“No. You can go. You should go. But I’m going to stay here.”
Warner stills behind me. “What?”
“Go,” I tell him. “You have to go to the compounds—you have things to take care of. You should go. But I need to be here. I have to know what’s happened to everyone else, and I have to move forward from there.”
“You’re asking me to leave you here,” he says, not bothering to hide his shock. “Indefinitely.”
“Yes,” I say to him. “I’m not leaving until I get some answers. And you’re right. Kenji will definitely shoot first and ask questions later, so it’s best that you leave. I’ll talk to him, try to tell him what’s happened. Maybe we could all work together—”
“What?”
“It doesn’t just have to be me and you,” I tell him. “You said you wanted to help me kill your father and take down The Reestablishment, right?”
Warner nods slowly against the back of my head.
“Okay. So.” I take a deep breath. “I accept your offer.”
Warner goes rigid. “You accept my offer.”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do this without you.”
I feel the breath rush out of him, his heart beating hard against my back.
“But I need to know who else is still alive,” I insist. “And the group of us can work together. We’ll be stronger that way, and we’ll all be fighting toward the same goal—”
“No.”
“It’s the only way—”
“I have to go,” he says, spinning me around. “Kenji is almost here.” He shoves a hard plastic object into my hand. “Activate this pager,” he says, “whenever you’re ready. Keep it with you and I’ll know where to find you.”
“But—”
“You have four hours,” he says. “If I don’t hear from you before then, I’ll assume you are in some kind of danger, and I will come find you myself.” He’s still holding my hand, the pager still pressed against my palm. It’s the craziest feeling, to be touched by someone you can’t see. “Do you understand?”
I nod, once. I have no idea where to look.
And then I freeze, every inch of me hot and cold all at once because he presses his lips to the back of my fingers in one soft, tender moment and when he pulls away I’m reeling, heady, unsteady.
Just as I’m regaining my footing, I hear the familiar sound of an electric thrum, and realize Warner has already begun to drive away.
And I’m left to wonder what on earth I’ve just agreed to.
FIFTEEN
Kenji is stomping toward me, his eyes blazing.
“Where the hell did he go? Did you see where he went?”
I shake my head as I reach forward, grabbing his arms in an attempt to focus his eyes. “Talk to me, Kenji. Tell me what happened—where is everyone—?”
“There is no everyone!” he snaps, breaking away. “Omega Point is gone—everything gone—everything—” He drops to his knees, heaving as he falls forward, his forehead digging into the snow. “I thought you were dead, too—I thought—”
“No,” I gasp. “No, Kenji—they can’t all have died—not everyone—”
Not Adam.
Not Adam.
Please please please not Adam
I’d been too optimistic about today.
I’d been lying to myself.
I didn’t really believe Warner. I didn’t believe it could be this bad. But now, to see the truth, and to hear Kenji’s agony—the reality of all that happened is hitting me so hard I feel like I’m falling backward into my own grave.
My knees have hit the ground.
“Please,” I’m saying, “please tell me there are others—Adam has to be alive—”
“I grew up here,” Kenji is saying. He’s not listening to me and I don’t recognize his raw, aching voice. I want the old Kenji, the one who knew how to take charge, to take control. And this isn’t him.
This Kenji is terrifying me.
“This was my whole life,” he says, looking toward the crater that used to be Omega Point. “The only place—all those people—” He chokes. “They were my family. My only family—”
“Kenji, please . . .” I try to shake him. I need him to snap out of his grief before I succumb to it, too. We need to move out of plain sight and I’m only now beginning to realize that Kenji doesn’t care. He wants to put himself in danger. He wants to fight. He wants to die.
I can’t let that happen.
Someone needs to take control of this situation right now and right now I might be the only one capable.
“Get up,” I snap, my voice harsher than I intended. “You need to get up, and you need to stop acting reckless. You know we’re not safe out here, and we have to move. Where are you staying?” I grab his arm and pull, but he won’t budge. “Get up!” I shout again. “Get—”
And then, just like that, I remember I’m a whole hell of a lot stronger than Kenji will ever be. It almost makes me smile.
I close my eyes and focus, trying to remember everything Kenji taught me, everything I’ve learned about how to control my strength, how to tap into it when I need to. I spent so many years bottling everything up and locking it away that it still takes some time to remember it’s there, waiting for me to harness it. But the moment I welcome it, I feel it rush into me. It’s a raw power so potent it makes me feel invincible.
And then, just like that, I yank Kenji up off the ground and toss him over my shoulder.
Me.
I do that.
Kenji, of course, unleashes a string of the foulest expletives I’ve ever heard. He’s kicking at me but I can hardly feel it; my arms are wrapped loosely around him, my strength carefully reined in so as not to crush him. He’s angry, but at least he’s swearing again. This is something I recognize.
I cut him off midexpletive. “Tell me where you’re staying,” I say to him, “and pull yourself together. You can’t fall apart on me now.”
Kenji is silent a moment.
“Hey, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a friend of mine,” he says. “Have you seen her? She’s a tiny little thing, cries a lot, spends too much time with her feelings—”