Nick doesn’t even have words for that. He’s stunned silent.

“One, man. I fucking…” James searches for words. But how to explain this clusterfuck? “He showed back up, drugged Harper. Gave her way too much…”

We stare at James in silence.

Then Nick attacks. It’s a stupid move because James ducks, grabs his legs, and then body-slams him on the carpet in front of my booth. “Take easy, asshole. She’s fine. I left her with the Admiral while I came looking for you.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick growls and flips James over. They both spring to their feet and circle each other. “Are you stupid?” he screams at James. “Do you have any idea what you just fucking did?”

No one answers and he doesn’t tell us. He just turns and walks to the back room of my dad’s booth.

Chapter Seven

Sasha

Merc’s cabin has a strange bookshelf filled with vintage science fiction, hippy acid-tripping pop culture from the Seventies, and American classics. I have a sudden regret for leaving my Little House book back at the mall. It’s a childish book. One more suited for ten-year-olds instead of me. But it has an innocence and simplicity about it that my life could use a little more of.

I pick a sci-fi novel off the shelf as a new song comes on my earbuds. Merc’s idea. To shelter me from the manly conversation going on across the room. I take a quick glance over my shoulder and catch Nick in mid-swing. His fist crashes against Tet’s jaw and then the whole thing starts all over again.

He’s not taking this well. That’s what Merc said when he gave me the iPod and earbuds. Better stay out of it, kid. And then he walked off.

Nick not taking this well is the understatement of the year. The fights have been numerous and loud. Short, but what they lack in length, they make up for in intensity. We still don’t know why Nick is so pissed. At least, I never heard that explanation since we got here to this cabin just outside of town. Maybe Nick told Merc when they drove together? I rode with James and James didn’t say shit on that drive.

Merc likes Taking Back Sunday and I like this song, so I hum along as I read the back cover of the sci-fi novel.

A thousand years after the apocalypse came to Earth and humans built a dome…

Yeah. No, thank you.

I put it back and sigh. The crashing of furniture makes me glance over my shoulder a second time, and now Merc is prying Nick and Tet apart.

Men. They are so emotional, it drives me crazy.

The next book is called The Abortion.

That one makes me laugh and then I have like an out-of-body vision of myself standing in this room looking through Merc’s bookshelf, laughing at a book called The Abortion, while Tet and Nick try to kill each other.

There is no hope for this girl at all. Like zero chance of hope. I mean, it’s just over. I put that book back and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. This cabin is weird. It’s got three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but one bathroom is the laundry room too. And it has a door that leads out back.

Only a man would have a bathroom with a back door, but right now I’m glad it’s here because I walk right out and into the late-afternoon sunshine. There’s a picnic table down a rolling slope that leads into some woods, so I walk down and cop a squat on the table so I can prop my feet up on the seat and try and makes some sense of things.

One. That was certainly a surprise when he showed up in Huntington Beach. I’m not sure what Tet has in mind for him, and I’m not sure I even want to know. But whatever he does, I don’t think I care too much.

I’m on James’ side no matter what. I just can’t see hitching my wagon to anyone else right now. He’s the best at what he does. And we need the best. I’m sure Merc is a good killer too. And Nick. He’s not dead yet, so he has to have a certain skill level.

But Tet. Now that man is a killer.

A shadow forms in front of me and I look up from my introspection to see Nick walking down the hill. His mouth is moving so I know he’s talking, but I can’t hear anything because Nothing At All is blaring in my ears.

“What?” I say, removing my buds. I really like this song.

“Fucking James is out of his mind.” He takes a seat next to me on the table.

“That’s not James, Nick. That’s Tet. And yeah. I agree.”

“Why the fuck did he do it? Were you there?”

Shit.

I nod. “I was there. One drugged her and the Admiral wanted me dead. James had to produce a dead me and a live Harper. It was as simple as that.”

He just stares at me like I’m a freak. “You’re OK with this? That he gave my sister back?”

I hate his accusatory tone. And then his words from earlier pop into my mind. He has a girl. I’m just a kid. “I’m not OK with it, Nick. I just don’t see much choice. We needed to buy time.”

“So you sold my sister?” He scrubs his hands down his face. “Fuck. Sorry.” He looks over at me and his blond hair falls into his eyes, obscuring his face a little. Making him look sad and dangerous and angry all at the same time. “But fuck, man. I was counting on that file and my sister, and now I got nothing, Sash.” His eyes search mine. “Nothing. I’m right back where I started.” He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Sorry. OK? For getting mad.”

I nod. And I wish I could make him feel better by telling him about the other file, but I can’t. I never did tell Nick. I never did tell anyone after Ford took the file to Merc. He said keep my mouth shut and I did. And now, even though Nick and I are on the same side… I’m not entirely sure that’s true. Who is this girl he wants James to see? He’s on the run. How does he have time to find girls?

So I don’t say anything about the file. “James has a plan, I think.”

“Yeah, to get us all killed.”

I look away and Nick scoots closer to me on the table. “Sorry.”

And then we sit in silence for a little while. Finally he tugs on the earbud draped over my shoulder closest to him. “What’re you listening to?”

I look at the iPod in my hands and offer it up to Nick, but he puts a hand up and declines. “Is that why you came out here? To get away from me and James?” He reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out a smoke.

Sometimes I wish I could smoke. It looks relaxing. It’s something all hunters do and I’m a hunter now. Plus, on the comparison scale, it’s better than drinking. Most hunters don’t do much of that. They are always alert. But Merc drinks a lot. I like that about him. “Nah,” I say as he lights up his cigarette. “I just wanted to be alone.”