There was still no way across the gorge. No route into or out of Fire Lake.
I stumbled on a curb and Noah caught my arm, steadying me. I smiled ruefully, but it died when I noticed Tack watching us. He didn't like Noah touching me, even to prevent a face-plant.
"What should we do?" Noah asked.
"Answer the bell. What else?" I wanted to know who it was.
Sacred Heart is a boxy white building bordering town square. Other classmates were hurrying toward its large wooden doors. Gazing up, I spied two silhouettes in the steeple. Chris and Mike Nolan. They'd climbed up beside the bell and were whacking it with hammers.
"Idiots," Tack muttered, then cupped his hands. "You know there's a rope for that, right?"
Chris Nolan gave him the finger. "This is more fun! Now get inside."
"Guess those dopes are forming a club." Tack rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks. "What's the opposite of Mensa?"
I snorted, but had an uneasy feeling. I could tell Noah shared it. The twins didn't make decisions like this on their own. We both knew who did.
But there really wasn't much choice. As I stood there, hesitating, a dozen classmates filed past me into the church. Like it or not, a meeting was taking place. Better to stay in the know than wonder what was going on without us.
Derrick was manning a stool in the foyer. "And you three make sixty-four," he said with satisfaction. He nodded at Noah, who returned the gesture. "Amazing. When was the last time we had perfect attendance for anything?"
Derrick popped up, and we followed him inside. The pews were nearly filled. Ethan was up by the lectern, hands clasped behind his back.
We slunk to a back row and sat. Noah's foot began tapping as Derrick conferred briefly with Ethan, then leaned back against the Communion rail. I spotted Sarah in a chair beside the pulpit. Then Toby and the Nolans entered through a side door and flopped down on the steps in front of Ethan.
"Okay," Ethan began, pitching his voice to carry. "Good. Everyone came. That's a great first step. We need to stick together from now on, and maintain order."
In the front row, Jessica shot up from a tight huddle of sophomore cheerleaders. Raven-haired Susan Daughtridge. Melissa Hemby, a quiet girl with luminous hazel eyes. Six-foot Kristen Fornelli and her best friend, Tiffani Bright, petite and athletic, the top of the pyramid.
"What happened?!" Jessica shouted. "Where is everyone?"
"I have no idea," Ethan replied. "Does anyone?" He waited patiently, and the silence stretched. People glanced around, as if the answers might be hiding somewhere inside the room, but fear and confusion were reflected on all faces.
"I went through the same thing you did," Ethan said finally. "The ground was shaking to pieces, then those jumpsuit bastards sprayed us with something toxic. I passed out, and now I'm here. That's all I know."
"The soldiers killed people!" Jessica yelled, visibly shaking, her perfect features stretched in an ugly grimace. "They fired on the crowd! And that spray was choking me! I . . . For a minute I thought . . ." She dissolved into tears, sitting quickly, instantly smothered by her teammates.
Leighton Huddle stood, curly blond hair framing pale skin and ice-blue eyes. His father headed the valley's medical practice and Leighton was class president. "When the spray hit me, I started to hallucinate. It felt like my mind bent somehow. I can't describe it."
Lars Jergen rose beside him. As stocky as his friend was tall, he had reddish-brown hair and the only full beard in our class. Lars shook his head. "I swear I had a seizure or something. My head exploded. Colors. Light. It hurt like hell. Next thing, boom, I'm lying on the ground."
Voices cried out in agreement. The crowd was restless, people jabbering to their neighbors about their own experiences. Ethan let it go on for a few moments, then clapped his hands for silence. "Whatever happened after the gas hit," he said loudly, "it knocked us out. Now our families are missing. So is everyone else, including the soldiers. We have to find out why."
Spence Coleman lurched up, anxiously fidgeting with his jacket zipper. "Why'd they only kidnap our class? Where are the other kids? We all saw Principal Myers working with the soldiers, along with those two head doctors. They were helping them!"
Charlie Bell waved his phone overhead. "All networks are down. Cable and satellite providers, too, including Wi-Fi. My mom's store couldn't pick up anything all afternoon. Even the landlines are dead. It's a total blackout."
