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  “I’ve been meaning to bring this up myself,” Samuel said. “Can you do this, Kyle? You haven’t touched a gun since, and a few weeks of self-defense training—”

  “I can do what I need to do,” Kyle said. “Hand me a gun.”

  Samuel handed Kyle his handgun. Kyle took it, looked at it like he was staring at a grenade with the pin pulled. His hand shook as he handed the gun back to Samuel. They needed the extra hand, but Kyle might be less of an asset and more of a liability.

  Of course, Victor himself was probably a bigger liability than Kyle. Then Victor thought of what he had constructed in the shed over the past few weeks.

  Maybe they would have enough of an advantage that it wouldn’t matter.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  REMMIE MEDITATED ON the sounds of bubbling fizz and crashing waves that flowed in through the open window. She was calm, but not at peace. Bosco’s bare form stood beside their bed, his gaze on the window. Remmie eyed his shape. His hands were trembling.

  She slipped out of bed and placed her hand on his chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mr. Sands knows about us,” Bosco whispered. “I’m afraid of how things will fall out when this is done.”

  Remmie touched Bosco’s cheek and pulled his gaze to hers. Warm passion spread through her cool limbs as she looked into his eyes.

  “I understand how you got caught up in all of this,” she said. “And there’s hope for us. I’m scared too. But things are how they are, and we have each other. I don’t care what Mr. Sands thinks. I know how you feel. And that you’re telling me this? I hope you know how much it means.”

  Bosco pulled Remmie’s clammy skin to his. “I love you.”

  Remmie felt her body float at what he said. Was this love? She’d never been in love before, so she didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. But she had a physical desire for Bosco like no other. “I love you, too.”

  Bosco lifted her off of her feet. They kissed deeply and got back into bed. Then Bosco’s expression became distant, yet focused.

  “I want us to get out of here,” he said.

  This was what Remmie had been hoping for. She felt a release of the heavy tension she’d been carrying. Bosco was real, and he would be her ticket out. They would escape and maybe they could find Victor, end this, and start a normal life together.

  Then she thought of Kyle. He would go crazy when he discovered that she’d hooked up with Bosco. A tide of bitter indignation returned the heavy tension she had only briefly shed. Her connection to Bosco was her business. Kyle had left her alone in a burning building.

  But Kyle and Victor had attempted a rescue at the beach house.

  Didn’t matter. She needed to look out for herself and Bosco. He was her family now. Kyle was his own problem.

  But then she thought of Eli.

  “What about Eli? Anthony?” she said.

  “You and I can get out of here. But to spring them? We won’t be able to pull it off. We’ll be a bigger help to them if we can find Victor and your friend.”

  “You mean Kyle?” She pulled away, feeling a prickle of nausea. “He’s not my friend. I don’t even really know him.”

  Bosco kissed Remmie on the forehead. “We can get out tonight.”

  Leaving Eli and even Anthony didn’t feel right to Remmie. “Mr. Sands will go somewhere else if we leave. And to find Victor? How? And even if we do, then how will we find Eli again?”

  “Actually, we can do it all if we move quickly. We’ll be able to get Eli out, and Anthony too.”

  “How is that?”

  Bosco looked at the door as if someone was there.

  “Are you worried about what you’re saying?” she said.

  “Of course I am,” he whispered. “I plan to betray Mr. Sands. He knows where they are. I know where they are—Victor, Kyle. They’re planning another raid here, but Mr. Sands will be ready, and this time they won’t get away.”

  Remmie inched away from Bosco. “How do you know where they are? How does Mr. Sands know?”

  “They were discovered a couple a weeks ago. A guy who’s traveling with them, Samuel, was marked by someone tied into Mr. Sands’ network. We knew of Samuel, his description, because of Jack. Mr. Sands wants them to come to us. He believes he can convince Victor to join him, although I’m not sure how. And from what Samuel’s been procuring over the last several days, we believe they’re ready to make their move. You and I can head Victor off, warn them. Then we can help.”

