100 Hours
“She’s bluffing,” I tell him. “She needs Genesis and me alive to make my uncle cooperate.”
“Oh, niña, he met our demands three hours ago,” Silvana says. “The bombs are being loaded onto his ship right now. So tell your boyfriend to put down the gun before I blow pieces of you all over the jungle. Sebastián may still want you alive, but I have no use for you.”
Gunfire explodes. Silvana whirls around from the impact, and blood blooms from her right arm. Her rifle clatters to the ground. Genesis stands behind her, still holding a pistol, Indiana at her side.
Stunned, I stare at them, my ears ringing worse than ever. Then I pick up the rifle and aim it at Silvana’s head. “For Ryan,” I whisper as I position my finger on the trigger and my hand on the grip, just like Luke showed me.
Genesis lifts the rifle from my grip. “She’s not worth it,” she shouts. “Trust me.” Then she slams the stock of the rifle into Silvana’s forehead.
Silvana’s skin splits open over her left brow. Her eyes close, and her head falls to the side.
“Get her to the boats,” Genesis shouts at Luke.
Luke grabs my arm, but I pull free.
“No!” I shout. “I’m not leaving until I find Julian.”
GENESIS
“Maddie, go with him!” I push her toward Luke. “Indiana and I will grab another detonator and be right behind you.”
“The warheads are gone,” my cousin says. “So is the C-4. They’re loading it on your dad’s ship right now.”
“What? No!” My ears are ringing.
Luke runs one hand through his curls. “Silvana said he complied hours ago.”
“Damn it!” I can’t think. I turn to Indiana. “How could he comply?”
“How could he not?” Indiana pulls me into a hug. “He’s your dad.”
I turn back to the base camp, and find Rog escorting Penelope and Domenica toward the beach with a rifle slung across his chest. “He left me.” Pen’s face is stained with tears, and her eyes are puffy. “He just . . . left me.”
“We need to get out of here before the rest of the terrorists get here,” Rog says as they pass us.
“There are more?”
“There are always more.”
“There are two boats on the beach,” I tell him. “Get everyone on them. We’ll be right there.” Even if they’ve finished loading the bombs, the boat might still be within range.
I have to find a cell phone.
“Okay.” I push hair back from my forehead and force myself to focus. “Go get the boats ready,” I whisper to Luke. “We’ll talk Maddie out of killing Julian and find a phone. Then we’ll be right behind you.”
“One of the boats is still in the tent on the beach,” he says. “It’ll take several of us to drag it into the water.”
“Damn it.” I turn to Indiana. “Will you go with him?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
I spread my arms. “This is the safest place in the jungle. Everyone here is dead or unconscious. We’ll find the phones and be right behind you, and we need the boats ready to go.”
Luke gives Maddie a kiss on the forehead. “If I don’t see you in five minutes, I’m coming back for you. Got it?”
Indiana pulls me close, and I really wish we had time to linger.
“We’re almost out of this,” I promise him. Then I tug him down, so I can whisper in his ear. “And when we are, I expect to be able to moan your real name.”
Indiana groans into my hair. “Hell of a sendoff, G.” He grins as Luke tugs him into the jungle, on the footpath toward the beach.
MADDIE
“Are you sure this is where you dropped the phone?” Genesis asks, sweeping torn straw mats aside with both hands.
“I don’t know. Everything went crazy after the explosion. But it has to be around here somewhere. I was right there . . .”
“We don’t have time for this, Maddie!” My dad’s ship could already be out of range. “People are going to die.”
“I know! I can’t—” My hand brushes something hard, and I grab it. “Found it!” I sweep dirt from Holden’s phone and press a button to wake it up. The screen is dim. “There’s only five percent power.”
“Then don’t waste it.” Genesis pulls me up by one arm. “Call your phone. They’ve turned it into one of the detonators.”
My hands shake as I dial my number and press send, but . . . “There’s no signal.”
