“Even though it’s not in Omaha?” Mason asks.
I take a deep breath of California air.
“Even though it’s not in Omaha.”
On the night before school starts, I knock on Mason’s bedroom door. He’s in pajama pants and a gray T-shirt. He sets aside the novel he’s reading and gives me his full attention.
“I was just wondering how things are going with the investigation,” I say, lingering in the doorway.
“Oh, Daisy, there’s nothing new,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “They’re still thinking it’s going to take months to sort out. Apparently neither of them is being cooperative, and a lot is still unclear.”
“So the program’s on hold until they figure it out?” I ask.
“Unfortunately so,” Mason says. “All the files and lab equipment and the drug itself will remain under tight security until the director can determine whether anyone else was involved.”
“What do you think he’s going to do after that?” I ask. “Kill the program?”
“I suppose it’s possible, but not likely,” Mason says. “The director has a science background. My hunch is that he’ll take it under his wing and finish off the thirty-year commitment to tracking the bus kids. At that point, though, he might decide to bury it.”
“Why?” I ask, surprised. “Wouldn’t he want to move forward? Besides God going mental, the program’s been a success, at least so far.”
Mason swallows hard and looks away.
“Hasn’t it?” I ask.
“It has,” Mason says. “But you were right.”
I think back to what I just said, to what he could possibly be talking about. When I don’t say anything, Mason clarifies.
“Daisy, God caused both Nora’s death and the original bus crash that started the program. He actually bragged about giving Revive the push it needed. You were right. In fact, it appears from his program files that he was looking for another ‘bus.’ Another large group of people to be the second test group. He had schematics for places like amusement parks and movie theaters at his office.”
“Aquariums,” I say, remembering.
“Aquariums,” Mason says, realizing that I was probably right about the man under the ocean being God, too.
“How could anyone do that?” I ask, not because I’m particularly surprised but because I’m sad for all of us in the program, and for those of us who aren’t.
“He’d have to be a sociopath,” Mason says. “Which, I guess he is.”
“And what about Cassie?” I ask, horrified.
“We always knew she was a genius who graduated early and was recruited out of college,” Mason says. “But the truth is that it started much earlier than that.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
“Daisy, when God called Cassie Jesus that day in Texas, it wasn’t much of a stretch,” he says. “Cassie is God’s daughter.”
I gasp, then shake my head. Mason fills in the blanks.
“Her mother left when she was little, and I guess God saw that as an opportunity to mold Cassie into the person he wanted her to be,” he says. “When the director figured out their relationship through DNA tests, he went back through Cassie’s records more closely. She was rigorously homeschooled and never allowed to have friends. She was trained on weaponry and military tactics as a preteen. She was pushed into early graduation. Basically, she was bred to be an agent.” Mason pauses. “With a man like that raising her, she didn’t have a chance. She always wanted to please him, and I guess she never grew out of it.”
“Why do you think he placed her with us?” I ask.
Mason sighs. I know he feels bad for not sensing that something was very wrong with Cassie.
“I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure,” Mason says. “But my guess is that it was because of you.”