“It could be some kind of symbol of resistance,” I suggest. But even I know it’s a stretch. We don’t have any real evidence for that.
“The moment in the shuttle, though,” she says. “That, I have trouble explaining. I could have sworn he made us.”
“He did,” I agree. “Some parts, I’m not sure about. I’m still wondering if he helped me out, when I was bluffing us onto the shuttle. He asked if we trained with the Cortes squadron, and I didn’t know if he was trying to catch me out, or he thought that might explain why he and Atlanta wouldn’t recognize me. But he might have been trying to show me the way out with a leading question. There’s an explanation for that, but there’s no explanation for him seeing us and keeping it a secret from Atlanta, unless his loyalties are divided.”
“What I can’t understand,” Neal says, “is what those twoare. How can they possibly look so like us and not be us? I mean, mathematically, the odds on that … Are we talking surgical alteration? It wouldn’t be a bad move, if you wanted to blend with a society you were infiltrating. They couldn’t have known they’d have theircheeks swabbed, though, so those DNA tests … that should’ve sent alarm bells off all over the place. Nothing that bleeds blue is going to look like us on a genetic level.”
“That’s what we have to learn,” I say, still not looking at Mia. “If we know that, we can find a way to make the IA listen. And let us in to see my dad about shutting down the portals.”
“Well,” Neal says, “if anyone can help us, it’s Veronica. She knows her stuff. And whatever the answer, none of it can stop us trying to reveal them to the IA.” His determination is there in his voice, but of course he knows nothing of my fight with Mia this morning.
Neither of us replies.
It’s an hour later when, despite our limited supply of cash, I’m starting to seriously wonder if the train has a dining car that might offer something superior to vending machine food. But the overhead speaker crackles to life.
“Chers voyageurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît …” it says.
I lean in to translate for the others in a whisper. “ ‘In a few moments, the train will pass through the town of Lyon. As you may be aware, the French government has declared Lyon an emergency area, and imposed a quarantine on the city.’ ”
Exclamations break out all around us—word of the flu might have spread, but this quarantine is new since Neal saw the news this morning. The speaker continues as I translate.
“ ‘Entering or leaving the city is forbidden; however, our train is permitted as long as it does not stop at any station. We will continue through, and apologize for any inconvenience.’ ”
Judging by the protests around us, some of our carriage mates had intended on disembarking in Lyon. But my attention’s on the view outside the carriage window. We haven’t lost any speed, and at first the city flies past—I make out a hospital, a cemetery, and as we come into the more populated area, one of the university campuses.
As we approach the Gare de Lyon-Part-Dieu, where the trainwould usually stop, we slow down, rattling along the tracks only a little above walking pace. Now, I can make out people moving around outside—more than I’d expect, given the quarantine—but they’re too far away for us to get a good look.
From its place on the table, the device Dex left behind gives the softest of chimes. All our heads turn as one, to see a tiny green dot flicker to life on the screen and then fade again. The chime comes again a few seconds later, and then again, a fraction quicker. I glance up, but Mia and Neal look just as confused as I feel.
Then the train clunks over several street crossings in a row, dragging our attention back to the window. We rumble alongside a small strip of shops, and I can see the street below the tracks properly. It’s lined with small shopfronts and runs parallel to the rails. I lean closer to Mia to get a good look at the people, and can’t help my sharp intake of breath.
A group of figures come into view, making their way down one of Lyon’s cobbled streets. They’re moving with a lean, steady determination, but there’s something off about them. The way they lift their heads and look around calls to mind a pack of predators on the hunt, and one slaps at the glass window of a shop, hand swiping across the gilt lettering painted there.MARGUERITE PÂTISSERIE, it reads. Though there’s no sound through the train window, I can see he’s roaring his frustration at the barrier.
I couldn’t name any one thing that makes it seem like they’re not thinking, not understanding or communicating as humans do, but I’m sure of it. It’s in the way they tilt their heads, their every move, the fact that no one’s speaking, the blank intensity of their expressions. Something has … reduced them.
The notification sound on Dex’s device has sped to a constant ticking, like it’s approaching some sort of meltdown.
“What in the name of …” Neal’s voice trails off, and between me and the window, Mia’s pressed against the glass, staring silently.
Then she explodes into action, somehow vaulting over me, scrambling past the table, to run toward the back of the carriage.Neal and I waste a heartbeat on exchanging a startled look, and then we’re up from our seats, and running after her. The three of us bolt headlong through two more carriages, Neal and I—much bigger than Mia—bouncing off doors and seats.
When we catch her, she’s standing at the very back of the train, looking out through the rear window. Despite the distance we’ve run, it’s been less than thirty seconds, and this final part of the train is only just starting to pass the little row of shops.
“There,” she says breathlessly, jabbing a finger down at the street.“There, look at them.”
I see what she means immediately, and suck in a quick breath. Beside me, Neal has his phone out, and he’s filming the street below us, and I hold my tongue—I don’t want to believe the evidence of my eyes, and just now I can’t bring myself to speak.
Quietly, Neal gives our location, the time, and the date, and he tries to hold the screen steady as we rattle along the tracks, only putting the phone away when we pick up speed once more.
“What did you see?” he asks quietly.
“It can’t have been,” I whisper.
“It was,” Mia insists. And I know she’s right.
“There were two Undying back there,” I say slowly.
“Isn’t the whole problem that they look like humans?” Neal points out. “How can you be sure?”
