G.P.PUTNAM’SSONS

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pagescm.—(5thwave)

Summary:“CassieSullivanandhercompanionslivedthroughtheOthers’fourwavesofdestruction.Now,withthehumanracenearlyexterminatedandthe5thWaverollingacrossthelandscape,theyfaceachoice:braceforwinterandhopeforEvanWalker’sreturn,orsetoutinsearchofothersurvivorsbeforetheenemyclosesin”—Providedbypublisher.

[1.Extraterrestrialbeings—Fiction.2.Survival—Fiction.3.War—Fiction.4.Sciencefiction.]I.Title.PZ7.Y19197Inf2014[Fic]—dc232014022058

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ContentsTitlePage

Copyright

Chapter84

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ForSandy,guardianoftheinfinite

Mybountyisasboundlessasthesea,

Myloveasdeep;themoreIgivetothee,

ThemoreIhave;forbothareinfinite.

—WilliamShakespeare

THEWHEAT

THEREWOULDBEnoharvest.

Thespringrainswokethedormanttillers,andbrightgreenshootssprangfromthemoistearthandroselikesleepersstretchingafteralongnap.Asspringgavewaytosummer,thebrightgreenstalksdarkened,becametan,turnedgoldenbrown.Thedaysgrewlongandhot.Thicktowersofswirlingblackcloudsbroughtrain,andthebrownstemsglistenedintheperpetualtwilightthatdwelledbeneaththecanopy.Thewheatroseandtheripeningheadsbentintheprairiewind,aripplingcurtain,anendless,undulatingseathatstretchedtothehorizon.

Atharvesttime,therewasnofarmertopluckaheadfromthestalk,rubtheheadbetweenhiscallusedhands,andblowthechafffromthegrain.Therewasnoreapertochewthekernelsorfeelthedelicateskincrackbetweenhisteeth.Thefarmerhaddiedoftheplague,andtheremnantsofhisfamilyhadfledtothenearesttown,wherethey,too,succumbed,addingtheirnumberstothebillionswhoperishedinthe3rdWave.Theoldhousebuiltbythefarmer’sgrandfatherwasnowadesertedislandsurroundedbyaninfiniteseaofbrown.Thedaysgrewshortandthenightsturnedcool,andthewheatcrackledinthedrywind.

Thewheathadsurvivedthehailandlightningofthesummerstorms,butluckcouldnotdeliveritfromthecold.Bythetimetherefugeestookshelterintheoldhouse,thewheatwasdead,killedbythehardfistofadeepfrost.

Fivemenandtwowomen,strangerstooneanotherontheeveofthatfinalgrowingseason,nowboundbytheunspokenpromisethattheleastofthemwasgreaterthanthesumofallofthem.

Themenrotatedwatchesontheporch.Duringthedaythecloudlessskywasapolished,brilliantblueandthesunridinglowonthehorizonpaintedthedullbrownofthewheatashimmeringgold.ThenightsdidnotcomegentlybutseemedtoslamdownangrilyupontheEarth,andstarlighttransformedthegoldenbrownofthewheattothecolorofpolishedsilver.

Themechanizedworldhaddied.Earthquakesandtsunamishadobliteratedthecoasts.Plaguehadconsumedbillions.

Andthemenontheporchwatchedthewheatandwonderedwhatmightcomenext.

Earlyoneafternoon,themanonwatchsawthedeadseaofgrainpartingandknewsomeonewascoming,crashingthroughthewheattowardtheoldfarmhouse.Hecalledtotheothersinside,andoneofthewomencameoutandstoodwithhimontheporch,andtogethertheywatchedthetallstalksdisappearingintotheseaofbrownasiftheEarthitselfweresuckingthemunder.Whoever—orwhatever—itwascouldnotbeseenabovethesurfaceofthewheat.Themansteppedofftheporch.Heleveledhisrifleatthewheat.Hewaitedintheyardandthewomanwaitedontheporchandtherestwaitedinsidethehouse,pressingtheirfacesagainstthewindows,andnoonespoke.Theywaitedforthecurtainofwheattopart.

Whenitdid,achildemerged,andthestillnessofthewaitingwasbroken.Thewomanranfromtheporchandshovedthebarreloftherifledown.He’sjustababy.Wouldyoushootachild?Andtheman’sfacewastwistedwithindecisionandtherageofeverythingevertakenforgrantedbetrayed.Howdoweknow?hedemandedofthewoman.Howcanwebesureofanythinganymore?Thechildstumbledfrom

thewheatandfell.Thewomanrantohimandscoopedhimup,pressingtheboy’sfilthyfaceagainstherbreast,andthemanwiththegunsteppedinfrontofher.He’sfreezing.Wehavetogethiminside.Andthemanfeltagreatpressureinsidehischest.Hewassqueezedbetweenwhattheworldhadbeenandwhattheworldhadbecome,whohewasbeforeandwhohewasnow,andthecostofalltheunspokenpromisesweighingonhisheart.He’sjustababy.Wouldyoushootachild?Thewomanwalkedpasthim,upthesteps,ontotheporch,intothehouse,andthemanbowedhisheadasifinprayer,thenliftedhisheadasifinsupplication.Hewaitedafewminutestoseeifanyoneelseemergedfromthewheat,foritseemedincredibletohimthatatoddlermightsurvivethislong,aloneanddefenseless,withnoonetoprotecthim.Howcouldsuchathingbepossible?

Whenhesteppedinsidetheparloroftheoldfarmhouse,hesawthewomanholdingthechildinherlap.Shehadwrappedablanketaroundhimandbroughthimwater,littlefingersslappedredbythecoldwrappedaroundthecup,andtheothershadgatheredintheroomandnoonespoke,buttheystaredatthechildwithdumbstruckwonder.Howcouldsuchathingbe?Thechildwhimpered.Hiseyesskitteredfromfacetoface,searchingforthefamiliar,buttheywerestrangerstohimastheyhadbeenstrangerstooneanotherbeforetheworldended.Hewhinedthathewascoldandsaidthathisthroathurt.Hehadabadowieinhisthroat.

