Tyler started grinning, that dimple making an appearance at last when he saw the tears gushing down my cheeks. “I’ve been waiting almost a week, but I knew you’d eventually figure it out,” he told me, sounding even more relieved than I felt. “I knew if I gave you enough time, it’d all come back to you too.”
“Shut up,” I told him, right before I ran and jumped in his arms and forced him to kiss me.
It took another two days for me to sort it all out.
There were so many details to get straight, like why our parents—my mom and stepdad, who I was now officially calling Grant, and Tyler’s folks—had different memories from our own.
“It was the fireflies,” Tyler insisted, every time I challenged him on something that didn’t make sense, most importantly why we’d survived the explosion at all. “You didn’t feel them? You don’t remember?”
Except, that’s the thing. I sort of did. My memory was still coming together in pieces, but it was coming.
In those last seconds, right before we were completely surrounded by smoke, right before the heat from the flames became too much, I’d felt something on me. Something swarming over me.
I remembered that sensation from before . . . from Devil’s Hole when Tyler had been taken. That creepy-crawly feeling of all those fireflies on my arms and legs. In my nose and hair.
I thought the flashes of light I’d seen had been explosions, but the more I thought about it, I was pretty sure Tyler was right. It had been the fireflies after all. The M’alue had rescued us . . . given us an eleventh hour reprieve.
It was the only explanation that made sense, considering we were still alive and all.
And trust me, I wasn’t complaining. Things were good for the most part. Tyler and I were back together, and as weird as it was being home again, I didn’t mind being with my mom either. She was different now too, but not in a bad way. She was definitely trying.
Simon and the others had made it out in time, and were living in whatever strange alternate reality we’d been thrust into. Agent Truman was still NSA—still Daylighter—although now, considering what we knew, we weren’t even sure the Daylighters had a purpose. I definitely no longer lived in fear they’d land on my doorstep. None of us did.
We hadn’t quite figured out what this was, our new version of reality. The year hadn’t changed—we hadn’t gone back in time or anything. But we were definitely not the same as we’d been a week ago. Before the ISA explosion.
So here’s what we knew for sure . . .
Fact: I’d been taken and returned. Even my mom and Grant remembered me coming back after a five-year absence, even if they didn’t know I’d been abducted. The whole Austin-Cat storyline still existed in whatever dimension we were in.
Fact: I’d infected Tyler when I’d cut myself in front of him. This information however is on a need-to-know basis. Meaning, yes, all of us who were Returned know. Agent Truman knows. My mom, Grant, and Tyler’s parents . . . not so much. All they remember is that Tyler and I got into some trouble and took off for a few weeks.
Fact: Tyler and I both landed ourselves under strict lockdown restriction after we’d come back. This makes sense considering our parents think we’re moderate delinquents.
Now here’s where things got sticky . . .
My dad.
I could end right there and that would be enough. I missed my dad more than I would ever find words for.
As far as my mom and Grant—and pretty much the whole world—are concerned, my dad died in some sort of horrible accident. I try my best not to get all prickly whenever my mom talks about him, about how much he’d changed after I disappeared. How he was never the same.
But it’s tough. She didn’t know him the way I did. She has no idea he died a hero.
Here’s the other really weird thing: none of us—not me or Tyler or Simon or any of the Returned are any different from anyone else anymore. As in, as far as we can tell, we’re back to being ordinary humans.
I know!
It started with my eyes. My normal not-glow-in-the-dark eyes, which also happen to not see in the dark. That would’ve been strange enough, except for the part where I could no longer hold my breath super long or control things with my mind.
I could still throw super hard, but that’s because I’m a pitcher—I’ve always had a killer fastball.
The healing thing was up in the air. I was too afraid to test it. After what happened with Tyler, I couldn’t take the chance.
But Simon and some of the others had—cut themselves, I mean. And, sure, they healed. But faster? Maybe. Simon thought so. But definitely not alien-DNA-fast.
We weren’t sure what that meant. Was this all part of the M’alue’s promise of no more Returned? Had it extended to us as well?
Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe all that mattered is we were here . . . together . . .
Safe.
“Hey, slugger. Your boyfriend’s here,” Grant teased, tossing me a towel so I could dry my hands.
I caught it, wiped my hands, and kicked the dishwasher door closed. “That’s it,” I told him. “Final night of KP.”
KP—kitchen patrol. Grant’s cute name for kitchen duty aside, that last load of dishes signified the official end of my grounding.
Grant held out my phone and the house keys as a reward. “Home by midnight,” he instructed, and I wondered when I’d stopped caring that he took such a fatherly tone with me.
I saluted him. “Yes, sir.” I snagged the phone, and patted Nancy on the head before rushing out the back door.
I’d wanted a dog for as long as I could remember, but my mom had always had a strict no-dog policy. She almost gave in once, if my dad promised to find a breed that was hypo-allergenic and didn’t shed.
