A/N: Hey guys! I know I've been absent for like six months; I'm starting to research and write my thesis, and it kind of sucks all of the motivation to write for fun right out of me. There may be another gap after I post this chapter, but rest assured that, no matter how long I disappear, I will return! I promised myself I would finish this story, no matter what. (I mean, I've already done the hard part. I know how it will end!) I will come back from my grave and haunt my laptop if I need to. So, thanks for sticking with me this far. I'm glad so many of you enjoy this story enough to bother me into writing again.

It was stupid plan: half-baked, with no way of knowing how wrong their assumptions could be. But one of the cars they had been tailing had pulled into a gas station, and it was now or never.

Unsurprisingly, the driver and passenger, a man and woman who weighed maybe two hundred pounds between them, parked behind the station to go inside. Nick parked his car right next to theirs.

James was watching the back door into the store and biting his bottom lip. "We should go before they realize we're here."

Nick shook his head, checking out the vehicle next to them with a practiced eye. "It's locked." He glanced in the rear view mirror to watch the couple traipsing through the snack aisle. "And everyone we've seen so far has had a radio. We can't risk them telling the others we're on to them."

"So what's the plan?"

Ah, yeah. A plan.

Nick looked around the lot again. They had parked facing away from the store, toward a new development where nothing more than the foundation was finished. "We could dump the bodies in there," he said, nodding toward the pit.

James rolled his eyes. "No, really."

Nick grinned, cocking his head to the side. "See the car on the other side? It's unlocked. You sit in the passenger seat, and when they come out we knock them out with the car doors."

James gave him a look. "That's not going to work."

Nick shrugged. "It's worked for me before."

James narrowed his eyes, trying to find a hint of sarcasm. Not finding any, he sighed, looking back at the store again. "Here I go." Then, turning back to Nick, "If I get stabbed—"

"I'll dump your body in the pit." Nick gave him a meaningful look. "Don't get stabbed."

James nodded, then without another word crept out of the car and snuck into the truck parked to the left of the target vehicle. Just in time, too. The store door opened and the couple came out, each holding a brown paper bag. It didn't look like anything heavy; probably just food. But Nick decided he would keep the man from getting into it either way, just in case.

The couple approached their car without a hint of suspicion. Which was almost suspicious, but Nick didn't have time to think about it before slamming his door into the man's back. The guy stumbled and reached out to brace himself on his hood.

"Jerry?" The woman screeched. Then James thrust his car door open, too, blindsiding the woman and knocking her into her car. Her head bounced off the door frame and she collapsed to the ground. James looked down at her, then across the hood at Nick, with a stricken look on his face.

"She's fine," Nick grunted, trying and failing to get the man into a pin. "I could use a hand."

James nodded, then reached into the paper bag and pulled out a length of rope, grimacing at the implication. "I didn't think they sold that stuff here."

The man threw himself back, crushing Nick against the car behind him. "James!" he wheezed.

To his credit, James was fast. He jumped over the hood of the car and punched the guy in the face with his momentum. The guy went limp in Nick's arms. Nick yanked the rope from James and got to work tying his arms behind his back.

"Oh gosh." James shook out his fist, watching the man blink slowly. "Oh gosh oh gosh what have I done?"

Nick rose, resisting the urge to wince when it tweaked his leg the wrong way. "He's just dazed." He jut his chin out in the direction of the woman. "Bring her over here."

They checked the man and woman for weapons, but all they found was pepper spray. James was worried they had just assaulted an innocent couple, until they found the car keys and opened the trunk to find a bunch of bloody towels.

James looked like he was going to be sick, so Nick shut the trunk again quickly. "I thought you wanted to be a doctor?"

"It's not the—it's the smell. It's so strong."

Nick glanced over at the man and woman, who both looked like they were coming back to their senses. "We need to get them out of the way."

They restrained the couple inside their old car and confiscated their cell phones. James insisted they roll down the windows so they didn't die in the parking lot (Nick didn't care too much either way.)

Then they were pulling back onto the interstate, hoping they hadn't put too much distance between themselves and the trucks they were supposed to be following. It was about midday, so traffic was beginning to thicken. James kept them at a pace slightly faster than speed limit but not enough to be pulled over by the police.

