The Countdown (The Taking) (22 page)

Once the computer was powered up, she entered a string of commands and then behind the large glass window I’d noticed on the other side of the room, the metal screen began to lift.

“This,” she repeated, drawing our attention to whatever was beyond the glass, “is The Eden Project.”

From our vantage point, we were overlooking something that seemed vaguely like an airplane hangar, but only in the way the M’alue floating in the giant test tube looked vaguely like a human.

Past my shoulder, I heard Jett. “I always thought The Eden Project was just rumor. I never believed it really existed.”

“Oh, it exists all right.” Molly moved in front of the thick pane of glass and gazed down in admiration.

“So what exactly are we looking at?” I asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, I don’t get it. Why all the secrets?” Tyler shrugged, moving to stand right beside me. The back of his hand brushed across mine, and I knew it wasn’t an accident. My pulse thrummed in my throat, and even while we stood there in a room full of people, I felt my cheeks get hot, and I forgot all about being mad at him.

The plane down in the hangar was impressive enough. Military. Black and wedge-shaped, making it hard to tell where the body ended and the wings began. There was a small, narrow window tinted so dark it was impossible to see inside.

It vaguely reminded me of the drone I’d blown up outside of Blackwater, but as far as I could tell, nothing about it warranted keeping it deep underground like this, or even giving it the badass top-secret name: The Eden Project.

From what I could see, it was just another cool-looking jet.

“I’m with them,” Simon protested. “If you have something to show us, get to it already.”

“What you’re looking at is the first self-launching spacecraft of its kind.” She nodded toward the drone-like plane. “A replica of the EVE—that’s what we dubbed it, the M’alue’s ship. Or at least the parts we were able to recover.” She grinned. “This is where science fiction becomes reality.”

“As opposed to the thing where most of us are cloned, or at least partially cloned, from alien DNA?” Simon balked. “And really? Adam and Eve? You had to go there?”

But Molly just nodded. “Okay. Yes. The cloning is pretty
impressive. But think about it. Now, at least in theory, the M’alues are no longer the only ones capable of traveling outside the solar system.”

I turned away from the glass, considering the implications. “If you have this, why not set Adam free? Why not let him go home?”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Like I said,
in theory
. We’ve got all the parts right—we know that. We just haven’t been able to get it airborne.”

“And you’re showing us this because . . . ?” Jett asked.

Dr. Clarke answered, “Like I explained upstairs, Adam wasn’t the only thing to react to your arrival.” She shot a meaningful look at Tyler. “The moment you arrived here at the ISA, that ship reacted as well.” She looked to Molly then, who gave an almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging Dr. Clarke’s statement. “That ship down there sent out some sort of signal of its own.” When she looked back at me, she added, “Then, when you showed up, the exact same message went out again.”

Simon locked eyes with Dr. Clarke. “When you say message, what sort of message was it?”

Molly went back to the monitor. “A map,” Molly explained, taking over the explanation as she pulled up an image. “See for yourself.”

What I saw made me take a step back. It filled the screen.

But it was Jett who confessed what I already knew—that the map on the monitor was the exact one Tyler had drawn the night in the desert. Jett pulled out his cell phone and held
it up so everyone could see. “Identical,” he said as if everyone hadn’t noticed.

“How can
a ship
send out a message?” Tyler asked. “And how did that same image end up in my head?”

Dr. Clarke raised her brows. “We don’t know what triggered the ship’s comm system. Kind of odd that it coincided with your arrival though, don’t you think?” Her voice was bone dry.

“You don’t think we’re involved, do you? At least not intentionally.” I couldn’t believe they thought we were somehow in league with the M’alue. That we’d do anything to draw them here on purpose.

I thought about how my dad had worried the aliens had sent those hikers after me, and how Chuck had tried to relay some sort of message to me right before blowing his brains out.

“No. We’re buried so far underground, the only signals that can get in or out have to be relayed through our satellites. When you two arrived, the EVE piggybacked onto one of those signals to get its message out,” Dr. Clarke agreed. “Whoever the signal was meant for was basically being told how to find us. How to find you.” She looked at Tyler, then me. “Any idea why that might be?”

I shook my head. Then something else occurred to me. “The other signal, the one you intercepted. You said you couldn’t decipher it. Can we hear it?”

