“Pretty sure?” I eye him sidelong. “Earlier, you were definitely sure.”
“Slip of the tongue.”
“Which time, the first time or this time?”
Jules grins at me, then turns to retrieve his bike from the bench it’s leaning on. “Let’s go.”
WE’RE FINALLY ON THE OUTSKIRTS OFMONTPELLIER.WE THOUGHT WE’Dbe here by early morning, but it’s after lunch now—not that we’ve eaten.
We hit a point just before dawn when we simply had to rest, so we wheeled our bikes off the road and stretched out in the dew-damp grass behind a row of trees planted long ago as a windbreak. Overhead the stars were fading into the pale gray of the pre-dawn sky, and we watched as a handful seemed to fall from their place in the heavens, streaking across the sky.
“That’s a lot of shooting stars,” Mia murmured. “I had a good view out in Chicago, but there was never that much.”
“They’re satellites,” Dex supplied, around a yawn, earning himself a sharp nudge from Atlanta, who seems to object to sharing even basic information, on principle as far as I can tell. Good thing she doesn’t know we used to eavesdrop on the pair of them, back up on the ship.
“Whole satellites?” Mia asked, lifting her head to look across at them.
I glanced over at Dex, who had the gun from his waistband resting on his stomach, his hand curled loosely around it. For all our voices were quiet, the scene almost idyllic, we were still prisoners—and the Undying team weren’t about to let us forget it. Atlanta was the only one not lying down—she kept her eyes on us, not on the sky.
When Dex didn’t answer, I drew a slow breath. “Something just showed up where their orbital paths used to be.” Mia’s head tipped toward me, and though she didn’t say anything, I could guess what she was thinking. Just days ago we were on that ship that came through the portal and inserted itself into orbit around Earth.
We were up there, looking down at our home, listening to the impacts of communications satellites and research probes against the hull of the alien ship that had disrupted the delicate dance of tiny manmade moons around our planet. Now, they’re being knocked from the sky one by one, Earth’s creations falling as the Undying monolith overtakes them.
It feels uncomfortably prophetic.
“We thought you’d come ourways, take a look at the ship,” Atlanta said, finally glancing up toward the night sky. “Launch something fast as you could.”
The truth is, we probablyarelaunching something as fast as we can. But it’s not so long ago in our history that we had to use fossil fuels to claw our way up into space, and even now with nuclear reactors powering our shuttles, it takes months to build and ready a space-worthy craft. I have no doubt IA teams are working around the clock to get scouting probes and shuttles ready to head up to the ship, but I’m equally sure it’ll be too late by the time they do.
The IA isn’t what it once was, in terms of might, or heft, or funding. Their support started to fade away the moment the Centauri mission was lost, and though Gaia was meant to be theirtriumphant comeback, I suspect this tightened border security in Europe is one of the ways individual countries are asserting their own power once again. Now is the time we should be supporting the IA, coming together. Instead, according to De Luca, we’re turning on each other.
I didn’t say any of this to Atlanta. There’s no need for her to know we’re further behind, and more divided than she thinks.
We half dozed for a little before we continued on our way. Mia and I were desperately in need of the rest—I didn’t so much lie down on the ground as experience an uncontrolled descent—and even Dex and Atlanta looked willing to sit down on the grass for a while.
The enormity of the journey ahead is beginning to sink in. My thighs are aching, my hands are blistered from the bike’s handlebars, and I’m walking like a bowlegged cowboy as I dismount my bike in front of a small café in the outer suburbs of Montpellier. It’s isolated—I’d guess that it mostly does lunches for the locals—and it’s a good place to check in with Neal again, and pray that he got my message.
I lean my bike against the wall, and I’m about to turn and walk in when Mia reaches out to grab my arm.
“Wait,” she says. “You look like …” Her lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Well, you look like you’ve been through what you’ve been through.”
Her hands brush the travel dust from my sleeves and straighten my clothes, and I try not to notice how close she is.
I run a hand over my hopelessly messy curls, and as Dex steps closer to Mia, his hand resting casually near the place his gun is hidden, I take my cue and walk toward the café. I could never leave her anyway, but the unspoken threat—if you run, we’ve got a weapon on her—leaves me shaking. It’s smart, that’s for certain. We don’t want anyone reporting there were four of us, if they’re asked. Alone, I can blend in. But I don’t have to like it.
The man behind the counter looks up as the little bell over the door rings. “You look like you’re having a bad day,” he offers, after just one glance at me.
I remind myself to slip into French, to lean on theosounds, to make my voice a little more musical so I sound like a local speaker, less memorable. “Monsieur, you have no idea. The most recent part of my bad day is that I have a flat tire. Could I please use your phone to call a friend? I’m afraid I don’t have any money.”
He looks me up and down again, and then he nods, digging in his back pocket to offer it to me.
My hands are shaking as I walk out of earshot, then dial Neal’s number and listen to the phone start to ring.Come on, I urge him silently.Come on, Neal, come on.
And then the ringing stops.
“Neal Addison speaking.” His familiar voice crackles down the line, and unbearable pressure wells up behind my eyes.
“Neal, it’s me.”