Thewomanholdinghimproddedthechildtoopenhismouth.Shesawtheinflamedtissueatthebackofhismouth,butshedidnotseethehair-thinwireembeddedneartheopeningofhisthroat.Shecouldnotseethewireorthetinycapsuleconnectedtothewire’send.Shecouldnotknow,asshebentoverthechildtopeerintohismouth,thatthedeviceinsidethechildwascalibratedtodetectthecarbondioxideinherbreath.

Ourbreaththetrigger.

Ourchildtheweapon.

Theexplosionvaporizedtheoldfarmhouseinstantly.

Thewheattooklonger.Nothingwasleftofthefarmhouseortheoutbuildingsorthesilothatineveryotheryearhadheldtheabundantharvest.Butthedry,lithestalksconsumedbyfireturnedtoash,andatsunset,astiffnortherlywindsweptovertheprairieandliftedtheashintotheskyandcarriedithundredsofmilesbeforetheashcamedown,agrayandblacksnow,tosettleindifferentlyonbarrenground.

BOOKONE

1

THEWORLDISaclockwindingdown.

Ihearitinthewind’sicyfingersscratchingagainstthewindow.Ismellitinthemildewedcarpetingandtherottingwallpaperoftheoldhotel.AndIfeelitinTeacup’schestasshesleeps.Thehammeringofherheart,therhythmofherbreath,warminthefreezingair,theclockwindingdown.

Acrosstheroom,CassieSullivankeepswatchbythewindow.Moonlightseepsthroughthetinycrackinthecurtainsbehindher,lightinguptheplumesoffrozenbreathexplodingfromhermouth.Herlittlebrothersleepsinthebedclosesttoher,atinylumpbeneaththemoundedcovers.Window,bed,backagain,herheadturnslikeapendulumswinging.Theturningofherhead,therhythmofherbreath,likeNugget’s,likeTeacup’s,likemine,markingthetimeoftheclockwindingdown.

Ieaseoutofbed.Teacupmoansinhersleepandburrowsdeeperunderthecovers.Thecoldclampsdown,squeezingmychest,thoughI’mfullydressedexceptformybootsandtheparka,whichIgrabfromthefootofthebed.SullivanwatchesasIpullontheboots,thenwhenIgototheclosetformyrucksackandrifle.Ijoinherbythewindow.IfeellikeIshouldsaysomethingbeforeIleave.Wemightnotseeeachotheragain.

“Sothisisit,”shesays.Herfairskinglowsinthemilkylight.Thesprayoffrecklesseemstofloatabovehernoseandcheeks.

Iadjusttherifleonmyshoulder.“Thisisit.”

“Youknow,DumboIget.Thebigears.AndNugget,becauseSamissosmall.Teacup,too.ZombieIdon’tgetsomuch—Benwon’tsay—andI’mguessingPoundcakehassomethingtodowithhisroly-poly-ness.ButwhyRinger?”

Isensewherethisisgoing.BesidesZombieandherbrother,sheisn’tsureofanyoneanymore.ThenameRingergivesherparanoiaanudge.“I’mhuman.”

“Yeah.”Shelooksthroughthecrackinthecurtainstotheparkinglottwostoriesbelow,shimmeringwithice.“Someoneelsetoldmethat,too.And,likeadummy,Ibelievedhim.”

“Notsodumb,giventhecircumstances.”

“Don’tpretend,Ringer,”shesnaps.“Iknowyoudon’tbelievemeaboutEvan.”

“Ibelieveyou.It’shisstorythatdoesn’tmakesense.”

Iheadforthedoorbeforeshetearsintome.Youdon’tpushCassieSullivanontheEvanWalkerquestion.Idon’tholditagainsther.Evanisthelittlebranchgrowingoutofthecliffthatsheclingsto,andthefactthathe’sgonemakesherhangoneventighter.

Teacupdoesn’tmakeasound,butIfeelhereyesonme;Iknowshe’sawake.Igobacktothebed.

“Takemewithyou,”shewhispers.

Ishakemyhead.We’vebeenthroughthisahundredtimes.“Iwon’tbegonelong.Acoupledays.”

“Promise?”

Noway,Teacup.Promisesaretheonlycurrencyleft.Theymustbespentwisely.Herbottomlipquivers;hereyesmist.“Hey,”Isaysoftly.“WhatdidItellyouaboutthat,soldier?”Iresisttheimpulsetotouchher.“What’sthefirstpriority?”

“Nobadthoughts,”sheanswersdutifully.

“Becausebadthoughtsdowhat?”

“Makeussoft.”

“Andwhathappensifwegosoft?”

“Wedie.”

“Anddowewanttodie?”

Sheshakesherhead.“Notyet.”

Itouchherface.Coldcheek,warmtears.Notyet.Withnotimeleftonthehumanclock,thislittlegirlhasprobablyreachedmiddleage.Sullivanandme,we’reold.AndZombie?Theancientofdays.

He’swaitingformeinthelobby,wearingaskijacketoverabrightyellowhoodie,bothscavengedfromtheremainsinsidethehotel:ZombieescapedfromCampHavenwearingonlyaflimsypairofscrubs.Beneathhisscruffybeard,hisfaceisthetelltalescarletoffever.ThebulletwoundIgavehim,rippedopeninhisescapefromCampHavenandpatchedupbyourtwelve-year-oldmedic,mustbeinfected.Heleansagainstthecounter,pressinghishandagainsthissideandtryingtolooklikeeverything’scool.

“Iwasstartingtothinkyouchangedyourmind,”Zombiesays,darkeyessparklingasifhe’steasing,thoughthatcouldbethefever.

Ishakemyhead.“Teacup.”

“She’llbeokay.”Toreassureme,hereleaseshiskillersmilefromitscage.Zombiedoesn’tfullyappreciatethepricelessnessofpromisesorhewouldn’ttossthemoutsocasually.

“It’snotTeacupI’mworriedabout.Youlooklikeshit,Zombie.”