  “They’re coming to us? Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you knew? And won’t Mr. Sands suspect that—”

  “No . . . because he knows we’re doing this.” Bosco rubbed Remmie’s arm and spoke softly. “I didn’t tell you because it was too risky. It wasn’t important that you know until now, so now I’m telling you.”

  “What do you mean he knows we’re doing this?”

  “Mr. Sands thinks I’m playing you.”

  Remmie pulled away, a sudden desire to cover her naked body. Could she really trust Bosco? But the way they kissed, the way they made love, the long hours they’d spent together . . . And why would he be telling her all this? He could have made up a hundred other things, but he told the truth. She thought of Kyle again, but this time because of odds. The odds were that she could trust Bosco.

  “I believe you,” she said, “but what about Victor, Kyle, this Samuel? They won’t trust you. What makes you think they won’t do something to you?”

  “I’m not expecting them to trust me. But that doesn’t matter, because you won’t let them harm me.”

  “I couldn’t stop Victor before. When he first met Anthony—”

  “Something tells me you’ll stick up for me more than you did for Anthony. Then I just need to convince them that I can get them a shot at Mr. Sands. I can tell them what they need to know, and this’ll be over once and for all. Besides, there’s no other choice. This has to happen.”

  “Hasn’t Mr. Sands questioned your ability to gain their trust?”

  “Mr. Sands needs insurance,” Bosco said. “Things didn’t go well the last time Victor was expected. I’ve convinced Mr. Sands that it needs to go down this way.”

  “Why doesn’t he suspect you’ll betray him?”

  “I’ve known Mr. Sands for a long time, and I’ve been loyal, even under fire.”

  Remmie again thought of odds. “I’m doing this, no doubt, but . . . I’m nervous.”

  “No need to be. I won’t let us fail.”

  Remmie believed Bosco. His tone, every feature of his body as he spoke told her she could trust him. She felt her tension release again; the tide was out. Besides, there was no viable alternative she could come up with. And this way, the waiting game would be over. She had confidence in Victor, and in Bosco. With those two on the same side, the odds were definitely in their favor.

  She threw her body on top of Bosco’s and kissed him deeply.

  THIRTY-NINE

  VICTOR SLOUCHED OVER his workstation, twitching at every creak and snap that permeated his senses. It had been a week since Anita’s surgery, and he had spent every day attempting to connect cultured tumor tissue to the microelectrodes of his computerized brain interface. His spectral analyzer now held the last of the tissue—the only sample that remained usable. It was in this last sample he had discovered one of them. And using his microelectrodes, he was able to sample the neural patterns it was firing into this abnormal tissue.

  The spectral analyzer gave him the final piece of information—the substance of this tiny invader.

  The unique pattern this object exhibited was present in the dozens of volunteers he had studied since receiving a grant from PNE. Volunteers who represented the average person. Now he knew that no one’s mind was their own, except for those with Malclenersy. He thought of Rachael, cringing at the thought that she was a lie.

  Their relationship was a lie. All relationships were lies.

  He felt as if he were being sliced apart from the inside out by w
hite-hot blades. Could love be real in a mind that was under someone else’s control? A mind without free will? Was his love for Rachael even real? Or merely love for the person he projected onto her?

  He was struck to attention by Rachael’s voice. “Hun? You ready to go home yet?”

  He remained silent, his heart sprinting, his mind struggling to digest his discovery.

  “You can’t expect to get quality results on no sleep,” she said. “Please come home with me, to bed. It’s cold without you.”

  Her dim shape stood in the doorway, light from the office flooding around her—an ominous stranger. He’d seen scans of her brain. They exhibited the same phenomena as these machines, the pattern of those without Malclenersy. He remembered Mr. Sands asserting the existence of these machines, referring to them as “Dames.” Mr. Sands had laughed. And Victor had thought the Dames’ very existence was a joke, until now.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Rachael said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m an axe murderer. You need rest, Vick.”

