The Countdown (The Taking #3)(51)

Being cramped in the car with these two for the past sixteen hours hadn’t gone far to getting us better acquainted.

Unlike Simon, Thom had always been the more silent type. He still didn’t trust Agent Truman, and I didn’t entirely blame him. But there was more to it than that. I figured he was probably still licking his wounds over the whole Natty situation.

As far as Agent Truman, I hadn’t tried to have any heart-to-hearts with him or anything, but I’d definitely started to get a feel for subtle shifts in his demeanor. For his part, he’d actually attempted to break the ice with us. Even gone as far as trying to crack a joke or two, which had been nothing short of awkward. The corners of his eyes had gotten squintier than usual, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure of the proper procedure for smiling. Like it was a lost skill. But even after hours of traveling together, he hadn’t given us a first name so he was still just Agent Truman. Maybe “Agent” for short.

The one time I’d tried to broach the subject of Griffin, he’d frozen over like arctic tundra.

But of course Agent Truman wasn’t the buddy-buddy type and we weren’t friends. Agent Truman was more the shoot-your-daughter-and-leave-her-for-dead type.

The only reason we were together at all was to stop an alien race from invading the planet.

Message received.





CHAPTER TEN


Days Remaining: Ten

THE STOP SEEMED TO COME OUT OF NOWHERE, maybe because we were nowhere. Not just up in the mountains, but parked in front of an actual mountain, facing a wall of jagged stone that would have been imposing if not for the tiny white flowers that sprang from its rocky surface.

I started to open the passenger side door because my legs were killing me, and right now, getting out and stretching them was all I could think of.

Agent Truman’s hand shot over and stopped me. “You might wanna hold up a sec.”

Without warning, the car plummeted as if it had been suspended by only a taut wire, and that wire had just been cut. My stomach lurched up all the way into my throat. I guessed we’d been parked on some sort of platform, a super high velocity elevator.

Whatever it was, the drop felt endless.

“What . . . the . . .” Thom glared at Agent Truman, who wore an almost-legitimate smile as he watched us from behind the wheel.

“A little warning next time,” I accused breathlessly, after my stomach had slipped back into place.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Agent Truman asked, switching off the ignition.

When we were parked aboveground, it had been broad daylight, but down here, deep underground, it was pitch-black. “What is this place?”

Agent Truman’s sly grin was back. “You’ll see.” And just when he said it, like he’d issued a command, a series of pale lights switched on all around us, illuminating walls that were carved from the cliffs themselves.

Beyond our car, a wide corridor extended as the walls shifted from rock to steel, the floor from stone that was rough and coarse to granite so polished it gleamed.

A woman emerged from the end of the tunnel. Her white lab coat was stark against her dark skin, and her hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail that ended in a thick cluster of soft curls. It was clear from her welcoming smile that she’d been expecting us.

“Now it’s safe to get out,” Agent Truman said as he opened his door.

“Welcome to the ISA,” the woman greeted us as she approached. “The Interstellar Space Agency,” she clarified as she came to a stop in front of us. “I’m Dr. Clarke. So glad you could join us.”

The Interstellar Space Agency. She made it sound like I should know who, or what, the Interstellar Space Agency was. Like they were up there with the FBI or NASA, or even the PTA when it came to public awareness, rather than a clandestine organization operating from underneath a mountain.

Before I could ask exactly what it was the ISA did, and how they thought they could help us, Dr. Clarke turned to lead us back down the corridor she’d just come from. “Let me give you the grand tour.” Since Agent Truman and Thom were already following her, I wasn’t given much of a choice. I supposed I should too.

Even though we were so far beneath ground, the place had a sterile feel about it. When we emerged from the tunnel, we stepped out into a space that didn’t look at all like it could possibly be buried beneath a mountain. I remembered the first time I’d seen the Daylighters’ Tacoma facility—that blown-away sensation I’d had that I’d just walked onto an elaborate movie set. A science fiction lover’s wet dream.

I had that feeling now as I looked around at the enormous operation. Equipment that looked even more state-of-the-art than what I’d seen at the Tacoma facility. Things that looked like they didn’t even belong to this world. “What is this place?” I asked again.

“Remember I told you about those brainiacs no one takes seriously?” Agent Truman answered. “Well, these are who I meant.”

Dr. Clarke gave Agent Truman a look that reminded me of one my mom used to give my dad, a we’ll-come-back-to-that look. A put-a-pin-in-it look.

I sort of hoped I’d be there for that conversation.

Then she launched into her own explanation. “You’ve heard of SETI?” Dr. Clarke asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Should I have?” I answered vaguely.