“Just do what we say, and everything will be all right.” Through an open door behind him, I see what looks like a small conference room, with a half dozen chairs around an empty table. “Get in there,” I say, gesturing with the gun. Ty pushes the cart with one hand while he grabs the twist of thin yellow nylon rope we bought at Home Depot with the other.
The guard walks ahead of us. There are already half moons of sweat under the arms of his light blue uniform shirt. I wonder how much he knows about what really goes on here, or if he knows anything.
While I hold the gun, Ty quickly searches the guard. He tosses the equipment belt and the contents of his pockets onto the cart, and then ties him up. The final step is to wrench the phone from the wall, the way we did at my house. We’re getting to be old hands at this, so it doesn’t even take that long.
We push the cart down the long hall, past the large room that holds the primary-colored toys and plastic furniture of the day care, then past a small cafeteria and a few offices. When we reach the elevator, I press the button for the third floor. Where my mom said the vaccine is, the vaccine Max needs to live.
CHAPTER 39
DAY 2, 9:22 P.M.
The first time I was in a lab was when I was twelve and came here for Take Your Daughter to Work day. Now that I’ve had high school chemistry, I know how impressive Z-Biotech’s lab area is. Computers, gleaming microscopes, glass barriers with glove inserts, rows of glassware from tiny bottles to big beakers, stainless steel sinks operated by foot pedals, and hoods to keep any airborne contaminants from leaking into the room.
Tyler takes an audible breath. “The air seems weird in here.”
I wonder if he’s thinking of the masks and gloves we chose not to put on. My mom said we didn’t need them, and I want to be in and out of here as fast as possible.
“There’s negative airflow. It keeps the air coming inside the room instead of going out.” If there was any kind of spill in here, it wouldn’t spread through the vents to the rest of the building.
Rows of stainless steel doors line two of the walls. But not all of them belong to coolers I realize as I pull open the third one over and warm, moist air rolls out. Inside are racks and racks of white eggs.
Ty whistles. “So each one of those eggs has been injected with hantavirus?”
“I guess so.” Despite the warm air, I shiver. “How long did Elizabeth say it takes to grow the vaccine?”
“Months, wasn’t it?”
Ty’s eyes meet mine. It’s like we’re sharing the same thought. We’re here to get the finished vaccine for Max, but if Z-Biotech can’t offer this vaccine after it’s finished growing, then it can’t put its plan into place.
I close the door, then tap the temperature gauge above the warmer. “Look at this sensor. The eggs have to be incubated at a certain temperature. Three degrees hotter and they’ll go into a danger zone.”
Ty squints. “I think that’s three degrees Celsius. Do you know what that is in Fahrenheit?”
“Six? Ten? Whatever it is, it can’t be that much. And then they’ll start to cook.”
I start scrabbling around on the janitor’s cart where Ty dumped the contents of the guard’s pockets. I remember seeing a red and white pack of Marlboros, so there must be a lighter, right? At first, I’m looking for something lightweight, plastic and colorful, but I don’t find it amid the coins, sticks of gum, and car keys. Then I realize what the guard really has is an old silver Zippo. I flip open the lid and thumb the wheel. A bright orange flame appears.
Ty and I grin at each other. Then I snap the lid closed, snuffing the flame.
Ty lifts the shredder off a wastebasket sitting next to one of the desks and starts pulling out handfuls of paper confetti, perfect for feeding a fire.
“How do you like your eggs?”
“Hard cooked.” I smile. “You get that going while I find the finished vaccine for Max. And then let’s get out of here.”
At the other end of the room, I pull open the third door from the left, the one where my mom said I would find the vaccine. This time it’s a real cooler. The shelves are crowded. I push small plastic bottles from one side to the other. With every second, my anxiety level increases. What if they moved the vaccine to another room? What if someone has knocked it over or used it up? My mom thought it was on the top shelf, but I don’t find it there. Not on the second either. It’s not until I check the third shelf that I find it. It doesn’t look like much, just a clear plastic bottle with a handwritten label that reads HV VACCINE. Suddenly, the band that’s been constricting my heart loosens.
