“Thank you.” She clutches her chest, nodding.
“I went to see your mother,” he tells me. “She has no idea what is going on. The staff are doing everything to ensure it stays that way. I will go and see her again myself, if need be. She is in good hands. They will inform her if anything happens that warrants mentioning.”
Such as my death.
We look at each other for a few moments.
“Thanks,” I say. Then I ask, “Were you able to gain access to the Vaccination Center?”
Drake’s jaw tightens. He shakes his head. “I wasn’t able to get within a mile of the place. It’s locked down tight and crawling with Mainland Security.” His eyes narrow. “They’re not letting anyone in or out without authorization.”
Fuck.
“All homes are being systematically searched,” Drake continues, his voice grave. “The searches will intensify in the coming days. They’re going door to door, block by block. Leaving no stone unturned.”
I think of Falkor, of how close we came to being discovered. My hands clench into fists at my sides.
I nod.
“Draig Security has set up various checkpoints looking for anything suspicious,” Drake adds. “I half expected you to be caught on your way here.”
“We passed more than one security vehicle,” I tell him. “But we weren’t pulled over, and there were no checkpoints.”
“You got lucky,” Drake says, pulling something from his pocket. “I’ve been trying to get information on planned checkpoints, but so far, I haven’t been given the details. They’re keeping things close to the vest. Even from members of the Council.”
He hands me a cellphone. It’s a basic model, nothing fancy.
“It’s a burner,” he explains. “I bought one for myself, as well. My burner’s number is already loaded in the contacts. It’s the only one there. We’re going to communicate via these phones going forward. Don’t use it unless absolutely necessary. That way, you don’t have to travel anymore. Keep movement to a minimum, or you’ll risk getting caught.”
I turn the device over in my hand. The plastic is cheap, the screen small. But it’s a lifeline. Our only secure way to communicate.
“How is Sally doing?” Wren asks, her voice small. Hopeful.
Drake rubs the back of his neck, and I see the concern written all over his face.
“Is she okay?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
“She’s hanging in there,” Drake says carefully. “Her situation is still dire, and her prognosis is still guarded, but every day she lives gives us more hope of her making a full recovery.”
Wren snorts, the sound bitter. “More chance of them murdering her to keep her quiet, you mean. We have to do something.”
“Not yet,” Drake says firmly. “You still have time.”
I put a hand on Wren’s shoulder, feeling the tension thrumming through her body.
“Drake is right. We have time. If we’re forced to act before we’re ready, we will. But for now, we need to be smart about this.”
Wren nods, but I can see the frustration in her eyes. I feel it too.
“I worry, that’s all.”
“I know you do,” I say. “It’s understandable.”
Drake looks between us. “There’s one more thing you should know. The media coverage is getting worse. They’re painting you as a monster, Grim. They’ve got ‘experts’ analyzing your supposed mental state. Claiming you snapped under pressure. They’re saying that you will only get worse. That soon, you will snap and shift…that you’ll go on a killing spree. They have the community running scared. People are keeping their children home from school.”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. “Let them say what they want. We’ll expose the truth soon enough.”
I hope I’m right.
