I think I might be having a panic attack.
Agent Walker takes one look at me and holds up her hand, stopping the soldiers from saying anything more. “Let’s take a walk, gentlemen,” she says. “I need the fresh air.”
Walker ushers the three men out of her tent and follows them, pausing at the exit. She looks back at me, grimacing like she’s in pain. I know she probably wants to say something comforting or encouraging, and I also know that Agent Walker simply isn’t equipped for that.
“Take a few minutes,” she says gently, and that’s probably the most empathy I’ve ever seen from her.
“I’m fine,” I reply sharply, although I don’t feel fine. Not at all. I’m rooted in place and struggling to keep my breathing even.
“Of course, I know that,” Walker says. “Just—I don’t know, you’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. Take a breath. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
As soon as Walker’s gone, I immediately collapse into the chair in front of her laptop. I shouldn’t be taking a minute. There’s too much to do. My body isn’t cooperating, though. This isn’t like the exhaustion I was pushing through yesterday—it’s something else. My hands are shaking, and I can hear my heartbeat thumping loud in my head. It reminds me of yesterday’s explosions—the screams, the dead. Running for my life, passing by the corpses of people I wasn’t good enough to save. And more of that to come.
Unless I can do the impossible.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Needing something to focus on, something to pull me out of this funk, I turn on Walker’s laptop. I know what I’m hoping to find, what I need to hear. In addition to the video she showed me of Setrákus Ra’s threat, Walker has a few other files open on her desktop. I’m not at all surprised to see the video I’m looking for there, already open.
FIGHT FOR EARTH—SUPPORT THE LORIC
I turn the volume up and click play.
“This is our planet, but we are not alone.”
Daniela was right: Sarah does sound like she’s trying to come off as older and more professional than she actually is, like a newscaster or documentarian. It makes me smile, all the same. I close my eyes and listen to her voice. I don’t even necessarily listen to the words—although it’s definitely nice to hear your girlfriend describe you as a hero to the human race. Hearing Sarah’s voice starts to settle my nerves, but it also creates a feeling of longing that I’ve been too panicked to indulge over the last couple of days. I imagine us back in Paradise, way more innocent, hanging out in my bedroom while Henri’s out running errands . . .
I’m not sure how many times I’ve replayed the clip before Sam enters Walker’s tent. He clears his throat to get my attention and holds up a satellite phone in each hand.
“Mission accomplished,” Sam says. He cranes his neck to see the laptop screen. “What’re you watching?”
“The, um, the video that Sarah made,” I reply, feeling embarrassed. Of course, Sam doesn’t know that I’ve just played the video a dozen times, that I’m listening to my girlfriend’s voice to try to attain some kind of zen state. I sit up straight and try to look like the strong leader the video portrays me as.
“Is it awesome?” Sam asks, coming over. He sets one of the phones down next to me.
“It’s . . .” I trail off, not sure what to say about the video. “It’s pretty corny, actually. But, right now, it’s also kind of the greatest thing ever.”
Sam nods and pats my shoulder, understanding. “Why don’t you just call her?”
“Sarah?”
“Yeah. I’ll call Six and check in with Team Sanctuary,” he says, sounding eager. “Find out where they are. Maybe they’ve already made it back to Ashwood Estates. I’ll let them know what’s up with us and we’ll figure out a place to meet. I should probably call my dad, too. Let him know I’m alive.”
I realize Sam is looking at me the same way that Walker did, like I’m suddenly fragile. I shake my head and start to stand up, but Sam puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Seriously, dude,” he says. “Call your girlfriend. She’s got to be worried sick.”
I let Sam push me back into the chair. “All right,” I say. “But if anything’s happened to Six and the others, or you can’t reach them—”
“I’ll come get you right away,” Sam says as he heads towards the exit. “I’ll give you some privacy until the next crisis.”
When Sam’s gone, I push both my hands through my hair and leave them there, squeezing my head, like I’m literally trying to keep it together. After a moment of composing myself, I reach for the phone Sam left behind and punch in the number that I’ve committed to memory.
Sarah answers on the third ring, breathless and hopeful. “John?”
“You have no idea how badly I needed to hear your voice,” I reply, glancing sidelong at Walker’s laptop screen and finally closing it. I press the phone tight to my ear, shut my eyes and imagine Sarah is sitting next to me.
“I was so worried, John. I saw—we all saw what happened in New York.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek. The image of Sarah I was calling up in my mind’s eye is replaced by one of buildings crumbling under the bombardment of the Anubis.
“It was—I don’t know what to say about it,” I tell her. “I feel lucky to have made it out.”