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“You recognize it?”

Perry’s eyes stayed closed, but he shook his head. “No, not really. This is weird. Usually everything feels so chaotic, like the hosts are scrambling, trying to figure out what to do, but this . . . this feels organized. One-fifteen P.M.”

“One-fifteen?” Dew said. “What the h.e.l.l happens at one-fifteen?”

Perry opened his eyes. “They’ve got a timeline. That’s when the gate will open up. And I don’t know why this is so strong. I mean, it’s really strong, and it’s got nothing to with the hatchlings.”

“It’s eleven-fifty right now,” Dew said. “We’ve got less than ninety minutes. Perry, focus on that building. See if you can recognize it, or at least describe it to me.”

Milner’s voice in his earpiece. “Dew, can you talk?”

Perry’s eyes opened—he had the same earpiece, so he also heard Milner’s voice.

“Jesus, Milner, not now!”

“Some of Ogden’s men are coming down the driveway,” Milner said. “Two Hummers. You want to come out?”

“Handle it,” Dew said. “Tell them whatever it is it has to wait.”

“I’ve got it,” Baum said. “Heading out now.”

“Come on, Perry,” Dew said. “Concentrate.”

Perry closed his eyes. His face started to crease. “This is confusing,” he said. “Now I’m getting a bunch of feelings, emotions. Hatred. Anger.”

“Just breathe, kid,” Dew said. “Take your time, just breathe, and figure it out.”

Dustin Climer waved from the pa.s.senger seat as the Humvee slowed to a stop on the Jewells’ icy dirt driveway. His driver eased over to the left side, allowing the Humvee behind to pull up on the right. The burned-out husk of a house sat before them. Off to the left, the two MargoMobiles, side by side and connected. To the right, a big, bare tree with a rope swing.

Five men in his Hummer, four in the other. More than enough to get the job done.

He waved again to the man standing in front of the MargoMobile. Climer hopped out and walked forward. He recognized the mustached face of that CIA puke Claude Baumgartner.

“Afternoon, gents,” Baumgartner said. “What’s up?”

“We came for the hatchlings,” Climer said. “Ogden wants them moved to the camp.”

Baum shook his head. “Uh, I don’t think we can do that right now.”

Climer smiled. “Sure we can, Baumer. It’s just a matter of who calls the shots.”

•  •  •

Perry knew that building. Black. Tall. Glossy. Usually he had to listen very carefully to sense anything in the chatter, but this was different—now he had to block things out, try to ignore the random thoughts ripping through his head. But that could only happen if there were a bunch of hosts, way more than the three he’d sensed in Glidden.

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