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Better than before the raid, even.
Curiously, however, no one’s around. “This is a live feed, too?” I ask Orson.
“Yep.”
I hunt around looking for signs of life, but find none.How peculiar. Mysteries stack on top of mysteries.
Scrolling, I find my old home. Before nostalgia kicks in, with its inevitable assault of emotions and tears, my eyes lock onto something in the road. I zoom in as close as I can, but even top secret spy satellites have their limits, apparently.
The object shifts and then I realize I’m looking at a person. But they’re dressed funny. Completely covered in dark clothing, a hood drawn over their head, I wonder who they could possibly be hiding from.You’re the only person around for miles. Why are you dressed like that?
“Do you know that person?” Orson asks.
“No,” I respond curtly, wishing I was doing this alone.
“Where is this, Asha?”
He sounds more curious than concerned, but I ignore his follow-up question while scrutinizing the hooded figure. A lone person… a man, I’d guess, from his shape. Rebuilding our town.
It's weird.
A glitch in the feed sends horizontal bars of distortion across the screen and when they resolve, the figure is gone. I search the surrounding area, but he’s disappeared.
“Asha.”
I snap my attention to Orson. “It’s nothing.”
Suddenly, the door opens in the adjoining suite.The twins are coming back. Fumbling with the trackpad, I attempt to close the feed. “Dammit, how do you close this fucking thing?” I angrily tap at the trackpad until Orson steps in and closes the window for me, but not without a curious glance my way.
It’s just in time, as the twins step through the door between rooms. “You’re up,” says Max, and it’s clear from his inflection that he felt a small jolt of panic when he saw the bed empty.
“Did you sleep well?” Braxton asks, touched by the same concern as his brother.
“I’m fine, guys,” I reassure them.
Their worry gives way to wariness as both brothers eye Orson with suspicion. Casually, I edge my chair away from him, as though proving nothing untoward took place.
“Get ready,” says Max.
“Where are we going?” I inquire.
“Raven Pack.”
Watching them from thousands of miles above the Earth was one thing. Venturing into the lion’s den is another. But it’s not quite fear I’m feeling. Not of them, anyway. I feel a sort of queasy excitement, every nerve enlivened and raw.
“Will we be killing the perpetrators, or is this a stealth extraction of my pack members?”
“We’re not executioners,” says Max, “we’re Enforcers.”
Sure,you’renot, but when I get out there, can I be certain I’ll act with the same restraint?
TWELVE
Asha
It’s another three hours’drive until we finally approach our destination. The terrain breaks, mountains rise from the desert waste, their slopes robed in green pines. The road slithers up the grade. The sleepy miles of empty, tan expanse give way to vigilance. Yet everyone watches the trees, expecting something to leap out from behind them.
“What’s the plan exactly here?” I ask, breaking the silence.
