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  "You know what?" Shawn rolled his eyes. "I think I’ll just move over here."

  Choosing a computer on the other side of the diner, Shawn adjusted the pullover still around his wrists to look as inconspicuous as possible while he typed. Alex looked over at the waitress and Micah. She was giggling. He was pointing to the pies.

  Alex continued working, his fingers pecking at the keyboard mercilessly. He didn’t have too much time left before someone would get suspicious, no telling how long Micah’s flirting could keep the waitress busy.

  Bingo.

  Kaitlyn’s search history lit up the screen. Travel sites. She had been looking at flights.

  To where?

  Alex continued typing. All he had to do was search for the fake name on her passport. Unless…Shawn was right and she had been planning this all along.

  How? Alex thought as he attempted to hack the airline’s database. He did recall the doctor complaining about how much Kaitlyn was using their only computer with internet access at the Chakra.

  His fingers froze.

  That sly fox.

  She was planning this all along; right under his very nose. Good thing he had all those years of military intelligence under his belt. He could catch things, well, like this.

  Hopefully whatever flight she chose hadn’t left.

  He glanced at Micah. The waitress was now piling whipped cream on top of a piece of apple pie, more and more at Micah’s encouragement.

  "Whoops!" She laughed. A small drop landed on Micah’s finger – he wiped it across her nose. More giggling.

  No searches returned Kaitlyn’s given name. She had to have had another passport made. And one for the kid. He tried searching for flights with reported lap infants. Several, of course. No way to discern which was her. Lap infants were leaving Australia going all over the world.

  Freakin’ traveling babies.

  Alex hit print and released a frustrated sigh, erasing his own history, covering his tracks. The computer would be no help. They’d just have to go the airport. He stood up, motioning to Micah.

  Micah asked the waitress for a second piece of pie. As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Micah joined Alex at the printer.

  "There are dozens of women with lap infants flying out of the Perth airport today. I eliminated any that had a second ticket attached – husbands or other kids. That leaves eleven. Here are the flights and names." Alex handed the piece of paper to Micah, and glanced across the room. "Should we show Shawn? Do you trust him?"

  "Not at all, which is why it’s better to keep him close." Micah caught Shawn’s eye and motioned him over. "Let him see the list, though."

  Shawn joined them and all three hunched over, scanning the list. They stopped at the fifth name down. Cindy Gaia.

  "I'll get a taxi," Micah said.

  Within minutes they were on their way to the airport, going much faster than Australian law allowed thanks to Alex’s hefty tip.

  "I don't understand why she wouldn't have gone to the hospital." Shawn shook his head. "Stupid."

  "Smart," Micah countered, "if she is on the run. A hospital wouldn’t have let the pair of them go for days. And there would be lots of questions involved."

  "Do you think she is giving us clues?" Alex asked, pulling out the list again.

  Micah’s heart soared. "Maybe she really wants to be found – maybe she is still unsure what she wants."

  "Or maybe she really is just stupid," Shawn interjected.

  Micah tightened his fist. The cab took a sharp turn, throwing all of them to the right side of the car, and effectively stopping the fight before it could begin. The driver knew exactly what he was doing. No fights in his cab today.

  After straightening themselves out, Micah took the list from Alex. "Well, five of the flights have already left. That leaves six. We could split up and try covering two each."

  "Fine. I’m taking Cindy Gaia," Shawn said.

  "Hell if you are."

  Shawn shrugged. "If you want to tag along…"

  Alex rolled his eyes. He couldn’t very well leave the two on their own, duking it out in the airport along the way.

  Alex paid the driver as the cab screeched to a halt at the airport. The three men jumped out and raced to terminal B, barely pausing to check the departure screens along the way.

  'Cindy’s' flight was scheduled to leave five minutes ago. But maybe, just maybe, there was a delay.

  They rounded the corner and stumbled into an emptied waiting area. The plane was boarded, locked up tight, and pulling away from the gate.