"What happened to the earthquakes?" Jessica screeched from her cheer-friend cocoon. "How'd the buildings get put back together?" She buried her head in her hands.
"I went to my house," Vonda Clark announced in a shaky voice. She was tall and heavy, with dark brown skin and cinnamon eyes. Her father was deputy mayor, the first African American elected in our lily-white town. "My little brother is gone. My parents are gone. My grandmother's gone. But everything we own is still there. It's insane! Where'd they go?"
"Those Nazis shot my dad." Carl Apria's dark brown eyes simmered with hatred. A descendant of the Nez Perce, he had the copper skin and thick black eyebrows common to his ancestral tribe. Carl sat next to his cousin Samuel Oatman. Their athletic builds and matching fauxhawk haircuts made them look more alike than the Nolan twins, though Carl was taller and had a snub nose. "I saw him cut down in the street, but we can't find his body."
Tack tensed beside me. The same had happened to his father.
A dozen conversations broke out at once. The crowd was becoming frenzied, each story adding to the fire. The enormity of our situation had begun to sink in. We were all alone, with no idea why, or what to do next.
A heavy thud silenced the room. Eyes whipped to the front.
Ethan drummed his fingers on the thick Bible he'd slammed on the pulpit. "As you've noticed, we have a lot to figure out. But it won't happen overnight. Right now, we need a plan to survive on our own for however long that may be. We also need to protect ourselves."
Ethan signaled Chris and Toby, who snagged stacks of papers from the Communion table and began passing them out. Sarah rose and stepped behind a lectern.
"Everyone's been given an assignment." Sarah wore athletic pants and two brightly colored tanks, one over the other, her strawberry-blond locks pulled back in a ponytail. "People will work in teams of five, with each group handling a separate task."
Murmurs from the gallery. Classmates frowned at the page being distributed.
Aiken Talbot stood. A professional slacker with greasy brown hair, he was holding hands with his girlfriend, Anna Loring, a sour-faced pixie with black doll's eyes. "No offense, but who put you guys in charge? None of you have spoken to me in years. Now I have an assignment?"
"We have to pull together, Aiken," Ethan said. "That means everyone doing their part."
The sheets finally reached us. Eleven groups were listed, each with five names. I elbowed Noah. "Nine people aren't on here," I whispered. "Wanna guess who?"
"We're split up, too. No chance that's by accident."
I didn't notice Tack rising from his seat. "Your Majesty?" he called, and all heads turned. "Are we still using the bathrooms on our own, or is there a special toilet commission? Because I'd be a natural for that one."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Watch it, smart-ass."
Tack ignored the warning. "I'm curious to know who chose you as leader." He extended his arms to encompass the whole church. "Was it Jesus? Do you guys talk, or was it, like, a Snapchat anointment?"
Laughter, mixed with mutters of agreement. Several cliques were giving Ethan's group the side-eye. Before anyone could respond, Darren Phelps stood. Short and solid, with broad shoulders and a cocky attitude, he wasn't impressed by the "in" crowd. His dad was a welder at the marina and known for explosive bouts of temper. Darren was a chip off the old block.
"I don't see your name, Ethan," Darren said. "Or Sarah's. Or Toby's. Or anyone else up there. I'm not taking orders if you guys are just sitting around doing nothing."
Ethan was eyeing Tack, so Sarah answered. "No one is exempt from work. The people not listed have other tasks. Ethan, Derrick, and I are the executive committee. We're in charge of planning, and stuff like that. Mike, Chris, and Toby are in charge of security."
Tack sighed loudly. "Why are the dumbest always cops?"
"Shut up!" I whispered, but he was a boulder rolling downhill.
Tack raised one hand as if testifying, placing the other over his heart. "I hereby propose that I'm not doing anything you jokers tell me to do. And I further propose that everyone else do the same. This whole meeting is ridiculous."
Toby popped up from the steps and strode to where Tack was standing beside me. Leaning an elbow on our pew, he placed his other hand on his hip and grinned. "You're gonna be a good boy and do what Ethan says, Tack. It's for the common good."
Tack laughed in Toby's face, but a warning light had begun blinking in my head. This meeting. Ethan and his friends. The typed lists. It was all so . . . prepared. Like they'd spent a lot time considering things, even though that wasn't possible.