“Nerve. Now give me your phone.”
Adeline handed it to her.
Daniele searched for an app, tapped install, and handed the phone back to Adeline for facial recognition to authorize the update. When it had finished loading, Adeline studied the new app. It was called BuddyLoc, and it showed a single glowing dot four blocks away in Absolom City.
“That’s Hiro,” Adeline whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why are you giving me access?”
“Guess.”
“Because you might not be able to follow him. If… something happens to you.”
“That’s right.”
“But you won’t let me see the photos and video from Constance’s house?”
“Not yet.”
“What’s buried in Death Valley?”
“The past. And the future.”
TWENTY-FIVE
The storm gathered strength as Sam lost his. The rain pelted him, and he drank from it, knowing it could stop at any moment.
Each time he rolled off of his back to resume swimming, it was a little harder. He was a little weaker, his limbs heavier.
Somewhere in the night, the rain stopped, and the storm clouds rolled away. Their departure calmed the sea. The silence that followed was serene. The rocking of the waves and sheer exhaustion conspired to lull Sam to sleep, but he fought to stay awake. He had to swim while he could. His belly was full of water now, and tomorrow the sun would sap his strength and burn his skin even more, until the blisters popped and blood flowed, and the predators came and ripped him to pieces, the sea swallowing him forever.
He refused to let that be his fate. He had to swim.
He had to reach the shore.
There would be a high tide tonight. Sam sensed that it was his best chance of making landfall. He was about to turn over when he heard a splash. He stopped, lay still, and watched a giant beast punch through the surface of the sea. It was bony and textured, with large plates that were almost like metal scales. Its head never cleared the water line to breathe, and there was no blowhole.
It wasn’t a mammal. It hadn’t surfaced to breathe. Had it come for him?
Another scaly spine broke through the water. It was smaller. A child, perhaps.
Sam swallowed and watched, not daring to move his arms or legs. He floated, watching the creatures, wondering if they could smell him or sense him. The sea was their arena. He was virtually powerless here.
To his relief, the dark creatures sank back into the water. Sam waited for his heart to stop hammering, and when it did, he began to swim again, with even more urgency now. He rode the waves and raced the sun and hoped the blisters on his hands and face wouldn’t pop before his fingers dug into the sand. With every last bit of strength he had, Sam swam for the shore.
But as the night wore on and his body slowly gave out, it became clear that his last bit of strength wasn’t enough to carry him to land.
His limbs went slack and he floated on the water, on his back, staring at the judgmental moon that he could almost feel laughing at him. In his mind, he cursed it. He was so angry he would have pulled it down from the sky and crashed it into the Earth as it once had billions of years ago, just to see it all burn. He was that mad at the world.
Not just this one, but the one he had left. And at whoever had framed him and that his wife had died and fate and everything else that had wrecked his life. It wasn’t fair. He was a good man doing the best he could.
He realized another truth then: one of the things extreme exhaustion took from you was emotional control. His mind was like the evening storm: raging and unpredictable.
Anger wasn’t the only thing he felt.
Helpless. That was the other feeling.
Between the two, Sam preferred rage. That was something he could use.
Mentally, he wanted to roll over and swim. But his body wouldn’t respond. His mind was telling his arms and legs to work—to fight, to swim—but they refused to comply. His body had quit. His brain still worked, leaving him feeling locked in, as if he was silently shouting orders that his limbs wouldn’t obey.
He refused to feel sorry for himself. Refused to close his eyes. If this was his fate—to die stranded in time and lost at sea—he would do it with his eyes open, teeth clenched.
But sleep tugged at him, a force as strong as the long waves of the tide moving across the ocean, propelled by gravity, directed by the pull of the moon and the sun.
Sam tried to fight the darkness and sleep, but soon, it came for him, and it was complete.
*
Light woke him. A hot, burning light on his face.
Sound washed over him next. Crash after crash.