The drive back to Montana was silent.
Eight people in two vehicles. Forty freed Receivers in the back of a cargo truck Sonya had commandeered from the facility. The Nebraska plains stretched endlessly on both sides, flat and empty, as if the land itself was holding its breath.
Ethan gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. His jaw was tight. Beside him, Nora sat with her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. She hadn't spoken since they'd climbed out of the ruined bunker.
Alex was in the back seat. His eyes were still faintly glowing. He was connected to the fragments, listening to their whispers, feeling their fear.
"She's still out there," he said finally. "The woman. The original intelligence. She's not gone. Just hiding."
"Can you feel her?" Ethan asked.
"Not directly.
