“Watch him for me, will ya, Maisie?” Dr. Lopez said pleasantly.

She smiled. “ ’Course.”

He was vaguely insulted that he had to be watched, but on the growing list of his kidnappers, these were certainly the nicest ones.

Dr. Lopez disappeared into a room across the hall.

Maisie gave him a quick once-over. “You look less disgusting.”

“Thank you.”

A girl appeared from inside the room where Maisie had been hovering, a delighted expression on her face.

“It’s you! In the flesh!” Her black hair was pulled into an alarmingly large bun on top of her head, and it wobbled when she spoke. Large headphones, like the old kind that covered the entire ear, hung around her neck. She wore bright red lipstick and thick black eyeliner that made her eyes look huge.

“Uh, yeah. It’s me.”

“I’m Hadley. Hadley Lopez.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, before he could stop himself.

She let out a loud cackle. Maisie gave him an amused look.

Hadley Lopez was not what he had pictured. He’d known that she was a couple of years younger than him, but he realized he’d always pictured her as older. He’d only heard snatches of her radio programs—the ones they could get their hands on after they were declassified—and she’d always sounded so confident. The voice of the Q, his dad had called her.

Also, an actual member of the Lopez family. Everyone in the gang called themselves family (from what he’d heard), but she was actually the niece of Dr. Lopez.

“I take it you’ve heard of me,” she said.

“Sorry. Yes. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended his hand.

She stared at it. “You guys still do that out there?”

He quickly pulled it back. “Sorry. Yes. We do.” He’d heard that they didn’t shake hands in the quarantine zone.

“Gross.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh crap, hold on a sec.”

She darted back inside the room. Lennon edged in a few steps as well, glancing over to see if Maisie was going to stop him. She just followed him inside.

It was a radio studio. Hadley dropped into the chair, pulling her headphones over her ears. She leaned into the mic.

“And next up, folks, we have what was once considered by many to be one of the worst songs ever recorded, and a personal favorite of mine, ‘We Built This City’ by Starship. You’re welcome.”

The music began playing, and she pulled her headphones down, swiveling around in her chair to face them. Maisie leaned against the doorframe. Blocking his exit, he noted.

“My parents like twentieth-century music too,” he said to Hadley.

“I’d never have guessed.”

“I think there are a lot of songs worse than this.”

Her lips twitched into a smile.

“Oh, wow, it really is you.”

He turned at the sound of the new voice to see a young woman standing in the doorway. Leaning, really. She was thin and pale, and looked like she might topple over at the smallest breeze. She had breathing tubes in her nostrils, and an oxygen tank at her feet.