Nick looked through the glove compartment, (empty except for registration and proof of insurance), underneath the seat (empty), and into the back seat (just luggage; only clothes and a few toiletries.) The cell phones were locked, not that they expected them to store much information on a burner phone anyway.

About an hour later, James pointed ahead toward an entry ramp onto the interstate. "Look familiar?"

Nick squinted, and when the car pulled in he could clearly see the broken taillight he knew Max had kicked out earlier. He sucked in a breath. "Yep, that's definitely one of them."

James started to pull back, but Nick held up a hand to stop him. "No, it would be suspicious now. They recognize this car, so as long as we stay back far enough they can't see inside, we should be okay."

Something in the back seat buzzed.

Nick's eyes went wide, and they listened as the cell phone began to ring an obnoxiously generic tune. He jumped into action, reaching into the pockets of the car looking for it.

"What, are you going to answer it?" James asked.

"If I don't they're going to know something's wrong." Nick slammed the glove compartment shut. "Where did you put it?"

"Me? You're the one in charge of it. I'm driving."

The ringtone stopped, and they both held their breath. James tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Then it started ringing again. Nick unbuckled himself so he could climb to the backseat. He caught the glimpse of metal from the floor, and twisted to reach it.

"Ha!" Just before it stopped ringing, Nick opened the ancient flip-phone to answer.

The volume was turned up all the way, so they could both hear the speaker. Nick dropped it in the cupholder. "Calico. You failed to check in after the stop. Repeat your code word to confirm completion."

There was silence, and Nick and James took the opportunity to silently fight over who had to answer.

"Respond with code word or we will contact our leader."

Nick looked at James. James angrily gestured to the road and the steering wheel in his hands. Nick clenched his fingers into a half-fist and started looking through the papers in the glove compartment for a clue.

"Contacting Moth—"

"Sorry," James cut in. Nick snapped the glove compartment shut with a little too much force, shooting an incredulous look at James.

"What?"

James hand-mimed for Nick to cut in, but Nick drew a finger across his mouth. He forced the phone into James' hand and continued searching the car.

James sighed. "It's me." He got distracted watching Nick pause at the cupholder. The other boy started running his fingers along the seams. James squint his eyes in confusion at Nick, who looked up and pointed back at the phone.

"Sorry, I forgot the codeword," James mumbled. He didn't realize what he'd said before the words came out.

Nick cringed.

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. "We've been over this, Jerry."

James gaped, half because holy snap that worked and half because Nick was ripping the cupholder casing out of the car. It made a sound loud enough he was sure the people on the other side of the line could hear it.

"Is that Mary with you?"

James cleared his throat and blinked. "Yeah, that's Mary."

'Mary' pulled a roll of papers out of the space beneath the cupholders.

"Why don't you ask Mary what the codeword is."

Nick was rifling through the papers crazily. James caught glimpses of what looked like maps, notebooks full of names and pictures. His stomach lurched at the possibilities.

"Hey, Mary?"

Nick held up a finger, holding him off. He was flipping through a notebook; each page had several columns of hand-jotted ink.

"He—She's busy," James muttered into the phone.

The voice on the other end laughed. "That sounds about right."

James laughed half-heartedly, definitely panicked. Nick landed on a page he seemed to like, then nodded at James.

"What's the code word?" James asked again.

"Canvas," Nick answered. He tried to pitch his voice a little higher in case the phone could hear.

"You get that?"

"Yeah. Hey, you okay?"

James' attention was pulled back to the road when a semi pulled in front of him, obstructing his view of the car they were following. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You just sound a little different."

James pressed his lips together. When he released, it was with, "It's the air. All the air conditioning, you know? Dries out my throat." For added measure, he coughed a bit. It was weak, but the huff of laughter on the other end of the phone told him the speaker bought it.

"See you in Dallas."

James blinked hard, giving Nick a quick look to make sure he heard. Nick nodded, running his finger down the notebook page again.

"Uh, see you in Dallas."

But before James could snap the phone shut, Nick whispered, "Cousin!"

". . . cousin," James trailed, shooting Nick a questioning look.

"Cousin." And the phone clicked off.

James dropped the phone back into the replaced cupholder. "What was that?"

