Dangerous (41 page)

powerful. And while I was at it, I attached it to an improved

robot suit. If you’ve got the chance to build a flying robot suit,

why ever turn it down?

Dad was off pain meds and was alert enough to ground me

to my room that night, making sure I got rest. Lately my mind

refused to sleep more than three hours at night, though I was

always tired, exhaustion sticking to me like a greasy film.

Luther stayed near me the next day, chatting away while

I worked, which helped rest my brain. Luther’s possessiveness

kept Wilder from approaching me. I didn’t have the energy to

sort out what I felt about him.

And with Luther and Dad, I forced myself to view the alien

video again. They held my arms as I fell into the images, fol-

lowing the ships through space, and then plunging toward the

planet before flying into the ship itself. I spent hours at it but

still couldn’t make sense of the fireteam’s actions.

At last I shut my eyes, curled up on the carpet, and de-

spised myself as I cried.

“Whoa, Maisie, are you okay?” Luther asked.

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Shannon Hale

“Lock the door, Luther,” Dad said.

I heard Luther click the lock of Howell’s office door.

“I’m okay,” I said from behind my hands. “It’s just . . . the

images do this . . . I’m not really—”

“Maisie,” Dad whispered. He leaned over from his wheel-

chair, put his hands on my head. “Maisie, we’re leaving. Now.

There’s nothing we need to pack. They can’t stop us, Maisie.

They can’t stop you.”

“But Mom—” I started.

“Would want you safe.” His voice shook. “This is . . . this is

ludicrous, what they’re asking of a child. You don’t have to do it.”

“I do,” I said.

But then I looked up at him and almost changed my mind.

The way he looked back at me--if I’d ever been unsure before, I

had no doubt now that my dad loved me more than the world.

But at that very moment Dragon and his team were load-

ing Mom and fifty unconscious possessed Floridians into two

jets. A few of them were newly possessed members of Howell’s

own team. They’d shot through a number of attacking mini-

troopers but hadn’t been fast enough to save three of the guys.

Mom and Howell’s crew would arrive by morning. Since GT

might attack any day, I’d decided to assault the ghostmen ship

tomorrow.

The other reason for the rush I kept to myself. Every day I

could lift less weight, hold less shooter token charge, make less

armor. The token-makers hadn’t intended for all five to coexist

inside one person. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. To-

morrow I’d either stop the invasion or die trying.

“I do,” I said again.

Dad looked defeated.

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Dangerous

“I have more work,” I said, getting up. “Luthe, look after

Dad, okay?”

And I left quickly. Because if Dad called me his little girl

and took my hand and promised we could just run away again

and everything would be okay, I might give in. And I couldn’t

bear to live hidden away somewhere, useless, while the Purpose

screamed inside me. I couldn’t bear to fail Mom.

I locked the door to the lab and worked alone. My suit was

finished. I triple-checked the hyperbaric chambers. Soon I had

nothing left to do but twiddle wires.

Tomorrow
, I thought.
And tomorrow, and tomorrow . . .

I hopped out a window and scaled onto the roof. Wilder

was there. Lockdown didn’t seem to hinder him. He’d laid out

a blanket on the gravel top as he had last summer. There were

no binoculars and only one pillow.

“Your dad try to talk you out of it?” he asked.

“But you won’t,” I said.

“Wish I could, but—”

“You’d make the same choice I am.”

He nodded. “That Purpose rides with razor spurs.” He

looked at my neck. “You’re wearing the necklace.”

“One of the four gifts Jupiter gave to Europa,” I said, finger-

ing the tanzanite.

“I managed to give you the javelin that never misses too.”

He gestured toward my chest—the shooter token.

He put his hands in his pockets. I put my hands in mine.

Far from the light pollution of a city, we had a front-row seat

to the galaxy, the sky drenched in stars. A breeze found us, the

cool, sweet smells of nearly spring, twining between us, con-

necting. He was only a few paces away but it felt like kilometers.

