And how does he know Niall’s my boyfriend? If he’s guessing, then my reaction just confirmed his guess. Argh.
That’s right, tell yourself that. You’ve always been good at denial. Good night, Little Worm. Enjoy your last days.
He’s gone before I can counter. Anger over his comments surges through me. Niall is not in a vegetative state. Or is he? That held a ring of truth. No. Jarren’s just trying to goad me. I’m scaring him, which means he doesn’t know what I’m doing. But now I have to worm into Dr. Edward’s files. Or do I? Ignorance is bliss. Not in this case. Nothing is bliss. Argh!
Now a helpless fury heaves through my core, creating a primal scream that rips from me. How do I fix Niall?
The Q-net answers: HERE.
A schematic glows before me. It’s a jumble of pathways with tangles, loops, swirls, branches, dips, and spirals. Star roads? No. This is a map of the Q-net. How is this supposed to help?
HERE.
Light pulses along various routes. Am I supposed to follow them? Then the schematic shrinks until it’s—oh my stars! It’s a map of a human brain. The lights tracing neural pathways. And some appear to be damaged. Is this Niall’s brain? Send this to Dr. Edwards! Maybe he can repair them.
NOT.
After an impressive light show, the diagram disappears. What does that mean? Is Niall beyond repair? No answer. Nothing else happens. I disentangle from the Q-net and glance around the darkened room. One of the nurses must have come in and dimmed the lights. It’s oh-three-hundred. I glance at Niall’s vitals on the screen. They’re the same. He hasn’t moved and it’s been seventy-two hours.
Despair washes over me and I stumble to the washroom to indulge in another crying jag. Then I blow my nose, wash my face with cold water, and gather what’s left of my optimism. He’s young. He’s healthy. Brains can heal. I’m not giving up on him. With that settled, I return to his side.
Beau wakes me at oh-nine-hundred. We spend another long day in the Q-net, ensuring our efforts these last few days are hidden from Jarren. And we repeat for the next day. I haven’t done anything physically taxing in days, but each night, I’m exhausted.
The Q-net wakes me up at oh-two-hundred.
HERE.
At first, I’ve no idea what’s going on. But it soon becomes clear and terror stabs me in the guts with its icy blades.
A missile was launched from Jarren’s base a minute ago.
It’s heading straight for us.
Eighteen
2522:244
I trigger the alarm in Radcliff’s bedroom.
Radcliff contacts me almost instantly. We connect as if we’ve been worming together—just like with Jarren.
What’s going on? he demands.
Incoming! I yell, showing him the missile’s trajectory.
Sonovabitch. How soon?
Fifteen minutes. Should I sound the evacuation alarm?
No. I’ve got this. Sit tight.
Again with the sit tight! What can you possibly do?
Trust me and hang on. It’s going to get loud. He disconnects from me.
Loud? Is he nuts? Helpless, I track the missile as it arcs around Yulin’s pole. The Q-net displays its flight with a graphic. It’ll hit right in the middle of the base.
Eight minutes.
We never would have evacuated in time, but still… In a bizarre twist of the universe, time slows. Each second an infinity of torture. The missile inches closer.
Six minutes.
At least almost everyone is asleep. They won’t know what hit them. Anger that Jarren’s going to win pulses red hot. I stare at the missile’s course as if my hatred alone would turn it around. It doesn’t.
Four minutes.
If Radcliff’s planning something, he better do it quick. What did he mean by hang on? I glance around the room. There’s nothing solid to hang on to. Plus there are windows on one side and the wall on the other side is almost all glass. Oh my stars!
Two minutes.
I race out to the nurses’ station. Plenty of glass around them as well. “Get down,” I yell. “A missile’s coming!”
They stare at me. Probably wondering what medication they should administer to calm me.
“Get down! Get down! I’m not kidding.”
Then a whistle slices through the air. An unmistakable sound that raises every single hair on my body. The two nurses hit the floor. I run back to Niall and dive onto the bed, covering him with my body.
A deafening explosion roars like a sun going supernova. Blinding white light shoots through the windows a split second before a force slams into the base. I cover both our heads as glass shatters and the bed moves. Something—probably parts of the ceiling—rains