A twig crunches behind me, and Genesis and I spin toward the sound. Silvana stands with one hand pressed to her bloody forehead. The other aiming a pistol at us.
Fear spikes my pulse. Genesis should have let me kill her.
“Give me the phone,” Silvana orders.
“Dial,” Genesis says, her voice low and calm. “She got her ship, but she’s in this for the money, and we’re all she has left.”
“You think your papi hasn’t already paid? Give me the phone!” Silvana shouts, her accent thick, her words slurred from the concussion.
Genesis backs toward me, waving me toward the trees. I glance over my shoulder and aim for the footpath. We’re just feet away. “Keep dialing,” she whispers.
“Don’t!” Silvana snaps. “If you want to live, give me the phone.”
I press redial, but there’s still no signal. “There’s only three percent power!”
“Maddie?” Genesis whispers.
“Yeah?” My heart hammers against my sternum. My ears still echo from the explosion.
“Run.”
NOW
GENESIS
Gunshots echo behind me.
I race through the jungle, swatting aside branches and jumping over exposed roots. Moonlight flashes through the canopy, glinting off the sweat on my skin and the blood splattered across my shirt, but the narrow trail is still shrouded in shadow.
I can’t even see my boots as they beat the path.
“She’s getting closer!” Maddie pants behind me.
I glance over my shoulder, and the movement throws me off balance. Maddie grabs my arm before I can fall, then she’s in the lead, clutching the cell phone in one hand.
Footsteps pound behind us. Silvana huffs, as if each step drives more air from her lungs. But her pace is steady. She’s strong and fast.
She’s almost caught us.
“There it is!” Maddie points at a break in the jungle trail, and ahead, I see moonlight gleaming on dark water.
The beach. The boats.
We’re almost free.
“Ow!” Maddie stumbles, then hops two steps, trying to grab her ankle without stopping. “I can’t—”
“Yes you can!” I take her arm and haul her forward. “We’re going to make it.”
Maddie pulls me to a stop. I start to yell for her to go, but then I recognize the look in her eyes. Valencia stubbornness shines, even in the dark. “We are going to make it, but I can’t run, so you have to get Silvana off the path. Take this.” She slaps the phone into my palm. “Draw her into the jungle and press send as soon as you have a signal.”
“I’m not going to leave—”
“Go!” she whispers fiercely as Silvana rounds the curve behind us. Then she ducks into the brush to hide, to the left of the path.
I make sure Silvana can see that I have the phone, then I take off into the jungle, to the right. I run with everything I have left, thrashing through the foliage to keep Silvana on my trail. Branches slap my face and tear at my clothes. Dirt gives way to sand beneath my feet, and I stumble, fighting to stay upright.
At the edge of the water, I see Luke run to Maddie and carry her into the boat. I hear music, and in the distance, I can see a cruise ship lit up like a party on all three levels. Help is right there. All we have to do is get to it.
There’s a closer, smaller boat running dark in the water. Headed north. My dad’s cargo ship. It has to be.
The phone has one percent power and two signal bars. I press redial.
The cruise ship explodes.
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MADDIE
The night lights up like midday for a split second. An instant later, the boom echoes.
Then the shock wave hits us. The boat rocks violently. Luke and I fly into the dashboard, still clutching each other. He slams his shoulder against the steering wheel.
Indiana is thrown past us, into the windshield. He hits his head on the glass and crashes to the floor at my feet, eyes closed.
“No!” I kneel next to him, gripping the seat for balance as the boat rocks. I put one hand on Indiana’s chest. It rises. He’s still breathing. “Where are Penelope and Rog and Domenica?”
Luke points to the east, and I see the other speedboat barreling forward, parallel to the coast. Rocketing over wave after choppy wave.
They got away.
My cousin runs from the jungle onto the beach in a pool of torchlight. “Maddie—”
Silvana bursts from the brush and rams her from behind. Genesis hits the sand face-first. Silvana pounces.
