“When Watson created my new identity, we made my last name Hudson. It was going to be a surprise...” She smiles up at me. “Surprise.”
Adopting Maigo was never a possibility, because she was, technically, dead. I knew Watson had created a new identity for her—which we can easily do as a division of the DHS—retaining her first name, but I’d never asked what they used for a last name, and it never came up. And now that I’m thinking about it...
“Take us back,” I say.
The dream ends, and we’re back in the bleak underground morgue. We head back outside, and I pull my phone from my pocket, dialing Watson. He answers on the second ring. “Are you back in the Crow’s Nest?”
“Yep, we’re just settling in now. Coop is coordinating with—”
“Never mind that,” I say. “Can you access Maigo’s credentials? Her Social Security card? Birth certificate? All that?”
“Yeah,” he says. “We did make them, after all. Why?”
“Make her my daughter.” While I can’t go through the normal adoption channels, I can change the records.
I hear Maigo gasp next to me.
Watson is silent.
“Watson?”
I hear typing keys, but nothing else. I check the phone. Full signal. “Watson?”
“Done,” he says, and I hang up without saying goodbye. I turn to Maigo. “Now you’re a Hudson.”
I’m expecting a hug or something more stereotypically girly, but Maigo gets serious. “Then now we can do what Hudsons do.” She takes my hand. “Together.”
The last thing I want is to help this girl, my daughter, now on paper and in my heart, rejoin Nemesis. She will lead a life of violence and chaos, of pain and battle. But...she could save people. Millions of people. Knowing the weight she feels from her past as Nemesis, I can’t take that from her. And she’s right, Hudsons save people. “We might not share the same blood, but sometimes nurture wins over nature. Let’s go kick some ass.” My toe strikes a rock on the ground, and I sprawl into the dirt.
Maigo helps me up. “Definitely don’t share the same blood.”
Ten minutes later, we’re back in the X-35, minus Hawkins and Lilly, who are now being cared for by a few stunned and NDA-silenced doctors in Portland. Neither were happy about it, but Hawkins’s internal injuries needed tending, and Lilly, while returning to her senses, was still craving cheeseburgers and hardly in fighting shape. But they were happy to be reunited with Joliet, who was recovering nicely. They were being visited by their loud friend, and fellow Island 731 survivor, Bob Bray.
Woodstock is still with us, watching and learning as Endo lifts us off the ground and plots our course across the country. Alessi, Collins, Maigo and I sit in the back. Everyone knows the plan. No one likes it. But no one fights it, either, which is a good thing, because I’m still struggling with the idea of giving Maigo back to Nemesis. The trouble is, I can’t think of any other solution, and we’re going to be face-to-face with the giant in an hour.
39
With every massive step, the earth quaking beneath her, Nemesis felt herself gaining on the last remaining beacon calling for her to smite it. She understood that this creature had wronged her, and that she had to destroy it or forever be pricked by its continued existence. She also knew it would feel good, that in wronging her, the enemy had also given her a gift. It had awakened her mind to the knowledge that silencing the voices through vengeance not only gave her peace, it made her feel good.
But at the same time, the energy each kill gave her, also felt empty. From her first memories in this new body, Nemesis had been a plural. A warring duality.
That second part of her, the voice that tamped down the thirst and drove her to consider the lives of the tiny people who trembled in fear, was missing. Her primal nature raged at the very concept of...missing that part of her. The longing remained constant, though a distant second to the siren call drawing her toward the violator.
And then to the rest of them. The humans. She could feel the missing part of her. Distant but alive. But without that second voice, she couldn’t deny her thirst for vengeance.
So she charged on, the memory of her dual nature a slight voice in the background, washed out by bloodlust.
Her target had stopped. Or slowed. Either way, she would reach it soon. Each step increased her thirst. Her towering legs moved faster, kicking through homes and vehicles and endless stretches of dry land, the heat itching her black skin. Driven by ravenous desire, Nemesis leaned forward, shaking the ground as her hands impacted the ground and her claws dug caves. Then she lunged, propelling herself with her powerful back legs.
The ground beneath her blurred.
Her speed doubled.
The desert gave way to neighborhoods.