Mutely, she stared at me. I could see her considering it. I wasn’t sure she’d agree, but then, as if it was never
even an issue, almost like
What difference would it make
, she took Molly’s place at the computer. She entered a series of commands—more security codes, passwords, that kind of thing—and then she stood back.

After a moment, static filled the air.

Garbled white noise.

Except it wasn’t white noise at all. It was a message . . .

The
message.

“Oh crap,” Tyler whispered.

“What?” Simon asked from the other side of me. “What is it?”

My stomach dropped. “You can’t hear it?” I asked, suddenly realizing Tyler and I were the only ones who understood it.

“I don’t get it. It’s just static, right?” Jett said, looking at me and then Tyler.

I looked at Tyler too. My throat felt dry when I explained, “They said, ‘The Returned must die.’”

WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?

This is a mistake. A huge-ginormous-major mistake.

Can a heart actually explode from beating too fast?

The ship was so much bigger up close. So much more intimidating.

How had I let them talk me into this? I was only one person . . . a kid really. I never even passed my driver’s test.

There was too much at stake.

I turned around to tell them so, to tell Super Cheerleader Molly she had the wrong person, when a whirring sound came
from in front of me. I nearly bolted from the sound alone, but held myself in check as I swung back toward the ship. Instead of telling Molly where she could shove her “test pilot” experiment I found myself face-to-face with an open hatch.

It definitely hadn’t been like that before.

There was a small set of steps—not a ladder exactly, but not like stairs either—descending from the spaceship’s bottom, as if somehow the aircraft itself had detected my approach and was inviting me on board. Like it
recognized
me.

This thing, this spaceship that had beamed the coordinates of our exact location into outer space was responding to my presence. I should be completely freaked out by that, so why wasn’t I?

It was as if being here . . . this close to the machine had done something to me, similar to the way being close to Adam had. It was as if my brain had been rewired—that was the only way I could describe it. Like new synapses had formed and were firing, making me aware of things I’d never noticed before . . . smells were suddenly more intense, sounds clearer, colors more vibrant.

I was no longer overwhelmed by what I was about to do. I no longer believed this was too much for one person. It didn’t matter that I had zero experience with things like flying UFOs. Instead my head was buzzing with thoughts about how totally-freaking-
effing
cool this was.

In my ear, Molly’s voice reminded me I was wearing a headset. “It’s never done that before.”

The sensation that the spacecraft had
sensed
my presence intensified.

Without hesitating, I reached for the steps, and my hands closed around the small handrail as I stepped onto the bottom stair. I didn’t have time to wonder if I was right to board it, because the moment my foot lifted off the ground, the entire stairway began to rise. My stomach lurched as I was boosted into the ship’s belly, but in anticipation, like when you reach the peak of a roller coaster.

As I landed inside, I heard the hatch seal behind me.
You’re here to stay
, that sound seemed to signify.
Ready or not
, as if I had no say in the matter.

“Ready,” I whispered in response.

“You okay?” Molly asked into the headset, sounding confused.

I nodded mutely, then remembered she couldn’t see me, so I answered her out loud, “I’m good.”

“Good. Now, go ahead and take the seat,” she said back to me. “See how it feels.”

There was only one seat, so the
where
was a no-brainer. The cockpit was cramped, and I maneuvered into the seat like it was made from explosives, afraid to touch anything—any one of the buttons or gadgets. I didn’t want to accidentally blast myself into outer space. Or worse, what if I hit a button that launched a nuclear strike against another country?

More likely, I’d send the entire ship crashing into one of the steel walls that surrounded us on all sides, killing myself and everyone else in sight.

Just to be sure, I kept my hands safely in my lap.

With so many levers and buttons and gauges and monitors the panel in front of me surpassed high tech. And what I’d thought from the outside was a window, turned out not to be a window at all. It was one enormous screen, and as soon as my weight settled into the chair, the display flashed to life.

I gasped.

From the other end of my earpiece, Molly’s voice reached out to me. “Everything all right?”

“I . . . ,” I faltered, momentarily spellbound by what spread out before me. What had begun as random start-up commands had now shifted to images, a rotating series of what looked like weather maps or maybe radar screens . . . all blips and rainbow blobs that swelled and shifted with intersecting lines and numbers, none of which meant anything to me. “I . . . I guess so.”

