39. Lucie
Days ago, Lucie was locked in a tower of her father’s making, and now she was sitting at a control center with Whistler and Sam, getting ready to help with a secret mission. Like a spy mission from one of those movies she loved. Insane! Should she buy a lottery ticket, too?
During the tour of the Way Station yesterday, she’d gotten a quick peek at the control room. It had been impressive then, but now, during a live mission, it was entirely different.
The room buzzed with activity, a flurry of lights and colors across the multiple screens and consoles filling the space.
Every piece of equipment, every blinking dot on the monitors, had a purpose, and she was impressed by how smoothly everything seemed to run.
She’d bet her favorite paintbrush Whistler knew what every single button in there did.
Truthfully, the kid scared her. He watched her and everyone like he could read them as well as his computers. On the other hand, it broke her heart to think about the family he lost to get him here and the intense responsibility that rested on his shoulders because of it.
The large central screen caught her attention at once.
It displayed live updates on everyone’s vitals—tiny lines of data constantly shifting as the team on the mission moved closer to Washington, DC.
It was strange seeing her own name there, nestled between the names of giants like Finn, Charlie, and Sabrina.
But her eyes focused on one name in particular: Finn.
His heart rate was steady at 57 bpm. Watching the comforting rhythm of his heart slowed her own.
Finn is safe. Nothing bad is happening to him. He is alive, and so are you.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the data, silently willing it to stay stable, to remain unchanged. If she looked away, she feared it would change.
Seven people drove in various cars to the mission. The rest of the team was around the control center, plotting out routes and talking into headsets with Atlas correspondents.
There were still so many names and organizations with abbreviations that it was hard to keep track of them.
If she made flashcards for all the names, she would ace it in a week.
The quiz would consist of how Atlas was the Way Station’s sister company.
Check. The Way Station served as a haven for families from a secret cabal known as Legion. Check. Legion was uber evil. Check.
There, passed with flying colors.
She didn’t know too much about Legion, but the way Whistler said it made him lose color in his face. And if they scared Whistler . . .
That was when the Conductors came in. What help could they be by the time they got there?
Would the fight be over before they even reached their destination?
Selfishly, Lucie hoped so. She didn’t like the idea of Finn throwing himself into danger.
She knew he could handle himself. She did not doubt that, but . . .
Was there a better way? Lucie thought about it briefly but didn’t want to stir up trouble just yet. The Way Station was clearly an impressive operation. Everyone had a role, and each role was performed with such precision that it looked effortless.
So, she waited for two hours, trying to make herself useful by helping Whistler coordinate the team’s movements. It was stressful, but also strangely thrilling to be part of something this big—to feel useful again.
She started gathering what little first aid supplies they had too. When Finn and his Conductors got back, she wanted to be ready for them. If anyone had so much as a scrape or a bruise, she wanted to be the first on the scene.
“Is there a place where you keep your medical supplies?” Lucie had asked Sam.
“What do you mean?” Sam flicked the small triangular piece of paper and missed his goal post, which consisted of a pencil cup and a half-eaten Danish.
“I want to talk to the doctor you have on board and see if I can help. I used to go to school for it. If someone is hurt, I might be able to help,” Lucie said.
“We don’t have that kind of thing here,” Sam said, shrugging.
She glanced at the small supply closet they had passed earlier; its single first aid kit looked sad and outdated. The whole place needed better medical supplies. It hit her then why Finn had come to her to get his bullet wound taken care of—there wasn’t a proper infirmary here.
Curiosity got the best of her, and she asked Whistler, who confirmed it.
The kid told her that if someone was hurt, they went to the city for major complications.
She asked if there had been any problems with it, and Whistler went off on a long-winded speech about how he had broken his arm a couple of months ago after falling off a tree, and it took them until the next day to get it treated.
If something went wrong tonight, they’d be severely underprepared.
That’s what I can do.
Setting up a real infirmary. A full hospital, even. It was a daunting idea, but one that filled her with purpose. This was where she could be helpful, where she could carve out a place for herself at the Way Station. Maybe she’d talk to Mr. Williams about it—when the time was right.
Finn and the others were closing in on their location.
Lucie’s gaze flicked back to Finn’s vitals.
Everything still looked stable, but her nerves were on edge.
As much as she tried to stay calm, it was hard not to imagine all the things that could go wrong.
The shadows on the screen seemed to loom larger, more menacing, and she found herself scanning them as though something might leap out at any moment.
The door to the Control Center swung open. The sound of heavy footsteps and the tap of a cane made her look up, and her heart dropped.
It was Henry Williams.
No introductions had been made, but the way everyone in the room stood at attention at his entrance told her he was the man in charge.
Mr. Williams looked nothing like how she had imagined him.
He couldn’t have been older than his mid-forties with peppered hair, but he was movie-star handsome, as if he belonged in an old black-and-white film.
Awfully different from the seventy-year-old grouchy man she had imagined.
He looked nice, too. Sad but nice. She recognized the same sort of mischief in his eyes that Sabrina and Sam had.
Regardless, her stomach dropped.
It didn’t matter how calm Mr. Williams looked; her father could be the most charming man in the world when he wanted to, too.
“Sir,” Whistler greeted, only taking his eyes off the screen for a moment.
Her chest tightened, and her gaze darted back to the screen, trying to focus on the mission. The rhythmic beeping of Finn’s vitals filled the air, steady and strong, but her own heartbeat seemed to pound in her ears.
Mr. Williams paused as he entered, scanning the room with a critical eye.
He gave her a small nod—just a subtle acknowledgment, but it was enough to send her nerves into overdrive.
She forced a tight smile, lowering her gaze, hoping that would be the end of their interaction.
Maybe Finn was right; there were so many people moving through, he didn’t know she didn’t belong, but the muscles in her back still twisted.
Mr. Williams turned his attention to Whistler, his voice low but authoritative. “How’s the team holding up? Any complications?”
Whistler, as calm as ever, shook his head. “No major issues, sir. They’re moving efficiently.”
Mr. Williams nodded, his eyes drifting back toward Lucie as if he knew she was the only anomaly in the room. After a brief conversation with Whistler, he made his way over to her, his expression unreadable.
Their leader said his hellos before his gaze settled on Lucie. Assessing. Lucie drew her shoulders together. Every instinct that had kept her alive for years screamed for her to make herself smaller, to stay quiet, to avoid being noticed, but he found her almost immediately.
Lucie’s stomach flipped as the man who held her fate between his hands stopped in front of her.
“So,” Mr. Williams said. The word hung in the air. “You’re the one Finn is so taken with.”