The Fox Inheritance (Jenna Fox Chronicles 2)

I check behind me again and then walk a little farther. I am only steps from Dr. Gatsbro's study when I hear the faint ticking of his antique clock. Maybe he's still in the solarium with Mr. Jafari. I plan only to pass by the open doorway to proceed down the hall, but when I glance in, something catches my eye. The heavy glass cube that's usually on his desk is on the floor. And then I spot something else, something far more disturbing.

A hand.

I look around me--behind, in front, in all directions--to be sure no one is watching and quickly slip into the study. The hand is on the floor, sticking out from behind the desk, fingers curled upward like no life is left in them. I already know who they belong to, but I walk around the desk and look down at the rest of the body to be sure. Dr. Gatsbro lies motionless, blood pooling beneath his head, papers that look like contracts strewn on the floor around him.

My God, what has she done?

"Locke."

I spin around, and Kara is in the doorway. She has changed her clothes. Traveling clothes. Her face is chiseled calm. "What have you done, Locke?"

"Me? My God, Kara--"

"It doesn't matter." She walks in, heading for the desk. "This is our chance to leave." She begins pulling out drawers, quickly rummaging through them.

I pull her hands away and slam the drawer shut. "We can't just leave him like this! He might not be dead yet."

"What? You want me to finish him off for you?"

"Kara, I didn't do this. We both know--"

"Take a good look, Locke! He's dead. Trust me. Now move your hand! We're getting out of here. We don't have much time."

I don't move.

"Have you ever seen prisons on Vgrams, Locke?"

I shake my head.

"I didn't think so. There's a reason we never saw them. Cole told me. It's a hundred times worse than where we were. And we wouldn't be together." Her face softens. "Isn't that all we need? After all we've been through? To always be together? How long would it be before Gatsbro replaced one of us with an updated model?"

She pulls the drawer past my hand and resumes throwing out cards and everything else she deems useless.

"There are no card keys or codes, Kara. Cars are different now. They're all voice or body-scan activated."

She stops her pillaging, turning over this new development. "Body scan." She closes the drawer and absently runs her finger across her upper lip, thinking. Her eyes shift from the floor to me. "Does the body have to be alive?"

"I have no idea if--" I step back, understanding her meaning. "No. No! We are not going to haul his body out to the car."

"You're right. That would create too much noise. But"--she turns and looks down at Dr. Gatsbro--"a finger wouldn't be hard to carry. Would that work? Just a finger?"

"His finger?"

She grabs me by my shirt. "It's only a finger, Locke. And he doesn't need it anymore. I have a knife in--"

I jerk away from her grasp. "I can't believe we're even talking about this!"

"And I'll tell you what I can't believe, Locke! I can't believe someone was able to buy my mind and then put me on display like I'm a trained monkey! I can't believe he's allowed to keep me here against my will! I can't believe Jenna has been living the high life while we've been crammed into a box and forgotten for over two hundred years! I can't believe I'm never going to see my mother or--"

Her voice catches, and she reaches down to the desk to steady herself. Her chest rises and falls in careful breaths.

"There has to be another way, Kara." I reach out and pull her into my arms. I hold her, feeling her body melt into mine, feeling like I would do anything to protect her. I rub her head, feeling the silk, the sheer miracle of being able to touch her and smell her after so many years of wanting, and I don't even care that there's a bleeding body at my feet.

"Jafari," I whisper into her ear. "He's here in a rental. Or a car service. It had a driver. I saw it through my window earlier when it arrived. If it's--"

She pushes away and runs to the window. "It's still here! Jafari's probably waiting in the solarium for Gatsbro to return. We need to hurry!" She grabs my hand and pulls me with her as we run out the door and down the stairs.

All I can think of as we run down the hall, down the stairs, out the door, as we run across the lawn, down slate walkways with our footsteps echoing behind us, her hand so tightly grasping mine that not even Gatsbro could separate us, running, afraid to look back, running to the other side of the house and cobbled drive where the car is parked, all I can think is Where can we go? Where can we possibly go when everything that we've ever known is gone?