When I wake up I'm lying on a cold metal floor. There's a sick, bloody taste in the back of my mouth and my skull aches sharply where one of the wardens hit me. I lie there, unable to move, letting the horrible shock of reality sink in. They found me. They came for me and they found me and now they're taking me back to Ingleman. This is it. This is how it ends.
For a moment I feel terribly, awfully sick. What's going to happen to me now? Back to the labs? Or to a quiet, tiled room somewhere for a long interrogation? The thought makes my insides turn to water. I can't face it. And Laura as well. What about her? It's my fault she's involved in all of this. The thought of her being hurt, maybe even killed . . . she's such an innocent in all of this. Oh, hell.
The floor on which I lie is shuddering. Clearly, I'm in the back of some kind of moving vehicle. My hands are tied behind my back and I'm lying painfully on my front. I swing my legs and push up off the floor and eventually, with a fair amount of pain and struggle manage to bring myself to a sitting position. By the time I'm there I'm exhausted, and the throbbing in my skull is worse than ever.
"Hello?" I call, tentatively at first, and then when that gets no response I try louder, hearing plainly the desperation in my voice. "Anyone? Laura? Please. . ."
"Lynch?" My heart soars at the sound of Laura's voice. "Is that you? What's happening?" She sounds like she's crying, and it's a massive effort for me to keep my own voice steady in response.
"They found us," I say. "They're taking us . . . somewhere. I don't know. But listen, Laura. It's me they want. You'll be okay. Just tell them what they want to hear, you understand? Just give them what they want and you'll be okay." I know it's a lie, and a weak one at that, but it's all I can think of right now.
"Lynch, I don't understand--" But before Laura can finish speaking the van or truck or whatever we're in rolls to a stop, and a sudden influx of bright light shines through the sack over my head.
"All right," shouts a rough voice. "Get them out and get them in the chopper, quick now."
Hands seize me and lift me to my feet, and I'm walked roughly out of the vehicle into the cool night air. I can only assume Laura is somewhere behind me. The noise out here is deafening. Sure enough I can hear and feel the whirling rotors of a helicopter, and there's shouting and the noise of engines all around. After a short walk across the concrete my two minders grab me by the arms, lift me bodily and throw me onto another metal floor. From the sound of the rotors I'm sure I must be inside the helicopter now. A second later, and another body lands beside me. A pained yelp tells me that it's Laura. At least we're still together.
Within seconds I feel a sharp lurch in my stomach, and I know that we must be rising into the air. A hand seizes my collar and drags me onto my knees. The hood is ripped away. For a long moment the harsh light of the helicopter cabin dazzles me, and I can't see a thing. But I don't need to see to know who's holding me. I only need to hear the sound of his voice, calm and cruel.
"Lynch," says Ingleman. "I knew that you'd be back."