“Do you have questions? What are you seeing? What’s happening in there?” she fished.

I leaned forward, examining the joystick between my knees and tried to imagine how they possibly thought I’d have the first clue about flying this thing. “How could I not?” I admitted. “Starting with: What is it you think I’m supposed to do in here?”

There was silence, followed by crackling . . . a muffled noise, like she had her hand over the mic. When she came back, she said only, “We were hoping you might know.”

“
Me?
You were hoping
I’d
know how to use this thing?”
I would have laughed, and I almost did, because the idea was so . . . out there. Did they really think they’d just . . . throw me in here, and I’d somehow-magically-
cross-their-fingers
figure it out? Was that their big plan? “You people are nuts,” I accused, rolling my eyes.

They’d wasted my time, sending me down here. The joke was on them.

I put my hands on the grips at either side of my seat, planning to get the hell out of here before I seriously messed something up. But when I did . . . when I put my hands on those handles . . . something happened.

I wasn’t sure it was real at first, the slight, barely unnoticeable shift. It was so very, very subtle.

Except somewhere, deep inside me, I knew the truth because my heart picked up speed, every muscle in my body went still, every synapse started igniting.

Things just got real.

I waited an eternity, then, when I trusted myself enough, when I could actually breathe again, I squeezed my fingers around the grips again . . . just the tiniest bit. Testing it.

This time when the ship moved, it was more than just noticeable, it was staggering. I wanted to be blown away by what I’d just done, because that’s what I should be, that’s what a normal girl would be,
blown freaking away
. It was the normal response, to be overwhelmed . . . frightened . . . horrified by the fact I’d just managed to move this thing.

“Kyra?” Molly’s voice was demanding in my ear. “Kyra, what’s happening? Is everything okay? Was that you?”

I couldn’t answer because my mouth was stuck in a giant, stupid grin. That was normal, right?

The display in front of me had stopped showing the blobs that made it look like the Weather Channel, and a new series of images were rotating past in rapid succession. They were too fast for me to take in, except here’s the weird thing: they weren’t going too fast for me.

I understood each and every one of them.

This whole thing . . . all of it was getting more and more bizarre. But I stayed where I was . . . mesmerized.

There were strange patterns, of stars and landmarks with lines of longitude and latitude that crisscrossed them to create maps; similar to the one Tyler had drawn out in the desert. But now I somehow knew where all of these places were. I wasn’t afraid or even shocked at how easily the information came to me.

Many of them were places I’d been before—Thom’s camp at Silent Creek, Griffin’s at Blackwater Ranch, the old Hanford site where Simon and his people had been hiding out when he’d first introduced me to them. There was even a map of the abandoned asylum in Wyoming where Natty and Eddie Ray had been holding me. There were other things in those images as well, not just maps, but information that shouldn’t have made any sense at all, that I shouldn’t have had the first clue how to comprehend, but that my mind somehow just . . . absorbed. I was a sponge, sucking in all the knowledge being thrown my way.

I was a computer, and this was my download.

By the time it was finished, I knew this ship inside and out. Its schematics were etched in my mind as if I’d engineered the thing myself. I knew which alloys had been used and where they’d been mined. I had a working knowledge of the components—of the spectrometers, nodules, shields, and trusses.

I knew exactly what I needed to do, just like Molly had hoped I would.

I knew how to fly this thing.

“Kyra . . . ,” Molly’s voice rasped. “Are you seeing this? Are you receiving these transmissions?”

It was the first time I realized that what I was seeing wasn’t coming from Molly or the ISA . . . these charts and graphs and diagrams. Maybe, like everything else, that awareness should have freaked me out too, but it didn’t. Whoever was out there transmitting signals wanted me to have this information.

“Hell yeah, I am,” I answered as I settled back, gearing up for something remarkable. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And why not, wasn’t that exactly what this was?

“What do you think it means—?” she started to ask, but I cut her off as I reached forward and gripped the joystick. When I did, a harness dropped over my shoulders and locked me in place.

Adrenaline rushed through me.

“Open the bay doors,” I said into my mouthpiece.

