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Page 5 (2)
Seeing nothing worthwhile in the first folder—just basic logs and charts—I moved on to the second. That’s where I found tiny bits of information about Sam’s life at the start of the program.
There were notes on plain paper in a barely legible handwriting I didn’t recognize:
Sam shows extreme signs of aggression and
defiance to anyone within the program.
And later:
Sam slipped seamlessly into the leader role.
The others allowed him in without hesitation.
Must continue to isolate this characteristic
to replicate in future groups.
I skimmed a few more pages, stopping when something caught my eye.
Sam has escaped us again. Alerts sent to
all the proper channels. Possible aliases—Samuel
Eastlock. Samuel Cavar. Samuel Bentley.
Sam had escaped? Why would he have had to? And more than once?
Apparently his relationship with the Branch stretched further back than I’d thought. Sensing that I was closer to the information Sam wanted, I scanned through the stack of papers, looking for the name of a town, something concrete I could tell him about his life before all this.
Sam and team found at Port. Wiped. OP ALPHA
will soon commence.
Port—Sam had said he liked water. But what was OP ALPHA?
I kept reading, but an hour later, I had made it through two files and really had nothing to show for it except more questions. I’d just gotten up to grab another folder when I heard the couch in the living room creak.
Dad.
I scrambled, straightening the files. I went to the cabinet to replace them, but accidentally opened the third drawer down. An empty file caught my eye, an old label still attached to the outside.
O’BRIEN, it read.
Dad coughed.
I stuffed Sam’s file in the correct drawer and made sure it locked as I closed it. Tiptoeing up the stairs, I made it to the second floor without a sound and finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
Dad never checked on me at night, but still I hurried into my pajamas and climbed into bed. The sheets felt cool to the touch. I lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sam’s file.
Why had he needed me to look in the first place? Why hadn’t Dad filled in the blanks for Sam a long time ago?
Unless the Branch wanted to keep something about Sam’s past from him. And if that was the case, I was violating protocol by sharing the details.
I didn’t like going against Dad, but Sam deserved to know about his past, didn’t he?
5
I SET MY ALARM CLOCK FOR SIX THE next morning, thinking I’d sneak into the lab before Dad got up. I must have turned it off without realizing it, though, because I didn’t get up until after eight. By the time I headed downstairs, Dad was already in the lab. I was kind of relieved; I still wasn’t sure how much to tell Sam.
Stomach grumbling, I threw a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. I popped a few ibuprofen and massaged the healing muscle in my back. My lack of sleep the night before hadn’t done me any favors, and my next combat class was just a couple of days away. I’d been in the course for several years, and the instructor was not the type of guy to go easy on me.
Not that I was complaining. I always left the studio feeling strong, agile, and powerful. Sometimes I wished the boys could see me in class—I wanted them to know I was capable of more than just making cookies and filing charts.
As I waited for my toast to finish, I stood at the sink, watching the tree branches sway in the wind. In the distance, a trail of dust billowed behind a line of black Suburbans traveling down our dirt road.
I straightened. Connor. I’d forgotten he was coming today.
I ran back upstairs, threw off my pajamas, and dressed quickly in jeans and a henley. I slipped into a pair of tennis shoes as the trucks pulled into the driveway and parked wherever they could find room. Riley was the first to climb out of his vehicle; behind him came Connor, followed by several agents.
The men shadowed Connor to the side of the house. He didn’t bother knocking before opening the door into the mudroom, and I met him and Riley at the few steps up to the kitchen.
“Morning,” Connor said, flashing me a smile of unnaturally white teeth. Tall and gorgeous, he was charismatic on every level, and often plied me with compliments I knew weren’t true.
I tried to avoid him whenever he came for a check-in because he made my skin crawl, but this visit was different. They’d never shown up with an entourage before. And certainly not dressed like this.
The agents wore black jackets with armored quilting at the shoulders and elbows. The necks of the jackets were high and close-fitting, made tighter by a fastened strap.
