The Countdown (The Taking #3)(58)

“Do you mean like the dodo bird?” I asked, wondering where she was going with this.

“I mean,” she stressed, “that the Earth has already survived five mass extinction events, including one that wiped out ninety-six percent of all life on this planet.”

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to that.

Dr. Clarke straightened the hem of her jacket and fixed her gaze on each of us, one at a time like she was weighing our skills. “This is our chance to play a part in stopping the next one.”

“How do you figure?” Willow asked.

“We need to find a way to prevent them from coming. To prevent them from exterminating us. And, apparently, we have nine days to figure out how to do that.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Days Remaining: Seven

TWO DAYS HAD PASSED AND WE WERE NO CLOSER to figuring out what the M’alue’s message meant, or what they wanted from us, than we’d been when we’d first taken the underground plunge into the ISA for help. I also still hadn’t figured out where Tyler and I stood. I knew he was avoiding me—using his new ability to sense me to vacate any room before I arrived, or to wait until I was gone to enter. It was frustrating and awkward, because everyone knew what was happening.

And whenever we were forced into the same room, I could feel his eyes on me. It was the same thing my dad had done, that watching-me thing, like I was too blind to notice.

With no news in the two days since Dr. Clarke had given us her “We need to stop them from exterminating us” speech, we’d all started to go a little stir-crazy.

We’d been given limited access to the underground facility, the parts that weren’t classified. Griffin and Willow had started making several trips to the gym each day, and then again to the large indoor track, just to burn off steam. I’d gone with them once, but they were hard core. Working out, for the two of them, was something that rivaled the Olympics, each of them jockeying to be the fastest runner, to lift the most weight, to do the most pull-ups, push-ups, chin-ups, or sit-ups. Pushing and challenging the other until I realized I’d gone invisible.

One trip had definitely been enough.

I’d tried on several occasions to convince Dr. Clarke to let me see Adam again, but she’d denied me every time, not even bothering with excuses, just telling me his lab was restricted. I argued we’d seen him once already, and she just repeated that it was a “restricted” area.

I even tried convincing the security guards to give me a tour of the upper floors, hoping to catch another glimpse of the M’alue in his body-sized test tube. It was weird the way I was consumed by thoughts of him, and if Tyler and I had been on better terms I would have asked him if he felt the same. But we weren’t.

Then there were the tests. Strange ones.

It had started that first day, just before dawn, when Dr. Clarke had come to me and asked if I wouldn’t mind being monitored while the sun came up. If my dad had known what they were planning he would have objected, which was why I didn’t tell him.

Normally, I’d never want someone watching while I squirmed in agony. It would be like letting someone watch me pee. Superweird.

But with the fate of the world in jeopardy, who was I to deny such a simple request? What if they discovered something that might help, even in some small way?

So I’d agreed, not realizing they were going to turn it into an event. That I’d be on display, like a circus sideshow—Step right up, ladies and gents, see the freak who counts down to the alien apocalypse! For an extra ticket, you might even be able to touch her.

I was surrounded by scientists and technicians, then hooked up to conductors and wires and probes.

That was what sent me right over the edge, straight into Panicville. The probes. It was too much like the asylum . . . of everything Natty and Eddie Ray had done while they’d kept me strapped to that rusted metal gurney, monitoring me.

Somehow, though, I’d kept that panic in check, swallowing it down like hunks of sharp cement. It was prickly and it tore up my esophagus, but I reminded myself I was here for mankind’s sake . . . for my friends and family. I took one for the team.

At the onset of the pangs, I pretended not to notice them, those first pricks and pinches. But within minutes, tears had been streaming down my face.

Eight . . . eight . . . eight . . .

Eight . . .

The number repeated over and over in my head while I’d broken out in a sweat, holding my breath, struggling against the shooting, stabbing, slicing pains. All these people watching . . . all these intruders. I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I didn’t want them to see me at my worst.

In the end, though, I was weak. I couldn’t help but give in to it, and I let out a low moan. What difference did it make? Why should I care anyway? I didn’t owe these strangers anything, let alone a show of dignity.

When it was finished, when it was beyond-the-shadow-of-a-doubt over, I opened my eyes at last. The room was empty of everyone except Dr. Clarke, who thanked me for coming. For “participating,” she’d said as if I’d just competed in Field Day and earned a blue ribbon in the sack races or the water balloon toss.

The whole thing happened again this morning, the tests. But at least this time I’d known what to expect. The only difference was the number repeating in my head: Seven, seven, seven, seven . . .