it, that makes a lot of sense. He took a long breath and let the air out slowly. It’s strange. There’s so much I can’t remember. That’s what it’s like, you know. Like there’s only this little bit of yourself you get to keep. But things are coming clearer now.
—I miss you, Daddy.
I know you do. I miss you, too, sweetheart, more than you’ll ever know. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was with you. I wish I could have saved you, Amy.
—But you did. You saved me.
You were just a little girl, alone in the world. I never should have let them take you. I tried, but not hard enough. That’s the real test, you know. That’s the true measure of a man’s life. I was always too afraid. I hope you can forgive me.
A wave of sorrow broke inside her. How she longed to comfort him, to take him in her arms. Yet she knew that if she attempted this, were she to move even one step closer, the dream would dissolve, and she would be alone again.
—I do. Of course I do. There’s nothing to forgive.
There’s so much I never told you. He was staring intently at his hands. About Lila, and Eva. Our own little girl. You were so much like her.
—You didn’t have to, Daddy. I knew, I knew. I always knew.
You filled my heart, Amy. That’s what you did for me. You filled the place where Eva had been. But I couldn’t save you any more than I could save her.
As if these words had willed it, the image of the room had begun to recede, the space between the two of them elongating like a hallway. A sudden desperation took her in its grip.
It’s good to remember these things with you, Amy. If it’s all right, I think I’ll stay here for a while.
He was leaving her, he was telescoping away.
—Daddy, please. Don’t go.
My brave girl. My brave Amy. He’s waiting for you. He’s been waiting all this time, in the ship. The answers are there. You need to go to him when the time comes.
—What ship? I don’t know any ship.
But her pleas were no use; the dream was fading, Wolgast was almost gone. He was poised at the very edge of the enveloping darkness.
—Please, Daddy, she cried. Don’t leave me. I don’t know what to do.
At last he turned his face toward her and found her with his eyes. Bright, shining, piercing her heart.
Oh, I don’t think I will ever leave you, Amy.
25
CAMP VORHEES, WEST TEXAS
Western Headquarters of the Expeditionary
Though Lieutenant Peter Jaxon was a decorated military officer, a veteran of three separate campaigns and a man about whom stories were told, he sometimes felt as if his life had stopped.
He waited for orders; he waited for chow; he waited for the latrine. He waited for the weather to break, and when it didn’t, he waited some more. Orders, weapons, supplies, news—all were things he waited for. For days and weeks and sometimes even months he waited, as if his time on earth had been consecrated to the very act of waiting, as if he were a man-sized waiting machine.
He was waiting now.
Something important was happening in the command tent; he had no doubt in his mind. All morning Apgar and the others had been sealed away. Peter had begun to fear the worst. For months they’d all heard the rumors: if the task force didn’t kill one soon, the hunt would be abandoned.
Five years since his ride up the mountain with Amy. Five years hunting the Twelve. Five years with nothing to show for it.
Houston, home of Anthony Carter, subject Number Twelve, would have been the logical place to start, if the place hadn’t been an impenetrable swamp. So, too, New Orleans, home of Number Five, Thaddeus Turrell. Tulsa, Oklahoma, seat of Rupert Sosa, had yielded nothing but disaster; the city was a vast ruin, dracs everywhere, and they’d lost sixteen men before making their escape.
There were others. Jefferson City, Missouri. Oglala, South Dakota. Everett, Washington. Bloomington, Minnesota. Orlando, Florida. Black Creek, Kentucky. Niagara Falls, New York. All distant and unreachable, many miles and years away. Tacked to the inside of the lid of his locker Peter kept a map, each of these cities circled in ink. The seats of the Twelve. To kill one of the Twelve was to kill his descendants, to free their minds for the journey into death. Or so Peter believed. That