Elena spent a long time with her finger hovering over the "call" button. Her mom had never once reached out to her since she left home. Why did Michelle think that responsibility should fall to Elena?

She took a deep breath. Their lives were all in danger. This could be her last chance to make amends. It didn't matter whose job it should have been.

Her mom's phone rang a full four times. Elena let her breath out and started to lower her phone before a muffled, "Hello?" sounded from the other end.

" . . . Mom?"

It was silent. Elena held her breath.

"Hi, Elena."

This had been a bad idea. She had no idea what to say. What could she say?

"H-how are things?"

"It's good." She bit her lip. "Um, it's really good. I'm still studying engineering, got all A's for the first semester this year. One B last semester, though."

"Oh."

That was all.

She shouldn't have tried to do this. Should have known how it would turn out. But Michelle had insisted, and here she was . . . "How are things with you?"

"Still working in the shop."

Elena couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So what's going on?"

"It's—" Elena took a deep breath— "it's been a long time. I just didn't want to wait any longer to call."

"You called a few days ago."

"I know, but . . ."

"What's changed, Elena? You still blame me for your father's death."

"No, I don't—I don't blame you for his death." Keeping Elena from visiting him for months before he died—yes, that was her fault.

She couldn't have known. Elena had never wanted to admit that her mother couldn't have possibly known what was going to happen. But her mother had also been completely unwilling to apologize.

Apologizing wasn't her mother's style. It had seemed a fatal flaw to Elena. Now, with the perspective of knowing they would probably all be dead in a couple of weeks, it just didn't seem to matter.

It was still silent on the other end, though Elena could hear the light breathing, the soft static that told her her mother was still there.

"I . . ." Elena took a deep breath. "I forgive you."

"Elena, what's this about? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom." Her voice cracked. "Just wanted you to know that I forgive you, and I love you."

"Baby, I . . . I'm so sorry."

"I know."

"But you need to tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, I just . . ." Her eyes stung. "I'll come see you if I can."

"Okay."

"Okay." Elena nodded. She needed to get back to work if she was to have any hope of fulfilling that promise. "I have to go."

"Elena . . ."

"Yes?"

"I . . . love you too."

Warm tears streaked down Elena's face, and she ended the call.

Her phone buzzed almost as soon as she hit the end button. An Amber alert popped up. She started to shove her phone into her pocket, but the license plate number caught her eye.

The Amber Alert was for their motor home.

The back of her neck prickled, and she climbed down from the loft. "Um, guys?"

"You saw your phone?" Patrick asked.

"Michelle?" Elena called toward the open window to the cab.

Michelle looked up at them through her rearview mirror and nodded. "I'm already on it. Thought this might happen, so yesterday I started heading in the direction of a friend of mine. We're about an hour away."

Elena bit her lip. "What if we get caught before then?"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "That would be the question on your mind."

"I'm serious, though!"

Michelle winced. "I'm driving as fast as I can without getting pulled over for speeding, Elena."

She shifted her weight. "Well, what is your friend going to do about it?"

"He's going to give us a van."

"Oh, good idea." Patrick smiled.

Elena's heart sank. They'd have to leave behind the animals.

"Elena." Michelle's voice sounded as gentle as her face looked. "I'm so sorry."

She swallowed hard. "Your friend, can he take care of the animals while we're gone?"

"He'll do everything he can. But I don't know if we're going to get that camper back."

Elena nodded, her eyes stinging. It wasn't as if it should come as a surprise to her, or even as a great loss. She had bid farewell to the animals at the end of the previous summer, and she would at the end of this summer even if everything had gone according to plan, and Jim had never come to evaluate, and Sam had never had his stupid anomalies . . .

Now, they might not even live to see the end of summer.

She wondered how things would have turned out if they had never found Sam and discovered his abilities. It would still be difficult to get Sam to learn to push the distance of his abilities any further, so maybe there would just be a one hundred foot circle of death out in some neighborhood.

Would Sam have felt that something was amiss before the destruction took place? If he didn't, he might have accidentally pulled in his flux to a small enough area to kill himself instantly. He would have to notice the effects of his powers on his own body. They'd all be in excruciating pain for hours or days before they finally succumbed to death. Sam would, too. He'd notice, and maybe by instinct he would try pushing his abilities out further, further, until he couldn't anymore—

If he did die first, would the remainder of the circle be spared?

Then there was the question of how this had all happened. An exponential growth could go unnoticed for years. But Patrick had asked, why now? Something could have been keeping the ability dormant for the past several years, but what? Or—she hadn't wanted to consider it—maybe nothing had kept it from growing before. Maybe something was causing it to grow now.

The camper was full of all kinds of odd scientific equipment, but she could imagine no chemicals or computers that could be causing science itself to fail. Then again, she couldn't imagine anything that could cause science itself to fail.

If it were impossible, then she wouldn't be able to come up with an explanation for it. Without an explanation, she couldn't formulate a theory about a cause. Without a theory . . . it could be anything. They didn't know enough with the data points they had.

Which meant getting away from the camper might be the best thing. It would rule out one more alternative.

She slowly walked from one animal's cage to the next, lingering for a longer time at the chameleon cage, although Michelle had cleared away Seamus's body long ago. Finally, she picked up Winter and buried her face in the soft white fur, squeezing tighter than she probably should have been.

A warm hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Elena."

She turned, and Patrick stood an awkward distance away from her. "Just, I'm sorry. This whole thing really sucks."

She wanted nothing more than to forget all of her annoyance with him, forget their bickering, and melt into his arms. But there was work to do.

"Sam," she said, "ready to make some lights change color?"