Chapter Twenty Three

The rain was still coming down, casting a gray light around the car. The windows had fogged, and for a minute I did nothing but watch the rain. Car headlights were flashing through the front windshield, but it was nowhere near dark.
Chubs eventually turned the radio on, filling the quiet space with a report about America’s gas crisis and the drilling that was happening in Alaska as a result. If I wasn’t already halfway to sleep, the droning from the humorless newscaster would have put me there.
“Hey, Green,” Liam called back. “You have a last name?”
I thought about lying, about making myself into someone that I wasn’t, but it didn’t seem right. Even if I let these people in, they’d forget about me soon enough.
“No,” I said. I had a Psi number and the name I’d inherited from my grandmother. The rest didn’t matter.
Liam turned back to the road, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Got it.”
I dropped back down on the seat, pressing my hands against my face. Sleep came for me eventually, just as the storm clouds peeled back to reveal a pristine night sky. Without the sound of rain, I could just make out the quiet song floating from the car speakers, and Liam’s deep voice as he sang along. CHUBS WAS THE ONE TO WAKE ME. It was a quick slap to my shoulder, like he couldn’t bring himself to touch it long enough to put the effort into shaking me, but it was enough. I had been curled like a shrimp on one of the cramped seats, but at his touch, I bolted out of it, knocking my head against the window. I felt its cold touch on the back of my neck as I all but tumbled in the narrow space between the front seat and mine. For a single, foggy instant, I couldn’t remember where I was, never mind how I had gotten there.
Chubs’s face crossed back into my line of sight, one eyebrow arched at my tangle of limbs. And then it all came back to me, like a punch to the throat.
Damn it, damn it, damn it, I thought, trying to smooth my dark hair out of my face. I had only meant to rest my eyes for a few minutes—and who knows how long I’d been conked out? Judging by Chubs’s expression, it hadn’t been a short nap.
“Don’t you think you’ve slept long enough?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The van felt warmer, and I didn’t realize why until I sat up and saw the dark blue fabric that had been strung up to cover the rear windshield.
The reality of the situation struck me at once, with a sharp twist in my side. I’d left myself wide open in a van of strangers—so wide open, in fact, that Chubs had been able to put a hand on me. God, I didn’t know which of us had come out luckier in the end—him, for not having his brain wiped clean, or me for avoiding yet another potential disaster. How stupid could I be? The second they knew what I was, they’d throw me out, and then where would I be? Speaking of which…
“Where are we?” I pulled myself back up into the seat. “Where are the others?”
Chubs sat in one of the middle seats, dividing his time between the book in his lap and the world of trees just outside the tinted car window. I moved, trying to follow his gaze, but there was nothing to see.
“Somewhere near the lovely city of Kingwood, West Virginia. Lee and Suzume are checking something out,” he said.
I had leaned forward without realizing it, trying to see what he was reading. It’d been years since I’d even seen a book, let alone read from one. Chubs wasn’t having it, though. The moment my shoulder brushed his, he snapped the book shut and turned to give me the nastiest stink eye he could muster. Even with his too-small glasses and my knowledge of his little fancy lady kit under the front seat, I reminded myself there was a distinct possibility he was capable of killing me with his
brain.
“How long did I sleep?”
“A day,” Chubs said. “The general wants you up and ready to report to duty. He’s in one of his go-go-go moods. You may only be a Green, but he’s expecting you to help.”
I chose my next words carefully, ignoring the smug look on his face. Let him think that if it made him feel better. He was smarter; there was no debate about that. He probably had years of education on me, had read hundreds more books, and could remember enough math to actually be useful. But as small and stupid as he made me feel, there was no ignoring the fact that all it would take is one touch, and I could have read him the contents of his brain.
“Liam’s a Blue, right?” I began. “Are you and Zu both Blue, too?”
“No.” He frowned, and it took him several moments to decide whether or not to reveal his next bit of information. “Suzume’s Yellow.”
I sat up a little straighter. “You had Yellows at your camp?”
Chubs grunted. “No Green, I just lied to you—yes, we had Yellows.”
But that didn’t make sense—after all, if they took the Yellows out of Thurmond, why wouldn’t they have taken them from all the camps?
“Did…” I began, unsure of how to ask this. When she first pulled me into the van, I thought she was just shy and skittish around strangers. But I hadn’t heard her utter a single word in the entire time I had been with them. Not to me, not to Chubs—not even to Liam. “Did they…do something to the Yellows? To her?”
The only way the van’s atmosphere could have electrified faster was if I had thrown a live wire into a full bathtub. Chubs turned toward me sharply, drawing his arms up, crossing them in front of his chest. The look he leveled at me over his glasses would have turned a weaker soul to stone. “That,” he said slowly—precisely, I thought, to make sure I understood, “is absolutely none of your business.” I held up my hands, retreating. “Were you even thinking about what could happen to her when you followed her?” he pressed on. “Do you even care that your friends in the green SUV would have gladly scooped her up?” “The people in the green SUV—” I began, and would have finished, had the door not suddenly rolled open behind us. Chubs let out a noise that could only be described as a squawk and just about flew into the front passenger seat. By the time he had settled himself down, his eyes were almost as wide as Zu’s, who stood watching him from the door. “Don’t do that!” he gasped, clutching his chest. “Give us a little warning, will you?” Zu raised an eyebrow in my direction, and I raised one right back at her. After a moment, she seemed to remember the reason she had come and began waving us outside, her bright, sunny-color glove flashing. Chubs unbuckled his seat belt with an aggravated sigh. “I told him this was a waste of time. They said Virginia , not West Virginia .” He turned his gaze back toward me. “By the way,” he added, “that SUV was tan. That’s some photographic memory you have.” An excuse leaped to my throat, but he cut me off with a knowing look, and slammed the door behind him. I jumped out of the van and followed Zu. As my feet sunk into the mud and sad, yellowed grass, I had my first good look around. A large wooden sign, leaning back like someone had nearly run it over, said EAST RIVER CAMPING GROUNDS , but there was no river, and it certainly wasn’t your typical camping ground. If anything, it was—or once was—an old trailer and RV park.