Hawk - James Patterson Page 0,34

the lab to get rid of, thrown out with the rest of the trash.

Moving soundlessly, Clete and I scooched across the chilly floor to where Calypso hung by her left hand, the rest of her crumpled on the ground. Seeing her bare feet shot a dart into my heart. I’d washed these little feet, warmed them, found shoes for them, and pushed them out of my face while sleeping. Now all that was over. My eyes felt hot, my tongue was thick, and my brain was shrieking. I reached out and touched her wristband. Holy mud, it looked like it had been soldered onto her. Who would do that to a… freak?

The four little antennas growing on her back made her a lab rat. Literally something—not someone—to be experimented on. This was so ugly. I sat back on my heels for a second, trying not to let my thoughts and feelings run away with me. Trying to think of a way to get her out of here. Wondering if Rain and Moke had a chance, with their pari—whatevers glowing green behind their ears. I frowned. I pushed aside the wild red tangle of Calypso’s hair. She had one, too.

“Can we take her?” I mouthed to Clete. He shook his head slowly.

“Almost certainly has a tracker,” he whispered.

Then Calypso opened her eyes, and I almost screamed.

CHAPTER 30

Clete had me in a death grip, his fingers digging into my shoulder more deeply than Ridley’s talons ever had. I didn’t know if he was doing it to stop me from screaming, or himself, but either way, it worked. I took a deep breath, forced myself to look back into Calypso’s gaze, into her new eyes.

“Calypso?” I whispered, wondering if she was still in there. I tried to lift her, get her into a more comfortable position, but she only collapsed against me.

Her mosaic eyes focused on something in another world, and my heart sank. She wasn’t reacting to her name, or my voice, at all.

“I had an orange once,” she murmured, smiling at nothing. Then she turned her head, as if in response to someone else talking. “No. I don’t know. That’s a pretty shirt. Hmmm.” Her voice was quiet and calm and she tapped her index finger against her thumb. No idea why.

I tried to at least stand her up, so she wouldn’t be hanging, but she sagged again immediately and said, “A pond!”

Clete put his hand out and tugged my shirt, telling me that we needed to go. I looked at him helplessly. How could we leave without them? How could we save our family?

He tilted his head slightly and whispered into my ear. “We’ll go back home. Come up with another plan. I need to research their probes.”

I nodded, though I hated it. I tucked Calypso’s hair behind her ear, and eased her body back so that she was leaning against the wall. It was the least I could do… the only thing I could do.

We had no trouble retracing our steps—we both could map places in our minds and remember them. I could also always tell if I was facing north, south, or whatever, but Clete couldn’t. He just committed every turn to memory, then did it in reverse.

When we were back in the laundry room, it all started to feel like a dream. Nightmare, I mean. Had we really gotten into the Labs? Had we seen those awful things, seen the zombies of our family? Here, with the heat and steam and familiar smells, the same Opes shuffling in, getting their mops and brooms—it was so ordinary and everyday that, if I tried, I could probably talk myself into believing I’d hallucinated it all. Maybe something I ate had been laced with Rainbow. I could almost believe it.

Wanted so bad to believe it.

CHAPTER 31

Clete and I finished at the laundry and started to head back to the Children’s Home. We were still staying there, still calling it home. Nobody had come for us, which must mean that three kids had been enough for—whatever they were doing, with the blinking green lights and the Rainbow effect. Holy mother.

“We’d need a way to carry them,” Clete said. “Like on a gurney. We’d have to… maybe blowtorch their bracelets off. But the entire band will get really hot and it’ll hurt them. How do we use a blowtorch and not burn them to a crisp?”

I didn’t have a response, but I knew Clete didn’t really need one, either. He was thinking