Читать книгу Unbreakable - Elizabeth Norris, Elizabeth Norris - Страница 29

wake with a start, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. A shadow is looming over me, a hand heavy on my shoulder. For a second it reminds me of the first time I really noticed Ben—when I came back from the dead to see his silhouette leaning over me. I open my mouth to say his name.

But the fog of sleep disappears, and I recognize Deirdre’s blond hair.

“What happened?” I ask. “Is Jared okay?”

“He’s fine,” Deirdre says. “But there’s been a distress call. We need to go to Qualcomm.”

I nod and roll out of bed automatically. My jeans are in a pile on the floor. I put them on and grab my hoodie and my gun and am out the door just seconds after her. Deirdre hasn’t said what the distress call is for, but she doesn’t need to.

Qualcomm, the middle of the night. Another missing person.

When we’re in the car, I pull my hair back into a ponytail. My watch says it’s 3:38 a.m. We’re the only people on the road except for the Marines at the checkpoints. They check our IDs and wave us through, their faces pulled into tight expressions.

I think about Qualcomm, about Cecily and how she’s going to take this. I never told her about the multiverse, not because it sounds crazy—between her obsession with all things science and her love for anything new and different, Cecily is probably the one person who would believe me without a doubt—but when I was with her, I was trying to hold on to the aspects of my life that were almost still normal. Telling her about the multiverse, about the portals, about Ben leaving me for his world—it would mean thinking about it. Hanging out with Cee is one of the only times I’m distracted enough to relax.

But now she’s getting dragged into it anyway. I’m going to have to tell her so she can do something to help protect people at Qualcomm.

I wonder who will be missing now—and what kind of slaves they’re going to become—and it makes me feel sick. Other than a buddy system, I can’t even begin to think of a way to combat more abductions.

I need to see Barclay.

I almost say it aloud, to Deirdre, before I stop myself. She might not go for my plan. She might not see the logic in it because it will mean letting Barclay go. I’ll talk to Struz when we get back and ask him to make some kind of deal. If Barclay can give Struz something concrete that people can do to arm themselves against traffickers, or some way for us to track them when they disappear, or something, I’m sure Struz will let him go back to Prima.

We need to be working with Prima—with IA—not against them.

Because I know who would win, and it wouldn’t be us.

When we get to Qualcomm, Cecily’s aunt is awake to meet us, her eyes bloodshot and her face red and splotchy. The stress is obviously getting to her, too. “Thank God you’re here,” she says, and as soon as we’re close enough, she pulls me into a hug.

I cover my surprise by getting down to business. “Two people are missing?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, as she pulls back. “Jack Wright. He’s eleven.”

I can feel the bile moving around in my stomach.

“Where did this happen? Was he alone?” Deirdre asks.

Cecily’s aunt nods. “Both his parents were killed in the quakes, so we’ve housed him with the other kids who are alone now. Cecily and some of the girls have been taking care of them.”

No wonder she’s so upset. This is going to be hell on Cee.

“He’d gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night,” she adds. “He was gone a little too long, so Cecily and Kate got up to check on him.”

I glance off to the side and see Kate, a blanket wrapped around her. She’s shaking a little with her head down, as if she’s crying into the blanket. I’ve finally gotten over the way she turned on me and traded our friendship for popularity. We’re not exactly friends again, but I’ve let go of the hate.

I look around for Cecily, since she is usually quick to comfort anyone who’s crying, and a shiver moves through my body. I don’t see her anywhere, and when I look back at her aunt, the question almost freezes in my throat.

“And the second?” I ask.

Her eyes water and Deirdre says, “Please tell us it’s not another kid.”

It’s not, but for me, this answer is worse.

“It’s Cecily.”