“It’sthisweather.Wreakshavoconmycomplexion.”Asecondsmileleapsoutatthepunchline.Heleansforward,willingmetoanswerwithmyown.“Oneday,PrivateRinger,you’regoingtosmileatsomethingIsayandtheworldwillbreakinhalf.”

“I’mnotpreparedtotakeonthatresponsibility.”

HelaughsandmaybeIheararattledeepinhischest.“Here.”Heoffersmeanotherbrochureofthecaverns.

“Ihaveone,”Itellhim.

“Takethisone,too,incaseyouloseit.”

“Iwon’tloseit,Zombie.”

“I’msendingPoundcakewithyou,”hesays.

“No,you’renot.”

“I’mincharge.SoIam.”

“YouneedPoundcakeheremorethanIneedhimoutthere.”

Henods.HeknewIwouldsayno,buthecouldn’tresistonelasttry.“Maybeweshouldabort,”hesays.“Imean,itisn’tthatbadhere.Aboutathousandbedbugs,afewhundredrats,andacoupledozendeadbodies,buttheviewisfantastic...”Stilljoking,stilltryingtomakemesmile.He’slookingatthebrochureinhishand.Seventy-fourdegreesyear’round!

“Untilwegetsnowedinorthetemperaturedropsagain.Thesituationisunsustainable,Zombie.

We’vestayedtoolongalready.”

Idon’tgetit.We’vetalkedthistodeathandnowhewantstokeepbeatingthecorpse.IwonderaboutZombiesometimes.

“Wehavetochanceit,andyouknowwecan’tgoinblind,”Igoon.“Theoddsarethere’reothersurvivorshidinginthosecavesandtheymaynotbereadytothrowoutthewelcomemat,especiallyifthey’vemetanyofSullivan’sSilencers.”

“Orrecruitslikeus,”headds.

“SoI’llscopeitoutandbebackinacoupleofdays.”

“I’mholdingyoutothatpromise.”

“Itwasn’tapromise.”

There’snothinglefttosay.There’reamillionthingslefttosay.Thismightbethelasttimeweseeeachother,andhe’sthinkingit,too,becausehesays,“Thankyouforsavingmylife.”

“Iputabulletinyoursideandnowyoumightdie.”

Heshakeshishead.Hiseyessparklewithfever.Hislipsaregray.Whydidtheyhavetonamehim

Zombie?It’slikeanomen.ThefirsttimeIsawhim,hewasdoingknucklepush-upsintheexerciseyard,facecontortedwithangerandpain,bloodpoolingontheasphaltbeneathhisfists.Whoisthatguy?Iasked.HisnameisZombie.Hefoughttheplagueandwon,theytoldme,andIdidn’tbelievethem.Nobodybeatstheplague.Theplagueisadeathsentence.AndReznikthedrillsergeantbendingoverhim,screamingatthetopofhislungs,andZombieinthebaggybluejumpsuit,pushinghimselfpastthepointwhereonemorepushisimpossible.Idon’tknowwhyIwassurprisedwhenheorderedmetoshoothimsohecouldkeephisunkeepablepromisetoNugget.Whenyoulookdeathintheeyeanddeathblinksfirst,nothingseemsimpossible.

Evenmindreading.“Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,”hesays.

“No.Youdon’t.”

“You’rewonderingifyoushouldkissmegood-bye.”

“Whydoyoudothat?”Iask.“Flirtwithme.”

Heshrugs.Hisgriniscrooked,likehisbodyleaningagainstthecounter.

“It’snormal.Don’tyoumissnormal?”heasks.Eyesdiggingdeepintomine,alwayslookingforsomething,I’mneversurewhat.“Youknow,drive-thrusandmoviesonaSaturdaynightandicecreamsandwichesandcheckingyourTwitterfeed?”

Ishakemyhead.“Ididn’tTwitter.”

“Facebook?”

I’mgettingalittlepissed.Sometimesit’shardformetoimaginehowZombiemadeitthisfar.Piningforthingswelostisthesameashopingforthingsthatcanneverbe.Bothroadsdead-endindespair.

“It’snotimportant,”Isay.“Noneofthatmatters.”

Zombie’slaughcomesfromdeepinhisgut.Itbubblestothesurfacelikethesuperheatedairofahotspring,andI’mnotpissedanymore.Iknowhe’sputtingonthecharm,andsomehowknowingwhathe’sdoingdoesnothingtoblunttheeffect.AnotherreasonZombie’salittleunnerving.

“It’sfunny,”hesays.“Howmuchwethoughtallofitdid.Youknowwhatreallymatters?”Hewaitsformyanswer.IfeelasifI’mbeingsetupforajoke,soIdon’tsayanything.“Thetardybell.”

Nowhe’sforcedmeintoacorner.Iknowthere’smanipulationgoingonhere,butIfeelhelplesstostopit.“Tardybell?”

“Mostordinarysoundintheworld.Andwhenallofthisisdone,there’llbetardybellsagain.”Hepressesthepoint.Maybehe’sworriedIdon’tgetit.“Thinkaboutit!Whenatardybellringsagain,normalisback.Kidsrushingtoclass,sittingaroundbored,waitingforthefinalbell,andthinkingaboutwhatthey’lldothatnight,thatweekend,thatnextfiftyyears.They’llbelearninglikewedidaboutnaturaldisastersanddiseaseandworldwars.Youknow:‘Whenthealienscame,sevenbillionpeopledied,’andthenthebellwillringandeverybodywillgotolunchandcomplainaboutthesoggyTaterTots.Like,‘Whoa,sevenbillionpeople,that’salot.That’ssad.AreyougoingtoeatallthoseTots?’

That’snormal.That’swhatmatters.”

Soitwasn’tajoke.“SoggyTaterTots?”

“Okay,fine.Noneofthatmakessense.I’mamoron.”

Hesmiles.Histeethseemverywhitesurroundedbythescruffybeard,andnow,becausehesuggestedit,Ithinkaboutkissinghimandifthestubbleonhisupperlipwouldtickle.

