He nodded. “Exactly. I was looking for a journal—it belonged to our grandmother—that contains vital information. The key to controlling the experimental machine. The key to controlling time.”
“Grandma doesn’t keep a journal.”
“They took it, along with the rest of Dad’s research.”
“Did you find it?”
“No.”
“So, what’s going to happen in less than four days?”
“Nothing if we get home before then.”
“Quinten,” I said in my not-one-more-step voice. “What’s going to happen?”
“The galvanized are living on borrowed time. Quite literally. And when time mends, when that broken piece snaps back into place, the galvanized will die.”
“All of us?”
“All.” His eyes were dark with a sorrow and guilt I could not bear to see. He had saved me years ago when he’d put me in this stitched body. And now I had only a few days left to live.
It was hard to take in all at once.
“Gold,” I said, because I had no other words in me.
“I think I can fix it,” he said. “I might have enough information to be able to change it. We just have to get home. As quickly as we can.”
I glanced back at the stadium.
Getting home was not going to be easy. Already waves of people were pouring onto the streets. A good deal of them wore Black, Defense. They knew this city a lot better than we did. They probably had weapons. They were probably looking for us.
But none of them were running for their lives.
“Do you have your breath?” he asked.
“Yes. Go.”
We bolted down several more streets, putting a solid mile between us and the stadium, but there were cameras everywhere. It was only a matter of time before they caught us.
We ducked into a pocket of shadow and I crouched there, catching my breath. Abraham needed medical attention, and soon. He might not be able to die, but his life stitches were pulling looser and looser. Pretty soon there wouldn’t be enough of him in one piece to carry anywhere.
And, yes, that horrified me.
“We’ll wait until dark,” Quinten said quietly. “Let me see his injuries.”
I set him down as carefully as I could, then leaned my head back against the dirty alley wall, running through our options. Our farm was a continent away. We couldn’t trust House Brown, or any other House for that matter. We had no vehicle, no money, no weapons, and no time.
“Matilda?” a familiar voice called out softly.
Quinten pivoted where he was crouched to look out at the mouth of the alley.
“I know you’re there,” Right Ned said. “And I know we’re not square. But I brought you this.”
Something soft fell into the middle of the alley. My duffel.
“I have a car and I can take you back to the farm. You and Quinten if he’s with you.”
“Who are you working for this time, Neds Harris?”