I’m ready to drop it into the insulated lunch bag we brought from home to keep the vaccine cool, but my thoughts keep turning. When the first workers show up tomorrow, they’ll untie the security guard. And Nowell will hear about how two teens broke in. He’ll know who we are. What he won’t know is why we were here, why we came to the last place he’d expect us to be. He’ll hunt for clues explaining why we were here by looking for what’s missing. If he figures out it’s the vaccine, he might guess it’s my brother who’s in trouble. He knows my parents are already vaccinated.
The less Nowell knows or guesses, the better. I need to throw him off the trail. I think of a plan.
A minute later, I hear a door close. I think it’s Ty shutting the door to the warmer, but when I turn to look at him, his expression is frozen. I know, even before I follow his gaze, that we’re in big trouble.
A man is standing in the doorway, holding a gun. With a swept-back mane of silver hair, he’s dressed in a well-cut dark suit that goes a long way to hiding his bulk. I look down at his feet. At the sight of his oxblood shoes, my blood chills.
He smiles at me, a smile that stops before it reaches his cold gray eyes. “Well, hello, Cady. Like a bad penny, you just keep turning up. Only this time you’ve brought a friend.” Kirk Nowell’s familiar voice sounds cheerful. It’s the voice of a morning TV show host. But the look in his eyes gives him away, calculating and mean.
“I have a little problem,” Nowell says. “Elizabeth isn’t answering her phone. And yet she’s here at the lab in the middle of the night. When she’s supposed to be getting you to reveal your parents’ whereabouts. And then I realized that someone must be using her ID badge.”
“How did you know anyone was here?” I ask. My voice pleases me. It’s as calm as his.
His laugh sounds like something breaking. With his free hand, he taps a phone protruding from his breast pocket. “There’s an app for that.” The false smile leaves his face.
My expression doesn’t change. I won’t let him see how afraid I am. Not just for me but for Max and Ty. If I don’t bring back the vaccine, Max will die.
The only reason I won’t bring back the vaccine is if I’m dead myself.
Which seems just like the kind of thing Nowell wants.
I can already imagine him adding another chapter to the story he’s been writing about me. He’ll say I broke in here looking for animal tranquilizers or stuff to steal, and that during a confrontation he was forced to kill me and the one-step-up-from-homeless guy I had picked up along the way. And after he’s managed to hunt down and really kill my brother as well as my parents, he’ll work out a way to make it look like I did that, too. Killed them as part of my drug-addled spree. Just like I supposedly killed Officer Dillow.
His voice interrupts my thoughts. “You must have Michael’s and Elizabeth’s guns. Pick them up by the barrels and put them on the floor. Now.” He swivels his own gun to point it at Ty. “Or I shoot him in the head.”
I have no doubt that he means what he says. And while there must be something we could do—some tricky move that would both distract him and leave us unscathed—I can’t think of what it is. We both reach under our coveralls. Nowell’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see his finger tighten infinitesimally on the trigger. A second later, the two guns are on the floor. Leaving us what for weapons? A mop? A broom?
“So why are yo
u two here?” Nowell says thoughtfully. “Why would you risk everything to come here? And to this room in particular. Not the room where the hantavirus is being manufactured. The room your father found because he couldn’t leave well enough alone.” His face changes as understanding dawns. “When your father left, he stole a sample. Did something happen to that sample? Did someone become contaminated?”
There’s no point in lying anymore. “It’s Max.”
“So it’s been”—Nowell’s eyes flick upward, thinking, but are back to me before I can make any kind of move—“what? Thirty-six hours? That means late tomorrow your little brother will start running a fever that just keeps climbing. And his back and hips will ache like someone’s trying to tear the meat from his bones. Then his lungs will begin to fill with blood, and he’ll struggle for breath. Have you ever seen anyone die like that? It’s not pretty. They panic, like a drowning swimmer, but there’s nothing you can do because they’re drowning from the inside, and there’s no medicine that can save them. And finally he’ll die. Your little brother will die, and there’ll be nothing you and your parents will be able to do but watch.”
