The Art of Saving the World

I was already halfway to the door. “I’m sorry! Stick around if you want! Order whatever!” I shouted at the table, hoping they didn’t catch the panic in my voice.
Valk shoved me into the van, which was sleek black both inside and out, and the driver barely waited for the door to close before tearing out of the parking lot. No sign of Dad.
I sat in the middle row beside Valk. My hands wrung in my lap, my palms slick with sweat. “Is it the rift?”
The agreement my parents had signed ages ago said that, while I could ask anything I wanted, I wasn’t entitled to answers. We got occasional information about the state of the rift or the MGA’s research, but on a voluntary basis only. The government could be building a nuke right there on our farm and we wouldn’t know.
It wasn’t a good deal, but by signing the agreement, we at least kept some control over our lives. We all knew the government could keep me at the house whether I wanted to be there or not.
And truth was, I wanted to be. Even if the MGA gave me the choice to leave, I couldn’t let the rift go haywire and allow people to die because I just had to experience self-serve frozen yogurt.
Maybe someone was injured. Sometimes things slipped through the rift even when I was nearby, and Mom was still at home—maybe—
Valk nodded. “It’s the rift.”
“Is it bad?”
“Seems that way.”
“How?” I talked as fast as I could, as though that’d give her less time to change her mind about talking to me. “Does it have anything to do with the extra security or that power outage? Is my radius getting smaller?”
Valk turned to face me. “Maybe,” she said, “but right now—”
Something thundered across the road.
The driver yanked the wheel sideways.
And the world turned over.

CHAPTER THREE
The tires screamed across the asphalt.
No, not the tires. The chassis. I was on my side, weightless, the seat belt slicing into my shoulder—I was upside down, airbags exploding into the side of my face—back upright like a doll flailed around by an angry toddler—
And then it was over.
It couldn’t have taken long, but it took minutes—no, seconds, had to be only seconds—to realize it had ended. To realize what had happened.
Breath returned to me. I sucked it in hard. The world around me was quiet. The engine was still going, but at a soft, intermittent rumble. I heard nothing beyond that and my own breathing, loud and inescapable. A metallic tang hung in the air.
Someone groaned.
“Agent Valk?” It came out like a cough.
The van had stopped right-side up. I sought out the seat belt button, letting the belt slip back. My glasses had flown off my face. I pushed away an airbag and found them folded by my side.
The back of the van was dented inward. Shards of glass covered every conceivable surface: the floor, the narrow window ledges, the seat.
“Hazel. Are you injured?” Valk leaned in.
“I don’t think so.”
Valk looked toward the driver’s seat. “Holloway, you all right? Can we keep going?”
No answer. My breath caught in my throat. “Is she . . .?”
Valk unbuckled and pulled herself up by the headrest, bringing her face side by side with Agent Holloway’s.
“Ah,” she said quietly.
The van had rammed into a tree. The front airbags had detonated, but they hadn’t saved Agent Holloway.
Cold air breezed in through broken windows. I felt hot and ill and cramped all at once.
Dead. Dead. Agent Holloway was—
No, no. Maybe she only needed a doctor. I tried to gather my thoughts. Thursday night. Who’d be on duty at the base? “Dr. Gates. Can we call him?”
“Hazel.”
“We need help—”
“Hazel. It’s too late for Agent Holloway.” Valk took my chin. I wanted to jerk away, but there wasn’t anywhere to go, so I just stared, wide-eyed, barely seeing. “Listen to me. Can you get out of the car and walk?”
“I think so.”
“You need to reach the rift as fast as possible. Run. OK?”
“Aren’t we close enough?” Three hundred yards. Four hundred, maybe. The rift shouldn’t even hiccup at this distance.
“Go.”
I nodded—I thought I nodded—and then suddenly I was outside, the chilly air a welcome relief even if it stung cuts on my skin I hadn’t even realized were there. I climbed from the ditch onto the road and tried to stop my legs from shaking.
Steady, I thought, steady. It’s a short walk. You’re fine.
At this time of year, it got dark quickly, but there were enough roadside lights to see by. Skid marks stretched out on the asphalt. Farther up the road was a shape I couldn’t identify. I had to walk in the opposite direction, but—what was that?
Before the crash, something had moved across the road. I’d assumed it was an animal, but this didn’t look like one, whether dead or alive. I fished for my cell phone in my pocket, found it thankfully still intact, and aimed the flashlight at the shape on the road.
It was yellow. Twisted. Almost my size. It looked like a plant—maybe a fungus—covered in a wispy layer of translucent hairs. Where the plant touched the road, the skin was damaged, revealing cracks of moist orange flesh.
Last year, something similar had come through the rift. It was the kind of thing that made the MGA wonder whether they were looking at an existing plant that hadn’t been discovered yet, an extinct or yet-to-have-evolved plant from another time, a mutation of some sort, or perhaps something from another planet or dimension . . .
There was only one reason for this plant to come falling onto the road.
My hand went to my mouth. How had the rift spat out something that landed all the way out here?
I turned off the flashlight and rang Director Facet’s cell. He always said I could call anytime, but I reserved it for emergencies. This counted.
With the phone to my ear, I ran. Past the van, where Valk was crouching by Holloway’s side. Farther down the road. (Facet should’ve picked up