She’s holding something back. Something painful. I can see it in how tightly her lips are pressed together. But she won’t tell me until she’s ready, and I’m not going to waste time trying to make her.

We have to get out of here.

Indiana sits on a mat made of leaves and begins gathering up a scattered deck of cards. “Why load bombs onto submarines, if they think they’re going to get ships?”

“Because a cargo ship can’t deviate from its scheduled route or make unscheduled stops without looking suspicious and risking extra inspections.” Genesis frowns as she thinks out loud. “That’s why Silvana didn’t ask my dad to send a ship here. She asked for coordinates of where it will be. They’re going to send bombs out to the ship in their submarines. And from there, who knows where . . .”

“I know where. We heard a list of targets, over Moisés’s radio,” I say as I thread the tube through the lid of the vial. “Um . . . LA, New York, Chicago, DC, Memphis, and Miami. They’re going to blow up Miami, Genesis.” Our home. I feel sick at the thought of how many people might die. People we know. My mother. “We have to warn them.”

“We’re going to do better than that.” Genesis lifts her shirt just high enough for me to see that there’s a phone—her phone—tucked into her waistband.

“Where did you—” I squint, resisting the urge to bend for a closer look. Taped to her phone is a slim brick of a claylike material with wires sticking out of that. “What is that?”

“C-4,” she whispers. “They turned our phones into little bombs.”

My cousin is wearing explosives like some kind of designer belt. Before I have a chance to process that realization, another one sinks in.

This is what Luke was talking about.

“They’re detonators,” I whisper. “Small bombs to set off the big bombs down on the beach.”

“That’s the plan,” she says. “I’m going to use the extra phone to set this one off in the jungle.” She pats a small lump in her pocket. “While the terrorists are trying to figure out what happened, I’ll grab some more detonators from the tent, then run down to the beach and blow up the warheads,” she explains. “But—”

“That was the plan when we thought they were IEDs,” Indiana says, firelight flickering on the side of his face. “Pressure cooker bombs. But warheads are way too big, G. They’ll catch you before you can get far enough away to safely blow them up.”

“No they won’t, because we’ll be on the water,” Genesis says. “We can set the detonators on the warheads, then get in the boats and trigger the C-4 once we’re far enough away.”

“What about the men on the beach?” he asks.

“There aren’t any right now,” I whisper as I clip my new infusion set into place against my stomach. “They’re all in the jungle, working on the submarine.”

“But we still have to deal with the ones here,” Domenica points out. “They won’t all just run off and leave us unguarded when Gen’s bomb goes off.”

“No,” Genesis says. “We’ll have to fight. Are you in?”

Domenica hesitates for a second. Then she nods. “You still need a distraction, right? So you can plant that thing in the jungle?”

“Luke’s right outside the camp. Let him plant it,” I suggest. “The less time you’re in the jungle, the smaller the chance they’ll discover you missing.”

Genesis looks hesitant. “He’s just a kid, Maddie.”

“He’s not a kid.” I can feel my face warm. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

She frowns at me for a second, and I can practically see her internal debate. Finally she nods. “Okay. But I still need a distraction so I can get the detonator to him.”

I give her a grim smile. “I’ve got that covered.”

GENESIS

“Tú. Y tú. Boil more water.” Sebastián points at Domenica and Indiana as he crosses the clearing toward us, and while she still has her back to him, Maddie flicks water at her own face and neck. “Vamos. Let’s talk.” He pulls Maddie up by one arm, and she stares at the ground, her gaze hardly focused. The water droplets glisten on her skin like sweat.

“Okay.” She walks slowly and keeps pushing hair back from her face. Her hands are shaking and she stumbles with every other step.

I’ve seen her go into diabetic shock twice before, and this act looks so much like those episodes that I’m starting to wonder if she was faking then too.

She’s halfway to Silvana’s fire pit when her legs fold beneath her. And just like she predicted, half of our abductors descend on her like angels from on high, while the rest turn to watch the drama unfold.

They need her, and they’re not going to let her die. Not after losing Ryan.

An ache resurfaces deep in my chest, but I force myself to focus. Grief is a waste of energy, but with any luck, blowing things up will be therapeutic.

When I’m sure all the guards are focused on Maddie, I slip into the jungle. “Luke!” I whisper as I walk, taking frequent glances back at the camp. I can’t even see Maddie, because of the crowd gathered around her.

“Luke!”

Each second that slips by makes my palms a little sweatier. My throat a little tighter. I can’t mess this up.

“Luke! Maddie sent me.”

A twig snaps behind me, and I whirl around to see him holding the automatic rifle Maddie said they took from Moisés. His chin is stubbly and dirt streaks his arms. He looks like an extra from Lord of the Flies. A cute extra. I can kind of understand what Maddie sees in him.

“Genesis?”

“Yeah. Here.” I pull the C-4 detonator from beneath my shirt and shove it at him. “Maddie said you could plant this in the jungle for us? Just put it at the base of a tree somewhere about half a mile out. Then come back here. I’ll watch for you, and when I see you, I’ll call the phone to detonate it.”

“You’ll . . . ?” He looks confused, but there’s no time to explain about the other phone. The crowd around Maddie is already starting to dissipate. Óscar looks like he’s taking a head count.