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He presses a button, and a small, compass-like gadget like the one Dad used to find the probe ejects from a slot under the flashing light. It blinks on and off, showing a spot maybe a mile away, in the forest.
It can’t be, I think. It’s impossible.
But I snatch up the compass and race out of the room.
The homing signal’s beeps grow louder as I crash through the forest. I run without thought or fear. I carry one of the solar guns now, but I don’t even think about the possibility of danger as I dodge tree limbs and jump over exposed roots. I run past the burnt-out area that holds the remains of the Godspeed shuttle, past the little grove where Chris kissed me. I don’t care how lost I get, if I ever find my way back.
I have to know what’s on the other end of this homing signal.
As I run, the tree branches whip around me, scratching my arms and face, snagging my clothes. My heart thuds in my ears, in perfect time to the beeping homing signal from the compass in my hands. For the first time, I’m grateful to be a hybrid because it is my hybrid muscles that make me run faster than I ever could before.
I’m closer.
Closer.
I slow down, turning on the spot, trying to figure out where the signal is pointing me. I sniff the air, my eyes focusing on every detail. I push through more branches. I can hear rustling and movement as small animals and birds skitter out of my way.
And then I see it.
The escape rocket.
It clearly crashed, taking out half a tree with it. A jagged scar in the earth shows where the escape rocket skidded to a halt against the ground. It long ago quit smoldering, but I can smell smoke clinging to the burnt-out trees that must have been engulfed by the flames shooting out of the thruster at the back of the escape rocket.
The front of the escape rocket is crumpled like paper, the pointed nose flat, sharp edges of metal exposed. The cockpit is encased with glass, but dirt and debris cover it so completely that I cannot see inside.
I drop the compass onto the ground.
I shut my eyes.
I try not to think that I’m about to find Elder’s dead body.
I climb over the broken wing of the escape rocket, grappling to find something to hold onto as I make my way to the cockpit. I slip, slicing my arm on exposed metal, blood making my hand slick.
When I reach the cockpit, I wipe it with my hands, smearing my blood with the grime on the glass. I strain my hybrid eyes, begging them to see what lies inside.
Nothing.
No Elder—no one at all.
The cockpit is empty.
“Amy?” a voice says from the forest. I whirl around so fast that I lose my tentative hold on the edge of the escape rocket, crashing down and landing with a metallic thud on the wing. I scramble up, looking frantically in the direction where I heard the voice.
A person emerges from the trees.
Tall, with dark brown skin and dark hair and dark, slightly almond eyes. High cheekbones and full lips.
And even though my body is screaming at me that this isn’t possible, my heart is singing one name:
Elder.
I stand slowly. And then he’s running toward me, and I’m running toward him, and we don’t stop, we crash into each other, and I’m laughing and crying, and he’s dirty and limping; there’s dried blood on his head and one arm hangs funny, and he cries out as I touch it.
My hands shake as I raise them to frame his face.
It is him. It is. It is.
“As soon as Godspeed hit the space station, the escape rocket lost its connection,” Elder says as soon as I relinquish his mouth so he can talk rather than kiss me. “It locked onto the homing signal in the compound instead and headed straight to it. I got caught in the blast, though, and knocked off course. ”
