It was the thinnest of olive branches he could possibly extend, but Sara’s lips curled into a soft smile anyway.
“I like to read.”
She was all knobbly knees and pointy elbows. Too thin even under her baggy clothes, with her hair in her face. But she was sitting up. She was talking. She was smiling.
Swallowing thickly, Blake realized that Sara wasn’t just a six-year-old kid. She was the strongest goddamn person in the room.
Take care of her.
Four words that hit harder than anything Blake had ever felt. When her mom said it, he’d been too preoccupied with watching her die. Trying to do something besides fail another person he’d wanted to help.
Blake still didn’t know her mother’s name. He didn’t know her favorite color or whether she preferred cats or dogs. But as he looked into her daughter’s face, he knew without a shadow of a doubt he understood her.
Because none of those things mattered to her mom. What mattered to her was this skinny, blonde-haired kid. This was her whole world. And Blake hadn’t failed her. Not while this kid was still alive.
With a shaking hand, he reached out to pat the girl’s shoulder. His throat was dry, and it took a moment for him to find the words.
“I’ll get you some books,” he said.
What he meant was:I will do everything in my power to make this world a safe place for you.
Blake just hoped that wherever her mother was, she believed him.
As he removed his hand, he remembered something. He’d been on his front, grit in his mouth, blood dripping down his cheek, and his ears ringing. A blip. A black spot in his vision. Dirt, he thought. But as he focused back on the memory, it took shape. Coalesced into something more than just a smudge.
Blake stood up so quickly his head spun. Body protesting, he stepped forward. Someone called his name, but he was too busy following the thread his mind was weaving.No one can do what you can,Gabriel had said. Blake hadn’t believed him. But now he was trying. Staring down at the dingy floor, not seeing the scuffs in the tile, but the hazy smoky sky over the buildings.A burnt-out liquor store. An overturned car. Fire licked the sky, the heat smoldering against his back.
“The Queen.”
Gabriel was in front of him, his face drawn. “Blake?”
Glancing over at the board, Blake tried to explain what he’d seen, but only just comprehended. “The Monkey Cats. You said they only live three days and that they must have some way to—to replenish their ranks, right?”
The entire room was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. He huffed, desperately trying to grab hold of his train of thought before it was lost in the abyss of his mind—somewhere between every word to the Scooby Doo theme song and his high school locker combination.
He strode toward the whiteboard, pointing at the Monkey Cat section. “The ships haven’t landed, but the Monkey Cats only live for three days. So how do they keep their numbers up?”
Irving’s watched him with something besides indifference glittering in his eyes.
Blake tapped the board. “Clones.”
Everyone seemed to take a collective breath before they deflated, skepticism clouding their features.
Alvarez snorted. “Clones? Seriously?”
“Yes,” Blake said between clenched teeth. “They have a single, longer living Monkey Cat that clones herself.”
Gabriel pushed a chair aside so he could come closer. “Herself?”
“Yes.” Blake felt manic, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest, breath shallow. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. It was so obvious.
“Don’t you guys get it? They’re similar to bees! They have a hive mind and a smarter, hardier version of the others…like an original version while the rest are just copies.” He took a shaking breath. “A Queen.”
No one said anything. They didn’t have to. He realized what he must look like with his sweat-dampened hair and wide eyes, but hehadto make them see.
“I saw her.Right after we left the vet clinic—the car blew up. I was on the ground and?—”
“With a head injury,” Alvarez interrupted.