Over the jackets they wore thick black vests. Handguns hung from the waists of their black pants, and their hands were hidden in black gloves with plates of rubber on the fingers.
They clustered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, waiting for further direction. In addition to Connor and Riley, I counted a total of seven men and one woman. Two agents per boy.
None of them made eye contact with me, even when I stared. Were those bulletproof vests? I was suddenly on full alert.
“Come with me.” Connor led his team to the basement. I followed silently at the back, afraid of being caught and sent away.
Riley punched in the entrance code at the lab and the door rushed open. Dad’s voice carried out as he greeted Connor, then Riley.
“Arthur.” Connor clasped Dad by the shoulder. “We got word this morning from OB that we’re ending the project. We’re taking the units.”
Dad said nothing. The agents broke into pairs in front of each cell. Connor and Riley murmured to Dad while Sam stared down the men at his room, fists clenched. I caught Trev’s eyes and saw panic.
“No.” The word was out before I could stop it. Everyone turned to me, standing at the mouth of the hallway.
The boys shifted in their rooms. Shifted closer, as if they would group together if not for the walls between them. Sam’s eyes were on me.
“Excuse me?” Riley snapped. He was far older than Connor, impatient, no-nonsense.
I warmed beneath the attention and the glow of the fluorescent lights. “You can’t… yet… I mean… they’re not ready. We can still—”
Sam shook his head and I went quiet.
“She’s right,” Dad added. “They aren’t ready.”
Connor gave Dad the kind of smile you give someone when you’re tired of their excuses, when you think you know better than they do. “Every time I talk to you, they aren’t ready. I’m beginning to think you’ve grown too attached.”
Dad started to object, but I beat him to it. “We still need to run a few more tests.”
Connor slid toward me, wound an arm around my shoulders. “I know you’ve put in a lot of effort down here with Arthur these last few months, and that won’t go unrewarded. How much longer do you have before you finish school?”
I had only about six months to finish homeschooling and told Connor so, though I had no idea why it mattered.
“Come see me when you’re done. We’ll find a spot for you. I’ll keep you close to me. Sound good?”
Sam shook his head again, but Connor missed it. Cas stood at the front of his room, arms crossed over his chest. Nick rolled his head back and forth, the bones in his neck cracking. Trev curled his hands into loose fists.
Connor dug his fingers into my shoulder as he turned us both toward the rooms. “I think you would make a wonderful addition to the Branch,” he continued, keeping his eyes on the boys. “Would you like that?”
My limbs felt weak and airy. “Um…” I was overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne, sweet and musky all at once.
There were things I wanted outside of this lab. I wanted to travel, to visit the places in my magazines. But I’d never pictured my life without Sam and the others in it. If I worked for the Branch, would I work close to Sam? Did it even matter? If he left today, would he forget about me?
“You don’t have to find a place for me.”
“Nonsense. I want you there. It’s my pleasure.” Connor ran a hand over his blond, perfectly coiffed hair, as if checking its placement. “Clearly the boys respect you. Look at them.”
Riley, Dad, and the other agents turned to the boys.
“Where will you take them?” I asked.
“That’s classified,” Riley said.
“Headquarters,” Connor said, and Riley looked chagrined. I wondered if Riley hated that someone younger than him was his boss.
Dad cleared his throat. “Will I be reassigned?”
Connor moved away from me. “ALPHA is ongoing. You can manage that.”
Alpha? That was in Sam’s files. OP ALPHA.
“That program is connected to the boys,” Dad replied. “There is no program without them.”
“Arthur,” Riley said, putting heavy emphasis on Dad’s name, “this is something that will be discussed later.”
Dad’s shoulders sagged.
I tried to catch his eyes, to send him a silent message: Fight for the boys. Don’t let Connor take them! But he avoided looking at me, avoided looking at anyone.
“So,” Connor said, “shall we get started?” Though it was phrased as a question, no one waited to answer. The agents squared their shoulders, and Connor looked over at Dad and said, “I trust you’ll cooperate?”
Dad nodded. “Of course.”
