My entire life has been a lie.

My father wasn't the man he said he was. My commanding officer didn't believe the ideals he claimed he did. My newfound ally hadn't supported my cause like she pretended to. And as I stand on Port Canaveral's Pier Four with its weathered sign claiming that Florida is the best place on earth while hanging halfway off its rusty poles, I realize that I don't give a damn about any of it.

I absent-mindedly rub my right thumb and forefinger together and flinch. Looking down in the faint moonlight, I only see a dark smudge on my fingertip. But another, harder press results in a similar pinprick of pain. It's probably a splinter, and I give it no further thought.

I think I should care—about my situation, the people who put me in this position, and even my damn finger—but I truly don't. I'm tired. Yes, that's it. I'm just really, really tired. I want to go back to my bunk, climb under the covers, and sleep for twenty-four hours straight. But then I remember that my bunk is almost thirty nautical miles offshore, under hundreds of feet of water, and when I left it more than an hour ago, it was in total chaos.

Thinking of Vanguard fills me with even more emptiness. Is emptiness a feeling, though? If not, then it should be because it's the only way I can describe the void in my soul left from the thought of how simple and carefree my life was two months ago. That was before I decided to be a show-off on that stupid fishing expedition. If I had just listed to Ray and had given up on that Bluefin, I would have never gone to the water's surface. Without that knucklehead move, I may have never seen land nor eventually discover the people living on it.

I scoff. Who am I kidding, least of all myself? As if Will Scott ever needed a reason to be a cocky fool. Scratch that. Not Scott. That isn't my name. It's Will freaking Jacobson, son of Chris Jacobson, identity-thief extraordinaire.

I look back at the terminal building where my fellow evacuees from Vanguard including Dad were taken after we docked. They're guarded by a contingent under Governor Bradford who'd been laying in wait for our arrival. But it's not all bad news. Before leading me out of the ferry, Nelly told me that Ellen was also here. Supposedly the O-Towners wanted to use her as a bargaining tool against me in case something went wrong. It's funny how they thought I was the weakest link. I guess they didn't think Commander Lamer could be careless enough to blow up one of the ferries, throwing all of our plans out the window. Then again, nothing could have safeguarded against that. Nothing other than almost everyone I cared about or respected not betraying me, that is.

"You really did it, boy." Dunstan's indistinguishable brogue draws my attention back toward the water. As I look down the length of the pier, I see the old mechanic and Jed Sykes heading toward me. Although the former's expression is hidden under his scruffy beard, the latter couldn't look any more pissed than if someone had just kissed his girlfriend right in front of him.

I smile. Oh yeah. That was me. And I'm not even sorry.

"What are you gonna blame me for this time?" I ask Dunstan as he reaches me, even when I suspect the answer. Lamer's death is our biggest loss, and I'm sure everyone will think it's undoubtedly all on me.

But instead of giving me a deserved dressing-down or even a few choice words (believe me, Dunstan knows plenty), the rugged Scotsman grins and slaps me on the back. "For saving civilization, o' course!"

I blink in confusion until Jed nudges us along with a stern look and nod of his head toward the terminal building. "Get moving."

Although my brain wants to tell him to fuck himself and my fist wants to punch his smug face, my feet obey the blunt command.

Wearily shuffling inside, I'm surprised that everyone appears to be sitting on the floor of the large hall. Since we probably have to wait out the impending dawn and the following daylight hours to go anywhere, I guess I expected them to have taken refuge in a basement level. But the glass walls are all covered with dark paper from the inside, so this place seems as good as any to shelter from the toxic rays.

Dunstan joins the group who are quietly talking amongst themselves under the background static of a short wave radio, but Jed stays behind to look the door. Not wanting company, I seek out a private spot and ultimately jump over a counter marked "Check-In" before slumping to the floor. I have my back against a cabinet and my head cradled in my palms trying to both make sense of and forget everything, when someone taps me on the shoulder.

"Existential crisis or just average teenage angst?" Ellen asks with a grin when I look up.

I frown, not understanding how she can make jokes right now. "You know Lamer is dead, right?"

She nods and sits next to me. The touch of her shoulder against mine is comforting. She was never much for mushy platitudes, and this is her way of telling me she's glad I'm back.

"It was an accident," she says with the confidence of someone who was there, but I know her tone is for my benefit. Deep down, she knows I'm blaming myself. How can she not? She'd do the same. It's a twin thing. So she's stating the conclusion without leaving room for argument.

Man, my sister is the best.

"What now?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair. It's the first time I've felt truly lost, unsure of how to proceed. Not even when I was in the medical ward recovering from radiation burns did I lack such hope. Seeing his commanding officer die does that to a guy, especially when it could have been us just as easily.

