The center of the warehouse was a hodgepodge of tables and chairs, not in any order. A few minutes before, six soldiers had entered the warehouse with two metal carts, each stacked with military MREs—Meals, Ready-to-Eat—and dense cookies, like power bars.

A steel catwalk ran along the walls, high up, like in the other warehouse, but no guards were on it. There were only four doors. Two were up at the level of the catwalk, a third was connected to the testing offices, and on the far side of the warehouse was a twenty-foot-tall opening with a retractable metal covering. It was open, but no one was going out there—it seemed to be a long path, like a chain-link tunnel, with walls and roof.

Matt approached Aubrey and Jack’s table. “Can I sit here?”

Aubrey nodded. “Sure.”

Matt inspected his packet—bold black letters declared it to be spaghetti—and then he tore the top open.

“Have you heard what they said about this place?” he said, looking unenthusiastically inside the pouch.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“All the kids in Utah are here,” Matt said. “Everyone.”

“That’s impossible,” Aubrey said. There were way too many teenagers in the state to fit into one . . . what was it? A prison? A camp?

Matt shrugged. “That’s what they said. And some kids from Nevada and Idaho, too.”

“That’s what who said?” Jack asked, after swallowing a bite of food.

“The others,” Matt said. “The guys in line.” He was ignoring his food now, staring outside. “There’s a kid named Sibley. He’s been here for three days.”

Jack tore open his cookie. It was thick like a brownie, and a shower of crumbs fell on the table as he cracked it in half. “Three days makes him an expert?”

Matt didn’t answer.

Aubrey looked down at her food and poked at it with her plastic fork. She wondered what her dad would eat without her around to cook for him. That world—her life—seemed far away.

“I’m one of them,” Matt said, still staring.

Aubrey speared a noodle and pulled it out of the pouch. “One of what?”

“Like Nate,” he said. “And Sibley.”

Jack’s head sprang up. Aubrey felt her heart beat faster but tried not to show it.

Matt’s eyes met Aubrey’s and then Jack’s. “We don’t have to pretend like that stuff with Nate didn’t happen. We can talk about it. We should talk about it.”

Aubrey took a deep breath and choked on a noodle. She coughed until the scratch went away. There was a third besides her and Nate? A third and a fourth?

“You know how I’m on the varsity basketball team?” Matt continued. “Even though I’ve never been any good?”

Aubrey nodded, holding her breath. Basketball season was months away, but the paper had already written about Matt being a potential all-American in both football and basketball. And not just the Sanpete Messenger, but the state papers. There was even talk about Matt getting featured on ESPN.

“I can’t miss a shot,” Matt said, finally turning his head to look at them.

Jack snorted, obviously annoyed. Aubrey knew they used to play together. “That’s good basketball. It’s not . . . whatever Nate was.”

Matt’s face reddened. He spoke slower and more clearly. “No. I mean I can’t miss a shot. I can’t blow a pass, even if the receiver stinks. I sometimes miss on purpose during games so that people don’t find out about me.”

“Right,” Jack said sarcastically. “I miss shots on purpose, too. That’s why I didn’t make the team.”

“I’m serious,” Matt said, getting frustrated. He looked around, searching for something, and finally grabbed his heavy cookie. “Point to something.”

Jack laughed, and pointed at a garbage can halfway across the warehouse.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Too easy.”

“Really?” Jack scoffed. “Then try the can by the wall—the red plastic one.”

Matt turned to Aubrey. “I’m serious. I can’t miss a shot.”

She smiled uncertainly, and then gestured to a far cot. “Do you see the boy with the shaved head? See his baseball cap next to him?”

Matt grinned, and then turned and, without any preparation, threw the cookie. It spun through the air, crossing over a dozen tables, and landed squarely in the sleeping boy’s hat.

Matt turned back to Aubrey. “Can I have yours?” Amazed, she handed him her cookie.

Without looking, he threw it behind him, over his shoulder, and then turned to watch as it wobbled through the air. It looked like it was going to fall short and to the left, but to Aubrey’s amazement the cookie plunked down into the same baseball cap.

A few people, who hadn’t been paying attention fully, clapped when they saw what he’d done.

“I can’t miss a shot,” Matt said again.

Jack lowered his voice, suddenly serious. “Why are you doing this in here? They’ll find you.”

Matt picked up his pouch again and looked inside. “They already swabbed my mouth. It’s too late.”

Aubrey glanced at Jack. Their eyes met for a moment and then she turned to Matt. “How do you know that’s what the test was about?”

“The guys who’ve been here longer,” Matt said. “They told me that’s what happens.” He set his pouch down on the table and stood. “Come on. I’ll take you to meet Sibley and the others.”

FIFTEEN

LAURA KNELT IN THE DRY mountain grass. She carefully rolled her tent into a neat package, and then slipped it into its green nylon bag.

She hadn’t slept much. She was amazed that Dan had been able to sleep through the forest ranger’s cries, but he’d always had the worst reactions to using his powers. He’d probably be tired for days.

Gina Brown had known more than she’d let on, just as Alec had expected. Yes, she was just a forest ranger in an obscure part of central Utah, but she’d been monitoring her radio, and even the forest service was being conscripted into service.

“You need to hurry,” Alec called out to Dan, who was still moving sluggishly around the campsite. “They could be here any minute.”

One of the most important bits of information Brown had was that this roundup of all the teenagers was somewhat localized—a huge number of soldiers had moved into the West earlier in the week. With Brown’s disappearance, and the collapsed Eagle Canyon bridge only forty miles away, it was almost certain that troops would be on the mountain soon, if they weren’t there already.

Worse, Brown told of an enormous army base that had sprung up in the desert west of Salt Lake City. Laura had assumed the three of them were in the middle of nowhere—a thousand miles from any of the real action—but now it sounded like they were only a few hundred miles from one of the largest military centers in the United States.

She glanced over at Brown, who lay awkwardly on her back, staring at the sky. She was quiet now, her mind having been ravaged. Alec hadn’t held back, fully aware of the consequences. So many memories had been inserted during the night, most of them conflicting. Some were horrifically violent and others were reassuring her with warmth and trust. Laura didn’t know if Alec had ever done this before, but the results were appalling. Gina’s cries—cries of intense pain but also of joyful rescue—had gone on for hours until her mind just couldn’t take any more.