Gerard had barely pulled to a stop when a tall woman appeared at a door of one of the buildings. She wore dusty jeans, boots, and a black sweatshirt, and her sandy blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She walked confidently toward them, her face twisted into a scowl.

“That’s her,” Gerard whispered as he rolled down the window.

Michael didn’t recognize her, and his heart fell even though he’d have no reason to know what Helga looked like in the Wake.

She leaned in the driver’s-side window, resting on her forearms, and peered inside at each of the occupants. She nodded back toward the building from which she’d come.

“Let’s get you inside,” she said, her accent far from the German that Michael realized he’d been expecting, “before the world falls apart.”

Then she turned and headed back toward the barracks.

3

“Today, dude, today.” It was a bad time for Bryson to take a year and a half to get out of the car. Michael had never been so impatient in his life. He had to find out the truth about this Helga and the people she was with. They could help him get back to the Hallowed Ravine.

“I’m coming, man, chill!” Bryson responded. But he still hadn’t moved. He gave Michael a hard look. “Are we sure about this?”

“Yes,” Michael and Sarah answered at the same time. Sarah’s parents were already out of the car, closing their doors.

“Would you go so far as to say…you’re sure as heckfire?” Bryson pressed. “My grandma used to say that. If you say you’re sure as heckfire, then I’m in.”

Michael willed himself to calm down. “Yes. I’m sure as heckfire.”

“Okay, then.” Bryson climbed out of the backseat, Michael half pushing his friend to get him out faster. Sarah got out on the other side, and the group followed her father up a trampled path of weeds to the door, which stood ajar. Gerard didn’t hesitate. He walked right in. Michael and his friends followed.

The tall woman who’d greeted them was waiting for them, but that wasn’t what got Michael’s attention.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, he was shocked by what he saw. It was as if he’d stepped into a completely different world. The beat-up, weathered building housed a technological wonderland. Low-glare LED lights lined the ceiling, illuminating the green haze of dozens of NetScreens. A row of blue Coffins lined one wall; a row of desks lined another, men and women working furiously at them. Fresh lumber had been used to reinforce the walls and ceiling, and Michael noticed that they’d used some sort of plastic to patch the various holes in the roof.

Their host’s voice cut through Michael’s daze, breaking the silence. “We had to find a location that was remote—”

“Mission accomplished,” Bryson muttered.