Torched

  Finally, I reached the top floor. And there, parked in the corner furthest from the stairs and the elevator, sat a black Escalade. It looked identical to Phelps’s rental, right down to the green e on the bumper. There were only two other cars on this floor, and both were parked well away from the Escalade.

  Now I felt like I could breathe. Matt and Laurel had played their part. Now I just had to play mine.

  I pressed my mike. “Top floor. Over.”

  “Roger that,” Hawk said.

  A few minutes later, we heard Liberty’s voice. “He’s entering the building. Over.”

  “Let’s give it five, people, in case he forgot something in his car,” Hawk said.

  Without a watch to gauge it, it seemed like the longest five minutes of my life. My elation had already dissipated, and my thoughts chased themselves. Was Coyote still alive? Had the doctors been able to save his leg? Did he think I had abandoned him? Had Blue felt anything before she died?

  Finally, Hawk said, “Is it clear, Sky?”

  I moved out of the stairwell and looked around. The top floor of the parking garage was quiet. “It’s good. No people, just a few cars. Over.”

  A few seconds later, Hawk rounded the corner of the stairwell. With his backpack, he looked like the college student he had been when Blue met him.

  Once he reached me, Hawk pressed the button on his collar. “On site. Stand by. Over.” For a minute, he just stood in the doorway and scanned the nearly empty floor of the parking garage.

  Then he nodded, just one quick nod. Everything we had been through in the past few days seemed to have sharpened Hawk. His eyes glittered, his movements were quick, and his skin was drawn tight over the bones of his face.

  “Keep watch,” Hawk instructed all of us on his mike. “I’ll need about five minutes.”

  He hurried over to the Escalade and set the backpack next to the driver’s front tire. Pulling out a roll of duct tape, he pushed it up his arm like a bracelet. Hawk knelt and gingerly lifted out the pipe bomb and the cell phone it was connected to. He shimmied under the car, and I heard the zipperlike sound of tearing duct tape as Hawk stuck the bomb to the underside of the car. The plan was to follow Phelps on his way back to the airport, wait until there were no other cars nearby and then detonate the bomb with the cell phone.

  I heard a whisper behind me.

  “Ellie?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Richter was about twenty feet from me, his head cocked as he tried to figure out what was happening. Then he saw Hawk’s feet as he started to wiggle out from underneath the Escalade. Richter quickly drew his gun and went into a crouch.

  I dashed forward and grabbed the backpack, pulling it out of Hawk’s reach in case he decided to blow us all up when he realized it was over. But as I did, I heard an enormous grunt and a clunk. Grizz stood over the crumpled body of Richter. In his hands, he clutched the metal top of a trash can.

  Panting heavily, Grizz said, “Like, I saw this guy drive up real fast, and then he parked on the sidewalk and took off running. I figured it had to be about what we were doing, so I ran after him. When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw him pull his gun on you.”

  I hardly heard Grizz’s words. I couldn’t take my eyes off Richter. He was sprawled facedown, his head turned to one side. Blood trickled out of his left ear, bright red against skin that suddenly looked so white.

  Hawk was now out from under the car, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Richter’s unmoving form. Before I could react, he jerked the backpack out of my hands and grabbed my elbow.

  “Give me his gun,” he ordered Grizz. He slung the backpack over his shoulder.

  Grizz picked up the gun from where it lay next to Richter’s slack hand. Holding it pinched between thumb and forefinger, he handed it to Hawk. Hawk took the gun and held it like he meant it. He still had a tight grip on my arm.

  “Now get out his wallet and see who he is. And be ready to hit him again if he moves.” As he spoke, Hawk whipped his head from side to side, making sure we were still alone.

  Grizz pulled the wallet from Richter’s back pocket and flipped it open. He stared at the gold shield. “His name’s John Richter. Dude—he’s with the FBI.”

  Hawk said, “I heard him say your name, Sky. Or should I say Ellie? Why does an FBI agent know your real name?”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Desperately, I tried to think of an answer. But as Hawk’s expression hardened, I realized my pause had been an answer all by itself.

