Our-World We took a private jet to Boston for refueling, then flew to Bar Harbor, Maine. After that, we traveled by helicopter to a private island about thirty miles east. The island, as far as we could tell, had no name, which seemed like a clear indication that visitors were not welcome. During the journey, Esker was reticent to disclose the details of what we might encounter, only sharing aerial photos of the island and information about, if not the owner, the occupant. The island …

Our-World Nowhere Kansas Esker managed to retask a satellite for consistent coverage of the small group of buildings above the underground silo. It took a day and a half to extract Pike’s team from the wilds of the Pacific Northwest, rearm them, and transport them to the airfield I had flown from when I last attacked the facility. Piper and I seized the opportunity to gear up ourselves. We gathered weapons and the Airbike, then arranged with a small freight service flight to meet Pike …

Our-World There was a blinding flash, and the world went topsy-turvy. I swallowed hard. My ears popped, and the usual sense of dizziness began to fade. Piper stood two feet away. Her eyes rolled dramatically in their sockets, and her legs started to buckle. I caught her before she could fall and pulled her tightly to me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” she said, pressing one hand to her lips. She took a deep breath and looked up into my eyes. …

Wild-Side The garage buzzed with activity. Piper adjusted the strap on a rifle featuring a traditional stock and grip but missing the usual long, thin barrel. She focused intently on the chunky rotary assembly situated halfway down the stock. It was a grenade launcher with a six-round capacity, courtesy of the forward-facing, 40-millimeter chambers arranged in a ring, reminiscent of a classic six-shooter. Activating a lever, she released the cylinder and set it on the table. A replacement was close by, the previously empty slots …

Our-World The heels of Breslin’s shoes clicked against the granite floors of the spacious suite as he approached Chris Ingersoll. The FBI agent had his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the cityscape beyond. The late afternoon sun had just dipped behind the high-rises to the west, casting the room into shadow. A light seemed to blaze in Breslin’s eyes, and Ingersoll wondered for perhaps the hundredth time if the rumors about the man’s animal savagery could be true. Although they had only met face-to-face …

Wild-Side A flash of light erupted and a ringing filled my ears. I knew everything had changed forever when I blinked away the orbs floating in my vision. I immediately noticed the lack of physical pain. The head-to-toe burning that had accompanied every Transition was absent. At most, there was a slight disruption in my balance. There was no strange taste in my mouth, and the urge to vomit had vanished entirely. Perhaps most importantly, I was still dressed. I wore the same tactical pants …