“The bay . . .
what
? You can’t . . . ,” she sputtered,
and their voices buzzed and blurred, as whoever was on the other end conferenced about what I’d just commanded them to do.

I tuned them out. They could do like I said or straight up ignore me, but one way or another I was getting this thing outta here.

I concentrated, because that’s what this required—I knew because of all the information I’d just absorbed. So I did, just like I had before when I’d moved things with my mind, only this time I wasn’t angry or agitated or panicked, I was just . . .
focused
.

“Kyra, are you listening to me?” Molly was yelling into the headset now.

All around me the spaceship rumbled to life. It wasn’t loud but I could feel it, its energy vibrating in every muscle and nerve fiber, every cell and every molecule of my body until we were one . . . me and this mind-blowing machine.

“I got this,” I responded, infinitely calmer than she had sounded, which was somewhere in the range of: her head might explode. And then I repeated, “Open the bay doors.”

Even though she’d never confirmed there actually were bay doors, she knew what I meant, and she knew I knew it. When the aircraft lifted again, it raised up so smoothly you would’ve thought I’d been flying this thing my entire life. It hovered evenly . . . perfectly beneath me.

I didn’t wait for her to agree, I just went for it, and the spaceship did exactly what I wanted it to, gliding the way I meant it to, the way I told it to . . .
with my mind!
I didn’t
pretend it wasn’t the coolest thing ever, because it one thousand percent was.

I was doing this. I had total control. This thing was responding to something inside me. I could think—
just
think!
—a command and the spaceship did what I wanted it to.

Up
, I’d thought, and it had risen, just the right amount, exactly as I’d imagined.

The area inside the hangar was massive, and the ship navigated smoothly, with room to spare. I couldn’t see where I was going, not like in a car or truck, where you watched out the window. But I wasn’t flying blind either. I knew from the screen exactly how far off the ground I was, and how much distance there was to the ceiling and to the walls on either side.

Ahead, there was a tunnel carved through the mountain, and even without being told it was the right way to go, that was where I headed.

With a simple:
Forward
. And then
Faster
.

I grinned again as the ship slipped inside the wide channel.

Toward the bay doors
, I thought, and stifled the follow-up words:
The ones that are still closed
.

But I couldn’t let myself care because that wasn’t the point. That was their problem.

“Open them,” I said again, this time out loud, more insistently.

“Kyra . . .” There was hesitation in Molly’s voice.

“Do it,” I demanded, forcing myself not to think about
slowing. I refused to give them the satisfaction. This was their baby . . .
Molly’s baby
, this project. I was only the pilot. Hadn’t Dr. Clarke said as much? If it crashed, odds were I’d heal.

The truth was, though, I didn’t believe they’d let that happen.

On the screen I saw the end of the tunnel fast approaching, and realized I was coming toward them—the bay doors.

They were still sealed shut, and if she didn’t open them soon, I’d find out just how resilient my body really was. The first flash of doubt filled me, but I didn’t waver.

Faster
, I thought again, this time clutching the handles, and the ship did as I commanded, plunging ahead.

The display in front of me showed that we were within one hundred kilometers and closing.

Seventy-five.

The gap was narrowing with each heartbeat.

Fifty.

Just when I thought they’d decided to dismiss my order, I saw the doors begin to part.

Too late
, I thought.
They’ll never open in time. Not all the way
.

Twenty-five . . .

The crash was inevitable, I was certain. I sucked in my breath and held it.

Just as the nose of the ship edged through and I waited for the wings to collide with the doors on either side, the entire ship flipped to the left, doing a ninety-degree rotation
onto its side. The harness at my shoulders tightened as the frame of the craft skimmed through the way-too-narrow opening, and I jolted forward as the underside scraped along the door.

I let out an audible gasp as the ship leveled out again. Open skies stretched before me on the screen. We’d somehow not only cleared the bay doors, but the ISA and the mountain entirely.

“Kyra? Kyra, can you hear me?” It wasn’t Molly now, but Dr. Clarke, insistent. I smiled, guessing she was angry too.

“I hear you,” I answered, but only because even though the signal wasn’t nearly as strong now, Dr. Clarke still intimidated me. But that didn’t change the fact that I was flying a freaking spaceship . . . not exactly the kind of thing that happens every day.