Neal shoots me a quick, confused glance, but when I tap his boot with mine again, he falls in line, joining in without understanding why. “What a place,” he says cheerfully, leaning his head out the back of the truck to look around.
Thatmobilizes the soldier. “Sit back,” he snaps, gesturing with his rifle.
“Easy, mate,” Neal says peaceably, holding up his bound hands to remind our captor that he’s restrained. He’s holding on to his bag, which is how I know that he understands we’re up to something. “I’m just having a look. Pretty sure I’m about to be locked up for the rest of my natural life, so this might be my last chance to see the sights of Prague. What’s that building over there?”
As he’s talking, monopolizing the guard’s attention, Mia’stwisting around, turning her back on me. For a moment I’m lost, and then she subtly wiggles her hips. I look down, and a surge goes through me as I see the outline of her multi-tool pressed against her pocket.
Without giving myself time to think, I pull it free and flick out the blade. Quietly, quickly, we take turns removing each other’s bonds while Neal continues irritating the guard. There’s no way to cut the ties around his wrists without being spotted—he’s just going to have to run with them tied.
The guard has a gun. But it’s a rifle, not a handgun—not as easy to aim and fire in close quarters. He won’t be able to aim it at any of us for a few seconds, and by then, we’ll have to be in the crowd of tourists. We’ll have to be among so many other bodies that it’s impossible to hit us.
I turn around with what I hope is a sheepish smile, but is probably a terrified rictus, and meet Neal’s eyes. There’s a question in his gaze as I pick up my bag, and ever so slowly, I incline my head.
Neal doesn’t hesitate.
He hurls himself at the door just as Mia uses her newly freed hands to unlatch it. He spills out onto the cobblestones, and I scramble after him, catching him by the elbow as he stumbles, his hands still bound. Mia’s nimble, throwing herself out behind me, shoving her way past two men with cameras to clear a path for us.
“Stop!” It’s a sharp shout behind us, but I don’t look back. We’ve made it half a dozen steps, and the soldier will be out of the car by now.
Mia grabs a woman by the shoulders, pushing her out of the way, and I duck through after her, Neal by my side.
My whole spine is tingling, the place between my shoulder blades twitching, expecting a bullet with every instant that passes. We’re nearly at the edge of the square.
I glance back just once, as we round the corner. Mink and the soldier are after us, Mink’s face intent and driven in a way that’s hauntingly familiar—and then I realize.
In this moment, she looks exactly like Atlanta. I don’t look back again.
Mia has the lead, and the three of us race through the crowds of shoppers, twisting and turning, taking corners. We pause for just an instant, so she can cut the ties from Neal’s wrists—he looks like a prisoner on the run with them held out in front of him. We have a head start on our pursuers, and if we can stay out of sight for long enough, they’ll lose track of us.
Eventually Mia grabs at my hand and gasps Neal’s name, and we slow to a walk, turning the corner again and mingling with the people walking down the street. “Slow,” she pants. “Speed gets you distance, but it leaves a trail to follow.”
We ease into the crowd, which is large—it might be a weekend, in fact. I have no idea what day it is.
“Did we lose them?” I ask, breath still coming quickly.
“I think so,” Mia says, looking back. “Though let’s keep moving.”
Neal has his phone out, and I rest a hand on his shoulder to stop him crashing into anyone as he swipes quickly at the screen.
“There’s a youth hostel five minutes from here,” he says. “We could get a room, get off the street.”
“Get the directions,” Mia says grimly, “then take the chip out of your phone. I know you both replaced them, but I can’t think of another way she could have found us at the border. She must have figured out where Neal bought the new ones, and tracked those.”
She’s right, and I pull off my watch, and eject the chip, dropping it onto the cobblestones and grinding it to pieces with my heel. My image library is saved to the device itself—everything we found on Gaia, and everything after.
I look over to make sure Neal’s doing the same, but instead he’s staring down at his phone, brow furrowed. “Come on,” I murmur, jogging his elbow with mine. I doubt anyone could move fast enough to have a trace on our phones already, but the last thing I want to do is underestimate Mink.
“Hang on,” Neal replies. Something in his voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Mia hears it too—she turns back toward us, shooting me a questioning glance.
“Is that the video you posted?” I lean in over Neal’s shoulder.
“It’s got over six million views,” Neal replies, voice hushed. “And look at the comments, there are people who believe us. The #IBelieveInAddison people are going nuts. They’ve latched on to my username, and at least some of them have figured out Iaman Addison. They’re asking me to come to the forums, to tell them more, to share what we know.”
My eye catches on something, and I grab Neal’s sleeve. “Hang on, go back—what’s that sidebar link?”
It’s in the “You May Also Like” clickbait parade, but when Neal scrolls back up and taps the link, my stomach tightens.
“Apparently your friend Director De Luca had to give a press conference after the Lyon video went viral,” Neal reports. “They’re saying it’s not a flu at all anymore, but they think it’s something in the water there. Damn, but that feels good—we made him have to face what was going on and tell at least part of the truth.”
