A gloom hangs in the air, haunting my thoughts, giving me a sober perspective of what my dad is about to do. It began with the abduction of Kayla's father, but it goes way back. I know my dad walked out on my mom and I. He left so long ago, and I still believe if he hadn't left, she might still be alive. I also remind myself that he didn't choose to be a part of The Collective. They forced their way into his life, and he had to deal with it. I was blind to these facts because of the whirlwind I had been through—everyone had been through. These truths curl around me like a boa constrictor, squeezing me ever tighter, making it difficult to breathe. Difficult to think. Difficult to go forward with our meeting with Agent 24, a meeting that will take place in twenty-four hours. A reality that brings gooseflesh to my arms.

Seconds after I receive the ominous text message, my dad takes a hammer from a closet and bashes my phone to pieces. I gasp, but I know it's necessary. He says we don't need the map pin the assassin dropped us because he knows the location of the old fort on the coast, south of the city. He knows the route by heart. The fort is a sore spot since it was where my dad made his first hit as Agent 1. He says we should have destroyed the phone before we came to the safe-house. Agent 24 could use it to track our whereabouts, but contrary to this logic, we needed the device because we had to wait for the text message. Truth be told, the map pin itself can trace us. The assassin may already know where we are, so we need to move. Now.

We drive off in the Jeep Gladiator at three minutes after twelve. That fast. We don't waste any time.

Two hours later, we arrive at my dad's secret cabin, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and an evergreen forest as vast as the eye can see. Through breaks in the clouds, moonlight illuminates a river in a valley that runs through the middle of it all. As we climb down from the Jeep to enter the cabin for some sleep, the water roars and echoes up the mountainside, giving me a clear understanding of how remote our hideout is. After I close my eyes on a leather reclining chair—for what seems like a few minutes—my dad grips my shoulder and shakes me awake. My eyes spring open and my heart bursts into my throat. It's time to prepare and plan, because now we have eighteen hours until midnight and our meeting with Agent 24.

But then Kayla tells me something that troubles me.

With my phone destroyed, I don't have to worry about talking to my grandparents again until Sunday, but her mom has left a ton of voicemails and text messages on her phone. Now she knows her husband is missing, and she's called around and knows Kayla isn't at any of her friend's houses. She wants Kayla to come home, but my dad tells her to send her mom a text and tell her that everything is okay, not to worry. Kayla does, and then he smashes her phone the same way he did mine. Now she doesn't have to worry about dealing with her mom until all this is over. Problem solved.

Not really.

After a light breakfast of scrambled eggs and coffee, we venture outside to make our preparations. I'm not sure what my dad has in mind, but I'll find out soon enough. With our breath fogging in the morning air, we remove the black duffel bag with the weapons from the back of the Jeep. My dad sets it on a tree stump, unzips it, reaches in and pulls out the SIG Sauer P226 handgun. With knowledge given to me by The Collective, I know what he's doing as he handles the pistol. I watch and listen as he explains and shows the basics.

"First, to make sure the weapon won't fire accidentally, push down on the decocking lever. This is important. The last thing you want to do is blow your own head off. Or Kayla's. Or mine."

I nod, my teeth chattering while Kayla and I observe. "I'm not sure how I feel about guns."

"You'll do fine. The decocking lever disengages the firing mechanism. Next, pull the slide back to make sure there's not a round in the chamber. Then press the magazine catch and eject the magazine. Since it's already loaded, insert the magazine into the butt of the handle and make sure it's secure. Release the slide to chamber a round and you're ready to go."

I don't give any hint I've ever fired a gun before, because I haven't, ever.

"Do we need a gun?" Kayla says. "I mean, I'm not sure I want to carry one. I don't like the idea of shooting myself, or anyone else, especially killing someone."

"I hope you never like the idea of killing someone. Neither of you. Ever," my dad replies. "To answer your question: no, you don't have to arm yourself, but I think one of you should. I'm sure you've figured it out, but there's not much we can do. If we make an ill-advised move, it could get your father killed. Besides, I've run long enough, and now that The Collective has involved both of you, I'm going to give them what they want."

"You're going to surrender yourself, just like that?" I say. "You won't at least try something?"

"We'll talk about the plan later. Right now, let's see how you do with a gun."

