Not Your Villain (Sidekick Squad #2)(65)

“But if you use that ID…” Jess says, frowning, “it’ll immediately alert the Authorities, I’m sure.”

“We would have to be quick, get in and get out before the Authorities arrive.” He’s already trying to figure out the best route.

“All right, let’s narrow down where this is,” Abby says, throwing up a projection on her DED to take notes. “What do you remember?”

Bells tries to recall as many details as he can as they brainstorm: the giant trees towering above him, the misty mornings, how he got there from Aerial City.

“Redwood trees narrows it down to these regions in the Pacific Northwest: Canadian coast and inland, Oregon, Washington, Northern California,” Emma says.

Abby nods. “Misty, even in the summer? Very close to the coast.”

“And solar trees, bioluminescent trees,” Brendan chimes in. “It was close to Aerial City, but far enough to warrant its own power supply.”

Jess closes her eyes and points northwest. “I mean, it’s not much, but I expect I can narrow it down more when we get there.”

A burst of thunder startles everyone in the car. Emma slows down. “What was that?”

“Rain?” Abby asks.

“Thunderstorm,” Bells says.

Foreboding clouds, heavy with rain, loom on the horizon. Bells frowns. Where did these clouds come from?

There’s another burst of thunder, and then a flash of lightning.

“How far was that?”

“I wasn’t counting.”

“We need to hurry,” Emma says. “We need to repack and get Bells’ things.”

“And my motorcycle,” Bells adds.

The car accelerates down the lonely road; Emma is right, there’s nothing but flat desert all around and the mountains to the west. They’d be nothing but targets in a storm.

The warning siren wails from town, reminding people to prepare for the coming power outages.

“Hey, do you remember Coldfront?” Abby asks suddenly.

“Yeah, supposedly caught and put in Corrections last year,” Emma says.

Bells nods, looking outside at another flash of lightning. “He always mixed up what order thunder and lightning would go.”

“It wasn’t really lightning, though, it was just the sound and appearance of it,” Abby corrects. “His actual power had only to do with rain and mimicking the appearance of storms. Now, Captain Orion could generate actual lightning—”

“Right, right,” Bells says.

Another rumble sounds. “Yeah,” Emma agrees. “I don’t like this. Would Coldfront be working with the League? Why a storm? Why now?”

Brendan looks up from his DED. “Wait. Don’t go into town. I’ve got it! I’ve found them!”

“What?” Emma brings the car to a stop.

“The Resistance! I’ve cracked the last code!” He waves the decoded message. “They’re having a meeting today!”

Brendan’s directions to the meeting—actually, ST-1LE3’s directions—lead them deep into the canyons. We’re not too far from Abby’s house. Funny how this group of people has been meeting here all the while they were looking for them. After parking the car next to a wash, they follow the instructions.

“Thirty paces past the tree thrice-struck by lightning,” Emma says. “Who wrote this? Thrice-struck? Can you tell? Does this one look burnt enough?”

The Joshua tree is gnarled and charred. Bells shrugs. It looks as if it’s been struck by lightning at least once.

About thirty paces later, they find nothing but a bare patch of land.

“Great. Brendan, you’ve led us out here for nothing,” Emma says.

“There has to be something here,” Brendan says, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Jess jumps and lands on the ground with a cold metal thunk.

“Old bunkers for surviving the Disasters,” Abby says. “That’s the perfect place for a secret network of people to meet.”

They push aside the brush and uncover a rusted metal door. It takes all five of them to lift it, and only solemn silence waits below.

“Ready?” Bells asks.

They climb down into the waiting dark.

The tunnel is cold, and Bells doesn’t resist when Emma takes his hand and squeezes it. It’s for comfort, he tells himself.

Bells wasn’t sure the Resistance was real. Sure, coded messages and people of interest pinged Brendan’s algorithms, but the fact that there’s an organized group of people actively trying to overthrow the government is overwhelming. He imagines a group of people clad in uniforms with matching hats, who greet each other with real codenames.

He’s relieved. They’ll have help, not just stealing the Registry, but with everything.

“Okay, this is it. We’ve walked a hundred and eighty paces; it should be here somewhere,” Emma mutters, throwing her hands out to touch the walls of the tunnel.

“Sure, a hundred eighty of your paces,” Bells says. “I’m pretty sure it’s here.” He gestures at his section of the wall.

“You were power-walking the whole time.” Emma rolls her eyes.

“I wasn’t power-walking!” Bells says indignantly. “I walked how I always walk!”