The lights overhead felt blinding. I looked at all the files piled on Dad’s desk, at the desk I’d claimed as my own next to it. This was our place, our job.
Say something, Dad, I thought. The boys had been here for years. The lab was their home. Wasn’t here better than some Branch building?
“How would you like to proceed?” Dad asked.
“Gas them all at once,” Connor said. “My men will move in from there.” He clapped his hands together, and Dad hurried to the control panel.
I stood unmoving near the mouth of the hallway, staring at Sam, lips parted, unsaid words stuck behind my teeth. His gaze flicked to the chessboard in the back corner of the lab and something like regret flashed across his face.
“Miss?” the female agent said. I blinked. “Perhaps you should wait upstairs.”
“I’m staying.” I pursed my lips and moved out of the way.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea—”
“Anna has as much right to be here as any of us,” Connor said with a wink. While I was grateful that he didn’t kick me out, I wasn’t sure why he was sticking up for me.
I turned and caught Dad’s eyes, and his expression made me pause. It was a look that said a million sorrys, none of which I would ever hear: Sorry for bringing you into this mess. Sorry that you even have an excuse for being here. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
I wanted to say, Who cares about me? Don’t let them take the boys.
But Dad didn’t say anything. Not one word.
6
CONNOR HIT THE CONTROL BUTTONS and the rooms’ vents opened, expelling the gas. Riley stood in the center of the lab, hand poised over the butt of his gun. The boys dropped where they stood. We waited the required four minutes. No one moved.
I clenched and unclenched my fists. Connor had broken Dad’s second rule. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just escort the boys out.
As the four minutes stretched thin, like a rubber band ready to snap, I focused on Sam. He’d fallen on the other side of his bed, so I could see only his legs from where I stood. When he woke up, he’d probably already be gone, on his way to headquarters. Wherever that was.
Would he think of me when he woke? If I had known the night before would be our final night together, I would have spent more time with him.
I would have told him how much he meant to me, that not a second went by when I didn’t think about him. Every muscle in my body tensed with anxiety as I realized I would wake up in the morning and there’d be no one here. I could already feel the emptiness settling in.
There were notes on plain paper in a barely legible handwriting I didn’t recognize:
Sam shows extreme signs of aggression and
defiance to anyone within the program.
And later:
Sam slipped seamlessly into the leader role.
The others allowed him in without hesitation.
Must continue to isolate this characteristic
to replicate in future groups.
I skimmed a few more pages, stopping when something caught my eye.
Sam has escaped us again. Alerts sent to
all the proper channels. Possible aliases—Samuel
Eastlock. Samuel Cavar. Samuel Bentley.
Sam had escaped? Why would he have had to? And more than once?
Apparently his relationship with the Branch stretched further back than I’d thought. Sensing that I was closer to the information Sam wanted, I scanned through the stack of papers, looking for the name of a town, something concrete I could tell him about his life before all this.
Sam and team found at Port. Wiped. OP ALPHA
will soon commence.
Port—Sam had said he liked water. But what was OP ALPHA?
I kept reading, but an hour later, I had made it through two files and really had nothing to show for it except more questions. I’d just gotten up to grab another folder when I heard the couch in the living room creak.
Dad.
I scrambled, straightening the files. I went to the cabinet to replace them, but accidentally opened the third drawer down. An empty file caught my eye, an old label still attached to the outside.
O’BRIEN, it read.
Dad coughed.
I stuffed Sam’s file in the correct drawer and made sure it locked as I closed it. Tiptoeing up the stairs, I made it to the second floor without a sound and finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
Dad never checked on me at night, but still I hurried into my pajamas and climbed into bed. The sheets felt cool to the touch. I lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sam’s file.
Why had he needed me to look in the first place? Why hadn’t Dad filled in the blanks for Sam a long time ago?
Unless the Branch wanted to keep something about Sam’s past from him. And if that was the case, I was violating protocol by sharing the details.
I didn’t like going against Dad, but Sam deserved to know about his past, didn’t he?
