Pines

hundred meters north. Everything all right, over?”
    “I’m getting the feeling it’s time we ran for the hills, over.”
    “Copy that. On our way. Over and out.”
    Pilcher started toward the clearing.
    In the distance behind them, Ethan could hear the ruckus of branches snapping and dead leaves crunching as Pope and Pam headed back their way.
    “It was a big deal, Ethan, for me to fly you a hundred and thirty miles down here to the Boise ruins. I hope you appreciate the gesture. We’ve had our handful of problem residents over the years, but no one like you. What do you think I value most?”
    “No idea.”
    Ethan glimpsed the meadow through the oaks.
    Red leaves drifted lazily down from the branches above.
    “Control. There’s an underground contingent in Pines who presents a façade of compliance. But secretly, they want to take over. Call it...an insurgency. A rebellion. They want to break free, to pull back the curtain, to change how things are done. You understand that would mean the end of Pines. The end of us.”
    They came out of the trees, the helicopter a hundred yards away, its bronze paint job gleaming in the late-afternoon sun.
    A part of Ethan thinking,
What a perfect autumn day.
    “What do you want from me?” Ethan asked.
    “I want you to help me. You have a rare skill set.”
    “Why do I get the feeling you’re implying I have no choice in the matter?”
    “Of course you do.”
    A breeze lapped at Ethan’s face, the meadow grasses bending toward the ground.
    They reached the helicopter and Pilcher pulled open the door, let Ethan climb in first.
    When they were seated and facing each other, Pilcher said, “All you’ve wanted to do since you woke up in Pines isleave. I’m giving you that opportunity, plus a bonus. Right now. Look behind you.”
    Ethan glanced over his seat into the cargo hold, pushed back the curtain.
    His eyes became wet.
    It had been right there the whole time—a brutal fragment of knowledge he hadn’t allowed himself to even acknowledge. If what Pilcher said was true, then he would never see his family again. They’d be nothing more than ancient bones.
    And now, here they were—Theresa and Ben unconscious and strapped to a pair of stretchers with a black duffel bag between them.
    His boy did not look like a boy.
    “After I put you into suspension, I looked you up, Ethan. I thought you had real potential. So I went to your family.”
    Ethan wiped his eyes. “How long have they been in Pines?”
    “Five years.”
    “My son...he’s—”
    “He’s twelve now. They both integrated well. I thought it would be better to have them stable and settled before attempting to bring you in.”
    Ethan didn’t bother to mask the rage behind his voice, his words coming like a growl. “Why did you wait so long?”
    “I didn’t. Ethan, this is our third attempt with you.”
    “How is that possible?”
    “One of the effects of suspension is retrograde amnesia. Each time you reanimate, your mind resets to just before your first suspension. In your case—the car wreck. Although, I suspect some memories linger. Maybe they emerge in dreams.”
    “I’ve tried to escape before?”
    “First time, you made it across the river, nearly got yourself killed by the abbies. We intervened, saved you. Second time, we made sure you discovered your family, thinking that might help. But you tried to escape with them. Nearly got all of you killed.”
    “So this time you went after my mind?”
    “We thought if we could induce psychosis, maybe we’d have a chance. Shot you full of some powerful antipsychotics.”
    “My headaches.”
    “We even tried to use your history of torture against you.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I have your military file. Your report from what happened to you in Fallujah. We tried to tap into that during Pope’s interrogation.”
    “You’re...sick.”
    “I never expected you to actually break into the bunker. We were going to just let the abbies have you. But when I saw you standing in suspension, something occurred to me. You’re stubborn. A fighter to the end. You were never going to accept the reality of Wayward Pines. I realized I needed to quit fighting you. That instead of a liability, you might actually be an asset.”
    “Why didn’t you just tell me about all of this?”
    “Because I didn’t know what you would do with the knowledge, Ethan. Suicide? Escape? Try to make it on your own? But I realize now that you’re one of