Out in the living room, Sam streams CNN with one of Henri’s laptops on his thighs. Luckily Henri’s wireless internet card, under whatever pseudonym he chose at the time, still works. Sam furiously scribbles notes on a legal pad. It’s been three days since the mess in Tennessee, and we only arrived in Florida last night, having hopped aboard three different semis—one of which carried us two hundred miles in the wrong direction—before jumping a train that brought us here. Without the use of our Legacies—our speed, Six’s invisibility— we would have never made it. It’s our intent to lie low for a bit and let the news dissipate. We’ll regroup, start training, and avoid any further mishaps like the one involving the helicopters at all costs. First order of business, find a new car. Second order of business, figure out what to do next. None of us really knows for sure. Again, I feel the enormity of Henri’s absence.

“Where’s Six?” I ask, stumbling into the living room.

“Out back swimming laps or something,” Sam replies. The one cool thing about the house is the pool in the backyard, which Six immediately filled by directing a heavy rainstorm overhead.

“I’d think you’d want to catch a glimpse of Six in her bathing suit.” I nudge Sam.

His face reddens. “Shut up, dude. I wanted to check the news. You know, be productive.”

“Anything?”

“Aside from now being considered an accomplice and having the reward for me increased to a half million dollars?” Sam asks.

“Oh come on, you know you love it.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” he says, grinning. “Anyway, no, nothing new. I don’t see how Henri kept up with all this. There’re literally thousands of stories every day.”

“Henri never slept.”

“Don’t you want to go check out Six in her bathing suit?” Sam asks, turning back to the screen. I’m surprised by the lack of sarcasm in his voice. He knows how I feel about Sarah. And I know how he feels about Six.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I see the way you look at her,” Sam says. He clicks on a link about a plane crash in Kenya. One survivor.

“And how do I look at her, Sam?”

“Never mind.” The survivor is an old woman. Definitely not one of us.

“The Loric fall in love for life, man. And I love Sarah. You know that.”

Sam looks over the screen of the laptop. “I know you do. It’s just that, I don’t know. You’re the kind of guy she’d go for, not some math nerd obsessed with aliens and outer space. I just don’t see how Six could fall for someone like me.”

“You kick ass, Sam. And don’t forget it.”