Curiously, the tiny receiver began blinking in Lily’s hand.
“Strange,” Ezra said, “was it doing that before?”
“I don’t think so.”
Pounder growled quietly at it.
Geez, why was I having a deja vu moment?
Way back when, I remember, Pat and I had tried to bug a Secretist warehouse with a microphone. Everything was going fine, but then the mic suddenly cut out. About an hour after we’d lost the transmissions, our transmitter began blinking. I faintly remember a very tiny, high-pitched beeping in sync with the tiny pulsating light. Soon after the area was crawling with troops.
If it hadn’t been for Pat’s last smokescreen pellet, we would’ve been done for.
My eyes widened. Urgency settled into my mind.
I gave a cry, smacking Lily’s hand & sending the receiver flying across the room. I ran over to it, & crushed it under my heel.
“What the heck?!” Ezra cried. Lily looked at me in disbelief.
“Sorry, but they could’ve used the transmitter to track us,” I explained hurriedly.
But a new, disturbing thought surfaced: what if they'd locked onto the signal before I’d destroyed it?
They'd still be able to find us.
That is, unless we split up.
I was reluctant to even suggest it. I hated to lose track of my new-found allies, and with such risk involved, but we could we do?
“We’re gonna have to split up?” Lily asked, worry in her eyes.
I nodded solemnly, pulling out a map and setting it on the table.
“We have no choice.”