The Countdown (The Taking #3)

I thought about how my dad had worried the aliens had sent those hikers after me, and how Chuck had tried to relay some sort of message to me right before blowing his brains out.

“No. We’re buried so far underground, the only signals that can get in or out have to be relayed through our satellites. When you two arrived, the EVE piggybacked onto one of those signals to get its message out,” Dr. Clarke agreed. “Whoever the signal was meant for was basically being told how to find us. How to find you.” She looked at Tyler, then me. “Any idea why that might be?”

I shook my head. Then something else occurred to me. “The other signal, the one you intercepted. You said you couldn’t decipher it. Can we hear it?”

Mutely, she stared at me. I could see her considering it. I wasn’t sure she’d agree, but then, as if it was never even an issue, almost like What difference would it make, she took Molly’s place at the computer. She entered a series of commands—more security codes, passwords, that kind of thing—and then she stood back.

After a moment, static filled the air.

Garbled white noise.

Except it wasn’t white noise at all. It was a message . . .

The message.

“Oh crap,” Tyler whispered.

“What?” Simon asked from the other side of me. “What is it?”

My stomach dropped. “You can’t hear it?” I asked, suddenly realizing Tyler and I were the only ones who understood it.

“I don’t get it. It’s just static, right?” Jett said, looking at me and then Tyler.

I looked at Tyler too. My throat felt dry when I explained, “They said, ‘The Returned must die.’”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?

This is a mistake. A huge-ginormous-major mistake.

Can a heart actually explode from beating too fast?

The ship was so much bigger up close. So much more intimidating.

How had I let them talk me into this? I was only one person . . . a kid really. I never even passed my driver’s test.

There was too much at stake.

I turned around to tell them so, to tell Super Cheerleader Molly she had the wrong person, when a whirring sound came from in front of me. I nearly bolted from the sound alone, but held myself in check as I swung back toward the ship. Instead of telling Molly where she could shove her “test pilot” experiment I found myself face-to-face with an open hatch.

It definitely hadn’t been like that before.

There was a small set of steps—not a ladder exactly, but not like stairs either—descending from the spaceship’s bottom, as if somehow the aircraft itself had detected my approach and was inviting me on board. Like it recognized me.

This thing, this spaceship that had beamed the coordinates of our exact location into outer space was responding to my presence. I should be completely freaked out by that, so why wasn’t I?

It was as if being here . . . this close to the machine had done something to me, similar to the way being close to Adam had. It was as if my brain had been rewired—that was the only way I could describe it. Like new synapses had formed and were firing, making me aware of things I’d never noticed before . . . smells were suddenly more intense, sounds clearer, colors more vibrant.

I was no longer overwhelmed by what I was about to do. I no longer believed this was too much for one person. It didn’t matter that I had zero experience with things like flying UFOs. Instead my head was buzzing with thoughts about how totally-freaking-effing cool this was.

In my ear, Molly’s voice reminded me I was wearing a headset. “It’s never done that before.”

The sensation that the spacecraft had sensed my presence intensified.

Without hesitating, I reached for the steps, and my hands closed around the small handrail as I stepped onto the bottom stair. I didn’t have time to wonder if I was right to board it, because the moment my foot lifted off the ground, the entire stairway began to rise. My stomach lurched as I was boosted into the ship’s belly, but in anticipation, like when you reach the peak of a roller coaster.

As I landed inside, I heard the hatch seal behind me. You’re here to stay, that sound seemed to signify. Ready or not, as if I had no say in the matter.

“Ready,” I whispered in response.

“You okay?” Molly asked into the headset, sounding confused.

I nodded mutely, then remembered she couldn’t see me, so I answered her out loud, “I’m good.”

“Good. Now, go ahead and take the seat,” she said back to me. “See how it feels.”

There was only one seat, so the where was a no-brainer. The cockpit was cramped, and I maneuvered into the seat like it was made from explosives, afraid to touch anything—any one of the buttons or gadgets. I didn’t want to accidentally blast myself into outer space. Or worse, what if I hit a button that launched a nuclear strike against another country?

More likely, I’d send the entire ship crashing into one of the steel walls that surrounded us on all sides, killing myself and everyone else in sight.

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