“They wouldn’t have assigned Carter as Ford’s target. That means he’s yours. You didn’t look at the packet, but Adam did. He can tell us what it said about Carter, or what he remembers of it, at least,” she said, her words clipped, maybe because we were moving so quickly but more likely because she was just in that warrior mode. “We find Carter, and he’s the key to Ford.”
Now I got it. “Because they’re connected. Or will be, once they’re in close enough proximity.” I frowned. “Does it work that way?” I pictured Ariane and myself walking around the streets of Chicago with Carter out in front of us, like a human…well, an alien/human metal detector set to a unique frequency to find his missing comrade.
“I don’t know for certain. Do you have another plan?” Ariane asked with no hint of humor.
I held my hands up in surrender, which brought her hand, still held in mine, up as well.
She looked over, startled, and a faint smile flickered at the corners of her mouth before disappearing beneath that hardened veneer.
“I’m supposed to meet him in…” I searched, looking for an indication of the time. No watch, no cell phone. A flashing bank sign with the time caught my eye down the street. 10:59. “Sixteen minutes.”
Ariane raised her eyebrows.
“What? I thought it might take some time to convince you to listen to Justine,” I said with a shrug.
She nodded, her mouth twisting. “I can’t imagine why.”
“For the record, I still think it was a good option,” I said quietly.
“It…was,” she admitted. “I might have gone. I would have had some leverage, and it would have been nice to see what they had, maybe even meet…” She shook her head, then shrugged, her thin shoulders moving stiffly. “But it’s not possible.”
And where did that leave us at the end of all of this? I guess that was something to worry about after we survived, assuming that we did.
Following an extended and circuitous route, which involved some doubling back, we reached the block with the designated alleyway with a few minutes to spare.
After establishing that no one appeared to be watching, Ariane led the way to a Starbucks that was perched midway down the block.
The air-conditioning attacked with a wall of freezing air as soon as we stepped in, and I shivered, despite the heat and the hoodie Ariane had given me to wear. This feeling of constantly being sick, or on the verge of it, was wearing.
“Here. Sit.” Ariane gave me a push toward one of the tall chairs at the front of the store, where a counter against the windows overlooked the street. We’d be able to see Adam approaching from either direction.
“I’m fine.” I waited while she paid for two bottles of water at the register.
Bottles in hand, she nudged me toward the tall chairs with her elbow, and this time I followed the suggestion.
When I sat down, sideways in the chair to keep my face in profile to the street, the room shifted, tilting a little. I grabbed the edge of the counter, bracing myself on it to regain my balance.
Alarmed, Ariane set the waters down on the counter immediately and moved toward me, grabbing my shoulder. I reached down and pulled her closer between my knees, locking my hands behind her back.
“What did you do?” she murmured, rubbing my arm, distress showing on every line of her face. Gone was the impassive and clinical soldier she’d been on the street only a few minutes ago.
It was a rhetorical question, but one I felt compelled to respond to. “I’m fine,” I repeated.
She reached up and laid her hand across my forehead, fingers cool against my overheated skin. It felt so good that I closed my eyes for a second, leaning into it.
When I opened them again, she was watching me, worried.
“You look like a Smurf in that hat.” I tugged gently at one of the strands of her pale hair that had escaped on the side.
Her eyes went wide, and her hand fluttered away from me and up to the knit cap without touching it. “It’s green. I believe their predominant color is blue. And their hats are white.”
I loved that she took her pop culture/human studies so seriously. “So…an alien Smurf.”
Her eyes grew shiny with tears suddenly.
“Ariane, I’m sorry,” I said, panicking. “I didn’t mean—”
She put her hand across my mouth, muffling my words.
“Hi,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve had a chance to say that yet.” She smiled, which made a tear slide down past her nose to hang on the edge of her upper lip.
I pressed my mouth in a kiss against her palm before tugging her hand down. “Hi.” Then the goofy grin that she always brought out in me broke through, despite my efforts to fight it. My face actually felt strained, stretched from it.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, her breath hitching.
My smile faded. “I know, I’m sorry. It was the only way.”
“Is this permanent?” Her gaze drilled into me. “The changes.”
“Yes…well, maybe.” I shoved away thoughts of the boosters of virus I needed too often. “It depends on how my body reacts to the virus. It was a little more…sudden for me than for Adam. Emerson is still tinkering with it.” That was a mild way of putting it.