  "No!" Micah shouted. He grabbed Alex by the collar. "Stop it! I don’t care how!"

  Alex nodded, and went racing for the nearest exit.

  Shawn grabbed the flight attendant at the counter and began interrogating her. Stressed and panicked, he was by no means charming. The flight attendant kept her lips pressed tight, reaching for the phone at the desk.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Micah saw Alex racing toward the plane on the tarmac, waving his arms. For a moment, Micah felt hopeful. Then the baggage handlers grabbed Alex, bringing him to the ground. An alarm went off. The plane made it to the runway.

  Micah and Shawn exchanged panicked looks. She’d have all the time in the world to disappear if they didn’t stop that plane. Micah closed his eyes, and reached for power that normally wouldn’t come to him without channeling through a Gaia. But he’d had his own power on Heard and McDonald Islands. Maybe he was still close enough to the hot spot. He felt the power there, but it was slippery, almost beyond his reach. The sheer fact he could sense it at all was encouraging.

  Shawn placed his hand on Micah’s shoulder. "Maybe if we try together."

  Micah narrowed his eyes, but Shawn was right. Shawn had power too. Doubling up might just be enough. Micah nodded his head once, and they both turned to face the plane on the runway. It moved forward slowly while its engines revved.

  Micah allowed his power to merge with Shawn’s. It felt tainted, sickening. He wondered if that was how Kaitlyn felt the entire time on the Galapagos with Shawn. His body tensed at the thought.

  "Let it go," Shawn said, his hand still on Micah’s shoulder. "For now. For Kaitlyn."

  Shawn was right. Micah cleared his head, took a deep breath, and strengthened the merge. The plane picked up speed. Together, they reached out. One quick bolt of energy was all they could afford. It had better be on target.

  The energy hit, and Micah felt his stream buzz as the plane's electrical system shut down. The plane jerked as the wheels turned. For a heart-stopping moment, the plane lurched to one side.

  Oh, shit – too much, Micah thought. Please don’t hurt her.

  Finally, the plane evened out and rolled to a stop. Emergency crews raced to the runway. From the ground, Alex craned his neck to watch. A decision was made, and the passengers began to disembark, one by one, down the emergency ladder well.

  Micah and Shawn, standing side by side, held their breath – waiting for Kaitlyn.

  Chapter 5

  Honey Bee

  We lurched in our seats – first to one side, then another. I curled my upper body over my daughter, fearing I had made the wrong decision. But then we straightened out. I sat up; avoiding the grandmotherly stares that told me I was just being an overprotective mother. I didn’t care. I looked down at the sleeping bundle in my arms. No, I had definitely made the right decision. I was leaving to protect her. And I would, at all costs. No more Seven, no more Chakra, no Shawn and no Micah. She was going to grow up healthy and strong and have a full, happy life, with or without powers. Should she grow up to be a Gaia, her life would not be cut short. Not like I almost was, and not like the Gaia Shade I met; killed in a fire by her own mother. I shuddered just thinking about it.

  Another lurch. I tightened my grip around the baby. The ocean was rough today; possibly still reeling from all the unnatural powers released into it over the past couple of days. A plane would have definitely brought us to our des
tination faster, but there was too much paperwork involved. Too many records that could be hacked and tracked. No, much safer to stay under the radar, even if it meant seasickness.

  She woke up; I must’ve squeezed too hard. "Oh, sorry baby."

  An elderly man sitting on the bench seat across from us smiled, "What’s her name?"

  I babbled, trying to find words. "Oh. Um…I call her Bee."

  "Bee? Is that short for something?"

  "Yes." Short for baby. Now quit asking questions.

  He paused, waiting for me to continue. When I didn't, he said, "Oh." He had such a nice smile; it lit up his eyes. Kind of reminded me of Cato. My heart tinged in pain.

  The old man bent over to look at my daughter’s face. "Well, I think Bee sounds lovely. Doesn’t it honey?" He cooed at her. Bee made a noise in response. "Yes, you are a sweetie. Sweet as a honey bee." He looked up at me and winked.