5
I SET MY ALARM CLOCK FOR SIX THE next morning, thinking I’d sneak into the lab before Dad got up. I must have turned it off without realizing it, though, because I didn’t get up until after eight. By the time I headed downstairs, Dad was already in the lab. I was kind of relieved; I still wasn’t sure how much to tell Sam.
Stomach grumbling, I threw a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. I popped a few ibuprofen and massaged the healing muscle in my back. My lack of sleep the night before hadn’t done me any favors, and my next combat class was just a couple of days away. I’d been in the course for several years, and the instructor was not the type of guy to go easy on me.
Not that I was complaining. I always left the studio feeling strong, agile, and powerful. Sometimes I wished the boys could see me in class—I wanted them to know I was capable of more than just making cookies and filing charts.
As I waited for my toast to finish, I stood at the sink, watching the tree branches sway in the wind. In the distance, a trail of dust billowed behind a line of black Suburbans traveling down our dirt road.
I straightened. Connor. I’d forgotten he was coming today.
I ran back upstairs, threw off my pajamas, and dressed quickly in jeans and a henley. I slipped into a pair of tennis shoes as the trucks pulled into the driveway and parked wherever they could find room. Riley was the first to climb out of his vehicle; behind him came Connor, followed by several agents.
The men shadowed Connor to the side of the house. He didn’t bother knocking before opening the door into the mudroom, and I met him and Riley at the few steps up to the kitchen.
“Morning,” Connor said, flashing me a smile of unnaturally white teeth. Tall and gorgeous, he was charismatic on every level, and often plied me with compliments I knew weren’t true.
I tried to avoid him whenever he came for a check-in because he made my skin crawl, but this visit was different. They’d never shown up with an entourage before. And certainly not dressed like this.
The agents wore black jackets with armored quilting at the shoulders and elbows. The necks of the jackets were high and close-fitting, made tighter by a fastened strap.
Over the jackets they wore thick black vests. Handguns hung from the waists of their black pants, and their hands were hidden in black gloves with plates of rubber on the fingers.
They clustered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, waiting for further direction. In addition to Connor and Riley, I counted a total of seven men and one woman. Two agents per boy.
None of them made eye contact with me, even when I stared. Were those bulletproof vests? I was suddenly on full alert.
“Come with me.” Connor led his team to the basement. I followed silently at the back, afraid of being caught and sent away.
Riley punched in the entrance code at the lab and the door rushed open. Dad’s voice carried out as he greeted Connor, then Riley.
“Arthur.” Connor clasped Dad by the shoulder. “We got word this morning from OB that we’re ending the project. We’re taking the units.”
Dad said nothing. The agents broke into pairs in front of each cell. Connor and Riley murmured to Dad while Sam stared down the men at his room, fists clenched. I caught Trev’s eyes and saw panic.
“No.” The word was out before I could stop it. Everyone turned to me, standing at the mouth of the hallway.
The boys shifted in their rooms. Shifted closer, as if they would group together if not for the walls between them. Sam’s eyes were on me.
“Excuse me?” Riley snapped. He was far older than Connor, impatient, no-nonsense.
I warmed beneath the attention and the glow of the fluorescent lights. “You can’t… yet… I mean… they’re not ready. We can still—”
Sam shook his head and I went quiet.
“She’s right,” Dad added. “They aren’t ready.”
Connor gave Dad the kind of smile you give someone when you’re tired of their excuses, when you think you know better than they do. “Every time I talk to you, they aren’t ready. I’m beginning to think you’ve grown too attached.”
Dad started to object, but I beat him to it. “We still need to run a few more tests.”
Connor slid toward me, wound an arm around my shoulders. “I know you’ve put in a lot of effort down here with Arthur these last few months, and that won’t go unrewarded. How much longer do you have before you finish school?”
I had only about six months to finish homeschooling and told Connor so, though I had no idea why it mattered.
“Come see me when you’re done. We’ll find a spot for you. I’ll keep you close to me. Sound good?”