Ipushthethoughtaway.Promisesarepriceless,andakissisakindofpromise,too.

2

UNDIMMED,THESTARLIGHTsearsthroughtheblack,coatingthehighwayinpearlywhite.Thedrygrassshines;thebaretreesshimmer.Exceptforthewindcuttingacrossthedeadland,theworldiswinterquiet.

IhunkerbesideastalledSUVforonelastlookbackatthehotel.Anondescripttwo-storywhiterectangleamongaclusterofothernondescriptwhiterectangles.OnlyfourmilesfromthehugeholethatusedtobeCampHaven,wenicknamedittheWalkerHotel,inhonorofthearchitectofthathugehole.

SullivantoldusthehotelwasherandEvan’sprearrangedrendezvouspoint.Ithoughtitwastooclosetothesceneofthecrime,toodifficulttodefend,andanyway,EvanWalkerwasdead:Ittakestwotorendezvous,IremindedZombie.Iwasoverruled.IfWalkerreallywasoneofthem,hemayhavefoundawaytosurvive.

“How?”Iasked.

“Therewereescapepods,”Sullivansaid.

“So?”

Hereyebrowscametogether.Shetookadeepbreath.“So...hecouldhaveescapedinone.”

Ilookedather.Shelookedback.Neitherofussaidanything.ThenZombiesaid,“Well,wehavetotakesheltersomewhere,Ringer.”Hehadn’tfoundthebrochureforthecavernsyet.“Andweshouldgivehimthebenefitofthedoubt.”

“Thebenefitofwhatdoubt?”Iasked.

“Thatheiswhohesaysheis.”ZombielookedatSullivan,whowasstillglaringatme.“Thathe’llkeephispromise.”

“Hepromisedhe’dfindme,”sheexplained.

“Isawthecargoplane,”Isaid.“Ididn’tseeanescapepod.”

Beneaththefreckles,Sullivanwasblushing.“Justbecauseyoudidn’tseeone...”

IturnedtoZombie.“Thisdoesn’tmakesense.Abeingthousandsofyearsmoreadvancedthanusturnsonitsownkind—forwhat?”

“Iwasn’tfilledinonthewhypart,”Zombiesaid,halfsmiling.

“Hiswholestoryisstrange,”Isaid.“Pureconsciousnessoccupyingahumanbody—iftheydon’tneedbodies,theydon’tneedaplanet.”

“Maybetheyneedtheplanetforsomethingelse.”Zombiewastryinghard.

“Likewhat?Raisinglivestock?Avacationgetaway?”Somethingelsewasbotheringme,anagginglittlevoicethatsaid,Somethingdoesn’taddup.ButIcouldn’tpindownwhatthatsomethingwas.EverytimeIchasedafterit,itskitteredaway.

“Therewasn’ttimetogointoallthedetails,”Sullivansnapped.“Iwassortoffocusedonrescuingmybabybrotherfromadeathcamp.”

Iletitgo.Herheadlookedlikeitwasabouttoexplode.

Icanmakeoutthatsameheadnowonmylastlookback,silhouettedinthesecond-storywindowofthehotel,andthat’sbad,reallybad:She’saneasytargetforasniper.ThenextSilencerSullivanencountersmightnotbeaslovestruckasthefirstone.

Iduckintothethinlineoftreesthatborderstheroad.Stiffwithice,theautumnruinscrunchbeneathmyboots.Leavescurleduplikefists,trashandhumanbonesscatteredbyscavengers.Thecoldwindcarriesthefaintodorofsmoke.Theworldwillburnforahundredyears.Firewillconsumethethingswemadefromwoodandplasticandrubberandcloth,thenwaterandwindandtimewillchewthestoneandsteelintodust.HowbafflingitisthatweimaginedcitiesincineratedbyalienbombsanddeathrayswhenalltheyneededwasMotherNatureandtime.

Andhumanbodies,accordingtoSullivan,despitethefactthat,alsoaccordingtoSullivan,theydon’tneedbodies.

Avirtualexistencedoesn’trequireaphysicalplanet.

WhenI’dfirstsaidthat,Sullivanwouldn’tlistenandZombieactedlikeitdidn’tmatter.Forwhateverreason,hesaid,thebottomlineistheywantallofusdead.Everythingelseisjustnoise.

Maybe.ButIdon’tthinkso.

Becauseoftherats.

IforgottotellZombieabouttherats.

3

BYSUNRISE,IreachthesouthernoutskirtsofUrbana.Halfwaythere,rightonschedule.

Cloudshaverolledinfromthenorth;thesunrisesbeneaththecanopyandpaintsitsunderbellyaglisteningmaroon.I’llholeupinthetreesuntilnightfall,thenhittheopenfieldstothewestofthecityandpraythecloudcoverhangsaroundforawhile,atleastuntilIpickupthehighwayagainontheotherside.GoingaroundUrbanaaddsafewmiles,buttheonlythingriskierthannavigatingatownduringthedayistryingitatnight.

Andit’sallaboutrisk.

Mistrisesfromthefrozenground.Thecoldisintense.Itsqueezesmycheeks,makesmychestachewitheachbreath.Ifeeltheancientyearningforfireembeddeddeepinmygenes.Thetamingoffirewasourfirstgreatleap:Fireprotectedus,keptuswarm,transformedourbrainsbychangingourdietsfromnutsandberriestoprotein-richmeat.Nowfireisanotherweaponinourenemy’sarsenal.Asdeepwintersetsin,we’recrushedbetweentwounacceptablerisks:freezingtodeathoralertingtheenemytoourlocation.

Sittingwithmybackagainstatree,Ipulloutthebrochure.Ohio’sMostColorfulCaverns!Zombie’sright.Wewon’tsurvivetillspringwithoutshelter,andthecavesareourbest—maybeonly—bet.Maybethey’vebeentakenordestroyedbytheenemy.Maybethey’reoccupiedbysurvivorswhowillshootstrangersonsight.Buteverydaywestayatthathotel,theriskgrowstenfold.

