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"The longer we wait, the longer we risk going off by accident."
"So? Randomness works too."
He wants to hit Blaine but knows if he does they'll probably leave a crater in the field fifty yards wide, so he tells Blaine the only thing he knows for sure will get him to give in,
"They know about us," whispers Lev.
"What?"
"They don't know who it is, but they know there are clappers here—I'm sure they're reviewing the blood tests right now, looking for anything unusual. It won't be long until they find us."
Blaine grits his teeth and curses. He thinks for a moment, then starts shaking his head. "No. No, I'm not ready."
"It doesn't matter if you're ready. You want chaos? Well, it's coming today, whether you want it or not—because if they find us, what do you think they'll do?"
Blaine looks even sicker at the prospect. "They'll detonate us in the forest?"
"Or out in the desert where no one will ever know." .
Blaine considers it for a moment more, then takes a deep shuddering breath. "I'll find Mai at lunch and tell her. We'll go at two o'clock sharp."
"Make it one."
* * *
Lev rummages through his cubby, getting more and more frantic. Those socks have to be here! They have to be—but he can't find them. The detonators aren't crucial, but they're cleaner. Lev wants it to be clean. Clean and quick.
"That's mine."
Lev turns to see the towheaded kid with the emerald-green eyes standing behind him. "That's my cubby. Yours is over there."
Lev looks around and realizes he's off by one bed. There's nothing in the unit to identify one bed, or one cubby, from another.
"If you need socks, I can lend you."
"No, I've got enough of my own, thanks." He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes to get his panic under control, and goes to the right cubby. The sock with the detonators is there. He slips it in his pocket.
"You okay, Lev? You look kinda funny."
"I'm fine. I've just been running, that's all. Running on the treadmill."
"No, you haven't," says the kid. "I was just in the gym."
"Listen, mind your own business, okay? I'm not your buddy, I'm not your friend."
"But we oughta be friends."
"No. You don't know me. I'm not like you, okay, so just leave me alone!"
Then he hears a deeper voice behind him. "That's enough, Lev."
He turns to see a man in a suit. It's not one of the pastors but the counselor who admitted him a week ago. This can't be good.
The counselor nods to the towheaded kid. "Thank you, Sterling." The boy casts his eyes down and hurries out. "We assigned Sterling to keep an eye on you and make sure you're adjusting. We are, to say the least, concerned."
* * *
Lev sits in a room with the counselor, and two pastors. The sock bulges in his pocket. He bounces his knees nervously, then remembers he's not supposed to make any jarring motions, or he might detonate. He forces himself to stop.
