Calamity (Reckoners, #3)

“To…make us panic?” Mizzy asked. “Force us to give in? That’s why you usually give deadlines, right?”


“No, look at it like a Reckoner,” I said, frustrated. “Assume that Prof is plotting, like we are. Assume he’s formed his own team, his own plan to attack. We’re thinking of him like some faceless despot, but he’s not. He’s one of us. That deadline is way too suspicious.”

“Sparks,” Megan said, standing up. “Sparks! In this case, you’d only give a two-day deadline…”

“…because you’re planning to attack in one day,” Abraham finished. “If not sooner.”

“We need to pull out,” I said. “Out of this location, out of the city. Move!”





THE subsequent mad scramble had some order to it, as we never set up a base without first preparing to pull out. The team knew what to do, even if there was a lot of cursing and some chaos.

I dashed down the steps, almost colliding with Mizzy, who was on her way up to the loft to get our extra ammunition and explosives, which we kept far from where we slept. Abraham went for our power cells and guns, where he’d set them out along the wall.

Cody went running toward the door. I stopped him with a barked “Wait!”

He froze and turned toward me, still in the tensor suit.

“Megan,” I said, “you’re on scouting duty instead of Cody. Cody, you do her job and get the food rations ready. That suit is too valuable to risk out there, in case there’s some sort of trap waiting for a scout.”

Megan obeyed immediately, and I tossed her Cody’s rifle as she passed. Cody hiked back, looking a little sullen, but started gathering our packs together—checking to make sure each one had food, water, and a bedroll.

I hurried to text Knighthawk. Our location might be compromised, I sent him. We are pulling out. Would you mind lending me one or two of the drones you have patrolling the area?

He didn’t reply immediately, so I hurried to help Mizzy with the ammo and explosives. She nodded in gratitude as I took the armful from her.

“Goodbye gift?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But only if you can do it quickly. I want out of here in five.”

“Got it,” she said, scrambling up to the loft. She’d have an explosive charge set and ready to blast the entire warehouse to dust by the time we were done packing.

“Make sure there’s a remote way to disarm it,” I called after her, remembering Cody’s story about the dead kids—which I was almost certain was made up.

I placed the ammo in the backpacks—which Cody had set out in a row, bedrolls attached at the top—then zipped each one. There were packs for all of us but Abraham, who would be carrying a larger duffel with gravatonic lifts, filled with our guns and power cells.

My mobile buzzed.

How do you know I still have drones in the area? Knighthawk wrote.

Because you’re paranoid, I wrote back, and you want to keep an eye on Prof?

I slung one pack over my shoulder, then set a second one at my feet—I’d be carrying Megan’s until she could meet up with us.

You really are smarter than you seem, he wrote me. Fine. I’ll do a sweep of your area and send you the video.

I waited, anxious, as Abraham finished his packing. Mizzy hurried down to grab her bag, and nodded at me. Cody already had his on his shoulder. Under five minutes. Nearby, Larcener wandered out of the little room Cody had made for him.

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

“Crap,” Megan said over the line.

I put my hand to my earpiece. “What?”

“He’s got an entire army working its way through the streets toward us, Knees. Our primary exit points are both blocked. By the time we picked up on this from the sniper nest, we’d have been surrounded. We might be already.”

“Pull back,” I said. “I’m going to get intel through Knighthawk.”

“Roger.”

I looked to the others.

“False faces?” Mizzy asked.

“Whatever our faces are, we’re going to look sparking suspicious with all this equipment,” I said.

“Then we leave it,” Abraham said. “We’re not ready for a fight.”

“And we’ll be more ready in twenty-four hours?” I asked. “When he destroys Newcago?”

My phone buzzed; Knighthawk was actually calling me, which was rare. I picked up, dialing his feed into our communal line so everyone could hear him through their earpieces.

“You guys are screwed,” he said. “I’m sending you footage in infrared.”

Abraham stepped over, lowering his mobile, and we crowded around to look. A map of our area showed hundreds, maybe thousands of people descending on our position, each an infrared dot. They formed a complete circle.

“East Lane,” Knighthawk said. “See those corpses? Bystanders who tried to run. They’re gunning down anyone who attempts to escape that circle. They’re sending a team into every building, holding the people there at gunpoint and—best I can tell from the shot I got through a window—feeling their faces.”