  Chapter 6

  New York

  Jerry Saunders went to work three hours early, arriving while the offices were still dark and deserted. He didn't bother with the lights. Picking up his overturned chair, he sat and turned on the computer. Nothing happened. He shrugged and took out his laptop. The screen glowed bright. As with any other day, he finished his first article within an hour, took a bathroom break, then reported to his boss's office for his next assignment. He stood in the darkened doorway of a tiny, windowless room, staring into nothing.

  Jerry paused. Still, no one had reported to work. Reality came back to him. No one would show. In fact, his boss and the majority of his coworkers were probably dead.

  He looked down at the laptop, held open in his hands. Sheila, his boss, preferred editing side by side, with him making changes as they went. He scrolled the screen up the document and read the title, 'New York City Losses Staggering'.

  "Oh, dear God." He fell to his knees, dry heaving, as if he were just now learning this news. Memories he had managed to block until now came flooding back. The earthquake hit during evening rush hour the day before. He’d emerged from the Franklin Avenue MTA station, knowing his wife was just starting her trek home, first on the R line, then on the C. Before he could enter their apartment complex, the ground began shaking. Slowly at first. Jerry turned around, expecting to see a large convoy of trucks rolling down the street. But there were none.

  Then the shaking turned violent. The earth rolled and pitched. Jerry dropped his briefcase, ran for the nearest tree, and held on. The windows were the first to go; the sound of glass shattering across the ground could be heard even above the freight train noise.

  Terrorist attack was the next thing to come to Jerry's mind. He had lived through one, able to escape the towers on 9/11, lucky enough to have worked on the 10th floor.

  But last night he was outside, tossed by the cracked and buckling sidewalks. The taller buildings on the block began to tilt, then fall apart in large chunks. The unfortunate few who ran from inside buildings became victims of the falling debris.

  Jerry had closed his eyes, there was nothing he could do for those people; best just to hang on for now. Screams and cries of terrified women and children couldn't be blocked out. Jerry hadn't even thought about his wife until the sounds of crushing metal and a plume of dust, grime, and dirt exploded from the subway. Her entire journey home was underground.

  After the shaking subsided, Jerry had gone looking for her. People filled the street, both living and dead. Then the looting began. He ignored cries for help; there were so many where would he have started? He’d focused on his wife. But he never made it to her. Too much debris blocked his way south. The buildings that were left standing were too dangerous to enter. Jerry spent the night with a group of people under a solid stone bridge. The sounds of sirens and helicopters echoed throughout the city up until dawn, but there were just too few emergency personnel to deal with the losses.

  He headed for his office when the sun came up the next morning, making a quick stop where he left his briefcase. It was there, as still as the body of the woman crushed by a large chunk of the fallen building across the street. She was missing her shoes and purse. Jerry had turned away and began walking, taking on his old routine. Perhaps if he just went on like normal, everything would go back to normal.

  Jerry blinked, looking around the office. Another tremble shook the furniture and walls around him. Aftershocks had come and gone all night, but this was especially violent. Helpless, and at the mercy of the earth, Jerry curled into a ball on the floor. The laptop, still glowing, provided the only light in the office. Jerry reached over and slowly closed the computer until he heard it click shut, plunging him into darkness. He'd rather not see death coming.

  Chapter 7

  Easter Island

  Easter Island. I imagined more of a magical place. Colored eggs and bunnies, or something. Maybe a jellybean factory, run by Oompa-Loompas. No such luck. When I stepped off the boat all that greeted me were grassy hills – barren except for the newly planted shrubs, owners of local hostels pining for business, and small clutters of flimsy houses in the distance. With nothing but miles and miles of rocky ocean behind me, I tried to adjust to the suddenly still ground. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. What better place to hide than the island furthest from any continent? Even if it didn't have Oompa-Loompas.

