Anders sprinted out.
He looked wrong. He was missing his jacket. His shirt was untucked. He was holding a plastic bag in one hand like a weapon. His golden hair was a mess, blown back by the wind. Even from fifty yards away, I could see the terror etched into the sharp lines of his face. He scanned the lot, his blue eyes locking onto me instantly.
He saw my posture. He saw the way I was clutching the car for support. He saw the phone in my hand.
He didn't walk. He ran.
To my right, Daniel burst out of the grocery store. He abandoned a full cart in the middle of the crosswalk, cans of soup rattling as it hit the curb. The gentle giant was gone; he moved with the momentum of a line-backer, his heavy boots pounding the pavement, his face a mask of dark, thunderous fury.
"Simon!" Anders roared as he closed the distance. "What is it?"
"The leak," I choked out, thrusting the phone toward him as he reached the car. "It's the leak, Anders. Someone found the ping."
Anders snatched the phone from my hand. He looked at the screen. I watched the color drain from his face, leaving him grey and deathly pale. I watched the muscle in his jaw jump as he read the hashtags.
"The coordinates," he breathed. "They posted the coordinates."
"Ten minutes ago," I sobbed. "They're already there. The drones. The swarm."
Daniel reached us, breathless, smelling of high-grade panic and spiced chai. He looked over Anders’ shoulder at the screen. He growled, the sound low and dangerous.
"They linked it," I said, tears finally spilling over. "They linked the medical crash to the video. They put them side by side."
Anders looked up. His eyes were no longer human. They were cold, dead things, focused entirely on the threat.
"Get in," he snarled.
He threw the bag of medical supplies through the open window into the passenger seat.
"In the car!" Anders yelled, shoving me toward the back seat. "Move!"
I scrambled inside, Daniel diving in beside me. The scent in the car was suffocating now, a concentrated bomb of Alpha distress.
Anders was in the driver's seat before I had even closed my door. He slammed the car into gear, the engine revving to a scream. The tires shrieked against the wet pavement as he swung the massive SUV out of the parking spot, clipping the edge of the abandoned shopping cart and sending it spinning.
"Check the feeds," Anders ordered, his voice tight, clipping the words. He blew a stop sign, swerving around a confused truck. "How many? Is it confirmable?"
I grabbed my phone back from Daniel, my thumb scrolling frantically.
"Local news is picking it up," I read, my stomach bottoming out. "Streamers are live-streaming their drivetothe location. Anders, there are people on the road."
"Then we drive through them," Anders said.
He accelerated. The speedometer climbed past sixty, then seventy. The trees whipped past the windows, a blur of grey and green.
"Call her," Daniel demanded, leaning forward, his hand gripping Anders’ seat back so hard the leather groaned. "Try the sat-phone again."
I hit the redial.
Ring... Ring...
The sound echoed through the car speakers.
Ring... Ring...
"Pick up," Simon whispered, pressing his forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. "Please, Tessa. Don't look at the screen. Just pick up the phone."
Silence.