Jesus, I hadn't even thought of that! What if instead of Lamer, our ferry had taken that hit from the mine? Thirty lives would have been lost instead of one, but then again, mine would have been one of them so I wouldn't be sitting here stewing over it. Fuck, I hate this.

"Now we go back to O-Town and ask Bradford what the hell he's planning with the ferry. Then we make sure that the remaining people on Vanguard are part of it," she says.

"And what if they're not?" I ask with a smirk, knowing that the Governor isn't stupid and if his plans aren't to our liking, we don't have much leverage to change them.

"Then we blow up this ferry, too. If all can't go, then none can go."

I chuckle, but the reaction is out of bitterness, not humor. "So you'd be willing to doom humanity to extinction?"

Her look of confidence turns to anger. "Look, Will. We had nothing to do with any of this. Humanity destroyed this planet way before we were even born. So if it's to be saved, it has to be for everyone, not just a select group that Bradford deems worthy."

I love my sister's passion, and in a way, I agree. But this all reminds me of my conversation with Nelly a few days ago about the greater good. Saving just some would certainly qualify as that, especially if it was compared to saving none at all. But Nelly's definition of greater good meant that every life mattered as much as the next, so neither of these options would be good enough for her. And I now found myself agreeing.

I shake my head. "No good, El. We can't—"

I'm not able to finish my thought, as a shrill tone sounds throughout the hall. We automatically cover our ears and peek over the counter, seeing everyone else react the same way.

"What the hell is that?" Ellen mouths to me, and I shrug.

Thankfully, Jeb runs over to the metal box sitting on a chair by the wall and turns the volume down. "Sorry about that. It happens every night, but I lost track of time," he says, as a series of increasingly long beeps quietly set off in the background.

Dad looks intrigued and joins him. "What is that?" he asks, crouching in front of the radio and studying its face. From back here, it just looks to have some old-time dials and gauges, on which some of the needles are jumping between ranges.

Jed shakes his head. "Don't get excited. Believe me, we've tried to make sense of it, but it doesn't mean anything."

Dunstan also goes over. "It ain't Morse code, that's fer sure."

"Yeah, we were hoping that Dr. Scott was using that to make contact, but ruled that out pretty quickly when it didn't make sense," Jed says.

Ellen's head snaps toward me. "Doctor Scott?" she mouths as confusion clouds her face.

I wave her off. "I'll tell you later," I whisper, not wanting to miss the action on the other side of the room. Filling Ellen in on Dad's trickery two decades ago isn't going to be easy, guessing by how I already know she'll react to it. I'd rather not have any distractions for that discussion.

"So, he's not here? Nelly's father, that is," Dad says, not quite wanting to say the name that he'd been falsely living under, which actually belongs to a guy who's had to survive in this world all that time. And this now reminds me that we never got to tell him about the real Darren Scott's disappearance two months ago while out looking for radioactive material to fuel the ferries.

"No," Jed says before crossing his arms and clearing his throat. "We lost contact with him and his team five—almost six—weeks ago on the way to Port St. Lucie."

"The power plant," Dad says, making the same connection that I did when Nelly told me about this just a few days ago.

Jed nods. "Like I said, this is probably some interference we keep picking up among the static. Lots of defunct telecoms and—"

"Wait!" Dad interrupts and puts his hand up in emphasis, making me lean further over the counter to hear better. Everyone in the room seems to have now gone completely silent except for the random tones coming from the radio. Except they're not random. Even I can hear that.

Beep. Beep. Beeeep. Beeeeeep. Each tone builds on the previous one, becoming longer and longer. I start to count the lengths. Five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one. There's a brief pause, then as if resetting, the tones shorten again. One. One. Three.

"The Fibonacci sequence," Dad and I say at the exact time, echoing each other from across the room.

"A code, you say?" Duncan asks. "So it's deliberate, then?"

"Hell yes, it's deliberate!" Dad confirms enthusiastically. "And it's exactly like Darren to use something like this."

"Why wouldn't he just record a looped message to say he was okay and tell us where to find him," Jed asks, looking more confused than ever. Poor, dumb bastard.

"Because he doesn't want just anybody to find him," Nelly says, walking up to the group.

I can't even imagine what it must be like to have everyone talking about her missing father like this, but having a glimmer of hope that he's still alive makes me happy for her.

"Exactly," Dad says, agreeing with her. "Which can only mean one thing."

"What's that?" Jed asks, still befuddled.

Dad scratches his chin in a tell-tale sign of worry. "That we're not the only ones looking for him, and he knows it."