Nancy was neither of those things. Plus, she stunk. But according to Grant, after my dad’s funeral, Nancy had refused to leave my mom’s side. Mom swore the dog was a major annoyance, but whenever she thought no one was around, I caught her slipping Nancy treats and cooing at her in baby talk.
I practically ran into Tyler as he was coming up the drive. “Come on, let’s bail before they change their minds.” I grinned, and reached for his hand.
I thought he’d have some big date night planned for our first free outing—dinner and a movie or something like that. Instead Tyler pulled his car into a Park ’n’ Ride, steering to a spot way near the back, away from the bus garage, where the lot was mostly empty.
I gave him a long silent look before asking. “All right, I give. What are we doing in this super romantic parking lot?”
He grinned, nodding toward the glove box. “I got you something.”
Eyeing him skeptically, I popped it open and started laughing. “You’re not serious.”
“If you could read my mind, you’d know I totally am.”
I hit him with the DMV pamphlet.
“Look,” he said, defending his actions as he waved his keys at me. “I just think if we’re gonna do this whole human thing, it’s time you get your own driver’s license.”
I leaned closer and snatched the keys from his grasp. “Oh, you do, do you?”
Before I could back away, his finger caught me just underneath the chin. That small action, his simple touch, made my breath catch.
“I do,” he said. His voice was low and reached into me, reminding me of a time, not so long ago, when he didn’t even have to speak for me to hear him. “And I definitely think we should do this whole human thing. You and me, together.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CONCLUDING THE TAKING TRILOGY WAS BOTH rewarding and bittersweet. I wanted to give Kyra the ending she deserved, while also wrapping up as many threads as possible. I have a lot of people to thank, both those who have guided me through this storytelling journey, and those who stand by me day to day in my civilian (nonwriting) life to keep me sane.
The obvious is my literary agent, Laura Rennert, who never fails to surprise me with her unfailing support of my work. T
hanks also to the fabulous Andrea Brown Literary Agency, just for being such an incredible pool of strong and smart women—I’m proud to be part of your crew. Also to my team at WME, Alicia Gordon, Erin Conroy, and Ashley Fox. I love that you have my back in that mystifying Hollywood world!
A huge thank you to HarperTeen, starting with Sarah Landis, who first acquired The Taking, and Kari Sutherland who picked up where Sarah left off. To Jen Klonsky and Alice Jerman, thank you for all your hard work and cheerleading, and for getting The Countdown to press. To the amazingly talented cover designers who, again, killed it with this cover—it is truly stunning alone or beside its series companions! And again, to Olivia Russo, who is the World’s Best Publicist (you can quote me on that!).
I have to thank my critique partner, Shelli Wells, who was in the room when I first brainstormed the idea for The Taking, and was there again when I thought I’d backed myself into a corner during The Countdown. I hadn’t, I just needed her creative perspective to help me see my way out! And the awesome women of Cave Creek, who let me come back to our annual writing retreat every year even though I’m superstitious about sharing my ideas.
In my real life, I want to thank my friends and family for putting up with yoga pants and ugly writing sweaters and for not complaining when I send your calls to voicemail because I’m working out whether there will be an alien invasion or not. But I have to single out a few people, specifically Molly—sorry I decided to kill your character! And don’t worry, Madeline, your turn is coming. . . .
Thanks to (Mama) Shawn for keeping the Derting household operational. To my book club ladies for introducing me to characters and worlds I likely wouldn’t discover on my own . . . and also for making me laugh. A special thanks to my Amanda, Connor, and Abby, who’ve learned that “I’m busy” is code for “I’m working” even if it looks like I’m just daydreaming. To my husband, Josh, who constantly amazes me with his brilliant insights and support—thank you times infinity.
And lastly to Hudson, just for being you.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Vania Stoyonova, VLC Productions
KIMBERLY DERTING is the author of the Body Finder series, the Pledge trilogy, and the Taking series. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where the gloomy weather is ideal for writing anything dark and creepy. Her three beautiful (and often mouthy) children serve as an endless source of inspiration and frequently find things they say buried in the pages of their mother’s books. You can visit her online at www.kimberlyderting.com.
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BOOKS BY KIMBERLY DERTING
THE BODY FINDER
DESIRES OF THE DEAD
THE LAST ECHO
DEAD SILENCE
THE TAKING
THE REPLACED
THE COUNTDOWN
CREDITS
Cover art © 2016 by Colin Anderson
COPYRIGHT
HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE COUNTDOWN. Copyright © 2016 by Kimberly Derting. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015956262
ISBN 978-0-06-229366-4 (trade bdg.)
EPub Edition © April 2016 ISBN 9780062293688
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16 17 18 19 20 PC/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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Kimberly Derting, The Countdown
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