I’d tried on several occasions to convince Dr. Clarke to let me see Adam again, but she’d denied me every time, not even bothering with excuses, just telling me his lab was restricted. I argued we’d seen him once already, and she just repeated that it was a “restricted” area.
I even tried convincing the security guards to give me a tour of the upper floors, hoping to catch another glimpse of the M’alue in his body-sized test tube. It was weird the way I was consumed by thoughts of him, and if Tyler and I had been on better terms I would have asked him if he felt the same. But we weren’t.
Then there were the tests. Strange ones.
It had started that first day, just before dawn, when Dr. Clarke had come to me and asked if I wouldn’t mind being monitored while the sun came up. If my dad had known what they were planning he would have objected, which was why I didn’t tell him.
Normally, I’d never want someone watching while I squirmed in agony. It would be like letting someone watch me pee. Superweird.
But with the fate of the world in jeopardy, who was I to deny such a simple request? What if they discovered something that might help, even in some small way?
So I’d agreed, not realizing they were going to turn it into an event. That I’d be on display, like a circus sideshow—Step right up, ladies and gents, see the freak who counts down to the alien apocalypse! For an extra ticket, you might even be able to touch her.
I was surrounded by scientists and technicians, then hooked up to conductors and wires and probes.
That was what sent me right over the edge, straight into Panicville. The probes. It was too much like the asylum . . . of everything Natty and Eddie Ray had done while they’d kept me strapped to that rusted metal gurney, monitoring me.
Somehow, though, I’d kept that panic in check, swallowing it down like hunks of sharp cement. It was prickly and it tore up my esophagus, but I reminded myself I was here for mankind’s sake . . . for my friends and family. I took one for the team.
At the onset of the pangs, I pretended not to notice them, those first pricks and pinches. But within minutes, tears had been streaming down my face.
Eight . . . eight . . . eight . . .
Eight . . .
The number repeated over and over in my head while I’d broken out in a sweat, holding my breath, struggling against the shooting, stabbing, slicing pains. All these people watching . . . all these intruders. I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I didn’t want them to see me at my worst.
In the end, though, I was weak. I couldn’t help but give in to it, and I let out a low moan. What difference did it make? Why should I care anyway? I didn’t owe these strangers anything, let alone a show of dignity.
When it was finished, when it was beyond-the-shadow-of-a-doubt over, I opened my eyes at last. The room was empty of everyone except Dr. Clarke, who thanked me for coming. For “participating,” she’d said as if I’d just competed in Field Day and earned a blue ribbon in the sack races or the water balloon toss.
The whole thing happened again this morning, the tests. But at least this time I’d known what to expect. The only difference was the number repeating in my head: Seven, seven, seven, seven . . .
Simon materialized out of nowhere just as I was ducking out of the track, where I’d taken a quick run before Willow and Griffin decided it was time for another of their marathon sessions. I made a point of acting as if he hadn’t caught me off guard, but the truth was he had. I’d been avoiding Simon the same way Tyler had been avoiding me—pretending I didn’t notice him while I was acutely aware of his presence at all times.
“So,” he said, falling into step beside me. I picked up my pace even though I had nowhere in particular to be. “You and lover boy, back together again . . .” Even from the corner of my eye I could see the way he raised an eyebrow. “I guess congratulations are in order.”
I shrugged and kept walking. “You know that’s not how it is.”
“Isn’t it? You got exactly what you wanted. I’m happy for you. Really, I am.” He was lying, of course. I could hear the letdown in his voice.
I slowed, looking down at my feet. “I don’t think he can forgive me about Natty. About having to kill them. And I don’t blame him. Not really.” I inhaled, trying to wipe my own memory of what I’d done. Maybe loving me wasn’t enough. “Even if he does remember about us, it might not even matter now.”
When I realized Simon had stopped walking, I did too. I turned back to him, and he was giving me a look that said what he thought: I was being stupid. “What’d you expect, Kyra? You really think you’d drop a bomb like that, and it’d be all happily ever after?” His tone was harsh. “This isn’t some fairy tale. Things don’t work like that. And even if they did, you two don’t have that kind of history.”
I clenched my jaw. “For once I wish you’d just say what you mean.”