By the time I squeeze through a break in the last fence, I’m famished, and my arms can’t bear my sister’s weight anymore. I’m worried about her. She has stopped shivering, but her skin is pale and clammy, and she smells faintly sour, like an overripe peach. I haul her over to a shady spot under a tree and sit down with her in the grass. I just have to catch my breath. Gently, I rub my thumb over her eyelids, wiping away some of the gel.
The sound of a vehicle coming fast down the road makes me look up, and an old blue minivan slows to a stop across the road from me. I barely have time to take in the California plates and rust spots before the door opens and a young, dark-haired guy in a blue shirt and jeans gets out.
I stare, dumbfounded.
He’s really Linus Pitts, as wiry and handsome as ever, and in the next moment, he’s sprinting across the road toward me. An instinctive blip of joy soars through me before I can squash it wildly down.
“Thank goodness,” he says, crouching beside me. “I was just about to go into the park and look for you. How is she? How are you?” With his familiar British cadence, his voice is frank and warm, as if he’s forgotten how I left him. He gently touches a hand to Dubbs’s face, and then his gaze lifts to meet mine. A potent mix of relief and concern emanates from his features, and it kills me to think of the spy in his eye. “What’s happened to you?” he asks.
“I’ve been to the vault,” I say. I barely got out. How’d you find me?”
“Lavinia sent me,” he says. “I got to her place late last night. She’s been watching the cameras you set up, and she said you completely disappeared on Tuesday.” He points back along the fence. “I was just parking over there when I spotted you. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
He starts to lift Dubbs out of my arms, but I stop him, holding her tight.
“Wait,” I say. “Let me see your eye.”
A slight hitch tightens his expression. “This is what matters right now?” he asks.
But he levels his face with mine and stares at me. Under the shade of the tree, I study his caramel-brown eyes, trying to see what’s different from before. His right eye is normal, as clear and keen as ever, but his left pupil has a mismatched, dead quality, like the false lens of a machine. When he blinks, I become abruptly aware that he’s scrutinizing me back.
“What did you do to it?” I ask.
“I had a cap put in. Don’t worry. You’re safe.”
“You mean you can’t see out of that eye?” I ask. “Not at all?”
“I couldn’t very well live with a spy in my head,” he says. He collects Dubbs firmly and rises. “Shall we?” He shifts into the sunshine and aims for the minivan.
He did it for me. I can’t help thinking he did it for me, and I’m awed. He glances back my way.
“Coming?” he says.
I roll to my feet and follow him, trying to understand the sudden shift in his demeanor. It’s subtle, but I can feel his shield of reserve like an invisible wall between us. He helps to settle me and Dubbs on the bench seat in the middle of the minivan, and never once does he meet my gaze again. The shadow of our last meeting has returned, and I didn’t help by insisting to see his eye.
Linus starts up the engine and pulls out onto the road. Digging up a seat belt, I get it around Dubbs and me as best I can. Her lips are blue, and she’s shivering again, so I try to keep her close. When we pass the place where I left my Toyota, it’s gone. So much for all my gear. Berg’s phone. Even though it had gone dead and I never used it, I liked knowing I’d taken something from him. Peggy’s son’s tablet is gone, too, and so are my clothes.
“Can you take us to Lavinia’s?” I ask.
“That’s where I was going, unless you think a hospital would be better,” he says. “How bad is your sister?”
I look down at Dubbs again and stroke her pale cheek. How I need her to be okay. The smart move would be to take her to the hospital, I’m sure, but she might only need a little time to wake up, like I did after my sleep meds wore off. I certainly don’t want anyone taking her away from me, and of course, the hospital authorities would ask a million questions. They’d get involved. They’d take over.
As I picture a team of police invading the vault of dreamers and disturbing them, I’m surprised by a new, powerful urge to protect the dreamers. A slither of warning passes through me, strong and personal, but it’s totally counterintuitive. I used to want Berg’s work to be exposed to the police. What’s happened to me?
“Hospital?” Linus says.
“No,” I say. “Lavinia’s.”
“You sure?”
“I think Dubbs will sleep it off,” I say. “At least, I hope so.”
“Okay.”
Linus handles the big steering wheel in a generous, looping way, and I sway from side to side as he navigates around the potholes of the old road.
“Any word on your parents?” he asks.
“I couldn’t find them,” I say. “Berg must have them somewhere else.”
He adjusts the rearview mirror and I catch his eye for an instant.
“We’ll get them back,” he says. “You know that, right?”
It’s such a small word, we, but it gives me enormous relief to know that he’s with me on this. I nod. “Yes,” I say. “How did you find Lavinia?”
“Your sister asked me to track an email, and it led to Lavinia’s IP address,” he says. “That’s how I found her place.”
“Dubbs did?” I say, astonished. “Dubbs got in touch with you?”
“She guessed I’d be willing to help,” he says, and slows for an old speed bump. “She and your parents were headed to Lavinia’s before they dropped off the planet.”
“I know. Dubbs left me Lavinia’s address,” I say.
“She was going to call me once they got to Miehana, but she never did,” he says.
“Because she was kidnapped with my parents.”
“So Lavinia told me.”
I’m so impressed with my sister. She’s such a smart little kid.
“Could Berg know about Lavinia’s?” I ask, reconsidering if it will be safe to go there.
Linus drives around another curve, and trees blur by the window. When we come to a stop sign, he breaks and lets the engine idle.
“I don’t know what Berg knows,” he says evenly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” I say. “I was only wondering if it’s safe to go there.”
“I wouldn’t take you somewhere unsafe.”
“I know that,” I say. It’s getting tangled with him again. I can’t do this. I’m too tired and stressed. “Don’t get all stiff at me, please,” I say. “I was so happy to see you. I can still hardly believe you’re here.”
He turns back then to face me, his eyes watchful.
“Is that so,” he says. “You could have called me, you know.”
“I’ve been stuck in an underground cell.”
“Before that,” he says. “When you were on the road. Or at Lavinia’s.”
“But you had a camera in your eye.”
Linus waits another moment, like I can read his mind, like I’m missing something huge and obvious. It’s horrible. Then he faces forward again, eases the minivan into the intersection, and makes a right.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have called you.”