Mapmaker (23 page)

I didn’t even feel the pain. My eyes were greeted by the sweetest sight I’d ever seen: a sixty-three-foot ladder, ending in another grate. And beyond that grate was grey sky. Real sky. I shoved the grate against the dead end.

This must have been where the fresh air was being pumped in through the ventilation system. The sound of machinery hummed from outside. I could smell the cold, feel it against my skin. Wild hope coursed through my exhausted body. I started up the ladder. Connor was right behind me.

Blood from the gash in my forehead dripped into my eyes. I could feel the sting, but it distracted me from the numbness of my fingers as we clawed our way toward those Arctic clouds. Just seven more feet …

“Are you okay?” Connor whispered below me.

“Hand me the laser.”

Once again, I burned away the grate bolts. I didn’t look down; I didn’t want to have a flash of vertigo and take
Connor down with me. The moment the grate was loose, I shoved it out of the way and clambered out into the frozen wilderness. I gave Connor a hand as I scanned the area, panting, my breath coming in icy bursts. An uneven pile of boulders surrounded us on three sides. There was no person in sight; the house was nowhere to be seen, and the only distinguishable sound was the river. The air smelled of damp earth and sweet flowers.

“Can you run?” I gasped at him.

I must have looked as awful as he did because he replied, “Can you?”

“Of course.” I stepped out from behind the boulders—clearly they’d been placed to hide the grate—and spotted the river, the mountains in the background. Between us and the river was a slope of green-and-brown tundra, a patch of pink flowers growing alongside the riverbank. In a flash, I knew exactly where I was and where I needed to go.

Removed from that disorienting prison, I had my gift back. And for the first time in my life, it truly felt like a gift.

“There’s a road one mile four hundred and sixty-five yards from that bend right there. A straight line through the woods, and we’ll hit it. It’s where the tourist bus goes back to Camp Denali. They run every few hours—”

“Stay still.” I felt Connor gently wipe the blood on the side of my face away with his shirtsleeve.

“You go,” I said. “I can’t leave my dad.”

Connor blinked at me, his bruised face twisted in a grimace. “No way. Forget it. I’m not letting you go back inside. You’ll never get out again. You won’t be able to get your dad out. I’m sorry.” He pulled me close to him. “I know you’ll be
able to map that place now, but it’s still too dangerous. We’ll get help. We’ll get your dad out, I promise.”

He took my hands in his, his eyes filled with fear. “We have to run now. We have to leave here or they will find us and kill us.”

I nodded. I felt a familiar pain in my chest. He was right. I had to leave my dad behind now. I had to cling to the hope that we’d come back and rescue him, or that he’d manage his own escape when the time was right. I would cling in the same way I’d clung to the hope that Cleo and Gretchen had escaped with their lives—that they were too wily and too fast on their feet to be incinerated in that explosion. They were at large, like us. And they knew a piece of the truth, too.

In silence, Connor and I bolted across the field to the river.
Don’t look back
, I told myself,
just keep running
. We ran so fast I could barely breathe. Still, I felt the tears streaming down my face.

Nobody chased after us
. Only after the panic subsided, after I’d stopped holding my breath and waiting for a burst of machine-gun fire—only after we’d waded across the frozen river and were limping through the woods—only then did I start wondering why.

And the simple reason occurred to me: they couldn’t.

They would never risk giving themselves or their location away. And there was no need to. Would the authorities believe two battered kids, one who was a fugitive from the law, the other who was supposed to be at college, that there was a secret compound in the middle of Denali National Park? It couldn’t be found. It
wouldn’t
be found, not ever.
Which meant we really would have to figure out a way to get back in.

By the time we reached the deserted road, the sun was beginning to edge to the west. It would barely set this far north, just skirt below the horizon. We sat in the dirt, holding each other. There was nothing left to say. Or maybe we were too tired to say it. Before long, a dark green bus appeared. We waved to it frantically, and it screeched to a stop. The doors opened. “What happened to you?” the bus driver asked. He was a large man with a friendly smile.

“We fell in the river,” I said. “It was stupid. Sorry.”

“Get in,” he said. “We’ll get you checked out back at the camp.”

I could feel all eyes on us as we crept on board and settled into a seat, shivering. A woman behind me tapped me on the back.

“Would you like this?” She held out an army green blanket.

“Thank you,” I said, between chattering teeth. I wrapped the blanket around both of us. Outside the bus window, a flock of geese crossed the sky. The clouds broke a little; where the sun had just been a fuzzy spot of yellow, it poked through with intensity. The wilderness stretched out untouched on either side of us. I felt Connor’s hand in mine.

When we were alone, I would tell him about everything that had happened, Connor would tell me everything that had happened to him. There was one thing I knew: to be safe we had to stay in public spaces. We had to be near people, we could not be alone. Not now, not ever. Not until we held his father accountable.

At the Camp Denali
Hotel Lodge, Connor and I sat on one of the sofas surrounding the large fireplace, waiting for someone to arrive from the infirmary. Even as my clothes began to dry, I felt a coldness in my bones that I thought would never leave me. I watched the flames flicker and burn. I thought of the lies we’d have to tell the nurse or doctor, about the names we’d have to make up. We couldn’t use our real identities anymore. If we were to survive, we were going to have to start from scratch.

