“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Hi said. “How are you still not getting it?”
“You don’t want any part of this, Chance.” Shelton’s face was granite. “No lie.”
“Stop what you’re doing,” Ben warned. “Now.”
Chance ran a hand across his mouth. It trembled.
“What are you so worried about?” I caught his eye and held it. “What’s happened?”
Chance met my gaze for a beat. I saw real pain. Guilt? Fear?
He jerked his head away, once more staring out the window.
“It turns out, you guys are right.” Chance barked a hollow laugh. “I shouldn’t have ordered those experiments. I started Brimstone months ago, before I appreciated the danger.”
Icy fingers ran down my spine. “Chance, what did you do?”
He stood, then studied each of us in turn. “You think this virus may be killing you?”
“It’s possible. We don’t know anything about it, really.”
I wasn’t sure where this was going.
Chance nodded, as if he’d made a decision. “I’ll help you. I’ll put all of Candela’s medical resources at your disposal. We’ll find out exactly what the virus has done to your DNA, and whether there’s any possibility of treatment.”
Ben stepped toe-to-toe with Chance. “We don’t want your help, Claybourne. Never did.”
Chance ignored Ben completely. “I offer this service in exchange.”
I rose. Pulled Ben back a few paces. Took his place before Chance.
“In exchange for what?”
“Your help. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Suddenly, the odd feeling returned, stronger than anytime before, boiling up inside me like a hundred million suns. I staggered, eyes widening in shock.
For the first time, I could sense a pattern. Could trace the mental connections firing from my subconscious. Energy pulsed from me. Pushed outward. And was flowing toward . . .
Chance.
Impossible.
But it was true. Unbidden telepathic tethers were snaking from my brain and enveloping the boy standing rigidly before me.
Stunned, I reached out a shaky hand. Grabbed Chance’s arm. He didn’t resist.
As my fingers made contact, the sensation amplified, like touching a third rail. An overwhelming feeling of kinship bloomed inside my mind, its tendrils whirling faster and faster, like a cyclone gaining steam. Then the impression slowly faded into oblivion.
“You,” I breathed, unable to manage more.
Chance looked away, but shivers racked his frame.
“The feeling. It’s a reaction to . . . you.” I stared at Chance. “How? Why?”
Chance’s last statement hit me like a sledgehammer.
I could barely speak the words. “What mistake, Chance? What did you do?”
Chance hesitated. Looked from Ben to Hi to Shelton to me. Then he smiled sadly. “You’re not the only Virals anymore.”
Chance’s eyes ignited with molten red light.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Exposure would not have been possible without the tireless effort of our super-editor Arianne Lewin at G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Thank you for knocking this story into shape. We’d also like to thank our excellent publicist, Elizabeth Zajac, for getting us from place to place, alive and mostly in one piece. Additional ovations, of course, go to everyone at Penguin Young Readers Group. You guys make it all happen. We are forever in your debt.
More plaudits go to Don Weisberg at Penguin and Susan Sandon at Random House UK. You saw the potential of the series first, and we thank you for believing in Tory and her crazy pack. We also must must must thank Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and the folks at William Morris Endeavor Entertainment for everything that they do. You connect all the dots. We appreciate the results.
Last, but certainly not least, an emphatic thank-you to our loyal readers. You are the point of everything that we do. Cheers!
Kathy Reichs, Exposure
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