  First step – find a place to hunker down. Hopefully I could take up residence in one of the caves that dotted the island. Even though I originally targeted this place for its similarity to the Chakra, the cave on Reunion Island, and Heard and McDonalds Islands for that matter, convinced me a cave was the only place I would be sheltered, at least magically, from anyone trying to find me. Being somewhat close to the Galapagos originally gave me pause, but it was just one more reason no one would look for me there.

  A grim, worn-down Moai statue stood at the main port, looking into the island. Only newly planted trees grew beyond it. All of the native trees had been torn down centuries ago, used to build, erect, and move the giant stone-face statues. The island was barren as a result of overexploitation.

  I entered the visitor's center and signed up for the next eco-tour, a bus trip around the islands, leaving in an hour. Enough time to feed and change Bee; maybe get something to eat for myself.

  After Bee was taken care of, I read a brochure while I ate an energy bar. Only 2,000 residents on the island. There were more people than that in my high school. I looked at the locals running the visitor's center. They were olive-skinned islanders, fit and thin, for the most part. All the men had long hair tied back, with thin mustaches and goatees. It wasn't going to be easy fitting in.

  A trolley pulled up and people hurried to pay for their maps, miniature Moai statues, and Easter Island key chains. I wrapped Bee in a makeshift sling over my shoulder. "Come on, Bee, let’s go make some friends."

  There were no friends to be had on the tour bus. Just fat, white tourists who would all be gone by the next week, if not sooner. I sighed and chose a seat up front, as far away from their barking laughter as I could get.

  The bus lurched into drive and the tour began. The tour guide stood at the front of the trolley, her voice crackling over a loudspeaker. "Easter Island was formed over 750,000 years ago by three, now extinct, volcanoes. It is from this volcanic rock that the famous Moai statues were carved. Original inhabitants deforested the entire island in order to create and move the several ton statues. Once all 21 species of trees on the island went extinct, so too did the birds. No longer able to make boats, their offshore fishing declined." She looked uncomfortable in her grass skirt and the lei. A rash was forming around her neck.

  Already, the American tourists were talking to each other across the bus loud enough to drown out the tour guide’s voice.

  She continued all the same. "As the resources continued to diminish the natives resorted to cannibalism for survival. Their class system deteriorated and many of the statues, especially those along the coastline, were torn down by the islanders themselves, after a bloo
dy civil war."

  The bus slowed at the next set of Moai and a group of Asian men rushed to the windows, snapping pictures. The tour guide paused, glancing at the bus driver for help. He motioned with his hand, urging her on.

  She sighed, and then continued. "Following a civil war, a series of devastating events continued to plague the island, including slave raiders, smallpox, and tuberculosis."

  I straightened my back and turned my whole body to her. I smiled in encouragement.

  She stuttered, caught off guard. But as we continued, she slowly shifted much of her lecture toward me, adding tidbits of how islander babies are raised.

  After lunch, we took a walking tour of one of the lava tube caves. By now, she had resorted to giving me a personalized tour while everyone else explored on their own.

  I introduced myself, "I am Kaitlyn, and this is Bee."

  She leaned over to coo at the baby, "And weren’t you such a good little tourist. Quiet the entire time." She straightened and extended her hand. "My name is Ahurewa."

  I tried repeating the name, and massacred it.

  She laughed. "My friends call me Ahi."

  "Like the tuna?" I asked.

  She just laughed again. "Yes, like the tuna. Fortunately, that never caught on in school."

  The Americans were laughing again, poking fun at the birdman sketches in the ceiling.

  Ahi scowled in their direction. "The Shamans used these caves to do their magic," she explained.

  That caught me by surprise. "What kind of magic?"

  "It is said they spoke to the spirits of the weather. They used stones inscribed with symbols to bring luck to the village fishermen, and to call on the birds to return."

  She picked up a stone from a display shelf built into the side of the cave and handed it to me. I turned it over in my hand, rubbing the smooth contours. It buzzed in return, reminding me of the rock Micah gave to me made from the boulder at the Chakra. That, too, had been used to call birds.