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Shannon Hale

I came closer. He didn’t look at me, as if not to startle away a

wild animal.

I reached out and touched his chest above his top but-

ton—smooth, no sign the tokens had ever been there. I looked

because I was curious; and I looked because I wanted to make

contact with him and didn’t know how. His hand caught mine

and held it pressed there.

“Maisie…” His face struggled as he searched for words. He

shook his head and let go.

I held out my hand. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Maisie Brown.”

He shook my hand.

“Thank you,” he said. He didn’t let go this time. “Thank

you,” he said again.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

I wanted to lean into him. I wanted to rest my head against

his shoulder. I wanted his arms to go around me and how safe

that would make me feel, even if it was an illusion. I wanted to

lift my face and let him kiss me, and kiss me more. I wanted our

bodies wrapped together and kisses faster than breaths, and my

mind drugged by the emotions, turned off and humming, my

body yearning and content, and how kisses can douse the rest

of the world and make everything a single moment of touch. I

wanted Wilder to love me. I wanted to not be afraid.

I was the fireteam. I took one step back. He let go of my

hand.

I thought about going down to my room and my cold pil-

low, but there would be plenty of time tomorrow for solitude. So

I sat on his blanket, my back leaning against the stairway door,

and Wilder sat beside me.

“May I put my arm around you?” he asked.

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Dangerous

“Yes please,” I said.

“I promise to be a good boy,” he whispered, and I laughed.

I let my head relax against his shoulder. We looked up.

The stars were out. The whole galaxy was out.

“I’ve been lonely,” he said.

“So have I.”

I was tired. My body seemed to melt. Soon I was lying

down, Wilder beside me. Every moment closer. My head rested

on his arm. My knee against his leg. His neck touching my fore-

head. My arm over his side. His eyes closed first. I watched for

a time, glad that he could sleep beside me. Soon I was scarcely

aware that I was asleep, only that I felt peaceful.

I woke at first light. I was on my side, Wilder’s chest pressed

to my back, his arm over mine as if to keep me warm.

It should be the other way around, I thought. The air was

chilly, and without his tokens, he must be feeling it. But Wilder

was deep asleep.

This might be my last morning on Earth, I thought, and I

tried to feel the reality of that.

I turned over carefully and watched Wilder’s face get bright

with dawn.

345

C h a p t e r 5 3

Mom’s hand was warm. A loose eyelash lay under her eye.

I touched it with my fingertip and brushed it away. She had tiny

freckles on her cheeks, just a few but more than I’d noticed be-

fore. Her chest rose and fell with breaths, but her face didn’t so

much as twitch with a dream. Asleep I couldn’t see any wrong-

ness in her eyes. Asleep I couldn’t tell that there was a ghost

inside her, trapped by her unconsciousness, ready to scream

warning to its ship the moment Mom woke.

“Get out of her,” I whispered to Mom’s ear. “Get out or I’ll

find a way to end you. You don’t know who you’re messing with.

I
am
dangerous.”

Mom didn’t rouse when I carried her from the plane to

the bus. I settled her gently onto a seat in the back near the

hyperbaric chamber. I put on her seat belt, tucked loose hair

behind her ears. Kissed her cheeks. I patted the chamber as I

walked off the bus as I might pat Laelaps.

I’d hoped as soon as I saw her, I’d just know if she was still

whole, that once the alien left my
mami
would remain. But I

wasn’t sure. Ice in my gut warned she might be a breathing

corpse.

Howell had two charter-sized buses, each carrying one of

our souped-up hyperbolic chambers, over two dozen uncon-

scious passengers, and the remainder of the whitecoats to stick

them in for sessions that would hopefully pluck out their alien

parasites. I’d decided it wouldn’t be safe to conduct the extrac-

tions at HAL. Too easy a target for the ship’s master-blasts. The

Dangerous

buses would stay in motion. And to allow more erratic mobility

we fit them with monster truck tires so they could stay off road.