“Go!” Genesis yells as she struggles to throw Silvana off.
Luke pulls himself up into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
“No!” I shout, but I can hardly hear my own voice.
“Go!” Genesis shouts again.
Silvana swings the pistol at her head. My cousin collapses on the sand.
“Genesis!”
“There’s nothing we can do for her,” Luke yells over the engine. Then he guns it. The boat shoots forward into the dark. Momentum throws me into the seat at my back.
Wind pummels my face through the cracked windshield, stealing my tears before they can fall. Ripping my screams from my throat. Indiana is bleeding onto the floor at my feet. I can’t think. I can’t see anything but flames on the water. I can’t hear anything but the motor and the wind.
Then, it all stops.
The boat slows to a glide, and Luke kneels to take Indiana’s pulse. He’s holding a flare gun he must’ve found under one of the seats. “Maddie.”
“We have to go back.” I can still see the torches lit up on the beach, but they’re as small as fireflies, and they flicker in the wind. I turn back to him, but I can’t focus on his face through my tears, even with the moonlight. “I can’t lose her, Luke.” I sob, and my throat burns, but I can’t stop crying. “I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t.”
Pieces of the cruise ship float on the water. Some of them are still on fire.
He takes my hands. “If we go back, you’ll lose me too. And Indiana. If we go back, we all lose.” His words sound thick, as if he’s holding back tears. “That’s not what Genesis wants.”
He lets go of my left hand to swipe at his own eyes. Overhead, a helicopter beats the air, its searchlight probing the water. “She told me to get you out of here. And that’s what I’m going to do.”
Luke squeezes my hand. Then he stands and fires the flare into the sky.
LATER
GENESIS
I hear voices, but opening my eyes is a staggering effort. My eyelids are so heavy I wonder if they’re taped shut.
Light floods my vision. Pain shoots through my skull.
I lift my hand to my temple, and the whole world spins around me. My temple feels oddly lumpy and damp. Sticky. My hand comes away bloody. My head feels like someone tried to scoop my brain out one tablespoon at a time.
I groan. The whole world is pain.
I sit up and feel something slick beneath me. I blink, and the surface finally comes into focus. I am on a sleeping bag, on a rough wooden floor. The walls around me are made of shoddily pieced-together boards. Daylight peeks in through the cracks.
A cabin.
From outside comes the devastatingly familiar chorus of birds, frogs, crickets, and . . . monkeys. I’m in the jungle. Still.
I never left. I may never leave.
My mouth is dry. My tongue feels swollen and clumsy. My throat aches. With every beat of my heart, a hammer seems to pound my head in echo.
“She’s waking up,” a voice says from another room, and I freeze. Sebastián. I remember him. But I can’t remember how I got here. How I got hurt.
A shadow falls over me. My heart races, and the pounding in my skull matches its rhythm.
“Genesis?” The voice is older.
No. This makes no sense.
“Genesis, niña, do you remember what happened?”
My head spins.
“Uncle David?” He kneels next to me, and he looks amazing, for a dead man. I shake my head. The room tilts around me.
Who the hell did we bury?
“You’ve blown up half of my arsenal.” He sounds impressed.
“I . . .” What? “Your . . . ?” The warheads. I blew up the warheads.
Oh, God. I blew up a cruise ship.
“Why—” My voice cracks. I lick my lips and start over. “Why were there warheads on a cruise ship?”
“Because smuggling is a creative endeavor, Genesis. Any cargo ship traveling from Colombia to the US is under suspicion, but the cruise liner . . . that was an experimental purchase, and the last one the DEA would think to check. There were two thousand people on that ship.”
I’m breathing too fast. I’m going to pass out.
“Only half of them died.” Uncle David shakes his head. “A humanitarian tragedy. But it says something about the culture of excess, does it not? All those rich people partying in the middle of the night. You really made a statement.”