“Not if we get him the vaccine,” I say. Don’t act. Be. I’m another person now, an even more desperate version of me. Max’s life depends on it. “Please. Max is only three years old. He doesn’t know anything. He can’t hurt you in any way. Just let him live. Let me bring the vaccine to him, and after that I don’t care what happens to me.”
Nowell’s reply is full of lilting sarcasm. “He doesn’t know anything, just like you didn’t know anything? Your parents have already taught me what happens when I trust someone in your family. They could have been rich beyond their wildest imaginings. And no one would have been hurt. People would have paid well to make sure that didn’t happen. It was simply a matter of wealth transference.”
As he speaks, he moves toward the third cooler. The cooler with the container labeled HV VACCINE. Still keeping the gun trained on us, he opens it, reaches in with one hand, and unerringly finds the bottle.
“No, I’m sorry, Cady, but I can’t let you take this. Your parents knew there would be a price if they went against me. Now they have to be prepared to pay it.” He takes the bottle I just had within my grasp, and in one motion he unscrews the cap with his thumb.
“No!” I scream. Before I can get to him, he laughs and pours it down the sink. I slap my palm over the drain, but it’s all seeped away. The bottle is empty.
And Nowell is laughing. Laughing as I scream.
Behind us, an alarm begins to sound, an unending high-pitched drone. Nowell’s head whips around. Smoke is seeping from under the warmer door.
“What have you done?” His voice is nearly drowned out by the alarm. “What have you idiots done?”
Nowell runs over and grabs the handle of the warmer. But when he wrenches open the door, a flash of orange explodes out. A fireball envelops him, rolling up and over his body. And then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER 40
DAY 3, 5:07 A.M.
When I wake up, I’m lying on my back on a narrow bed made with white linens. The ceiling is white acoustical tile and the walls are pale green. It’s the third time in a row I’ve woken up someplace I didn’t recognize. First the cabin. Then Ty’s bedroom. Now I guess it’s a hospital room.
Only this time my mom is asleep in a chair next to me. When I sit up, she starts awake. Her eyes dart around the room, and then she takes a deep, shaky breath and hugs me so hard I can’t breathe. But I don’t mind.
“Max?” I ask her when she finally loosens her grip. My voice is a croak. She pulls back but keeps her hands on my shoulders.
“It looks like he’ll be okay. Thanks to you, Cady.” Mom kisses my cheek and then takes my good hand in hers. I notice that they are both bandaged, not just the one with the missing fingernails. “He got the vaccine a couple of hours ago.”
“He did?” I realize it’s still dark outside. Still nighttime.
“You were so smart, Cady”—violet shadows lie under her eyes—“switching the vaccine to an unmarked bottle and putting it in the insulated lunch bag. That kept it cool when the fire flashed over. Nowell thought he poured the vaccine down the drain, but it was really just a vial of water. Max is running a little bit of a fever, and they’re monitoring him, but so far, it’s just a precaution.” She takes a shaky breath. “I was so worried I had lost both of you. I don’t think I could live if I did.”
“And Daddy?” The word slips out. I haven’t called him Daddy since I was Max’s age. But I feel like a little kid. I want to be a little kid again, when my parents could keep me safe.
Mom blinks a few times, but before I can get too worried she gently squeezes my shoulder and says, “He had to have some surgery and now they’ve got him on IV antibiotics because of the wound in his shoulder. But he should be okay, too.”
“And Ty? The guy who was helping me?” He was closer to Nowell when Nowell opened the door.
“He’s got some first- and second-degree burns, like you. And like you, they say he’ll be okay.” She leans down and hugs me again. “Oh, Cady, we’re so lucky to have you as a daughter,” she whispers in my ear. “You saved us. You saved us all.”
We’re both quiet for a long moment. I’m trying to take in that it’s all over. Really over. Everyone is safe.
“What happened? All we were doing was trying to heat up the eggs so that Nowell wouldn’t be able to use the virus inside them to make a vaccine. We lit a fire and closed the door to the warmer. But when he opened the door, it exploded.”
