“They wouldn’t have left otherwise.”
I chew on my bottom lip to keep from crying. “We need to figure out where they’re taking him.”
Big Ed shoots me a pitying glance. “How?”
“There must be a way,” I say. “How did Reid contact the Sweepers?”
“You don’t find the Sweepers, they find you,” Mason murmurs.
I kick at a clump of rotting wood in frustration. “Like you know what you’re talking about.” I jump to my feet and gulp down a sob. “I’m going after Jakob.”
An iron grip bores into my shoulder and spins me around. Mason stares at me, a flicker of something disturbing in his eyes. I tense my body, half-expecting his fist to explode into my cheekbone. Instead, he shoves me into the embankment and glares at me. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He reaches for his shotgun and loads a round into the chamber. Blood curdles in my veins.
Slowly, Mason brings his gun up and points the muzzle at the horizon before swinging around to face me.
“Reid didn’t contact the Sweepers. The Sweepers planted him in Frank’s camp.”
Chapter 7
My heart pounds so hard it feels like a steel boot kicking my ribs. How could Mason possibly know that? Unless he’s one of them. I scoot backward without taking my eyes off him. Every suspicion I’ve ever had about him converges like a giant avalanche in my brain.
Big Ed slumps to one side, his jaw slack. He looks like he might be having a heart attack, but then I’ve never seen anyone having a heart attack so how would I know? All at once I realize he’s reaching for his knife, his shrewd gray eyes alert as a hawk beneath the brim of his hat. “Easy, Mason,” he says. “Let’s talk this over like reasonable men.”
Mason stares at him, expressionless. If he unloads a round into Big Ed first, I’ll have only a few seconds to grab my gun. I wish Tucker were here to set on him. I inch my way into a crouch, ready to dive and tackle him if I have to.
Mason’s eyes settle on me. A shade of a grin comes over his face. “I’m not one of them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I hold my position. That’s exactly what I’m thinking. I always knew he wasn’t who he claimed to be.
Big Ed removes his hat and runs his hand over his head. “You’ve been hiding something ever since you rolled into camp. If you’ve got something to say, now would be the time.”
Mason shrugs, leans his shotgun up against the dirt embankment and hunkers down, elbows resting on his knees.
“How much do you really know about the Sweepers?” I ask.
Mason flinches, his eyes boring into me like bullets.
I move back a little so I’m out of range of any sudden blows. His brows shift together in a heavy frown. “I know everything there is to know about them.”
In a flash, Big Ed wedges his burly body between us, his hunting blade glinting in the sunlight, pressed tight to Mason’s neck. “Dang, boy, who are you anyway?” He tightens his grip on the handle of his knife, forcing Mason’s head back. “I swear I’ll skin your hide right now if you don’t spill whatever it is you’re hiding.”
“I hate them as much as you do.” Mason’s eyes flick to me and then back to Big Ed. “I was their prisoner.”
I eye him warily, my brain fogged with confusion. No one escapes from the Sweepers. “I don't believe you."
Big Ed sheathes his knife. “Let’s hear him out. If he’s telling the truth, he might be the only hope we have of saving Jakob.”
I stare at Mason, my head spinning. He’s a wall of muscle, stronger than seems humanly possible. Strong enough to break a Sweeper’s neck. If he did escape, I’m going to need his help to find Jakob, no matter how much the idea repulses me.
Big Ed nods at Mason. “Explain yourself.”
Mason wipes a hand across his creased brow. “The Sweepers, as you call them, are scientists who’ve been working for decades in an underground government facility called the Craniopolis. It’s run by a man named Dr.