Wedon’thaveanalternativeifthecavesdon’tpanout.Nowheretorun,nowheretohide,andtheideaoffightingisludicrous.Theclockwindsdown.

WhenIpointedthisouttohim,ZombietoldmeIthinktoomuch.Hewassmiling.Thenhestoppedsmilingandsaid,“Don’tlet’emgetinsideyourhead.”AsifthiswereafootballgameandIneededahalftimepeptalk.Ignorethefifty-sixtonothingscore.Playforpride!It’smomentslikethosethatmakemewanttoslaphim,notthatslappinghimwoulddoanygood,butitwouldmakemefeelbetter.

Thebreezedies.There’sanexpectanthushintheair,thestillnessbeforeastorm.Ifitsnows,we’llbetrapped.Meinthesewoods.Zombieinthehotel.I’mstilltwentyorsomilesfromthecaverns—shouldIrisktheopenfieldsbydayorriskthesnowholdingoffatleasttillnightfall?

BacktotheRword.It’sallaboutrisk.Notjustours.Theirs,too:embeddingthemselvesinhumanbodies,establishingdeathcamps,trainingkidstofinishthegenocide,allofitcrazyrisky,stupidrisky.

LikeEvanWalker,discordant,illogical,andjustdamnstrange.Theopeningattackswerebrutalintheirefficiency,wipingout98percentofus,andeventhe4thWavemadesomesense:It’shardtomusterameaningfulresistanceifyoucan’ttrustoneanother.Butafterthat,theirbrilliantstrategystartstounravel.TenthousandyearstoplantheeradicationofhumansfromEarthandthisisthebesttheycancomeupwith?That’sthequestionIcan’tstopturningoverandoverinmyhead,andhaven’tbeenableto,sinceTeacupandthenightoftherats.

Deeperinthewoods,behindmeandtomyleft,asoftmoanslicesthroughthesilence.Irecognizethesoundimmediately;I’vehearditathousandtimessincetheycame.Intheearlydays,itwasnearlyomnipresent,aconstantbackgroundnoise,likethehumoftrafficonabusyhighway:thesoundofahuman

beinginpain.

Ipulltheeyepiecefrommyrucksackandadjustthelenscarefullyovermylefteye.Deliberately.

Withoutpanic.Panicshutsdownneurons.Istandup,checktheboltcatchontherifle,andeasethroughthetreestowardthesound,scanningtheterrainforthetelltalegreenglowofan“infested.”Mistshroudsthetrees;theworldisdrapedinwhite.Myfootstepsthunderonthefrozenground.Mybreathsaresonicbooms.

Thedelicatewhitecurtainparts,andtwentyyardsawayIseeafigureslumpedagainstatree,headback,handspressedintoitslap.Theheaddoesn’tglowinmyeyepiece,whichmeanshe’snocivilian;he’spartofthe5thWave.

Iaimtherifleathishead.“Hands!Letmeseeyourhands!”

Hismouthhangsopen.Hisvacanteyesregardthegrayskythroughbarebranchesglisteningwithice.

Istepcloser.Arifleidenticaltomineliesonthegroundbesidehim.Hedoesn’treachforit.

“Where’stherestofyoursquad?”Iask.Hedoesn’tanswer.

Ilowermyweapon.I’manidiot.Inthisweather,Iwouldseehisbreathandthereisnone.ThemoanIheardmusthavebeenhislast.Idoaslow360,holdingmybreath,butseenothingbuttreesandmist,hearnothingbutmyownbloodroaringinmyears.ThenIstepovertothebody,forcingmyselfnottorush,tonoticeeverything.Nopanic.Panickills.

Samegunasmine.Samefatigues.Andthere’shiseyepieceonthegroundbesidehim.He’sa5thWaverallright.

Istudyhisface.Helooksvaguelyfamiliar.I’mguessinghe’stwelveorthirteen,aroundDumbo’sage.Ikneelbesidehimandpressmyfingertipsagainsthisneck.Nopulse.Iopenthejacketandpulluphisblood-soakedshirttolookforthewound.Hewashitinthegutbyasingle,high-caliberround.

AroundIdidn’thear.Eitherhe’sbeenlyinghereforawhileortheshooterisusingasilencer.

Silencer.

•••

AccordingtoSullivan,EvanWalkertookoutanentiresquadbyhimself,atnight,injuredandoutnumbered,sortofawarm-uptohissingle-handedblowingupofanentiremilitaryinstallation.Atthetime,IfoundCassie’sstoryhardtobelieve.Nowthere’sadeadsoldieratmyfeet.HissquadMIA.

Andmealonewiththesilenceofthewoodsandthemilkywhitescreenoffog.

Doesn’tseemthatfar-fetchednow.

Thinkfast.Don’tpanic.Likechess.Weightheodds.Measuretherisk.

Ihavetwooptions.Stayputuntilsomethingdevelopsornightfalls.Orgetoutofthesewoods,fast.

Whoeverkilledhimcouldbemilesawayorhunkereddownbehindatree,waitingforaclearshot.

Thepossibilitiesmultiply.Where’shissquad?Dead?Huntingdownthepersonwhoshothim?WhatifthepersonwhoshothimwasafellowrecruitwhowentDorothy?Forgethissquad.Whathappenswhenreinforcementsarrive?

Ipulloutmyknife.It’sbeenfiveminutessinceIfoundhim.I’dbedeadbynowifsomeoneknewIwashere.I’llwaittilldark,butIhavetopreparefortheprobabilitythatanotherbreakerofthe5thWaveisrollingtowardme.

IpressagainstthebackofhisneckuntilIfindthetinybulgebeneaththescar.Staycalm.It’slikechess.Moveandcountermove.

Isliceslowlyalongthescaranddigoutthepelletwiththetipoftheknife,whereitsitssuspendedonadropletofblood.

Sowe’llalwaysknowwhereyouare.Sowecankeepyousafe.

