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right, you go ahead and shoot an unarmed man, Tucker-boy. I’m sure that won’t weigh on your conscience any.”

“Stand still,” Tucker says.

I grit my teeth. Part of me wants to fly down there and take the remote in a blur of speed, but another part knows better than to leave Willard alone with Jamison. Willard’s not a man to be underestimated, and I don’t know that I trust Jamison completely. If push comes to shove, will he keep wearing his traitor’s hat? Sure, he wants what’s best for the babies, but that could change when his own life’s on the line.

“Careful, Tucker,” I caution him—and instantly regret it.

My voice through the radio betrays Tucker’s position, and Perch moves lightning-quick, disappearing as soon as he lunges at Tucker. At the sound of the invisible scuffle, the driver charges Bishop full-tilt, knocking him down just as he frees himself entirely from the hazard suit. The two go sprawling against the vehicle, but the smaller man is no match for Bishop. A solid right hook sends him slumping to the pavement. Bishop crouches at the ready, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, listening blindly as Tucker and Perch duke it out.

“Take him down, Perch!” Willard shrieks, leaning forward and watching the monitor like he can actually see what’s happening. “Break his neck!”

Something cracks. A sickening crunch. Bone, if I had to guess. Silence follows.

Perch staggers back into view, his face a bloody mess. In each hand he holds a gun—his own and the driver’s. The remote is tucked into his belt.

“You came here to see Captain Willard.” Catching his breath, he points one weapon at Bishop. “Alright then. Get moving.”

“Tucker!” I shout into the radio. My voice echoes on the monitor, coming from the floor behind Perch.

“Long live the invisible man,” Perch mutters. He motions impatiently for Bishop to climb the ladder leading up to the nearest catwalk. “Move!”

My chest tightens. This is my fault. Tucker’s death is on my hands.

The room sways.

“One down, two to go.” Willard stretches his back.

“He was one of your men!” Jamison shouts.

Willard shakes his head. “Tucker hasn’t been a man for a long time—or one of ours. Just a sand freak, that’s all. Good riddance.”

I face him. “He was a good man, you son-of-a-bitch. The only freak in this room is you.”

Willard shrugs. “Say whatever you need to say, Milton. I’m sure it’ll be some time before you get over the fact that you killed him. You and that stupid radio. Why didn’t you just go down there and take the remote for yourself? Oh, that’s right: because deep down, you’re nothing but a coward. And now that the tables have turned—”

“They haven’t.” Jamison presses the gun against Willard’s temple. “We still have you.”

Willard frowns, puzzled. “But it’s not me that you want. It’s the children. Those little blobs of tissue with eyes and ears and noses, gestating down in the nursery. They’ve made you as soft as they are. They’re your weakness.” He clucks his tongue. “Never show your enemy your warm underbelly, Jamison. He just might sink a serrated dagger in there—or let a hungry muto have at it.”

On the monitor, Bishop climbs the ladder while Perch follows half a dozen rungs behind, gun in hand. What was the sergeant thinking, showing up here unarmed, without any backup? I’ve seriously misjudged him. The guy is a fool.

A heavy knock clangs against Willard’s door. Bishop and Perch stand outside.

“It appears that our esteemed UW emissary has finally arrived.” Willard gestures toward the door. “Do let them in, won’t you, Milton?”

I stand there for a moment, weighing my options. Seething. What choice do I have? Nobody else can die. I won’t let that happen.

I unbolt the door and slide it back. As soon as it’s open, Perch shoves Bishop inside.

“Well now, look who’s back. And look who’s gone all turncoat on us.” Perch stands behind Bishop and holds a gun against the base of his skull. “Drop it, pal.” Perch stares Jamison down.

Jamison falters, glancing at me.

“Wait.” I hold up a hand.

“Listen, you super-freak, I’ve got nothing against this marine or anything—I think we’ve actually bonded.” Perch chuckles. “But I’ll blow his brains out all over if you don’t step back. And I’m not gonna tell you again, Jamison!”

“I would do as he says.” Willard’s smile fades. “He looks angry. You know how unpredictable Perch can be when he loses his temper. I wouldn’t try anything speedy, Milton—unless you truly are faster than a bullet.”

I won’t risk it. Not after Tucker. “Let the sergeant go.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Perch says in disbelief. “He’s the only thing keeping you from going all supersonic on us!”

The man has a point.

“Jamison tosses his gun on the floor, and I don’t kill the marine. Got it?”

There’s fear in Bishop’s eyes. But he isn’t scared of losing his own life. If what the Julia-spirit said was true, he’s scared of losing his family. But those children down in the nursery and the future of the world are at stake here.

I have to get Perch’s remote, no matter what.

“Not counting to three!” Perch roars. “This jarhead’s dead!”

“Drop it,” I tell Jamison. Reluctantly, he tosses his gun onto the carpet.

Willard reaches out his arms with a sigh of relief. Then he chops Jamison in the throat. “Stupid bastard,” Willard spits as Jamison lurches forward, choking, his eyes wide. “You always were the weakest link.”

He seizes hold of Jamison’s head and twists it with a violent crack.

“No!” I lunge forward. Everything around me freezes as I push Willard back against the sofa with one arm and catch Jamison’s limp body in the other.

“Too slow,” Willard says.

I stare at Jamison, unable to believe he’s dead. It happened so fast. But I’m supposed to be faster. The fastest. I should have been able to stop this.

Everything is unraveling. I can’t keep it together.

“Your allies are quickly dwindling, Milton.” Willard smiles. “You really don’t want our UW sergeant to be

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