Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

Soter stepped forward. “Take me. I have a plane waiting on the tarmac at the Arecibo Airport. It could get us to New Mexico with time to spare.”


Noah stared back, his face an unreadable mask. “You heard what the man said. They’re going to be hunting us. You sure you want to take that chance?”

The mathematician nodded soberly.

“The more the merrier,” Noah muttered. “Mercy, be a dear and collect those guns. And while I’m thinking about it, let’s have your phones. If you’re going to be hunting us, it only seems fair to give us a head start.”

Cort signaled for his men to comply, this time without threats or taunts. Jenna understood that they were past that stage now. Noah was not going to change his mind, and Cort was already thinking ahead to what he would do next. Jenna realized with sick certainty that the running and fighting was not over, not by a long shot, but now there was a lot more at stake than just her own survival.

She moved closer to Noah. “There’s no way we can make it to New Mexico without Cort’s help.”

Noah glanced in Cort’s direction before answering in a low whisper that only she could hear. “We aren’t going to New Mexico, but Cort doesn’t need to know that. I know a guy that can get us to Cuba. They won’t be able to touch us there.”

“No!” The forcefulness of her denial surprised even her. She had spoken so loudly that everyone in the room looked at her. “I have to go to New Mexico.”

Noah frowned in irritation. “Jenna, you’ve done enough. Cort can take care of this with a phone call. You don’t need to be there.”

“But I do. I have to be there,” she repeated. “I’m the only one who can stop it.”

“Why?”

She had no answer. There was no rational explanation for the compulsion she felt, but if she revealed her uncertainty, Noah would never agree.

“There’s more to the instructions,” she lied, except part of her realized it wasn’t a lie. While the coded message did contain some specific instructions, its primary function was to activate the implanted memories. Although that door had closed, Jenna knew that there was a lot more that had not been revealed to her. “I think I have to go there to unlock the rest.”

“You think?”

She gripped his arm. “Noah, you have to trust me. I’m the only one who can stop it.”

Noah’s frown deepened. “I believe you, but I’m not the one you have to convince.”

Jenna turned to Cort. “If you get me to New Mexico, then I’m all yours. You can ship me off to one of your secret prisons, throw me in a hole and make me disappear forever.”

Noah stepped between her and Cort. “Jenna, don’t be stupid.”

Jenna pointed at the computer screen where the message was still displayed. “You see that? How the message ends?”

Nobody had commented on the last line of the transmission, the final marching orders for each clone. Four simple but ominous words in plain English.

Wipe the slate clean.

“That’s what’s going to happen if I don’t get to New Mexico. What happens after that doesn’t matter, because if I don’t get there, there isn’t going to be an ‘after.’”

Noah stared at her for a long time, his expression twisted with emotions that he was no longer able to suppress.

It was Cort that finally broke the silence. “So I’m supposed to take you at your word? What, are you gonna pinky-swear to give yourself up when it’s all done?”

Before Jenna could answer, Mercy spoke. “I’ll stay. You can keep me as collateral.”

“Mercy, no.” Jenna heard Noah echoing her own denial, but Mercy just shook her head.

“It’s okay, Jenna. I believe you. I know that you have to do this. It sickens me that we were used like this.” Jenna knew what Mercy meant by ‘we.’ She wasn’t just Jenna’s sister or mother. All of the clones had been created using her DNA. “And this way, we’ll still be together when it’s all over.”

Cort just laughed. “What the hell? It’s a deal.”





56



Plains of San Agustin, New Mexico, USA

5:05 p.m. (Mountain Daylight Time)



The flight took six hours but to Jenna it felt like hardly any time had passed. Part of this was due to her anxiety about what would happen when they arrived. Time always seemed to drag when she was looking forward to something good—the last day of school or a birthday—and flew by when something bad loomed on the horizon.

She thought she would be able to spend at least some of the trip sleeping, but even though she felt dead on her feet, every time she closed her eyes, she had a vision of Mercy, flanked by Cort’s men, waving good-bye. She settled for a hot meal from the Gulfstream’s galley, washed down with several bottles of Pepsi, and she listened in as the rest of the group discussed strategy.