ago. And Suze seems a little jealous of you since we both have red hair and everyone says we’re like sisters, but this is perfect! Wes is already Lucas’s groomsman and the four of us will be a little wedding party up there at the altar. What do you say?” She clasps her hands together as though she’s praying. “Say yes, please, please, please.”
“Yes!” I say. “Of course I’ll do it.”
“You’re the best, Lyd, the absolute best. And you look like such a Grable today, no one will even notice me.”
“Now you’re just lying.”
She smirks and hops up from the bed. Her dress is a long, fitted flow of white satin, with princess sleeves and a sweetheart neckline.
“Sit down.” I point at the chair in front of her vanity. “I’ll put your veil on.”
She does, smiling at me, her lips red against her powdered face. I arrange the crown of white flowers in her hair, the lace veil spilling out the back and over her pale shoulders. “There. You’re all set.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror. “Remember how I did your hair when you first came to stay with us?” she asks. “You wouldn’t sit still and you had the strangest long bangs. It’s so much prettier now.”
I touch the curls that rest against my shoulders. One afternoon a few weeks ago, Mary insisted that I let her cut it, saying that she refused to look at it anymore.
“And I’m so glad you let me take you into town to buy your dress. That blue is divine against your skin.”
I smile. She would like this dress—she picked it out, insisting that the column of blue silk with the fitted bodice would be perfect for her wedding. I stare at myself in the mirror over her head. I’m starting to lose the defined muscles from the constant training, and the hard angles of my face are softening. I look like myself again. Like Lydia, instead of Seventeen.
Mary reaches her hand up and clutches mine where it rests against her shoulder. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Even though I don’t want to go to Georgia?”
I bend down until our faces are close together, looking back at us in the mirror. We really do resemble sisters, with the same green eyes, the high cheekbones, and full lips. “You are absolutely doing the right thing. Lucas even told Wes that he’s happy to leave the farm to his brother-in-law. He says he has no interest in smelling like cows for