Risk.Theriskoflightingupinaneyepiece.Theopposingriskoftheenemyfryingmybrainwiththetouchofabutton.

Thepelletinitsbedofblood.Theawfulstillnessofthetreesandtheclinchingcoldandthefogthatcurlsbetweenbrancheslikefingersinterlacing.AndZombie’svoiceinmyhead:Youthinktoomuch.

Ituckthepelletbetweenmycheekandgums.Stupid.Ishouldhavewipeditofffirst.Icantastethekid’sblood.

4

IAMNOTALONE.

Ican’tseehimorhearhim,butIfeelhim.Everyinchofmybodytingleswiththesensationofbeingwatched.Anuncomfortablyfamiliarfeelingnow,presentsincetheverybeginning.Justthemothershipsilentlyhoveringinorbitforthefirsttendayscausedcracksinthehumanedifice.Adifferentkindofviralplague:uncertainty,fear,panic.Cloggedhighways,desertedairports,overrunemergencyrooms,governmentsinlockdown,foodandgasshortages,martiallawinsomeplaces,lawlessnessinothers.

Thelioncrouchesinthetallgrass.Thegazellesniffstheair.Theawfulstillnessbeforethestrike.Forthefirsttimeintenmillennia,weknewwhatitfeltliketobepreyagain.

Thetreesarecrowdedwithcrows.Shinyblackheads,blankblackeyes,theirhunched-shoulderedsilhouettesremindingmeoflittleoldmenonparkbenches.Therearehundredsofthemperchedinthetreesandhoppingabouttheground.Iglanceatthebodybesideme,itseyesblankandbottomlessasthecrows’.Iknowwhythebirdshavecome.They’rehungry.

Iam,too,soIdigoutmybaggieofbeefjerkyandonly-slightly-expiredgummybears.Eatingisarisk,too,becauseI’llhavetoremovethetrackerfrommymouth,butIneedtostayalert,andtostayalert,Ineedfuel.Thecrowswatchme,cockingtheirheadsasifstrainingtohearthesoundofmychewing.Youfatasses.Howhungrycouldyoube?Theattacksyieldedmillionsoftonsofmeat.Attheheightoftheplague,hugeflocksblottedoutthesky,theirshadowsracingacrossthesmolderinglandscape.Thecrowsandothercarrionbirdsclosedtheloopofthe3rdWave.Theyfedoninfectedbodies,thenspreadthevirustonewfeedinggrounds.

Icouldbewrong.Maybewe’realone,meandthisdeadkid.Themoresecondsthatslipby,thesaferIfeel.Ifsomeoneiswatching,Icanthinkofonlyonereasonwhyhe’dholdtheshot:He’swaitingtoseeifanymoreidiotickidsplayingsoldiershowup.

Ifinishmybreakfastandslipthepelletbackintomymouth.Theminutescrawl.Oneofthemostdisorientingthingsabouttheinvasion—afterwatchingeveryoneyouknowandlovedieinhorribleways—washowtimesloweddownaseventsspedup.Tenthousandyearstobuildcivilization,tenmonthstotearitdown,andeachdaylastedtentimeslongerthantheonebefore,andthenightslastedtentimesaslongasthedays.Theonlythingmoreexcruciatingthantheboredomofthosehourswastheterrorofknowingthatanyminutetheycouldend.

Midmorning:Themistliftsandthesnowbeginstofallinflakessmallerthancrows’eyes.There’snotabreathofwind.Thewoodsaredrapedinadreamlike,glossywhiteglow.Aslongasthesnowstaysthislight,I’mgoodtilldark.

IfIdon’tfallasleep.Ihaven’tsleptinovertwentyhours,andIfeelwarmandcomfortableandslightlyspacy.

Inthegossamerstillness,myparanoiaratchetsup.Myheadisperfectlycenteredinhiscrosshairs.

He’shighinthetrees;he’slyingmotionlesslikealioninthebrush.I’mapuzzletohim.Ishouldbepanicking.Soheholdshisfire,allowingthesituationtodevelop.TheremustbesomereasonI’mhangingoutherewithacorpse.

ButIdon’tpanic.Idon’tboltlikeafrightenedgazelle.Iammorethanthesumofmyfear.

Itisn’tfearthatwilldefeatthem.Notfearorfaithorhopeorevenlove,butrage.

Fuckyou,SullivansaidtoVosch.It’stheonlypartofherstorythatimpressedme.Shedidn’tcry.Shedidn’tpray.Shedidn’tbeg.

Shethoughtitwasover,andwhenit’sover,whentheclockhaswoundtothefinalsecond,thetimeforcrying,praying,andbeggingisover.

“Fuckyou,”Iwhisper.Sayingthewordsmakesmefeelbetter.Isaythemagain,louder.Myvoicecarriesfarinthewinterair.

Aflutterofblackwingsdeepinthetreestomyright,thepetulantsquawkingofthecrows,andthroughmyeyepiece,atinygreendotsparklingamongthebrownandwhite.

Foundyou.

Theshotwillbetough.Tough,notimpossible.I’dneverhandledafirearminmylifeuntiltheenemyfoundmehidinginthereststopoutsideCincinnati,broughtmetotheircamp,andplacedarifleinmyhand,atwhichpointthedrillsergeantwonderedaloudifcommandhadslippedaringerintotheunit.

Sixmonthslater,Iputabulletintothatman’sheart.

Ihaveagift.

Thefierygreenlightiscomingcloser.MaybeheknowsI’vespottedhim.Itdoesn’tmatter.Icaressthesmoothmetalofthetriggerandwatchthebloboflightexpandthroughtheeyepiece.Maybehethinkshe’soutofrangeorispositioninghimselfforabettershot.

Doesn’tmatter.

ItmightnotbeoneofSullivan’ssilentassassins.Itmightbejustsomepoorlostsurvivorhopingforrescue.

Doesn’tmatter.Onlyonethingmattersanymore.

Therisk.

5

ATTHEHOTEL,Sullivantoldmeastoryaboutshootingasoldierbehindsomebeercoolersandhowbadshefeltafterward.

