She walks over and grabs my hand, sitting down next to me. She shakes her head. "I'm sorry I don't have more information."

"Me too," I say. I squeeze her hand, wanting never to let go, wanting this place to feel like my place.

Miesha walks toward the garden entrance. "Think I'll go back and see if I can help Allys with--"

"Jenna! Locke! Someone!"

It's Allys, and we hear the panic in her scream. We jump to our feet and run.

We're there in seconds. It feels like my feet never touched the ground. We stop when we see Allys. She's at the bottom of the back porch steps and we follow the line of her stare down the long driveway. At the end is a small ragged figure.

"Oh, my God," Jenna whispers. And she runs again.

Chapter 63

Kara.

Kara looking weak.

Kara with blood running down her legs and dirty mats in her once-beautiful silky hair.

Kara shoeless and limping.

Kara, not looking at all like she did last night.

Did I imagine it?

I am right behind Jenna, running down the driveway, gravel spraying out behind us. Jenna stops a few feet from her, and I stop right behind Jenna.

"Kara?" Jenna whispers.

I can't breathe. I can't even move my feet. At the estate I prayed this day would never come. The air between us feels like glass that's ready to shatter, like one wrong step and we'll all be thrown back to the world that spun us out of control so long ago.

But then the air changes. It doesn't shatter or spin. It reaches out like it has fingers. It holds on to us. I watch an energy grow between the two of them--the connection the two of them had that I was never a part of. I watch the tears forming in Kara's eyes and the ones streaming down Jenna's face. I watch as Kara hobbles forward and Jenna races to embrace her. "Kara. My God. I can't believe it's you."

And then the soft whimpering of Kara. "Jenna."

They hold each other like they will never let go, and I stand there, stunned, wondering if I've been wrong all along, or if I'm lapsing into a dream where I'm imagining the world the way I want it to be. The anger that has simmered in Kara ever since we woke is gone. Were her threats only that--the empty rants of a trapped, angry girl? Has freedom changed her? Jenna said it would all work out. I wanted reality to flip. Has it?

"Help me, Locke," Jenna says. "Help me carry her to the house."

I step forward and scoop Kara into my arms. She falls limply against my chest, like she has been running for the past week instead of being here all along.

Chapter 64

The house becomes a beehive of activity, with Jenna and Allys issuing orders like they have done this a hundred times before, and then I realize they probably have. For years they've been helping people the Network has sent to them, but this time it is someone Jenna knows.

Jenna orders me to take Kara to the room next to mine and lay her on the bed and tells Miesha to bring her some towels from the closet at the end of the hall. When Kayla and Dot emerge from Kayla's room, she tells them to go out to the garden to pick some lemon balm and to leave it in the kitchen. Allys is in the bathroom gathering supplies and tells me to fill a bucket with some warm water. When I return with the water, Jenna is sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the wounds on Kara's legs, and Allys is laying out supplies on the bedside table. I watch as they work, removing Kara's clothes, washing away dirt and applying medicines.

"I'm all right," Kara whispers. "Just tired. I just need to rest. I've walked so far."

Walked so far? What game is she playing? I lean back against the bedroom wall trying to go through the events of last night. It wasn't a dream. Was it?

Kara looks across the room at me and says weakly, "Locke, I'm so sorry I didn't go to the cab like you told me. I couldn't find it. I was just so frantic. They were so close behind me."

"I know, but--"

"You understand, don't you? Please don't be angry with me."

I stare at her, trying to match the words with the person lying on the bed. Trying to match the tone of her voice with Kara. Trying to understand who I'm looking at.

Jenna wipes Kara's brow. "Locke," she says, clearly concerned that the delay of my reply to Kara might worsen her condition.

I nod. "I understand."

Kara grimaces as she tries to pull herself up, wincing like every bone in her body is cracked. Did Gatsbro adjust her sensitivity levels too, or is this all for show? But she does have injuries. I look at the blood and gashes on her legs. They are real. Where did they come from?

She tells us that when she escaped, she got on a train to Chicago and then took another to Los Angeles. But in Los Angeles someone questioned her about her ID--they said it was stolen--and she had to run. "I've been eating out of trash cans. But that wasn't the worst of it. I was so worried about Locke and whether he made it here."

I made it all right. Days ago. So did you. But the thoughts are all my own. She isn't even trying to get inside my head. She does look weak. Could I have lapsed and missed a few days? I look at the bottom of her feet, her delicate pink toes now blistered. How?

When Jenna turns away to grab a fresh towel and Allys bends over to squeeze out a cloth in the bucket, Kara looks at me through clear, bright eyes. Eyes that don't look tired at all.

"Miesha," Jenna calls over her shoulder, "could you see if they're back with the lemon balm and bring it here, but tell them to stay out for now."