My dad leads us down to the river where he sets up soft drink cans on a fallen tree, spaced three feet apart. The entire time, he holds the gun pointed away from his body and us, demonstrating proper firearm safety. As we maneuver to a position thirty feet away, our shoes snap twigs under the crest of a light layer of snow. Even with the river rushing through the valley, the sound is audible.

"Are you going to shoot first?" I ask.

"Nope, I know how to fire a gun. This is all about you."

"Because?"

"Because I'm giving myself up, Aiden. If the trade goes without a hitch, then you may not need a gun. But if it doesn't... if Agent 24 comes after you, or Kayla, you'll need to defend yourself. I hesitate to even show you how to use one, but I can't let you go unarmed. So, here." He hands me the SIG Sauer nine millimeter. "Keep the muzzle pointed away from you at all times. And Kayla, please stand behind us."

She edges backward and takes her position. I glance at her as she adjusts her glasses on her nose.

I hold the gun out awkwardly. Normally, I'd shy away from anything like this, but I feel a need to show my dad that I can take care of myself. I want to prove to him I've been able to manage all these years without him.

"All right. Pull the slide back and chamber a round," he says. "If you miss, don't sweat it. Just concentrate and try again."

As I follow his instructions, the weapon ratchets a bullet into firing position. I aim, expecting a backlash and the loud bang that comes with discharging a firearm. My finger hovers over the trigger as I zero in on the first soda can. As I concentrate, I feel my dad's eyes on me and hear Kayla breathing behind me. Just like when we escaped from Agent 24 on the bus, my senses come on line. I'm aware of the surrounding perimeter. I have a feeling that if someone was sneaking up on me, I'd know it and I'd be ready to take evasive action.

A breeze whistles through the evergreen needles. The river roars, and even with all the potential distractions, my focus hones in on the soda cans, my mind's eye imagining a bullseye painted on each one.

Without hesitation and with laser precision, I fire one shot after the other, nailing each soft drink can in consecutive order.

Boom. Boom. Boom. I squeeze the trigger until all six cans spring from the fallen tree, launching into the air and flying off in different directions.

I offer my dad a sly grin. "How's that?"

"Not bad. Looks like The Collective's info dump runs deep, something akin to a brain download. Like with a computer system."

"But it feels like so much more."

"Like how?" Kayla steps up beside me. "Like it's second nature?"

"Something like that."

"The information could be more than mere knowledge," my dad says. "The signal from the brainwave tech could have fired through the synapses in your brain and became more than a memory or something you learned. It could have linked with the rest of your body and become so ingrained within you it became like muscle memory. That's not how it happened to me. Even after they took control of my mind, I had to train. I found myself driven to practice at firing ranges. I became obsessed with guns, though I didn't know why. Apparently, they've become much more advanced."

"That would explain most of my experiences last night," I say. Without conscious thought, I press the decocking lever, push down on the magazine release, and eject it. Then I pull the slide back and clear the round from the chamber. Hand the gun back to my dad.

He doesn't reload it, but he aims it at me. "Take it from me."

In a blur, my hands fly up to meet the gun. My left hand cracks his wrist while my right twists his fingers where he clutches the weapon. The force and leverage rip the pistol from his grasp. Unloaded, I spring the slide back and release it for effect, taking aim.

My dad clutches his wrist.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm fine." He grimaces. "I've been hurt a lot worse."

"So," Kayla says, "Aiden can use a gun. What I am going to do? How can I help?"

"I'm glad you asked." My dad shakes his wrist to ease the pain. "I've been tossing a few ideas around since you opted out of firearm training. You might not like the idea of bullets, but what about something less lethal?"

"Care to elaborate?"

"First, any plan needs eyes and ears. Someone with a view of the big picture. Since there's no need to risk all three of us, and since Agent 24 asked specifically for Aiden and I, I think you could benefit us from an elevated location. You're going to need some practice for what I have in mind. Are you in?"

Kayla nods. "I'll do anything to save my father."

"Good. After we practice some more, we'll review our plan and head back to Coastal City. We'll arrive at the fort after sundown so we can get into position long before Agent 24 arrives."

I blow out an icy breath and look at the sky, hoping my dad's plan involves something other than self-sacrifice. I've treated him harshly since he showed up in the secret room under the museum, but he is my dad, and because of that I'd like to prevent him from once again falling into the sticky web that is the mind controlling group of assassins known as The Collective.