Free Antitype by M. D. Waters

gaze away. “I think I’ll stand for this.”
    I rest my elbows on upturned knees, watching her as she paces in front of me. “It was meant to be a means to an end. Get Hannah and the girls out and across the border to somewhere safe. I tried getting out a few months ago, but it isn’t as easy as I thought. As it turns out, I’m no longer sure I want that anymore. That, and I need their help now more than ever.”
    She pauses to look down at me. A war rages in her eyes. I’m walking a dangerous line. Working with the resistance can get me killed. Working for Dad, maintaining a public profile while doing so, can get me killed. But if anyone will understand where I’m coming from, it’s her.
    â€œI need your help too,” I say.
    â€œName it.”
    â€œI’m getting the girls out, and it doesn’t look like Hannah will be able to take care of them. The resistance puts the rescued girls into adoptive homes in the west. I don’t want them split up.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Hannah?” She pales as I explain and returns to sit beside me. When I’m finished, she says, “My God, Noah. What can I do?”
    â€œHelp me find them a home. You or Henry must know people who would be willing to take all three girls.”
    She nibbles her lip, nodding slowly. “Let me make some calls. We know a couple in Oregon. Henry will be happy to help.” She cuts her eyes at me. “There’s no love lost between him and your father. Whatever he can do to slight James, he will.”
    â€œJust don’t tell him about—”
    Her hands fly up to stop me. “I won’t. That’s your secret to tell. One you shouldn’t tell another living soul.”
    I nod. “When will you find out? The raid is early next month.”
    â€œThat’s not a lot of time.”
    â€œI know.”
    She sighs. “I’ll have something concrete by the end of the week.”
    We stand and hug. My chin rests perfectly on the crown of her head. “Thanks, Mom.”
    She looks up and pats my cheek. “Promise you’ll be careful.”
    â€œPromise.”
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    I teleport into the underground resistance hub. I don’t know its exact location, but I know it’s under Baltimore, Maryland, and part of the mid-Atlantic region. The room is small and holds twelve teleporter tubes in three rows of four. Sentry guards in resistance standard-issue black sit on high stools bookending a silver door. They stand as I appear, arcing rifles over their shoulders on the off chance I’m an unexpected enemy.
    â€œLieutenant Colonel Updike is expecting me,” I say.
    One elbows the square switch that opens the door with a hydraulic
hiss.
I pass into the boxlike stone hallways. A chill belies the late summer several feet over our heads, and the air smells stale.
    Two corridors later, tapping feet precede a friendly voice. “Noah.”
    I pause for Dr. Sonya Toro, who smiles and jogs to a stop in front of me. She’s a tall woman about my age, dark-skinned, and the closest friend I’ve got around here. We joined up at roughly the same time but come from very different backgrounds. She grew up in California and joined because she heard the resistance was short on medical help.
    Sonya twists her long black hair at the nape of a slim neck. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
    It’s hard not to return her bright smile. She’s a very attractive woman. Full lips, large eyes, high cheekbones encased in delicate bone structure. “I’ve been busy.”
    â€œI heard. I know about Hannah. The lieutenant colonel had me look over her records.”
    I can’t look at her anymore. My heartbeat floods my ears, drowning out the sounds of passing conversations and boot steps. “And?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she whispers, then takes my hand. Her fingers are warm where