Sam shook his head again, but Connor missed it. Cas stood at the front of his room, arms crossed over his chest. Nick rolled his head back and forth, the bones in his neck cracking. Trev curled his hands into loose fists.
Connor dug his fingers into my shoulder as he turned us both toward the rooms. “I think you would make a wonderful addition to the Branch,” he continued, keeping his eyes on the boys. “Would you like that?”
My limbs felt weak and airy. “Um…” I was overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne, sweet and musky all at once.
There were things I wanted outside of this lab. I wanted to travel, to visit the places in my magazines. But I’d never pictured my life without Sam and the others in it. If I worked for the Branch, would I work close to Sam? Did it even matter? If he left today, would he forget about me?
“You don’t have to find a place for me.”
“Nonsense. I want you there. It’s my pleasure.” Connor ran a hand over his blond, perfectly coiffed hair, as if checking its placement. “Clearly the boys respect you. Look at them.”
Riley, Dad, and the other agents turned to the boys.
“Where will you take them?” I asked.
“That’s classified,” Riley said.
“Headquarters,” Connor said, and Riley looked chagrined. I wondered if Riley hated that someone younger than him was his boss.
Dad cleared his throat. “Will I be reassigned?”
Connor moved away from me. “ALPHA is ongoing. You can manage that.”
Alpha? That was in Sam’s files. OP ALPHA.
“That program is connected to the boys,” Dad replied. “There is no program without them.”
“Arthur,” Riley said, putting heavy emphasis on Dad’s name, “this is something that will be discussed later.”
Dad’s shoulders sagged.
I tried to catch his eyes, to send him a silent message: Fight for the boys. Don’t let Connor take them! But he avoided looking at me, avoided looking at anyone.
“So,” Connor said, “shall we get started?” Though it was phrased as a question, no one waited to answer. The agents squared their shoulders, and Connor looked over at Dad and said, “I trust you’ll cooperate?”
Dad nodded. “Of course.”
The lights overhead felt blinding. I looked at all the files piled on Dad’s desk, at the desk I’d claimed as my own next to it. This was our place, our job.
Say something, Dad, I thought. The boys had been here for years. The lab was their home. Wasn’t here better than some Branch building?
“How would you like to proceed?” Dad asked.
“Gas them all at once,” Connor said. “My men will move in from there.” He clapped his hands together, and Dad hurried to the control panel.
I stood unmoving near the mouth of the hallway, staring at Sam, lips parted, unsaid words stuck behind my teeth. His gaze flicked to the chessboard in the back corner of the lab and something like regret flashed across his face.
“Miss?” the female agent said. I blinked. “Perhaps you should wait upstairs.”
“I’m staying.” I pursed my lips and moved out of the way.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea—”
“Anna has as much right to be here as any of us,” Connor said with a wink. While I was grateful that he didn’t kick me out, I wasn’t sure why he was sticking up for me.
I turned and caught Dad’s eyes, and his expression made me pause. It was a look that said a million sorrys, none of which I would ever hear: Sorry for bringing you into this mess. Sorry that you even have an excuse for being here. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
I wanted to say, Who cares about me? Don’t let them take the boys.
But Dad didn’t say anything. Not one word.
6
CONNOR HIT THE CONTROL BUTTONS and the rooms’ vents opened, expelling the gas. Riley stood in the center of the lab, hand poised over the butt of his gun. The boys dropped where they stood. We waited the required four minutes. No one moved.
I clenched and unclenched my fists. Connor had broken Dad’s second rule. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just escort the boys out.
As the four minutes stretched thin, like a rubber band ready to snap, I focused on Sam. He’d fallen on the other side of his bed, so I could see only his legs from where I stood. When he woke up, he’d probably already be gone, on his way to headquarters. Wherever that was.
Would he think of me when he woke? If I had known the night before would be our final night together, I would have spent more time with him.
I would have told him how much he meant to me, that not a second went by when I didn’t think about him. Every muscle in my body tensed with anxiety as I realized I would wake up in the morning and there’d be no one here. I could already feel the emptiness settling in.
