Luke’s mouth snaps shut, and I can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes “Fine. I’m coming with you.”
I don’t have time to argue with him. Silvana is getting farther away with every second we waste. “Then grab what you can carry and let’s go.”
We only find two other backpacks left in the camp: Luke’s and Moisés’s. And there’s no blood where the campers were lined up on the ground. “Does this mean the other hostages were marched out alive?” I ask. Were the gunshots just for show, or were they shot somewhere else?
“I don’t know.” Luke stuffs several PowerBars and a flashlight taken from the bunkhouse into his bag. “I hid too far away to hear much more than gunfire, and when I came back, I only found your brother.”
The reminder of Ryan’s death makes my chest feel tight.
Luke kneels to pick up Moisés’s rifle. “Ready?”
I swing Ryan’s bag over my shoulder. “Do you even know how to use that?”
“In theory.” The gun makes a metallic clicking sound. “I have a rifle badge, but I’ve never shot an automatic.”
A Boy Scout with a gun. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or worried.
As Luke and I leave the bunkhouse with our backpacks loaded, I stop at my brother’s grave and kneel in the dirt. “Ryan, I swear that when this is over, I will take you home.”
36 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
Holden sits next to me on the damp log. Before he even opens his mouth, I know I’ll hear his “reasonable” voice—the one he saves for authority figures and people he wants to impress. The one he never uses with me because he knows I see through it. But Domenica and Rog are sharing a sleeve of cookies a few feet away, and they can hear everything he says.
“Hey, Gen. You and I have always made a good team.” He glances at the terrorists gathered around a radio blaring static across the clearing. “We should really try to get on the same page.”
I scoop tuna from a foil packet with one of my last crackers. “What page would that be?”
“We need to face the reality of the situation.” He lowers his voice and makes very direct eye contact, as if he’s speaking in some code I should understand. I almost expect him to wink, or signal for me to steal third base. “They’ve already killed everyone we left at the base camp. Unless there’s another gang of murderers roaming northern Colombia—and I admit that’s a possibility—these are probably the same guys who burned that couple in their car the other day. We have no reason to believe they’re going to let us go, even if your dad gives them what they want.”
He won’t. My dad can’t just let Silvana and her psychotic band of brothers kill hundreds—thousands?—of people.
But if he doesn’t . . .
Holden’s right. They’ll probably kill us.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m seventeen years old. I’m supposed to have the next eighty-five years or so to extend my youth with every designer cream and elective procedure money can buy. I’m supposed to change the world and look great doing it, then die in my sleep when I’m one hundred and four, surrounded by humanitarian plaques, design awards, and people who can’t bear to think of the world without me in it.
The world will hate me if I let terrorists bomb the United States. I’ll hate me.
But I’m not ready to die.
“We have to escape,” Holden whispers. “And we all have to work together to do it, or someone will be left behind.”
I crunch into my cracker and chew slowly. Letting him stew.
“I need you with me on this, Genesis. People listen to you.”
He’s right again. “That’s why we have to stay.” I lean closer to whisper, well aware of how intimate our conversation must look. “I can talk Sebastián out of whatever they’re planning.” I have to. “He needs to make a statement, but I don’t think he really wants to hurt anyone. He’ll listen to me, once he knows he can trust me.”
Holden’s eyes narrow. “He’s a terrorist. We are everything he and his friends hate about the world, and they will kill every one of us just to make a point.”
“So you’re going to run away and let them kill hundreds of innocent people?” I whisper fiercely, careful to keep my expression as neutral as I can, in case our captors are watching.
“Those people are not our responsibility. There’s nothing you can do for them without putting our lives at risk. We’re the people you should care about. We’ve had your back from the very beginning!”
“You’ve . . . ?” I fight to stay calm as anger explodes deep inside me. “You and Penelope have my back? You’re the people I should care about?”
Holden rolls his eyes. “Fine. You’re right about me and Pen. But we were just messing around.”
“You were just messing around. With my best friend.” It’s like he doesn’t even hear himself.
“It meant nothing. It never does. You know that.”
“Does she?” I glance pointedly at Penelope, who’s sitting cross-legged in a patch of moss, watching us with her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that she’s at risk of breaking her own fingers.
“I don’t know what she knows,” Holden snaps. “Are you really willing to let us die out here in the mud because of a few stupid drunken hookups?”
“A few?”
“Gen, you’re missing the point.”
“No, you’re missing the point.” I lean in until I’m practically spitting in his ear, to disguise our argument. “Your life is worth no more than anyone else’s.” Saying that feels so good. “Neither is Pen’s. Neither is mine. This isn’t like court-ordered community service. This is real, Holden. Real life. Real death. Real responsibility. We have a chance to prevent something terrible.
“I am not going to let Silvana use my dad’s company to slaughter innocent people. You need to man up and get on board with that reality, because if your escape attempt gets someone killed, that blood is on your hands. Not mine.”
34.5 HOURS EARLIER
MADDIE
“. . . but this would probably be a sandbox game, considering we can go wherever we want to out here. Or maybe not. We do kind of have to stick to the trail, to find your cousin. But it sure would be nice if we could lower the difficulty level, so we wouldn’t have to eat to regain strength or energy. Or so we could gain XP faster—that’s experience points—and learn how to, like, catch and skin rabbits for food. Like in Red Dead Redemption. Or—”
I don’t have time to argue with him. Silvana is getting farther away with every second we waste. “Then grab what you can carry and let’s go.”