  “You’re right. I’m just tired . . . that’s all.” He felt like the floor was giving way, as if he were about to take an unescapable plunge into a hopeless abyss.

  She stepped forward, her smiling face now visible. “Then come to bed.”

  “You should go home.”

  Rachael stood rigid, silent, defiant.

  He knew now. And knowing made the world around him a hostile predator. The thought enraged him. Rachael was always around, in his business, clingy. And now he questioned if she was natural at all. Victor thought of how he’d been criticized in his youth for being paranoid, untrusting. He’d always spent a lot of time in his head, thinking over even the simplest things in minute detail, exploring all the possibilities from all the mistakes that could be made in the production of candy to the likelihood of nuclear war. He would lie in bed shaking, sweating, terrified. And people had laughed at him for it.

  Maybe his paranoia had just been instinct crying out all along.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Victor said. “Please, go home, and I promise I’ll be there within an hour.”

  She stomped her foot. “Look, you need a break—”

  “Please, baby, I promise . . .” He approached her and gave her a soft kiss.

  She fell limp in his arms. “Within the hour, okay?”

  She started to leave, but hesitated, shooting him a look, as if waiting for something.

  “I love you,” Victor said.

  She smiled warmly. “I love you too.”

  That moment marked the end of their relationship.

  ✽✽✽

  After breakfast, Kyle and Samuel went out back to prepare their trip to Overlpo. Victor, wanting to review satellite phots of Mr. Sands’ hideout, sat at the small desk in his room. But his thoughts clung to Rachael. He’d been so stupid, never taking a moment to try and understand what was really going on like a scientist would. He hadn’t even tried to put emotion aside. Why not?

  He still loved Rachael. He was certain she still loved him—the passion she showed, her words, the way she looked at him. There was a fine line between love and hate, his mom always used to say. Love, with its profound emotions, can easily find hate because of the unbearable pain it can so easily spawn.

  He needed to tell Rachael how he felt. He needed to apologize, for what it was worth. He wanted to forgive and hoped to be forgiven, and maybe he would once again find an ally. Samuel wouldn’t approve, but he and Kyle were outside.

  Victor made his way to Rachael’s room, knocked, then entered. Her hands and feet were bound with chains, which had enough slack for her to reach the bathroom. She sat on the bed, a book in her hand.

  “Hi, Rach,” Victor said.

  “Rach?” She put her book down and sat up, pulling her knees up, defensive. “You haven’t called me that since we were still together.”

  Victor’s tongue felt dry and sweat beaded his palms. She was so beautiful. He felt sympathy, and guilt.

  “I know you still love me,” Victor said.

  She hoisted a thin eyebrow. “Do I?”

  “I love you.”

  “What is this, Vick?”

  “I needed to tell you that I was wrong the way I . . . treated you. And that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Her face flushed and her muscles tensed. “What you did? You never stopped for a second to figure out what was really going on. If you had loved me like you say, you would have treated me with as much care as you did Anita . . . at least until you . . .”

  “Yeah, I deserve that; you’re right. But that was different. I thought you were under control, not real, not the person I loved. It wasn’t real. But Anita was blood.”

  “But I wasn’t? You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

  He wasn’t doing this well. He should have planned it better. “I didn’t mean . . . I’ve been making mistakes all along, but I always meant well.”

  “Victor, you don’t know what love is. You showed that when you left. Love isn’t about you, what you want. Real love is about giving of yourself for another, give and take, taking care of each other, respect.”

  Victor felt his heart knocking as he grabbed her arm. She tried to jerk away but he tightened his grip. The moment was getting away from him, emotion taking over. He grabbed her other arm and put his knee on the bed, his face now only a few inches from hers. Her natural scent was all-consuming—apple, lilac, pine.

  “Look in my eyes,” he said. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

  “I do love you, but I also hate you.” Her eyes welled up. “You killed a part of me I’ll never get back. You just walked away after telling me you’d always be with me. And all because of a paranoid delusion. If you loved me, you would have tried to save me too.”