“Was your dad the one who brought you to that place?” I whispered.

Connor shook his head. “No.”

“You’re saying Harrison wasn’t involved?”

“This is Rytech, Tanya. His investors. Your dad was so much more brilliant than any of us realized. And by the time my dad figured it out, it was too late.” He opened his mouth as if to add something, then bit his lip, afraid of what he was about to say. “It was you, too, Tanya. He was using my life as a bargaining chip. Telling them to keep me alive in exchange for you. My dad convinced them that you have a ‘gift.’

That’s what they call it, the way you map things in your head, your sense of direction. They want to run tests on you, to see if there’s anything to his claim. And then most likely exploit you, like they have your dad.”

Connor looked into his hands as though searching for the right words. “Tanya, I just want you to know … I’m not my father. I’m not like him at all.”

“I know you’re not.”

“But I have to tell you something. They did something to me in there.”

I turned to him. Trembling, he pulled his hand from mine. Slowly, with shaking fingers, he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. A giant scar covered the left side of his chest, like a slash mark.

“They have my heartbeat.”

At first I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me. Then I recalled the monitors, my father’s new mantra,
“No living creature will ever be lost again.”

“They put their tracking device inside me. It follows everyone by their heartbeat. It’s not safe for me to be here with you. I’m putting you in danger.”

I looked at the people in the hotel, trying to distinguish their faces. Men and woman of all ages, children and teenagers, all mingling happily, drinking hot cider by the fire, warming themselves. Who among them was watching us? Who was following us?

“Not necessarily,” I said, taking off the jacket Cleo had given to me, the jacket that hid body heat from radar surveillance. It was still cold and wet from the river. “Put it on. They can’t track you through this.” I wasn’t sure that was true, but if it convinced him to stay put, it was worth the lie. “Cleo gave it to me and it saved my life.”

He returned my gaze. He knew what I was thinking. They would kill him once they tracked him down, they would silence his heartbeat forever. They would take him off the map. Once again, I glanced around the lobby: at the old couple sitting near us at the fireplace, at the family of four eating dinner in the restaurant, at a single woman sitting alone at the bar.

“They’re probably trying to locate us now,” Connor whispered.

I looked into his eyes, the flames from the fire reflected in them.

“They may be,” I whispered back. “But if it’s inside of you where can we hide?”

Connor looked at me, trying his best to be strong. “They can catch me, but we can’t let them get you. You have to go.”

I felt my hands shake. I knew he was right. I looked around the cabin lobby. It was such a happy, warm, cozy place but to me it felt like a ticking bomb. My eyes moved to the doorways, to the exit sign. Who was coming in? A family with two young children? But who was behind them, they could already be here, watching us.

“I know a place we can go.”

Connor looked up at me. He looked pale, his skin whitish grey. He was clearly sick, ill from his time in the underground cell.

“Where?” he whispered.

“Cleo’s house. It’s completely off the grid. There is nothing that could track the monitor they put inside you there. We’ll be safe for a while at least.”

Cleo would take care of us, I thought. If she was alive. She had to be, I told myself.
Please God, make Cleo be alive
.

From the cabin windows I could see in the distance the park bus coming down the single road. The bus would take us outside the park. After that I wasn’t sure how exactly we would get to Cleo’s but at least we would try.

“Connor.” I reached out my hand to him. His skin felt icy cold. “The bus is coming, it’s our chance.”

“Go without me.”

“No.”

He looked away from me.

An announcement sounded through the hotel lobby: “The last visitor transportation shuttle will be leaving at eight thirty
P.M.
, in front of the North Face Lodge.”

I felt my breath go short with panic. We had to leave; we couldn’t stay, but I knew I wouldn’t leave without him.

“Please, Connor.” Outside the sky was pink and grey. “Please come with me. I need your help. I can’t leave you here.” He stood and shook his head.

“You have to go alone.” He nodded toward the families with duffel bags and young children heading to the door. “Get on the bus with them, and no one will find you.”

I felt the sting of tears. I had already abandoned my father. I had lost Cleo and Gretchen. There was no way I was losing him, too. His eyes shifted nervously around the room, as though he expected someone from RyTech to walk in the door at any moment.

I took his hand and his eyes met mine. I wrote in his palm.

T

R

U

S

T

M

E

Connor stared back at me. “Okay,” he said finally.

The bus was already idling, packed and warm. We were
the last ones on. I wondered if anyone would notice that we were the only people carrying nothing at all. The seats and overhead racks were full of camping gear, knapsacks, and sleeping bags. We slid into an empty row at the back.

I held my breath until we pulled away.

We moved slowly, bumping along the narrow dirt road. The remnants of sunlight were fading, the sky turning charcoal.

Would they be waiting for us at the edge of the National Park when the bus left us near the highway? Or were they already on the bus, following us?

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass window. I felt myself rising up, looking down at the park from the night sky. The six million acres of land hidden in darkness: the animals, the mountains, the lakes, and the people. Everything hidden, except the headlights of our bus, moving along the road.

We are deeply grateful to our smart, funny, and incredible editor, Dan Ehrenhaft, without whom this book would never even exist. We’d also like to thank the whole team at Soho Press, especially Rachel Kowal, Janine Agro, Meredith Barnes, Amara Hoshijo, and most of all, publisher Bronwen Hruska.