“Itwasn’tagun,”shetriedtoexplain.“Itwasacrucifix.”

“Whyisthatimportant?”Iasked.“ItcouldhavebeenaRaggedyAnndollorabagofM&Ms.Whatchoicedidyouhave?”

“Ididn’t.That’smypoint.”

Ishookmyhead.“Sometimesyou’reinthewrongplaceatthewrongtimeandwhathappensisnobody’sfault.Youjustwanttofeelbadsoyou’llfeelbetter.”

“BadsoIfeelbetter?”Withadeepblushofangerspreadingbeneathherfreckles.“Thatmakesabsolutelynofriggin’sense.”

“‘Ikilledaninnocentguy,butlookhowguiltyIfeelaboutit,’”Iexplained.“Guy’sstilldead.”

Shestaredatmeforalongtime.“Well.IseewhyVoschwantedyoufortheteam.”

•••

Thegreenblobofhisheadadvancestowardme,weavingthroughthetrees,andnowIcanseetheglintof

ariflethroughthelanguidsnow.I’mprettysureitisn’tacrucifix.

Cradlingmyrifle,leaningmyheadagainstthetreeasifI’mdozingorlookingattheflakesfloatbetweentheglisteningbarebranches,lionessinthetallgrass.

Fiftyyardsaway.ThemuzzlevelocityofaM16is3,100feetpersecond.Threefeetinayard,whichmeanshehastwo-thirdsofasecondleftonEarth.

Hopehespendsitwisely.

Iswingtheriflearound,squaremyshoulders,andletloosethebulletthatcompletesthecircle.

Themurderofcrowsrocketsfromthetrees,ariotofblackwingsandhoarse,scoldingcries.Thegreenballoflightdropsanddoesn’trise.

Iwait.Bettertowaitandseewhathappensnext.Fiveminutes.Ten.Nomotion.Nosound.Nothingbutthethunderoussilenceofsnow.Thewoodsfeelveryemptywithoutthecompanyofthebirds.Withmybackpressedagainstthetree,Islideupandholdstillanothercoupleofminutes.NowIcanseethegreenglowagain,ontheground,notmoving.Istepoverthebodyofthedeadrecruit.Frozenleavescracklebeneathmyboots.

Eachfootstepmeasuresoutthetimewindingdown.Halfwaytothebody,IrealizewhatI’vedone.

Teacupliescurledintoatightballbesideafallentree,herfacecoveredinthecrumbsoflastyear’sleaves.

Behindarowofemptybeercoolers,adyingmanhuggedabloodycrucifixtohischest.Hiskillerdidn’thaveachoice.Theygavehernochoice.Becauseoftherisk.Toher.Tothem.

Ikneelbesideher.Hereyesarewidewithpain.Shereachesformewithhandsdarkcrimsoninthegraylight.

“Teacup,”Iwhisper.“Teacup,whatareyoudoinghere?Where’sZombie?”

Iscanthewoodsbutdon’thearorseehimoranyoneelse.Herchestheavesandfrothybloodboilsoverherlips.She’schoking.Igentlypushherfacetowardthegroundtoclearhermouth.

Shemusthaveheardmecursing.That’showshefoundme,bymyownvoice.

Teacupscreams.Thesoundknifesthroughthestillness,bouncesandricochetsoffthetrees.

Unacceptable.Ipressmyhanddownhardoverherbloodylipsandtellhertohush.Idon’tknowwhoshotthekidIfound,butwhoeverdiditcan’tbefar.Ifthesoundofmyrifledoesn’tbringhimbacktoinvestigate,herscreamingwill.

Damnit,shutup.Shutup.Whatthehellareyoudoingouthere,sneakinguponmelikethat,youlittleshit?Stupid.Stupid,stupid,stupid.

Teethscrapefranticallyagainstmypalm.Tinyfingersseekmyface.Mycheekspaintedwithherblood.

Withmyfreehand,Itugopenherjacket.I’vegottocompressthewoundorshe’llbleedout.

Igrabthecollarofhershirtandripdownward,exposinghertorso.Iwaduptheremnantandpressitjustbelowherribcage,againstthebulletholeweepingblood.Shejerksatmytouchwithastrangledsob.

“WhatdidItellyouaboutthat,soldier?”Iwhisper.“What’sthefirstpriority?”

Slicklipsslideovermypalm.Nowordscomeout.

“Nobadthoughts,”Itellher.“Nobadthoughts.Nobadthoughts.Becausebadthoughtsmakeusgosoft.Theymakeussoft.Soft.Soft.Andwecan’tgosoft.Wecan’t.Whathappenswhenwegosoft?”

Thewoodsbrimwithmenacingshadows.Deepinthetrees,there’sasnappingsound.Abootcrunchingonthefrozenground?Oranice-encrustedbranch,splintering?Wecouldbesurroundedbyahundredenemies.Orzero.

Iracethroughouroptions.Therearen’tmany.Andtheyallsuck.

Firstoption:Westay.Theproblemisstayforwhat.Thedeadrecruit’sunitisunaccountedfor.

Whoeverkilledthekidisalsounaccountedfor.AndTeacuphasnochanceofsurvivingwithoutmedicalattention.Shehasminutes,nothours.

Secondoption:Werun.Theproblemiswhere.Thehotel?Teacupwouldbleedtodeathbeforewemakeitback,plusshemayhavetakenoffforagoodreason.Thecaverns?Can’triskgoingthroughUrbana,whichmeansaddingmilesofopenfieldsandmanyhourstoajourneythatendsataplacethatprobablyisn’tsafe,either.

There’sathirdoption.Theunthinkableone.Andtheonlyonethatmakessense.

Thesnowfallsheavier,thegraydeepens.Icupherfacewithonehandandpresstheotherintothewound,butIknowit’shopeless.Mybullettorethroughhergut;theinjuryiscatastrophic.

Teacupisgoingtodie.

Ishouldleaveher.Now.