  He jabbed the gun into my belly and said to Grizz, “There’s a roll of duct tape under the car. Tape his mouth and his hands together behind his back and his ankles too. Then shove him under the car far enough that no one will see him. And do it fast before someone comes up here.”

  “Man, wait a minute,” Grizz said. “Why did he know Sky?”

  “Because she sold us out,” Hawk said grimly.

  “She what?” Grizz’s mouth dropped open. A pink piece of gum lay on his tongue.

  “We don’t have time to discuss this,” Hawk hissed. The gun wasn’t pointing in Grizz’s direction, but it wasn’t exactly pointing away, either.

  Grizz set down the top of the trash can and began to drag Richter by his ankles. I winced as his head bounced along the pavement. When I opened my mouth to ask Grizz to be careful, Hawk jammed the gun in my belly harder.

  “Don’t make a sound or I’ll shoot you right now.” Hawk pulled me back behind a retaining wall so that we were out of sight of the elevator and the stairwell.

  Grizz finished taping Richter’s ankles. “Should I hog-tie him?” he asked, looking up at Hawk. “You know, tie his ankles to his hands?”

  “I know what hog-tie means!” Hawk snapped. “We don’t have time for that. Just push him far enough underneath the car that Phelps won’t see him.”

  “But, man, what about the bomb?” Grizz wrinkled his forehead. “It’s under there.”

  “I’ve got that thing duct-taped on good. We’ll do it as soon as Phelps gets back in the car. It will be a two-fer.”

  “But this guy is with the FBI, not Stonix!” Grizz looked confused. “What does he have to do with what’s happening to the forest?”

  “He was trying to stop us, can’t you see that? Sometimes there are unintentional casualties. Sometimes we just do what we have to do. And we have to do this. Now, come on, we need to get out of here.” Hawk shook me. “Who else knows? Does Phelps know?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’d better hope that he doesn’t.”

  There was a crackle in my ear. I watched the others stiffen as we all listened to Liberty’s voice on our earpieces. “He’s leaving. Over.”

  Hawk twisted his head to push his microphone button with his chin. “Liberty, we’ve got a situation. Change of plans. Follow Phelps. Stay close and pretend you’re just going to another car on the same floor. And let me know the second he gets inside his car. Over.”

  In my ear, Liberty’s voice sounded more high-pitched than usual. “Why? What happened?”

  “Just do what I say and don’t ask questions!”

  “Okay.” Her voice wavered. “Over.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Hawk said to Grizz. “Now. I don’t want Sky warning Phelps away.”

  We marched over to the stairway. Hawk pushed me forward, and I stumbled down two stairs before I caught myself. Hawk had pulled his cell phone from his backpack, so he now held the gun in one hand and the cell phone in the other.

  “Please,” I begged. “It’s not right. If we kill an FBI agent, they won’t rest until they’ve hunted us down.”

  “Don’t use the word ‘us,’ traitor.” Hawk gave me another vicious shove. “We’re going back to my car. And if you make a sound, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

  One step behind Hawk, Grizz looked scared and confused. His eyes kept darting between Hawk and me. Clearly, he didn’t k
now what to do.

  As the three of us walked out into the second floor of the parking garage, I prayed there would be something there, a witness, a distraction, maybe even a passerby who could help me. But there was no one.

  When we reached the car, Hawk said, “Get in the back and scoot over.” I climbed in, stepping over the open toolbox on the floor behind the front passenger seat. As I did, Hawk took the keys from his pocket and handed them to Grizz. “You’re driving. Let’s go.”

  The big man balked. “What about Liberty?”

  “We’ll wait for her outside,” Hawk said impatiently. “Now come on, we’ve got to go.”

  Grizz went around the car and got in the front seat while Hawk got in the backseat with me. He slammed his door closed and leaned forward. “Come on! I’d like to be out of here before the bomb blows up.” With his chin, he pressed his microphone. “Liberty, is he in the car yet? Over.”

  We all heard Liberty’s voice. “I thought we were going to wait until he was by himself on the freeway. Because there’s a car parked next to his and little kids are getting out of it. There are kids!”