"The code." Nick held up the notebook. "I think there's a column for every car. They said Calico when they called, so if you follow here and here," he ran his finger from the left and down the top until they met. "Canvas."

James gave a low whistle. "You figured all of that out that quickly?"

Nick's eyes darted out his passenger windshield. "The Shades used to use something similar."

James' grip tightened a fraction at the reminder of Nick's past. "Oh." He looked back out the windshield, not sure what else to say.

"It's how I knew about the cupholders, too. Classic hiding place."

James hummed noncommittedly. There was shuffling as Nick started rifling through the pages he had found again. "I don't believe this," he muttered.

"I don't know, it seemed pretty believable when they were shooting at us."

"No, look." James risked looking away from the windshield to the map that Nick held up. It was a map of the US, with several major highways and cities circled and highlighted with different colored markers. "Where was the first bombing, again?"

"You mean the schools?" James drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Idaho, I think? Up north."

Nick hummed. "Then DC?"

"Yeah. What are you getting at?"

"The map." Nick flicked it up again, at an angle James could see. "It's the same as the bombings."

There was marker circling cities in similar areas James remembered the bombings being. Otherwise, the map was blank: no roads highlighted or anything. "Oh." He was stunned.

Nick breathed out, pulling the map back to study it some more. "Aunt Bess said They are trying to recruit people. Maybe They're keeping track of the bombings so they can figure out who's behind them and take them out."

James cocked an eyebrow. "You don't really believe that."

Nick seemed to hold his breath. He scanned the map again, searching for what, James didn't know. After a long moment, Nick exhaled with a soft, "No." He looked up, face grave. "The guy on the phone said we're headed to Dallas?"

A chill went down James' spine. "Yeah."

"It's circled."

I wake up with ringing in my ears and my throat on fire. Nathan's head is in my lap, his fingers wound tightly around the handle of my knife. His breathing is slow and deep enough I assume he's asleep. I manage a half smile and run my fingers through his hair. "Wakey, wakey."

I cringe. My voice sounds like I've been gargling sand. Still, it's enough to cause Nathan to slide his eyes open. "Max?"

"Hey."

He sits up and leans against the wall next to me. I hear him yawn. His free hand slides across the floor until it reaches mine, and he squeezes like his life depends on it. It stings the splits in my knuckles and across the back of my hands.

I squeeze back. "We're going to be okay."

He lets out a long, loud breath. His hand is starting to shake. Then changes the subject. "Do your wings hurt?"

The question catches me off guard. I need to catalogue my injuries, but I don't exactly want to clue in Nathan to how desperate our situation is. I settle for a half-truth, shifting and wincing when it jostles my wings. "Yeah, they feel like somebody took a match to them."

He sucks in a breath.

"But the rest of me feels okay." The words rush out.

I can feel Nathan giving me a skeptical look. But then my brain catches up with my words, and I realize it's true. "I mean, I don't feel great, but I feel a little better." I wipe across my face, feeling the sticky parts where the blood has dried. "I can feel the cuts, and they sting, but I think I can stand now."

I didn't think it was possible, but Nathan's grip tightens further. "That doesn't make any sense."

I shrug, because frankly I agree. "Maybe it's a birdkid thing. A survival instinct." Or I'm finally healing again.

We lapse back into a comfortable silence, except for the occasional bout of my lungs trying to evacuate up my esophagus. After the adrenaline leaves Nathan's system, he crashes, head lolling against my shoulder. I focus on formulating a plan.

From what I saw while being dragged in here, we're in a moving truck. The door opens vertically, but there's a padlock keeping it shut on the outside. The door and the wall are solid aluminum and wood, so chances of busting through them are slim. We'll have to wait for somebody to open the door.

While I'm scanning our surroundings for more possible weapons, I begin to feel the van decelerating. Nathan's head slides off my shoulder when we make a turn, and I catch him just before he hits the floor.

"Are we stopping?"

I go stiff. We have less time than I thought. "Knife."

He dutifully passes the knife to me. The now-familiar weight of it in my palm is comforting. I press my ear to the side of the truck. From the corner of my eye, I can see Nathan do the same.

The sound of cars passing has slowed down significantly, and the road sound has changed pitch. We are definitely slowing down.

