“I regret to verify you are not my son.”

“But I am, Dad,” I whispered. “No matter what Ishango says. And I know there’s a part of you that doesn’t want this to happen: for me to lose my life so she can live and take over the world.”

“No,” he said, “she has no need to destroy unless humanity poses a threat. Currently, humanity does not.”

“Um, Dad, did you hear the me-losing-my-life part? This conversation is beyond depressing.”

Dr. Gooding let out a cry of pain behind me, and Maggie ran her palm over her mom’s forehead. Now Dr. Gooding was the one who needed medical attention. My being held at gunpoint wasn’t doing her or Maggie any good. I needed to get them out of here.

“Maggie,” I said, “take care of your mom.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’m going with them.” I’d let Omicron and my dad take me back to Ishango, where she’d take over my body, but they might leave the bag of explosives, allowing Maggie to detonate it later.

“Jordan,” she said, her voice shaking, “we have to stay together.”

I stared at her, then let my eyes flit over to the yellow bag. She got it.

“I can’t take care of her,” she said warily. “I don’t know how.”

Shit. Of course she didn’t know about blasting caps and det wire. Why would she?

Checkmate.

“Jordan, don’t go with them,” Dr. Gooding croaked.

Omicron pivoted toward her and lifted his gun—but then turned and fired toward the woods. There was a yelp and some rustling, and out staggered Bud Winkle with blood streaming down his face.

“Renee!” he said. “I’m sorry …” He collapsed face-first onto the dirt.

“Bud!” Maggie’s mom shouted as Omicron turned back toward her, pointed the gun at her forehead, and—

Bang!

It was loud, but Dr. Gooding looked intact. I turned to see a hole in Maggie’s T-shirt.

No!

But then Omicron dropped to the ground with a nickelsize hole in his forehead, out of which poured that carrot ketchup.

Maggie removed her hand from under her T-shirt. It held the Magnum.

The next ninety seconds happened in slow motion as my adrenaline surged, my brain kicked into gear, and I operated like the machine I’d been programmed to be.

Dad reached for the gun in his waistband, but I crouched low and swung my leg to sweep his. He stumbled and fell, and I moved swiftly to snatch his pistol out of his belt, giving him a powerful jab to the midsection at the same time.

I looked up at Maggie, and she had her gun trained on him. I held out my hand, and she gave it to me. Damn, it really was heavy.

“How can I bring you back?” I asked my dad, pointing the Magnum at his face.

Instead of answering, he rolled behind a boulder. I couldn’t shoot, despite all he’d said and done to turn me against him.

“I got him,” I called back to Maggie. “Stay with your mom and keep applying pressure.”