  “So he’s in the vehicle, then?”

  “You can’t, Hawk!” Liberty shouted, her voice breaking.

  Hawk looked past me, seeming to focus on the distance. “Collateral damage,” he said quietly.

  No! Richter will die!

  I lunged for his phone, clawing his arm, but he held the phone out of my grasp. I reached higher, the skin of his cheek gathering under my fingernails as I drew blood. Hawk wedged his knee into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t let that stop me. I turned my head and closed my teeth on his arm. My mouth filled with the copper taste of blood.

  And Hawk’s arm dropped just enough. I felt a surge of triumph as my fingers finally closed on the phone.

  Bang! The gun went off. It felt like someone had punched me in the arm. Then pain seared through me, so big it wasn’t even pain, but something more.

  From above us came an echoing boom that obliterated all other sounds.

  All I could think was that I still seemed to be alive. And Richter wasn’t.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Slowly, I turned my head and looked down at my side. Bright red blood covered my left arm and torso. As I watched it drip off my fingers, I realized it was mine. Somewhere above us, a woman screamed and screamed, her voice ragged with hysteria.

  Grizz fumbled with the microphone on his collar. “Liberty, come in, over? Liberty?”

  The only answer was the crackle of static.

  “Drive!” Hawk demanded. He poked the gun against the back of Grizz’s neck. “We have to get out of here!”

  “Are you going to shoot me, too?” Grizz shouted. He threw open the car door and ran toward the exit. Hawk cursed and jammed his skinny legs between the two bucket seats, wiggling into the driver’s seat. With a grind, he started the engine and jammed it into reverse.

  “Stop! FBI!” The shout echoed off the walls.

  I jerked my head around to see Ponytail crouched about twenty feet away, holding his gun with both hands.

  Rather than stopping, Hawk spun the wheel until the car was aimed directly at the FBI agent. So was the gun Hawk had taken from Richter.

  I threw myself down in the seat. The seat belt buckle dug into my shoulder like a red-hot poker. I heard two shots in quick succession and the sound of shattering glass. Sharp flecks peppered my cheeks, my ear, my hair.

  The car lurched to a stop, shuddered and died.

  “Put down your weapon and get out of the car with your hands up!”

  The voice was familiar, but it didn’t belong to Ponytail. I risked peeking over the seat through the shattered windshield.

  It was Matt. He was holding Ponytail’s gun, but with a lot less authority than an FBI agent. Ponytail writhed on the ground, pressing both hands hard against his right thigh. Blood had already darkened his pant leg.

  Hawk must have shot Ponytail through the windshield. And judging by the steam rising from the hood, Ponytail had shot the engine.

  Hawk slowly raised his left hand. His right, however, paid no attention to my father’s command. Instead, it rested the gun on the dash. Pointed straight at Matt’s chest.

  He was going to shoot my father!

  I scrabbled in the tool chest, grabbing the screwdriver Hawk had used to finish the pipe bomb. Ignoring the waves of pain from my injured arm, I leaned forward and pressed the point against his neck.

  “Drop the gun!” I yelled.

  Hawk didn’t move.

  I pressed harder, watching his skin dimple. A drop of blood oozed out. I could almost see the blood running like a column just underneath his skin. Part of me wanted to push the screwdriver until the skin yielded with a pop.

  “Drop it!” I yelled again.

  But still Hawk hesitated. The blood ran faster now, trickling down his neck. Another drop landed on his thigh. With a curse, he finally released the gun.

  I snatched it up from the passenger seat, yanked open the back door and scrambled out. Heedless of the pain in my arm, I wrapped my left hand around my right fist, holding the gun out in front of me, my legs apart and knees slightly bent, the way I had seen Ponytail stand. Matt and I were shoulder-to-shoulder, both our guns pointing at Hawk.

  “Don’t move, Hawk, or I’ll shoot,” I said.

  “That’s right, she will,” said a man behind me.

  It was Richter. He was uninjured, except for the drying blood below his ear. Pieces of duct tape dangled from the bottom of his pants legs. He took the gun from my hands.

