ONE
The world was a very, very big place.
That was Loup’s first impression as the sun
rose over northern Mexico. By the time it had
cleared the horizon and begun to cast strong light
over the landscape, they’d been driving for an
hour. Still, the road stretched before them, empty
and endless.
And except for Pilar, fast asleep with her head
on Loup’s shoulder, everything and everyone in
the world Loup had ever loved was behind her,
behind the vast concrete wall that sealed off the
U.S. border and sealed in a town once known as
Santa Olivia, known in Loup’s lifetime only as
Outpost—Outpost 12.
The thought made an empty space in Loup’s
heart. In the light of day, the thrill of their daring
escape through the excavated smugglers’ tunnel
had worn off. If she were capable of feeling fear,
she was fairly sure she’d be feeling it now.
Pilar yawned and lifted her head. “Are we
almost there?” she asked sleepily.
Behind the steering wheel, Christophe laughed.
“Not even close.”
Pilar’s hazel eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yes.” He glanced over at the girls. “It’s
over a thousand kilometers to Mexico City. Over
six hundred miles,” he added, seeing their
perplexed looks.
“Wow.” Loup tried to think about what that
meant and couldn’t. She knew miles as units
measured on a treadmill, going nowhere, not as
actual distances to be traveled. It was only the
third or fourth time she’d ridden in a car, and
never farther than a few blocks before. “So a few
more hours, huh?”
“More than a few.”
“How many?”
The cousin-of-a-sort she’d only just met
squinted at the convertible’s speedometer. “I
drive fast. We ought to be there by late
afternoon.”
“Shit!” Pilar said in dismay.
Christophe slid her a laughing glance. “Big
world, eh?”
“Yeah, no kidding.” She turned to look at the
empty highway behind them. “So we’re safe? No
one’s after us?”
“I imagine the army is tearing Santa Olivia
apart searching for Loup, but no one has the
