Chapter 73

Cecilia

Arthur's hand found mine as we touched down, when he was trying to reassure himself I was still there.

"Welcome to the middle of nowhere," he said, but there was something almost fond in his voice.

The facility itself was sleek and modern. But what caught my attention was the village sprawled at its base—adobe structures and canvas tents, solar arrays and satellite dishes, a strange marriage of ancient and cutting-edge.

"Indigenous Mojave community," Arthur explained, following my gaze. "Winston Corp partnered with them when we built the facility. They provide local expertise, we provide infrastructure and jobs. It's worked out well for everyone."

A cluster of kids materializing from between the buildings, their faces bright with curiosity and excitement. They couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old, all gangly limbs and gap-toothed grins.

"Visitors!" one of them shouted, and suddenly we were surrounded.

"Are you scientists?" a little girl with braids asked Alice, who'd emerged from the helicopter looking windswept and slightly green.

"Um," Alice said, glancing at me for help. "Not exactly—"

"She's a doctor," I said, because Alice had mentioned studying pre-med before Max had derailed her entire life. "And I'm... I work with computers."

The kids' eyes went wide, like we'd just announced we were superheroes.

"That's so cool," the girl breathed. "I want to be a doctor too. Or maybe an astronaut. Or both."

"Why not both?" Alice said, and I watched her face transform as she knelt down to the girl's level. "You can be whatever you want."

More kids crowded around, asking questions in a rapid-fire mix of English and what I assumed was Mojave, their enthusiasm infectious despite my exhaustion from the flight.

"Are those your boyfriends?" another girl asked, pointing at Arthur and Max, who were conferring with the pilot about our bags.

"That one's mine," Alice said, gesturing at Max.

I bit back a laugh and nodded toward Arthur. "And that one's mine."

"He's very tall," the first girl observed. "Is he nice?"

"Sometimes," I said.

"We have candy," I added, remembering the stash I'd thrown into my carry-on at the last minute. "Do you want some?"

Suddenly I was the most popular person in a fifty-mile radius, tiny hands reaching for the bag I pulled from my backpack. I distributed chocolate bars and gummy bears while Alice looked on with amusement.

"You're a natural," she said.

"I'm a pushover," I corrected, but I was smiling.

One of the kids appointed himself our official tour guide, chattering about the village and the facility and the "cool scientists". His friends chimed in with additions and corrections.

"You're the pretty ladies from the city," he announced with the confidence of someone stating an obvious fact. "The elders said important people were coming. Are you important?"

"Not really," I said.

"Very important," Arthur said at the same time, appearing at my elbow with my suitcase. "The most important."

The kids giggled, and I felt my face heat.

"Ignore him," I told them. "He's delusional."

"I prefer 'accurate,'" Arthur said, but his eyes were soft as he looked at the crowd of children. "Are they bothering you?"

"They're perfect," Alice said firmly, and I nodded in agreement.

By the time we'd extracted ourselves from our new fan club—with promises to come back and tell them about the city.

The accommodations Arthur had mentioned turned out to be a series of luxury modules built into the facility itself, each one a self-contained unit with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dunes.

"This is not roughing it," I said, dropping my bag and immediately gravitating toward the windows. The view was spectacular—nothing but sand and sky for miles, the kind of emptiness that should have felt isolating but somehow didn't.

"I never said we'd be roughing it," Arthur pointed out. He came up behind me, his arms sliding around my waist. "I said it would be beautiful."

"You weren't wrong."

Alice and Max were in the module next door, Carter had his own module on the other side of ours. He'd been quiet on the helicopter ride, staring out the window with an expression I couldn't quite read, but he'd agreed to come, and that felt like a victory.

"Dinner's in an hour," Arthur said, pressing a kiss to my temple. "The facility has a communal dining area. Nothing fancy, but the food's supposed to be good."

"Sounds perfect."

The next morning, Alice showed up at our door before the sun was fully up, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Let's go exploring," she said the moment I opened the door. "The guide Max recommended is meeting us in twenty minutes."

I blinked at her, still half-asleep. "Alice, it's six AM."

"The desert's beautiful at sunrise," she insisted. "Come on, Ceci. When's the next time we'll be in the Mojave?"

She had a point. I glanced back at Arthur, who was sprawled across the bed in nothing but boxer briefs, one arm flung over his eyes.

"Go," he said without moving. "I'll catch up with you later."

"You sure?"

"I've got meetings all morning anyway." He lifted his arm enough to look at me. "Have fun. Be safe. Don't let Alice talk you into anything too crazy."

"I make no promises," Alice called from the doorway.

Twenty minutes later, we were standing outside the facility with our guide—a woman in her forties named Sarah, with sun-weathered skin and eyes that missed nothing. She wore practical hiking gear and had the kind of competent air that made me immediately trust her.

"Max Reynolds sent me," she said, shaking our hands. "Said you two wanted to see the real desert, not just the tourist version."

"That's us," Alice said. "The real version."

Sarah smiled. "Then let's go."

Sarah led us away from the facility, toward a section of desert that looked untouched by human presence—just endless sand and rock and the occasional hardy plant clinging to life.

"This area," Sarah said, gesturing around us, "is sacred to my people. We don't bring tourists here usually, but Arthur's been good to our community. We are honored to bring these two ladies here."

We walked for what felt like hours but was probably only forty-five minutes, the landscape gradually shifting from pure sand dunes to something rockier, more rugged.

Alice pulled out her phone and started recording. "Okay, so, hi everyone," she said, her voice taking on that slightly performative quality people get when they're talking to a camera.

"We're currently in the middle of the Mojave Desert, which is—" She panned around. "—absolutely stunning and also kind of terrifying? Like, there's nothing out here. Just us and the sand and probably some scorpions."

"Definitely scorpions," Sarah said cheerfully.

Alice made a face at the camera. "Great. Love that for us."

I laughed despite myself, and Alice turned the camera on me. "And this is Cecilia, who is my best friend."

We kept walking, Alice narrating intermittently and me chiming in with commentary that was probably unhelpful but made her laugh.

By the time we'd been walking for two hours, the landscape had shifted again, becoming more like a rocky plateau, and in the distance I could see what looked like the edge of a cliff.

"That's it," Sarah said, pointing. "The canyon's just beyond that ridge."

We pushed forward, and suddenly the ground dropped away, revealing a gorge that took my breath away.

It wasn't huge—maybe fifty feet deep—but the walls were striated in layers of red and gold and white, carved into swooping curves by water that hadn't flowed here in who knew how long. At the bottom, I could see a thin ribbon of water, moving fast.

"Oh my god," Alice breathed.