  Wearing a funny expression, Matt abruptly sat down on the ground next to Ponytail. “Ellie?” he started. “I think—”

  But I never got to hear what he thought. My father slumped over, and his head made a horrible hollow sound as it hit the ground.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Coyote’s leg, encased in a white cast from heel to hip, hung suspended above the hospital bed. Tubes led from an IV stand to the back of his hand. The left side of his face was purpled with bruises.

  I sat in the chair beside his bed. Even asleep, Coyote’s expression was uneasy. His eyes moved back and forth under closed lids.

  Finally, they opened. He blinked several times, struggling to focus. After a long moment, Coyote seemed to take in who I was. His eyes widened and the right corner of his mouth turned up. When he noticed my sling and bandaged shoulder, his expression turned to concern.

  “You’re hurt!” Wincing, he pushed himself up on his elbows.

  “It’s not too bad,” I said. “Just a scrape.”

  “What about Hawk and the rest? Did they hurt anyone?”

  “They tried, but they got stopped in time. Hawk’s in jail. So are Grizz and Liberty, although the charges they’re facing aren’t as serious.”

  His face hardened. “Blue’s dead,” he said bluntly. “You might not know that since you ran off.”

  Tears wetted the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back. “I know she’s dead.”

  “You know who told me? The cops. I wake up six hours after the accident, tubes coming out of everyplace, my leg in traction, and they tell me she’s dead. The bomb must have been right under her seat. And then they tell me I’m under arrest for possession of explosives. They said we did it to ourselves, that we were transporting a bomb!”

  “What did you do?”

  “I guess my survival instinct kicked in, despite everything else. I said, ‘I won’t talk to you without a lawyer.’ And then I passed out.” He tilted his head. “But now everything seems to have changed, except I don’t know why. I haven’t seen a lawyer yet, but I haven’t seen a cop, either.”

  “That’s because they know now that it was Hawk who set the bomb under your car, not you guys.”

  “Hawk?” I saw Coyote’s eyes widen as he struggled with the truth. “But why would he bomb us? We’re MEDics, too!”

  “He turned against you when
you wouldn’t go along with his plans. He had already made a bomb while the rest of us were in jail. While you guys were packing up, he went outside to get rid of the phones and put that bomb under Blue’s car. Then he had us make another one for Phelps. Hawk thought he could blame your deaths on Phelps’s Mafia connections and turn you into martyrs for the cause. You were right. He wasn’t really thinking straight.”

  “I knew Hawk was crazy,” Coyote said. “That’s why I told you to leave.”

  I took a deep breath and forced the words out before I lost my courage. “There’s something else I need to tell you. There was a reason I stayed with Hawk. I was working undercover with the FBI.”

  I waited anxiously for his reaction, unable to read his expression. Finally, Coyote gave me a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re joking, right? The FBI? The guys in dark suits and dark glasses?”

  “I’m serious. But Coyote, I swear it wasn’t my idea. While the FBI was watching you guys, they found out my parents were growing pot and arrested them. They said if I joined MED and told them what you guys were doing, then my parents wouldn’t have to go to jail and I wouldn’t have to go into foster care.”

  “You were spying on us?” he said slowly.

  “Yes. It wasn’t my choice, but yes. It was either that, or they said Matt would die in jail.”

  Coyote narrowed his eyes. “So—you never believed in MED?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I do care about what’s happening to the Earth, even though I had never thought about how to stop it. But when I saw that lynx . . .” I took a deep breath. “The only reason I stayed with Hawk was so that I could stop them from hurting anyone.”

  “Did you stop them?” He looked at my bandaged arm. “And how did you get hurt?”

  “Hawk was going to blow up Phelps’s car. But I got Matt and Laurel to rent the same kind of car and park it in the garage, and I tricked Hawk into putting the bomb there.” I told Coyote how Richter had ended up under the decoy car and how Hawk shot me before Matt showed up. “But after everything that happened, my dad had a heart attack. The doctors say he should be okay, since they got him to the hospital right away. In fact, he’s on the floor above you, with Laurel glued to his side.”