He’s an undercover agent for a mainland rebellion group called the Idaho Liberation Front, and he told us he has a communication device hidden on the island that he can use to call for evacuation when he’s ready. His assignment was to gather intelligence on the experiments here.
“Not anytime soon,” he says. “I still have work to do here.”
“What kind of work?”
He pauses. “The ILF wants to get Whitman out of power and restore the states to a democracy. But it’s equally important to rescue people who are being held against their will by the regime.”
I sigh heavily. “Do you ever think about just bouncing?”
That gets me a chuckle. “I did at Rising Tide. But I thought about my parents and sisters every time and stayed. They all died from the virus.”
I turn to focus my full attention on him. “I’m so sorry. How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
I was nineteen when the virus hit; I can’t imagine still being a kid and losing your entire family.
“How did you survive?”
His lips quirk in a sad smile. “One of my dad’s best friends was a doomsday prepper. He took me in. He’s an ILF leader.”
“Wow. So you lost your family and then had to leave all the people you knew back home to come here. That had to be hard.”
“Yeah. I believe in the cause, though. We all have to be willing to do whatever it takes, you know?”
I go over and hug him. He stiffens at first, but then relaxes.
“Your family would be proud of you,” I say. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” His voice is thick with emotion.
I pull back and look up at his lean, freckled face. “Are you ready to learn more than you ever wanted to know about synthesizing chemical compounds?”
He grins. “Science class was always my favorite.”
I smile back at him, glad he volunteered for this job. “Let’s do it.”
Several hours later, Olin and I are walking from the Hub, where we took a lunch break, back to the lab to continue our work. A few people are clustered beneath a tree, and one of them locks his dark gaze onto me.
Marcus is back, and Zara’s beside him. An emotional switch inside me is flipped, waking up my connection with plants. Warm awareness courses through me, the presence solid and reassuring.
I exhale slowly. I don’t need a vine swooping in to strangle Zara, so I need to relax—which isn’t easy when Marcus stalks over to me, his eyes roving up and down my body. I’m wearing a formfitting tank top, canvas pants, and my standard work boots, and I don’t know what he finds so interesting about that.
“I didn’t ask her to come,” he says, his tone clipped and commanding. “She just showed up. Don’t look at me like I did something wrong, because I never laid a hand on her.”
I guess we’re doing this right out in the open, with people watching and listening. If he thinks I’m going to bow my head and apologize, he’s never been more wrong.
“Don’t assume you know what I’m thinking,” I fire back, even though he’s right.
“I know you. You’re jealous, and there’s nothing to be jealous of.”
He’s a sweaty mess, his light-gray T-shirt soaked and his hairline wet. Add several days of dark scruff on his face, and it’s all I can do not to admit how right he is. I miss him so much. He’s two feet away, but it’s still too much. I miss the Marcus who pulled off his T-shirt the moment we walked into our room every night. Who always kissed me good night and asked for my opinions on big decisions.
“Why did you leave?” The question bursts out of me, raw and vulnerable. “We needed you here. You’re the leader, you can’t just take off for several days.”
His eyes soften slightly. “I was doing surveillance.”
“You could have sent Niran.”
