Tattoo Atlas by Tim Floreen

Author:Tim Floreen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

I lay on my bed staring at the shadowy ceiling for a long time after that, my stomach twisting and contorting while I wondered if Franklin would really return to the Mother Ship. And what if he didn’t? What if someone found him wandering the streets of Duluth? If the news got out that Franklin had escaped just like everybody had feared he would, people would make assumptions. They’d think the capsule hadn’t worked. They’d think he’d intended to do something horrible. Mom’s project would get shut down. Maybe she deserved that, considering she’d built the project on lies. But she’d probably also have to take the capsule out of Franklin’s skull. He’d go back to the way he’d been before all this started—not a murderer, perhaps, but also not whoever he was now.

Franklin had said he’d return to the lab, though. He probably hadn’t stuck around in the backyard because he’d feared I’d get Mom or call the cops the second I stepped inside, which was understandable. If I hadn’t learned what I had about him earlier tonight, I probably would’ve done just that.

After a couple hours of agonizing, I grabbed my phone and called Callie.

“This better be fucking important, Rem,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

I couldn’t get myself to say anything, though. I always told Callie everything, but this felt too huge even to share with her.

“Spit it out,” she said. “If this is about how I blew your stupid little secret and now Tor knows I know how the two of you liked to get steamy in the steam tunnels, I already said, I’m sorry but I’m not sorry. It’s about time he—”

She broke off.

“What is it, Callie?”

“Nothing. I thought I heard a noise. Look, can we talk about this tomorrow? I mean it, Rem, enough with the middle-of-the-night phone calls. I want to be supportive and there for you and all that shit, but I also need my fucking sleep.”

I rolled over in bed, the phone tight to my ear. She was right. I should just let her sleep. If I spilled the truth about Franklin’s escape, how would she react? Would she understand if I tried to explain why I hadn’t turned him in? Would she insist I go to the police now and tell them what had happened? Would she turn around and do it herself? And how much of the truth should I tell her anyway? Should I mention the part I’d learned Mom had played in Pete’s murder? I couldn’t explain the rest of it—how my feelings about Franklin could’ve changed so fast in such a short period of time—without divulging that too, could I?

“Right,” I said. “Sorry. Go back to sleep, Callie. We can talk tomorrow.”

A couple more hours passed before I finally sank into sleep myself. Right away, a dream pounced on me and swallowed me up. Except this dream felt different from my usual ones. I found myself back in the gazebo sitting next to Franklin. He

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