White Space Season 2

pulled out a small glass card and swiped his thumb across it.
    Sarah fell limp, then frozen.
    What did you do to me?!
    She screamed inside, wanting to fight, claw, bite, desperate to attack them for their violations. But Sarah could do nothing outside allowing the men to set her back into bed, like a doll dropped on a pillow.
    “Are you OK, sir?” one of the men asked Blake as he stood, touching an already bruised swath of skin just under his left eye.
    “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” Blake smiled at the doctor. “Please leave us.”
    The men left, and Blake looked down at Sarah, still smiling — a calm smile, as if she’d not just attacked him — as if trying to put her at ease. He reached out to stroke her hair. She could feel him, just barely.
    “You are family, Sarah. You gave birth to my grandchild, Emma. I swear to your safety; I will never, ever hurt you. I gave life to your daughter and returned yours when it was senselessly taken. Down there with your daughter you would be dead. Up here you are helping us all to build a better tomorrow. We are doing something that, as I hope you will soon see, is for the greater good. The future isn’t about you or me, it’s about what’s next. It’s about what is possible for your child, and her children’s children. We are so fortunate to be alive right now, in this time, at the start of a new era. Future historians will discuss what we’re doing right now for thousands of years. It is that big, Sarah. And the best part is, you and I are here to share the story, and neither of us is going anywhere. We can say we watched the dawn of mankind’s greatest step, and that we helped him to take it. All I’m asking is that you’re patient. You will see Emma again, someday. Just not now.”
    As Sarah saw the light in Blake’s eyes, gleaming behind a glint of certain delusion, she almost wished the bullet that had taken her life had done its goddamned job.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 2 — Milo Anderson

    Milo stared at the giant black man he’d seen with Jon Conway and Ms. Hughes’ sister at the funeral, eyes moving from his giant barrel of a chest to the robotic leg, then back up to his face.
    His first instinct was to run, but where? Running toward the officers in the front yard wasn’t an option, but how was he supposed to trust the mystery man offering help? He didn’t have a choice. Milo looked at his bike, laying in the grass just past the giant. It would be impossible to get on it and ride away if the man wanted to stop him.
    Milo’s heart pounded as he considered his quickly slimming list of possible escapes. He felt as if he were standing on a bridge as dozens of rabid dogs raced toward him. Did he take his chance and fight the dogs, or jump, hoping to survive the fall into icy waters below?
    He met the stranger’s eyes, and saw something there, a quiet confidence Milo felt he might be able — should be able — to trust.
    He had to jump and hope for the best.
    “OK,” Milo said. “Where are we going?”
    The giant man pointed south. “We’ll cut through these backyards. I’m parked just down the street.”
    Milo followed, through a cluster of well-groomed backyards, glancing up at windows, certain he’d see someone looking down at them, wondering why the hell Paul Bunyan and some kid were stomping their grass.
    “Don’t look in the windows,” the man said calmly. “Act like you’re supposed to be here. Just keep walking, nice and easy. Look suspicious, and they’ll call the cops.”
    “OK,” Milo said, following the man’s lead as he kept moving — his back straight and head upright, staring ahead with a confidence he only pretended to have.
    Just keep walking.
    As they stepped into the third yard from the Hellers’, a dog started barking from inside the house.
    “Keep walking,” the man said. Milo did, certain the back door of the house would burst open at any moment, sending a dog flying out from inside to attack them.
    “Just over here,” the man said, turning as he walked between two houses on his way toward the street.
    Milo followed him to a dark blue SUV with tinted windows.
    “Thanks,” Milo said, looking back toward Alex’s house, seeing the Paladin car still on fire, and the pair of officers trying to douse it. “I’ll find my way from here.”
    “Get in the truck,” the man ordered.
    “No, I’m good,” Milo said, backing away from the vehicle, ready to sprint down the street if he had to, figuring he could outrun