“Good. Enough with this mopey crap. We need to figure out what we’re doing next.”

“I’ve already figured that out,” Marina chimes in.

I was so intent on beating some sense into Nine that I didn’t hear her approaching. Neither did Nine, and I can tell by the embarrassed look on his face that he’s wondering how much Marina overheard. At the moment, Marina doesn’t seem concerned with Nine’s meltdown. She’s too busy dragging along the scrawny guy from the bar, Dale, the one who wanted to trade me his awesome story for a beer. Marina leads him across the parking lot towards us, holding his ear like a cruel teacher escorting a delinquent to the principal’s office. I notice the slightest coating of frost forming on the side of Dale’s face.

“Marina, let him go,” I say.

She complies, yanking Dale ahead of her so that he stumbles into the gravel, ending up on his knees right in front of me. I give her a look—I understand where the violent streak comes from, but I don’t like it. Marina ignores me.

“Tell them what you told me,” Marina orders Dale. “Your amazing story.”

Dale looks at the three of us, eager to please yet obviously terrified, probably thinking we’re going to kill him if he doesn’t listen.

“There’s an old NASA base out in the swamp. Got decommissioned in the eighties when the swamp started rising,” Dale begins haltingly, rubbing the side of his face to warm it up. “I go out there sometimes, looking for stuff I can sell. Normally, it’s deserted. But last night, man, I swear I saw UFOs floating around out there. Creepy guys who didn’t look right with guns like I ain’t never seen guarding the place. You ain’t with them, are you?”

“No,” I answer. “We most definitely are not.”

“Dale’s volunteered to show us the way,” Marina says, nudging Dale with the toe of her sneaker. He swallows hard and then nods enthusiastically.

“It’s not far,” he says. “Couple hours through the swamp.”

“We just spent two days hiking out of that swamp,” Nine says. “Now you want to go back in?”

“They have him,” Marina hisses, pointing into the dark. “You heard Malcolm’s story about what they did to Number One. They stole her Legacies.”

I give Marina a sharp look. Even if most of it doesn’t make any sense to him, Dale’s still listening intently to our conversation. “Should we really be talking about this?”

Marina snorts. “You’re worried about Dale, Six? They’re killing us and blowing up our friends. Keeping secrets from this drunk is the least of our worries.”

Dale raises his hand. “I swear I won’t say nothing about . . . about whatever you’re talking about.”

“What about Chicago?” Nine asks. “What about the others?”

Marina affords Nine only a quick glare. She keeps her eyes on me when she answers. “You know I’m worried about them. But we don’t know where John and the others are, Six. We know where Eight is. And I am not, under any circumstances, letting those sick bastards keep him.”