The Countdown (The Taking #3)(83)

It hadn’t only been his body that the ISA and their experiments had damaged, it was his mind too. He was still in there, I could sense and feel and hear him, but he’d withdrawn . . . a self-defense mechanism against all the torture he’d endured. Years and years of torture.

But the M’alue wanted him back. And now that was one of their conditions. Even after all the humans they’d taken and experimented on . . . all the ones who’d never come back . . . they demanded Adam’s safe return.

And the thing is, even if they hadn’t insisted, I was desperate to send him. He didn’t belong here. On Earth. He wasn’t like Tyler and me, with a lifetime of human memories and experiences to define him.

He was M’alue, plain and simple. Maybe they could undo the damage that had been done to him.

Before I could even form my own conclusion, I heard Tyler’s, and I shook my head, denying him. “No way, Tyler, it doesn’t make sense for you to do it. I’ve flown one of these before. I’ve been to their ship. I’ll take him.”

The truth was—and Tyler knew, even if I didn’t say it out loud—I couldn’t live with the idea of anything happening to him.

“And you think I don’t feel the exact same way?” he said.

“I’ll do it.” The gruff voice came from my dad, and Tyler and I both whirled to face him.

His head was poking up through the opening in the floor.

“Dad, no.” I didn’t say it the same way I had to Tyler, like his offer was a legitimate solution. Instead I blew him off. “You wouldn’t have the first clue.” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

After Dr. Clarke’s breakdown, I saw my dad through a different lens. Maybe I’d been too hard on him. He’d already suffered so much . . . lost so much. And here he was, offering to launch himself into space . . . for me.

He came up another step or two. “You said yourself this thing practically flew itself. All it needed was a jump start.”

“Not exactly what I said.”

“But close enough,” he challenged. “I heard you, the thing was intuitive. That it read your mind.”

“That’s because I’m M’alue.”

My dad shook his fist at me. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare . . .” His face had gone all blotchy and red. “You’re as human as any of us.” I didn’t remind him he was the only true human here, everyone else left was at least half M’alue. And after taking a second to collect himself, he blew out a breath and tried again. “You said the ship seemed to know where it was going. Like it was on autopilot.”

I had to concede that point at least. I’d only been in control during takeoff. After that, the ship had had a mind of its own, navigating into space without me. “Still—” I started, but my dad cut me off.

“You can’t stop me, Kyr.”

I wanted to tell him that’s exactly what I could do. Didn’t he realize how strong I’d grown—ever since I’d gone up there, to that M’alue’s ship? Even being in Adam’s presence made me feel more . . . powerful.

I could, and I would, stop him if that’s what it took to keep him safe.

But he wasn’t finished just yet. “I’ve been infected—the Code Red thing. I’ll be sick within hours. Dead within days.” He just threw it out there—like a bomb . . . like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was huge, his news, and I had a million questions about how and when and who, but none of those questions found their way to my lips. I was dizzy and heavy and tangled all at the same time.

Tyler must’ve been inside my head and realized how disoriented I suddenly felt, because his hand shot over to find mine.

“Listen, kiddo,” my dad finally said. “Going up there . . . with them, it might be my only shot. Maybe they’ll help me, the way they helped the kid there.” My dad nodded at Tyler.

I glanced at Tyler, and could hear what he was saying, that his case was different. They’d come to get him. They’d chosen to take him.

Besides, hadn’t they already said: no more Returned?

And even if that wasn’t the case, he went on, Your dad would be forcing himself on them. And he is old. Older than the rest of us.

But what about Agent Truman? I countered, because they’d taken him when he was around my dad’s age.

I had to believe he at least had a shot.

Tyler stopped arguing, probably because he knew he’d lost. I’d already made up my mind.

“And you call me stubborn,” I said as I reached for my dad’s hand, pulling him the rest of the way into the ship. The two of them helped me move Adam out of the pilot’s seat. We did our best to make Adam comfortable on the floor with a cargo blanket we found.

Tyler disembarked then, giving my dad and me a few minutes alone, and because good-bye was too hard, I started showing my dad what he’d need to do, which was almost nothing. I’d already tapped into the ship’s systems, or it had tapped into me . . . either way it was already powering up, preparing to launch.

I indicated the ship’s control panel, which mostly consisted of the joystick and was pretty basic, really. From below, I’d navigate the thing myself, if necessary, until he was safely through the bay doors. After that, he could handle it until the M’alue took over.