The Gathering (10 page)

My mouth drops open.

There’s a pause, and then Link starts laughing, still bent over his knees from the long-distance sprint.

“That just popped into your head?” I ask.

She shrugs, then nods toward the gun Luka’s holding in his hand. A real-life, loaded gun. I’ve never seen one up close before, at least not while awake. They were prohibited a long time ago, after we removed the second amendment from the constitution. The only people with guns anymore are the police, the military, and—according to my dad—the bad guys.

“Have you ever used one?” Jillian asks him.

Luka shakes his head.

Jillian holds out her hand. He places the weapon in her upturned palm.

“Have
you
?” I ask.

She turns the weapon over in her hands a few times. “It’s a Glock 19. Semi-automatic.”

My eyes go buggy. Completely, certifiably buggy.

Jillian sits cross-legged on the ground. She clicks something on the gun and a thin, rectangular box falls from the bottom. She sets it in her lap, holds the weapon out to the side, and gives it a cock. A bullet pings onto the ground and bounces to rest by my shoe. Jillian examines the thin box in her lap, pushes it back into place with the heel of her palm, and pulls the top of the gun back. When she lets go, it zips forward with a sharp latching sound.

“This button right here is the safety. You want to make sure to leave that on. Unless it’s pointed at someone you want to shoot. Then you can turn it off.”

I think my jaw has unhinged. Who is this girl beside me?

She holds the weapon out to Luka, but Luka doesn’t take it. So Jillian tucks the gun into the waist of her jeans.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails.

Luka presses his back against the brick wall and peeks out from the alley. “We have to get out of here before every corner of this town is crawling with police.”

“How are we going to do that?” Jillian asks.

He points across the street, toward a run-down gas station. There’s a Walmart semi parked in the lot.

Lost

T
he driver must be inside the station, buying a donut or using the restroom. Luka unlatches the back, waves the three of us inside, then climbs in after us and quickly closes the door.

The only light comes from the sinking sun shining through the slats. It’s just enough to see our surroundings—crates of bread, fruit, canned goods, juice boxes and bottled water. We make our way to the front and crouch behind boxes of Lay’s Potato Chips, safely hidden should the driver decide to check on his inventory.

I stay quiet and still for so long that a cramp seizes my calf. Sitting on a bus, followed by full-throttle sprinting, followed by awkward squatting isn’t good for any of our muscles. Just as I’m convinced the truck has been abandoned and we’re going nowhere, a door opens and shuts and the engine rumbles to life.

We lurch forward.

I let out a deep breath and stretch my legs.

Link opens up a case of bottled water and tosses one to each of us. I guzzle mine with greedy gulps that suck in the plastic, then move on to a meal of bananas and potato chips.

“Where do you think we’re headed?” Jillian asks.

Link peels himself a second banana. “Let’s hope it’s not the local Walmart.”

I glance at Luka, who eats in broody silence.

“Hey, look.” Jillian points to the dream phone attached to the waist of my jeans.

The red light is on.

I unclip the device. “It’s Cap.”

“Do you think they reached Newport?” Jillian asks.

“We’re about to find out.” I hit the button so the light turns green, remove a pair of ear buds from the front pocket of my backpack, and stick them into place. When I open my eyes, I’m inside the dream dojo. Cap is already there, standing on strong, sturdy legs. His face is like a thundercloud.

“What part of
stay off the radar
did you not understand?”

I pull my chin back. He already knows about the explosion and our narrow escape? I know news travels fast, but this is a little extreme.

“You’re not supposed to play the hero right now, Tess. Your job is to keep your head down and get to New Orleans.”

My brow furrows.
Play the hero?

He puts his hands on his hips, his lips pulling so tight and thin I think he might spit. “You just left the hub and you’re already off fighting?”

“
Fighting
? I haven’t been fighting. We’ve been too busy running.”

His brow furrows back at me. My obvious confusion seems to have punctured his steam.

“Somebody recognized us on the bus. By the time we got to Fort Wayne, an FBI agent was waiting. Jillian had to blow something up to cause a diversion and—”

He holds up his hands. “
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
What are you talking about?”

“A woman recognized me and Luka. She called the police. Jillian blew up a car. Luka knocked out the FBI agent, stole his
gun
, and we hightailed it out of there.” Judging by the way Cap’s standing there blinking at me, it’s a safe bet we’re not on the same page. “What fighting are you talking about?”

“Did you say Jillian
blew up a car
?”

“Yes. As a diversion. Now we’re in the back of a Walmart semitrailer, headed who knows where.” And I’m sure at any minute, the entire event will hit the news. I’m equally sure my face and Luka’s face will be everywhere. The only silver lining? Jillian and Link should be fine. The woman never glanced twice at them.

“You really haven’t been fighting?”

“No. Jillian threw a shield, but that was it.”

Cap rubs his chin.

“Why did you think I was fighting?”

“We reached headquarters a little while ago. As soon as we arrived, the leader asked if we knew anything about a recent altercation. Word of it reached him here in Newport.”

“What kind of altercation?”

“A Fighter took out twenty enemy soldiers at one time.”

My eyes go wide. When I took out that many at once, it required Gabe’s life. If a Fighter was able to do that completely on his or her own, then he or she must be incredibly powerful. “Do you know where the fight took place?”

“Somewhere in Iowa.”

