The Replaced(79)

“One of us. You mean, me and Tyler?”

She nodded wearily. Tiredly.

But we couldn’t afford to be tired. “What about that Alex kid? What if he was a Replaced? What if they . . . the aliens are honing their skills and there are more of us out there? What if they no longer need five years, or even five days? What if we’re coming back in forty-eight hours?”

“That’s not our concern. At least not yet. For now, I need to get you two out of here.”

“And go where?” Just yesterday, the idea of leaving here with Tyler was exactly what I’d wanted. Now it just made me feel sick.

“Simon’s working on that. He’s setting up a rendezvous for you, a way to get you safely away from here.”

“What about the rest of you? What happens to you now? Is the Daylight Division on their way?”

“We’re doing what we always planned to do: fight.”

“I’ll help you,” I told her, “if you tell me the truth. Why Tyler? Why do you care so much what happens to him?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I think you already know the answer. He’s special.”

“So you care about him?” I asked, not sure why I was putting myself through this. I’d seen the way he looked at her. Hadn’t I already wondered if his feelings were more than just innocent when it came to her?

“Don’t we both?” she said, getting up and reaching for my arm. “Now, come on, we don’t have time to waste. We need to get you out of here, before it’s too late.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


WE WERE AT THE EDGE OF THE OBSTACLE COURSE when the helicopters appeared overhead. But even before we heard them—or smelled and tasted the dust being stirred in the air, signaling their approach—there were shouts, calls to action all around us.

Griffin’s camp came to life.

It was no longer a group of teens being drilled in make-believe war maneuvers. Her Returned were fine-tuned soldiers under attack. There were far more of them than I’d ever imagined as they swarmed the field and the perimeter, looking like an endless stream of ants as they poured forth, coming from everywhere all at once. They manned their stations, and moved with the fluid quality of those who’d spent years on the battlefield.

They were prepared, and Griffin was their general.

The sounds of gunfire split the air, and even without knowing which direction it was coming from, instinctively I ducked my head, lifting my arm to shield myself. It sounded close, and seemed to ricochet inside my head.

“Keep moving!” Griffin shouted. “Simon’s getting Tyler!”

“What about Thom? Did you catch him?”

“No! After we intercepted his message, I sent a patrol after him, but he was already gone. His girl was gone too.”

His girl . . . “Natty?” I shouted back as I tailed Griffin through the tents, staying as close as possible. “No. That’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t betray me.”

“I can’t say if she did or didn’t. But no one could find her. Makes her look guilty, if you ask me.”

We were almost to the cafeteria, near the computer lab, when a voice—a voice so familiar and chilling, and so out of place in Blackwater that I actually stumbled over my own feet—reached out to us from the shadows. “Don’t make any sudden moves, neither of you. Nothing fancy, just turn around slowly.”

That dark, grating sound that reached into my core and made me cringe.

My nemesis.

Alive, despite the Code Red.

I tried to imagine how that was possible, when I noticed the way Griffin’s face had gone all gray, like the color of old ash, and it dawned on me: I wasn’t the only one who’d recognized Agent Truman’s voice.

When we turned to face him, I wanted to fall to my knees and cry. We’d gotten so close to escaping, Tyler and me. To running away, no matter where we were headed, and maybe being able to start a new life. Away from this place. Away from Agent Truman and the Daylight Division that was hunting us.

But it was Griffin’s whispered plea that made me choke on a mouthful of bile.

“Dad?” she practically wheezed while everywhere the sounds of weapons firing pealed through the air. “But . . . how?”

Dad?

“Are you . . . Griffin . . . Truman?” I could hardly get my voice out, pairing her name with his, because surely he couldn’t—no way, no how—be her dad. “Is that your name?”

But Agent Truman wasn’t half as shocked to see Griffin as she was to see him, when he revealed himself, stepping out from where the tent had kept him hidden. His face was pinched in a weasel-like expression that couldn’t mean anything good. Not for us anyway. “Of course it’s not. You didn’t think Truman was my real name, did you? And Griffin here, she didn’t keep hers either.” He bit back a cruel smile.

I searched the both of them for some sign of resemblance, something that said they were father and daughter, but I couldn’t find it. No matter my opinion of her, Griffin had flawless skin and hair that gleamed and bee-stung lips. Agent Truman’s skin was rawhide tough, his eyes dead and ice cold. He was a cowboy in a suit.

“Bennett,” Truman explained, taking in Griffin. “That was our last name. Dr. Arlo Bennett and my daughter, Griffin. Funny how little names matter when you become a pariah. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He watched—we both did—while she scrubbed her hands over her face as his voice took on a sweet-talking quality. “Do you need a minute? You seem surprised to see me. Don’t tell me you thought you were the only one of us who’d get to live forever?” He sneered at her. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure they’d take me. Back at the Meeting, when we struck our little deal with those alien buggers, they made it clear they did not want us adults. We were too risky. Our bodies were too old and damaged.