"Get behind me," I order. I angle my body diagonally to the wall and he squeezes between us. But it puts pressure on my wings, and I hiss.

"Sorry! Sorry!"

I grit my teeth. "It's—" I swallow back the urge to cough again "—fine." Nathan scoots back out, and I realize I'm not going to be a great meat shield in my condition. I glance toward the back of the truck again. "Change of plans, I need you to go take cover behind the boxes."

"What?"

"Hide behind—"

"No."

"No?"

"I want to help." Nathan scoots around to where he's sitting next to me, facing the door head-on.

"Nathan," I breathe. I want to pinch the bridge of my nose, but at this point I'm afraid I'll just cause myself more pain. "You've already helped. But look, I can't protect you if you're out here. I'm not in good enough condition."

"Exactly! That's why I should be here. You need help."

"No, I need you to stay safe."

"Max, that's not fair—"

"We have literally been kidnapped, and we are trapped in the back of a moving truck, and you still believe life is fair?" I snap.

Nathan's eyes go wide and he takes a step back.

"No, that's not what I—" Nathan nods mutely, taking a robot step around the box he had busted out of earlier. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. But I need you to stay safe, okay? You're my—" I trip over the word 'family,' remembering he's not Gazzy. "My responsibility. I promised to keep you safe, and I'm trying. But I need you to meet me halfway."

There was no reply, just shuffling. I sigh. "Nathan?" He's still quiet, so I take a step toward the back.

The truck stops. Nathan gasps, catches himself on one of the boxes.

I stick a hand out to stabilize myself against the wall. Out of time. "Stay hidden. If I tell you to run, you run. Got it?" When he doesn't reply, I raise my voice again. "Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good." I spread out my stance, rolling my shoulders back and my weight into the balls of my feet. My grip around the knife tightens a fraction.

I can't make out any sounds from outside, only mine and Nathan's harsh breaths in the stale air. So when the lock outside the door clacks against the metal door, I barely keep myself from jumping. "It's going to be okay," I repeat. But I don't know if it's for Nathan's sake or my own.

It feels like it takes minutes for the padlock outside to click off, but I know it must have only been seconds. I take a deep breath as the truck rocks, someone jumping on the back of the truck to lift the door open.

I watch in slow motion. The first sliver of light that seeps in is silver and almost dim. I estimate it to be midmorning. Whoever is opening the doors is wearing worn sneakers, and judging from the size the guy isn't too big. Not like the ones who got me in here earlier. I can take him. I adjust my stance, deciding to ram the guy before he even realizes what hit him.

"Max?" comes a harsh whisper. But it's not from behind me. "Nathan?"

The door is lifted high enough I can see a familiar faded black T-shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. "Nick."

He starts to smile, I can see his lips starting to form my name, then he grimaces. "Oh my gosh."

I take a chance and lean against the wall, my determination to escape leaving with my ability to stand straight. "Nathan, come on," I whisper-shout toward the back.

The kid peeks over the box, then careens down the length of the truck to hop out. Nick puts out a hand to stop him from jumping out just yet. "Hold the door and keep watch for me, would you?"

Nathan nods, propping the door on one shoulder. Nick has to duck under the door to get to me.

I push myself off the wall under his scrutinizing gaze. "It looks worse than it is."

"Is it?" he asks with an undertone of accusation.

My brow furrows. "Yeah. I mean, it hurts but I'm on the mend already."

Nick scoffs, stepping closer to inspect the blood running down the left side of my face.

I am suddenly very aware of his close proximity. "Uh, head wounds bleed a lot." Nick runs rough hands gently over my hairline. I can feel my cheeks burning—luckily it's probably hidden under all of this dried blood—and I flinch back when his fingers skirt my temple. There must be a knot there.

Nick's frown deepens. "Sorry."

I start to cough. Except this time, it doesn't want to stop.

Nick steps back, eyes wide and hands poised just over me, like he wants to help but doesn't know how. "Max?"

I gasp for air between loud expulsions. My knees almost give out, but Nick catches me and lowers me to the floor carefully. I turn my face away from him into the crook of my elbow so he can't see what I know will be there.

"Nathan, how long has she been coughing like this?"

Nathan's face in pinched. "Since she woke up, after they brought her in here."

Nick curses. "Max, we've got to go. Let me carry you."