“Do you think the Fighter is trying to get to Newport? Do we know if it’s a man or a woman? Are there any other clues?”

A shadow rolls across Cap’s face.

“I mean, if this person took out twenty at once—”

“Forget about the Fighter.”

“But Cap—”

“The journals, Tess. That’s your mission. Get to the Rivards in New Orleans and learn as much as you can about the prophecy.”

“And how are we supposed to do that? Luka and I are going to be everywhere on the news and …” I take a deep breath.

“And
what
?”

“Luka’s cloak isn’t working.”

“
What
?”

“Something showed up on the bus. It came at me. Jillian had to throw a shield. It was like Luka couldn’t. I don’t get it, Cap. What does this mean? Why would Luka’s cloak fail?”

He mutters a curse under his breath and massages the bridge of his nose. “We suspected there might be ramifications.”

“Ramifications. You mean … you’re saying …” My thoughts scramble to make sense of Cap’s words. “You think Luka lost his gifting?”

“I don’t know.” Cap frowns. “But if he can’t cloak you, then we’re in trouble. The quicker you get to the Rivards, the better.”

*

I open my eyes to a sea of green.

Luka is staring at me. “What did Cap say?”

I pull the ear buds from my ears.

Link sits on a crate of pasta, his iPad out and on while Jillian bends over his shoulder. Both are looking at me, too.

I sit up a little straighter. “They reached headquarters.”

Jillian lets out a loud breath.

“I guess there are rumors circulating about a really powerful Fighter on the move somewhere in Iowa. Cap thought it was me.”

“Did you tell him what happened?” Jillian asks.

I nod.

“You told him everything?” Luka’s question is soaked with meaning.

I nod again.

“What did he say?”

I sever eye contact. I’ve always been a lousy liar, and right now I’m positive Cap’s speculation would destroy him. “Maybe it was just a fluke.”

Luka leans against the side of the trailer and kneads his forehead.

“Whoa!”

Jillian and I turn our attention to Link.

He gapes at his iPad. “We just bumped Non and Sticks to numbers five and six on FBI’s Most Wanted list.”

I scramble over to his side. “
Five
and
six
?”

Link found a live newsfeed. It’s playing security camera footage. I watch as the four of us board the bus. Luka steals the agent’s gun. A different angle of Jillian blowing up a car. Our faces appear on the screen, along with our real names and the names we used to purchase our bus tickets. Our fake identities are shot. And Link and Jillian are definitely not in the clear.

The camera pans to a female news anchor. “Teresa Eckhart, you will remember, escaped the Edward Brooks Facility this past January with the assistance of Luka Williams. Both are wanted for the murder of Dr. Charles Roth.”

“
Murder
?” The word bursts out of my mouth. “His death was ruled a suicide. They can’t just change it like that.”

Surely the public will notice the blaring inconsistency.

“Apparently they can.” Link clicks out of the newsfeed and opens up the FBI’s website. He clicks on the Most Wanted list. Sure enough, the four of us are there, with me taking the lead. I am officially the nation’s most wanted criminal. With a quarter of a million bounty on my head.

*

Four hours as a stowaway with no end in sight has me regretting my second water bottle. According to Link and the compass on his iPad, we’re veering more west than south, which means we need to get off this truck as soon as possible. Preferably before my bladder explodes.

Just when I think it might, a box of Lay’s Potato Chips slides toward my legs. The truck is finally slowing down. Brakes squeak. A gear shifts. Luka holds up his flashlight. Jillian lifts her head off Link’s shoulder and looks around with disoriented eyes.

Everything in the back of the trailer slides left as the semi turns, accelerates a bit, then slows again, this time to a full stop. The engine goes quiet. Luka shuts off the flashlight. All I can see are three pairs of round white eyes blinking in the dark.

A door opens and closes.

We scramble to the very front of the trailer, as far away from the back hatch as possible and crouch out of sight behind the bananas. Seconds tick into a minute, then two, then three. The trailer remains closed.

My fingers dig into the wooden crate. If we wait too long, we’ll miss our opportunity. I imagine being stuck back here for another five hours. My bladder won’t make it. As if reading my mind, Luka motions for us to follow him.

When we reach the back, he presses his ear to the metal. We could be anywhere. Another gas station. A busy truck stop. Inside a Walmart warehouse. The only way to find out is to open the door. Luka inches it open the tiniest crack.

Jillian peeks outside. “All I can see is cement.”

The engine roars to life.

I grab Luka’s arm.

He opens the door wider. I don’t give myself time to second guess. I hop out into the night and duck behind a row of bushes. Link, Jillian, and Luka jump out behind me. And the semi drives away.

Crickets chirp in the bushes. The air smells like sulfur. It reminds me of the year we lived in Pennsylvania, two miles north of a paper mill. Pete called the town Fartsville, even though its real name was Pinkerton or Tinkerton or something like that. I lift my head over the shrubs. We landed in a deserted rest stop. There’s not another vehicle in sight.

“The Eye of Sauron,” Link whispers.

I look at him. “What?”

He points.

I follow its trajectory up and to the left—toward a security camera that swivels slowly back and forth on the corner of the building—and duck further behind the bushes. We wait until the camera points as far away as possible, then sprint around to the back of the building. There’s an open field. And roughly a hundred yards past that, a stretch of dense trees.