  Why hadn’t he?

  Victor sat beside her and relaxed his grip. She snatched her arms away, the chains leaving enough slack for her to slap him in the face—four times. Then she fell into his arms. Victor pulled her to his chest. Their eyes met and he caressed her shoulders.

  Rachael’s mouth hung open and her breathing became abrupt. Victor felt time cease at the sound of her breath, the feel of her soft, trembling body. He moved his hand to her hip and gripped. Their lips touched, the tips of their tongues grazing each other. Her hand rested on his upper thigh.

  “I do love you,” she said in a crackly voice.

  He pulled a key from his pocket and unbound her. They pulled off their clothes.

  “I always will.” Her eyes were sincere, peaceful. She rubbed his cheek.

  “I love you.”

  They began to make love. His mind flushed of all thought, only the present moment consuming his senses. His skin hummed from the warmth of her body. He felt whole, complete, home. His hand clenched hers tightly.

  Then Victor felt rattled, confused. He looked into her studying eyes, but couldn’t speak as he fell beside her, a river of black spilling over his vision.

  *

  Victor awoke to a heavy hand across his face and a fiery sting. Samuel and Kyle stood over him.

  “Where’s Rachael?” Victor said.

  “What did you do?” Samuel punched the wall above Victor. “We were on the final stretch.”

  “She’s gone,” Kyle said.

  “How long have I been out?” Victor felt a spear of pain in his temple. He put his hand on his head to find a ripe, tender lump that bled onto his fingers.

  “Long enough,” Samuel said.

  Victor sat up, weathering a dizzy spell. “It was around eleven when I left my room.”

  Samuel snickered. “It’s noon. The Jeep is gone.”

  “She doesn’t know where Mr. Sands is. We never talked location in front of her, and Mr. Sands wouldn’t have let her know their exact location, leaving her exposed with that information. We tried to get that info from her . . . she had none.”

  “Boy, you’re working hard to convince yourself,” Samuel
said.

  “She knew where they were going,” Kyle said. “She had to. They had papers and all.”

  “We need to move now,” Samuel said. “When she arrives, they won’t have much time to prepare, or escape. We may even be able to get ahead of her.”

  “But she could’ve killed me, or even taken you two out,” Victor said. “She was free and there’s a gun in my room. She’s not hostile.”

  “She didn’t kill you because you’re the only one who can activate them. And it would have been too big a risk to approach us. And the Jeep was on the opposite side of the property from where we were.”

  “She took the path that left her with the best odds,” Kyle said.

  “But she knows we’d account for her in our plan,” Victor said.

  Kyle shrugged. “Maybe she doesn’t care.”

  “Maybe she’ll ambush us. Maybe there’s help nearby,” Samuel said. “We need to get out of here—now.” Samuel said to Kyle, “Code green.”

  “I’ll have us ready in ten minutes.” Kyle dashed out of the room.

  “I screwed up,” Victor said.

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re doing this . . . into the glorious unknown. Get ready and we’ll meet Kyle at the van.”

  FORTY

  REMMIE AND BOSCO approached the Land Rover parked beside the house. It was 11:30 p.m.

  “How can we be certain we’ll find them?” Remmie whispered.

  “Because there’s only one road they could use to get here,” Bosco said, “and we know where they’re staying. We’ll head for where they are.”

  Bosco fired up the car and got them to the highway. Remmie put her hand on his knee. He put his arm around her and she leaned into him. She’d finally found someone, but she feared it would all crumble in a moment. The uncertainty of things left her with a perpetual anxiety that couldn’t be quelled. She missed her family. And what of her future? If they were able to free Eli and stop Mr. Sands, then what? How many others knew of the Dames? It would never end unless the Dames could be destroyed. Then those vying for power would fall back into the woodwork, or find another scheme for global domination. Then she could start a life with Bosco, maybe get an apartment and just be normal, get mundane jobs.