I shake my head. His leg is still healing, and the last thing we need to do is compromise it right now. But Nick isn't waiting for my answer; the next thing I know he's hoisted me up and over his back. On reflex I wrap my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his waist so I don't slide down.

"Let's go," Nick orders Nathan. The boy nods resolutely and hops off the truck after Nick and me. I was right; it looks to be about midmorning. The truck is parked in a nondescript parking garage, empty except for a smattering of cars, all occupants unaccounted for. "Follow me. James is parked nearby."

And as much as I don't want to admit it, I wouldn't have been able to run that far by myself. Even riding piggyback, the jostling is enough to send fresh waves of pain through my wings and up my spine. I do manage to reign my breathing back under control, though.

When I've got the extra distraction of breathing out of the way, I tune my focus to my surroundings more clearly. I can hear cars, birds, and. . . is that a siren? In the distance?

"Can you hear that?" I ask Nick.

I can't see his face, but I can tell by his tone he's more focused on getting me to the car than answering my question. "Hear what?"

"It sounds like a siren. An alarm." Warning bells are going off in my head, too. Something I almost understand.

Nick doesn't answer for a second, and I think he's going to ignore me. Loaf that I am. But then, "I don't hear anything." I may imagine it, but I think I can see his jaw clench minutely. "You probably have a concussion."

"Oh." But the ringing in my ears sounds different from the sound I'm hearing now. Huh.

James is sitting in the drivers' side of the car I distinctly remember being present when I was dragged from the trunk of the other car. "You guys stole one of their cars." I can't help but grin.

Nathan launches himself into the back seat. Nick helps me get settled in next to the kid. "Yeah. Seemed like the best way to get to you guys."

He gracefully slid into the passenger seat. "Let's get out of here."

James nods and steers the vehicle up the ramp toward the exit. I watch the world outside our windows in confusion. Moderately populated city. It's warmer than where we were captured. But also, "Where is everybody?"

James opens his mouth to speak, but Nick beats him to it. "No idea. A meeting of some kind?"

I have to be imagining the look James is giving Nick. And the look Nick gives back to James. "We used the radio," James speaks after a second. "Volunteered to keep watch while they left."

"Oh," I say. I look over at Nathan, who's leaning against the door and staring out his window wistfully. "Told you we'd be okay, didn't I?" I tease.

He smiles tightly and nods. It's not as much as I had hoped for.

James blanches a second before asking, "Did you guys run into anybody?"

"No, why?" I ask.

"Nick's bleeding," James answers.

Nick's hand flies up to his neck, and I lean forward to inspect the blood smeared there. My stomach turns. "He's fine. I think it's just rubbed off of my arm." It's disturbing how easily the lie rolls off my tongue. But seeing everybody present look over my undoubtedly mangled body only strengthens my resolve: they can't know I've started coughing up blood.

I sit back in my seat uncomfortably. James clears his throat. "We should check you over. You don't look too good."

I'm too tired to argue, and frankly I feel like crap. "Sure." I consider the houses I've seen, the traffic. "But wait until we get outside the city."

James pulls us onto a highway without incident. He reaches to turn on the radio, but Nick shuts it back off quickly. "Max and Nathan should rest. The music will distract them."

Bull. And I tell him as much.

Nick squeezes his eyes shut. "Fine, I just really hate the music stations here. All they play is country."

"I like country," James says uncharacteristically forcefully, reaching for the radio dial again.

But Nick intercepts him again, knocking his hand out of the way. "I think Max has a concussion. She was talking about hearing a ringing or something earlier."

James glances at me in the rear view mirror. He huffs, giving a heated glare toward Nick. "Fine." He adjusts his posture and faces the road more squarely. "If the ringing doesn't stop after you wake up, let me know."

I nod almost absently, eyes flitting between Nick and James. There's something here I'm missing. Something tense between them. But before I can ask about it, Nathan gasps.

"What is it?" I ask him, worried he's suddenly found some injury his adrenaline had been keeping at bay.

"I know this place, where we are. We're in Dallas."

Nick nods slowly in affirmation. "We passed the road signs on the way in."

Nathan, so tired and defeated not two minutes ago, looks like he's about to explode with enthusiasm. "This is where my sister lives!"