Yosemite Sam would pilot one, and Hairy the other. Dragon

would stay at HAL in case GT attacked.

“Dad, you and Luther get into HAL’s bomb shelter.”

“I’ll stay with your mother,” he said.

“Dad—”

“I’ll stay with her.”

I sighed. “Okay.”

If the ship master-blasted the buses, I’d be losing both par-

ents today.

“Luther—” I started.

“I’m staying too,” he said.

Both parents and a best friend. I didn’t argue with them.

The Purpose was a scream inside me, shaking every cell of my

body, urging me up.

“Maisie, it’s not too late,” Dad said. “You don’t have to

do this.”

“I love you too,” I said.

He nodded, sad and afraid, but also, I think, proud of me.

Hairy helped Dad up the bus steps.

“Hey, Dad! Make sure they save Mom till the end. And if

anything goes wrong with the others, don’t let them—”

“I won’t,” he said.

I turned and rammed into the wall that was Dragon.

“Let me come with you,” said Dragon.

“The jet pack will only support my weight,” I said.

“I’ll wear a space suit. Fly the Speetle. Ram it into that ship

and join you inside it for whatever mayhem awaits.”

The idea made me smile, but I shook my head. “I don’t

347

Shannon Hale

think this is blind fear—I think it’s nanite-enhanced intuition.

You
can’t
help. I have to do it alone.”

He nodded, but his expression was as sad as I felt. He

trudged back inside the complex.

Wilder was going to stay with Dragon, but for the moment

he just stood there in the brush outside the battle-scarred walls,

watching me.

Covered in havoc armor, I stepped into my pressure suit.

Wilder came closer to help me do up the straps. I sighed. “It was

supposed to be a team.”

Wilder nodded. “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I can do this,” I said. I didn’t really believe it. But I would try.

He nodded and headed after Dragon.

“Luther,” I called. He looked out a bus window.

“When you go home again, if your parents weren’t miser-

able missing you, toss ’em to the curb and take mine.”

“We’ll share them,” he said, his expression stern.

“Sure.” I was wearing the sunglasses Dragon had given me.

I took them off and handed them up. “I’ll want these back.”

Luther put them on. “I’ll keep them warm. Don’t be long

or I’ll come after you.”

“HAL crew is in position,”
Dragon said in my headset.

“Bus Alpha in position,”
said Howell.

“Bus Beta in position,”
said Hairy.

“Wait.” Wilder jogged back toward me. “I just—” He looked

me up and down, put out his arms and tried to embrace me. I

was dressed in four layers: clothing, havoc armor, pressure suit,

and robot exoskeleton, much more cyborg than girl.

“Beep-beep hug Wilder,” I said in robotic monotone.

“Hug enacted,” he monotoned back.

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Dangerous

He lifted my havoc-covered and gloved Lady hand and

kissed it.

“Kick some transparent booty.”

“With pleasure,” I said. And for a moment, I meant it, my

stomach tingling not in fear but anticipation.

I watched the buses drive off in opposite directions and

spoke into the headset. “Fireteam is go.”

“Okay,”
said Howell on Bus Alpha.
“Our first subject is in

the chamber. I am turning it on . . .”

I could hear a hum. I held my breath.

“I’m not sure if
—” Howell began.

“It worked!” I shouted. I could see a pink ghost coming up

through the roof of the bus. “It worked immediately! Proceed

with the plan! Go, go!”

I turned on my jet pack and shot up into the air like a

rocket, chasing the first Alpha ghost. The air felt harder than ar-

mor, like swimming through solid rock. Soon I could see a few

more pink specks rising up below me. According to the plan,

Teams Alpha and Beta would alternate releasing a ghost every

ten seconds. If they were able to exorcise a ghost out of each in-

fected human, I’d have about seven minutes’ worth of incoming