“I guess it’s called a backdraft. The fire had been starved of oxygen and then got a fresh supply when Kirk pulled the door open. Thank God the building is new enough that it has a sprinkler system. It could have been much worse.”
I remember angry orange flames, the gray smoke that suddenly rolled over me. Screaming Ty’s name, I had dropped to the floor. And that’s the last thing I really remember. I have fainter memories of water falling like rain, sirens, people lifting me up.
“How did the firemen know to come?”
“The fire triggered the sprinklers, and the sprinkler system automatically notified the fire department and told them which floor the fire was on,” Mom says. “When the firefighters found the security guard tied up, they called the police. Nowell was still holding a gun, and Ty was able to tell them something about what was going on. Now Homeland Security is investigating.”
“And Nowell? Is he dead?”
“Kirk’s got second-degree flash burns, and he’s lost his hair and eyebrows. I understand he has some upper airway issues due to the heat of the gases. But he’ll live. Which I guess is a good thing.” Mom gives me a crooked smile. “And Elizabeth and Michael are in custody.”
I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry that Nowell is alive. The rest is very good. And suddenly my eyes are so heavy that I have to close them again.
But this time I know I’m safe.
CHAPTER 41
THREE MONTHS LATER
Next to me, Ty sticks out his tongue and tips his head back, balancing on his ski poles. He’s trying to catch one of the fat flakes that are beginning to drift down from the pale sky. The woods around us are deserted, just sparkling snow and dark evergreens and the faint tracks left by our cross-country skis. Even though being here was Ty’s suggestion, I worried it would remind him too much of his dad’s accident. But we’re on cross-country skis, sticking to groomed trails and keeping well away from the trees.
“Gah one!” Ty snaps his mouth shut and raises his head to look at me, grinning.
“It’s amazing to think each one is different.” With the fingertip of my glove, I nudge a snowflake that has just landed on the sleeve of my turquoise down jacket. It shimmers and then turns into a rivulet of water.
“Just like people.”
“And fingerprints,” I say with a shiver. It’s about twenty degrees outside, cold enough that each breath is sharp in my nose. But tha
t isn’t why I can feel gooseflesh walking up my arms underneath my thick wool sweater.
Fingerprints make me think of criminals, which makes me think of Kirk Nowell, Elizabeth Tanzir, and Michael Brenner. All three are in jail and have been denied bail after having been deemed flight risks. Their trials won’t take place until summer. There’s another half dozen guys who helped hunt for me and my parents, but they’re busy cutting deals with the prosecutors. Nowell is facing the most serious charges, including murder for shooting poor Officer Dillow.
Nowell tracked me to Newberry Ranch (and later to Ty’s apartment) through Brenner’s work-issued cell phone, which had a built-in GPS. Like James had guessed, Nowell used a spoof card to make Officer Dillow think he was calling from Sagebrush. Brenner is the one who hacked into Facebook and put up my fake profile and status updates.
Ty sees me shiver. “Cold?” He shifts one of his ski poles, puts his arm around me, and runs his hand up and down my arm. Is he just being nice, or does it mean something more? We’ve been texting each other a few times a day, but living in different cities, we’ve hardly spent any time together since the police finished questioning us. Ty came to Portland last month when we were part of a big award ceremony held by the governor. We were surrounded by hero cops and hero firefighters. All those folks in uniform got to their feet and applauded us for stopping Z-Biotech’s plan.
Now, three months after everything happened, our lives have mostly returned to normal. We’re both back at school and complaining about homework. I’m not on the cover of magazines anymore, and I no longer have to worry about turning on the TV and hearing my name. When the man whose car we stole heard the whole story, he decided not to press charges.
We came here this weekend so my parents could talk to contractors about having a new cabin built on the same site. They had asked me if they should sell it, wondered if the bad memories would overwhelm me. But now that I have my memory back, I know there are so many more good memories. Plus there’s Ty himself, only forty-five minutes away.