“No. I didn’t know . . .”
He takes my chin, and his grip is hard. His brown eyes are not friendly or kind. This is not the uncle I remember. “All you had to do was sit still and wait to be rescued.” A strand of graying hair falls over his forehead. “You could be at your grandmother’s house right now, instead of bleeding on my floor.”
Uncle David steps back and waves someone closer. Sebastián kneels next to me, holding a syringe. I flinch away, but he grabs my arm. His touch makes me sick.
He has two black eyes and a broken nose. Uncle David’s knuckles are skinned and swollen.
“This wasn’t the plan, Genesis,” my uncle says. “Ryan . . .” His fists clench, and he turns away.
Ryan wasn’t supposed to die. Maddie wasn’t supposed to run away. I wasn’t supposed to fight back.
Because Uncle David is el jefe. He’s been the boss all along.
Sebastián slides the needle into my arm, but I hardly feel the prick. My eye hurts. My head is in agony. But the real pain is deep, deep in my soul.
I am still in the jungle.
I am still a captive.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
100 Hours is a bit of a departure for me, and writing it was the most wonderful challenge. I’m privileged to have had the most wonderful support system in the world during the process. I hope I’m not forgetting anyone.
First, thanks go to my husband and my two awesome teenagers, for putting up with me during many long hours of research and revision. I know I’m not always easy to live with. I love you all.
Many, many thanks also to my amazing editor, Maria Barbo, for incredible dedication to this project and for spending so many after-hours hours indulging my every question and last-minute “let’s brainstorm this” impulse. Genesis, Maddie, and I thank you.
Thanks also, as always, to my agent, Merrilee Heifetz, for making things happen. And for making me look good.
As usual, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Rinda Elliot and Jennifer Lynn Barnes, for countless brainstorming sessions and hand-holding.
Thanks to CMSgt “Bear” Spitzer, USAF Ret., for indulging all of my research questions about the Colombian jungle.
Thanks also to Joshua Justice for answering so many questions about type 1 diabetes.
And a massive THANK-YOU to the HarperCollins production crew and art departments, for turning this story into a book. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be working with you all!
EXCERPT FROM 99 LIES
DON’T MISS 99 LIES, THE THRILLING CONCLUSION TO 100 HOURS!
The elevator is too slow, and I can hear my uncle’s footsteps thumping toward me. So I take off for the stairs at the end of the hall. Pushing the bar on the door sets off an alarm, but I’m only one floor up. I hit the midpoint landing before the door closes behind me, then I’m on the ground level racing toward the nearest exit. Which is the ER.
The TV mounted in the waiting room is tuned to a news station showing that picture of Holden walking out of the jungle. There’s no volume, but I know what they’re saying. Holden is a hero.
This is just more evidence that the world no longer makes sense, and I can’t get out of here fast enough.
I bump into a man in a white lab coat on my way down the hall. “Sorry!” I call over my shoulder as I run, and the apology costs me my balance. My hip hits a cart standing in a doorway, and something clatters to the ground, but I can’t stop to look.
Tears blur my vision, and by the time I burst through the ER doors into the parking lot, they’re rolling down my face.
In my mother’s car, I start the engine and suck in several deep breaths until I’m calm enough to be behind the wheel. Then I slam the gearshift into drive and pull onto the street. I have no idea where I’m going. As I change lanes and take turns, blinking to clear fresh tears from my eyes, all I can think about is that every single thing I thought I knew about my life has been a lie.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Kim Haynes Photography
RACHEL VINCENT is the New York Times bestselling author of several pulse-pounding series for teens and adults. A former English teacher and a champion of the serial comma, Rachel has written more than twenty novels and remains convinced that writing about the things that scare her is the cheapest form of therapy. Rachel shares her home in Oklahoma with two cats, two teenagers, and her husband, who’s been her number one fan from the start. You can find her online at www.rachelvincent.com and on Twitter @rachelkvincent.