We only find two other backpacks left in the camp: Luke’s and Moisés’s. And there’s no blood where the campers were lined up on the ground. “Does this mean the other hostages were marched out alive?” I ask. Were the gunshots just for show, or were they shot somewhere else?
“I don’t know.” Luke stuffs several PowerBars and a flashlight taken from the bunkhouse into his bag. “I hid too far away to hear much more than gunfire, and when I came back, I only found your brother.”
The reminder of Ryan’s death makes my chest feel tight.
Luke kneels to pick up Moisés’s rifle. “Ready?”
I swing Ryan’s bag over my shoulder. “Do you even know how to use that?”
“In theory.” The gun makes a metallic clicking sound. “I have a rifle badge, but I’ve never shot an automatic.”
A Boy Scout with a gun. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or worried.
As Luke and I leave the bunkhouse with our backpacks loaded, I stop at my brother’s grave and kneel in the dirt. “Ryan, I swear that when this is over, I will take you home.”
36 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
Holden sits next to me on the damp log. Before he even opens his mouth, I know I’ll hear his “reasonable” voice—the one he saves for authority figures and people he wants to impress. The one he never uses with me because he knows I see through it. But Domenica and Rog are sharing a sleeve of cookies a few feet away, and they can hear everything he says.
“Hey, Gen. You and I have always made a good team.” He glances at the terrorists gathered around a radio blaring static across the clearing. “We should really try to get on the same page.”
I scoop tuna from a foil packet with one of my last crackers. “What page would that be?”
“We need to face the reality of the situation.” He lowers his voice and makes very direct eye contact, as if he’s speaking in some code I should understand. I almost expect him to wink, or signal for me to steal third base. “They’ve already killed everyone we left at the base camp. Unless there’s another gang of murderers roaming northern Colombia—and I admit that’s a possibility—these are probably the same guys who burned that couple in their car the other day. We have no reason to believe they’re going to let us go, even if your dad gives them what they want.”
He won’t. My dad can’t just let Silvana and her psychotic band of brothers kill hundreds—thousands?—of people.
But if he doesn’t . . .
Holden’s right. They’ll probably kill us.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m seventeen years old. I’m supposed to have the next eighty-five years or so to extend my youth with every designer cream and elective procedure money can buy. I’m supposed to change the world and look great doing it, then die in my sleep when I’m one hundred and four, surrounded by humanitarian plaques, design awards, and people who can’t bear to think of the world without me in it.
The world will hate me if I let terrorists bomb the United States. I’ll hate me.
But I’m not ready to die.
“We have to escape,” Holden whispers. “And we all have to work together to do it, or someone will be left behind.”
I crunch into my cracker and chew slowly. Letting him stew.
“I need you with me on this, Genesis. People listen to you.”
He’s right again. “That’s why we have to stay.” I lean closer to whisper, well aware of how intimate our conversation must look. “I can talk Sebastián out of whatever they’re planning.” I have to. “He needs to make a statement, but I don’t think he really wants to hurt anyone. He’ll listen to me, once he knows he can trust me.”
Holden’s eyes narrow. “He’s a terrorist. We are everything he and his friends hate about the world, and they will kill every one of us just to make a point.”
“So you’re going to run away and let them kill hundreds of innocent people?” I whisper fiercely, careful to keep my expression as neutral as I can, in case our captors are watching.
“Those people are not our responsibility. There’s nothing you can do for them without putting our lives at risk. We’re the people you should care about. We’ve had your back from the very beginning!”
“You’ve . . . ?” I fight to stay calm as anger explodes deep inside me. “You and Penelope have my back? You’re the people I should care about?”
Holden rolls his eyes. “Fine. You’re right about me and Pen. But we were just messing around.”
“You were just messing around. With my best friend.” It’s like he doesn’t even hear himself.
“It meant nothing. It never does. You know that.”
“Does she?” I glance pointedly at Penelope, who’s sitting cross-legged in a patch of moss, watching us with her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that she’s at risk of breaking her own fingers.
“I don’t know what she knows,” Holden snaps. “Are you really willing to let us die out here in the mud because of a few stupid drunken hookups?”
“A few?”
“Gen, you’re missing the point.”
“No, you’re missing the point.” I lean in until I’m practically spitting in his ear, to disguise our argument. “Your life is worth no more than anyone else’s.” Saying that feels so good. “Neither is Pen’s. Neither is mine. This isn’t like court-ordered community service. This is real, Holden. Real life. Real death. Real responsibility. We have a chance to prevent something terrible.
“I am not going to let Silvana use my dad’s company to slaughter innocent people. You need to man up and get on board with that reality, because if your escape attempt gets someone killed, that blood is on your hands. Not mine.”
34.5 HOURS EARLIER
MADDIE
“. . . but this would probably be a sandbox game, considering we can go wherever we want to out here. Or maybe not. We do kind of have to stick to the trail, to find your cousin. But it sure would be nice if we could lower the difficulty level, so we wouldn’t have to eat to regain strength or energy. Or so we could gain XP faster—that’s experience points—and learn how to, like, catch and skin rabbits for food. Like in Red Dead Redemption. Or—”