ButIdon’t.Ican’t.LikeItoldZombieonthenightCampHavenblew,theminutewedecideonepersondoesn’tmatter,they’vewon,andnowmywordsarethechainthatbindsmetoher.

Iholdherinmyarmsintheawfuldeadstillnessofthewoodsinsnow.

6

IEASEHERDOWNontotheforestfloor.Drainedofallcolor,herfaceisonlyslighterdarkerthanthesnow.

Hermouthhangsopen,hereyelidsflutter.She’sslippedintounconsciousness.Idon’tthinkshe’llwakeagain.

Myhandsareshaking.I’mstrugglingtokeepittogether.I’mpissedashellather,atmyself,atthesevenbillionimpossibledilemmastheirarrivalbrought,attheliesandthemaddeninginconsistenciesandalltheridiculous,hopeless,stupidunspokenpromisesthathavebeenbrokensincetheycame.

Don’tgosoft.Thinkaboutwhatmatters,righthere,rightnow;you’regoodatthat.

Idecidetowait.Itcan’tbemuchlonger.Maybeaftershe’sdead,thesoftnessinsidemewillpassandI’llbeabletothinkclearly.EveryuneventfulminutemeansIstillhavetime.

Buttheworldisaclockwindingdown,andtherearenosuchthingsasuneventfulminutesanymore.

AheartbeatafterIdecidetostaywithher,thepercussivethrumofrotorsshattersthesilence.Thesoundofthechopperssnapsthespell.Knowingwhatmatters:besidesshooting,thethingI’mbestat.

Ican’tletthemtakeTeacupalive.

Iftheytakeher,theymaybeabletosaveher.Andiftheysaveher,they’llrunherthroughWonderland.There’sthetiniestchancethatZombie’sstillsafeatthehotel.AchancethatTeacupwasn’trunningfromanything,justsnuckofftofindme.Onetripbyeitherofusdowntherabbitholeandeverybody’sdoomed.

Ipullmysidearmfromtheholster.

Theminutewedecide...IwishIhadaminute.IwishIhadthirtyseconds.Thirtysecondswouldbealifetime.Aminutewouldbeaneternity.

Ilevelthegunatherheadandliftupmyfacetothegray.Snowsettlesonmyskin,whereitquiversforamomentbeforemelting.

SullivanhadherCrucifixSoldierandnowIhavemine.

No.Iamthesoldier.Teacupisthecross.

7

IFEELHIMTHEN,theonestandingdeepinthetrees,motionless,watchingme.Ilook,andthenIseehim,alighterhuman-shapedshadowbetweenthedarktrunks.Foramoment,neitherofusmoves.Iknow,withoutunderstandinghow,thatheistheonewhoshotthekidandtheothermembersofhissquad.AndIknowtheshootercan’tbearecruit.Hisheaddoesnotglowinmyeyepiece.

Thesnowspins,thecoldsqueezes.Iblink,andtheshadowisgone.Iftheshadowwaseverthere.

I’mlosingmygrip.Toomanyvariables.Toomuchrisk.Shakinguncontrollably,Iwonderifthey’vefinallybrokenme;aftersurvivingthetsunamithattookmyhome,theplaguethattookmyfamily,thedeath

campthattookmyhope,theinnocentlittlegirlwhotookmybullet,Iamterminal,done,finished,andwasiteverinquestion,neverifbutalwayswhen?

Thechoppersbeardown.IhavetofinishwhatIstartedwithTeacuporI’lljoinherwhereshelies.

Isightalongthebarrelofmypistolintothepale,angelicfaceatmyfeet,myvictim,mycross.

AndtheroaroftheBlackHawks’approachmakesmythoughtsseemlikethetinysqueakingwhimpersofadyingrodent.

It’sliketherats,isn’tit,Cup?Justliketherats.

8

THEOLDHOTELswarmedwithvermin.Thecoldhadkilledoffthecockroaches,butotherpestssurvived,especiallybedbugsandcarpetbeetles.Andtheywerehungry.Withinaday,allofuswerecoveredwithbites.Thebasementbelongedtotheflies,wherecorpseshadbeenbroughtduringtheplague.Bythetimewecheckedin,mostoftheflieshaddiedoff.Somanydeadfliesthattheirblackhuskscrunchedbeneathourfeetwhenwewentdowntherethefirstday.Thatwasalsothelastdaywewentintothebasement.

Theentirebuildingreekedofrot,andItoldZombiethatopeningthewindowswouldhelpdissipatethesmellandkilloffsomeofthebugs.Hesaidhe’drathergetbitandgagthanfreezetodeath.Ashesmiledtodrenchyouinhisirresistiblecharm.Relax,Ringer.It’sjustanotherdayinthealienwild.

Thebugsandthesmelldidn’tbotherTeacup.Itwastheratsthatdrovehercrazy.Theyhadchewedtheirwayintothewalls,andatnighttheirgnawingandscratchingkepther(andthereforeme)awake.

Shetossedandturned,whinedandbitchedandgenerallyobsessed,becausepracticallyanyotherthoughtsaboutoursituationendedupinabadplace.Inavainattempttodistracther,Ibeganteachingherchess,usingatowelforaboardandcoinsforthepieces.

“Chessisastupidgameforstupidpeople,”sheinformedme.

“No,it’sverydemocratic,”Isaid.“Smartpeopleplay,too.”

Teacuprolledhereyes.“Youwanttoplayjustsoyoucanbeatme.”

“No,IwanttobecauseImissplayingit.”

Hermouthdroppedopen.“That’swhatyoumiss?”

Ispreadthetowelonthebedandpositionedthecoins.“Don’tdecidehowyoufeelaboutsomethingbeforeyoutryit.”IwasaroundheragewhenIbegan.Thebeautifulwoodenboardonastandinmyfather’sstudy.Thegleamingivorypieces.Thesternking.Thehaughtyqueen.Thenobleknight.Thepiousbishop.Andthegameitself,thewayeachpiececontributeditsindividualpowertothewhole.Itwas

simple.Itwascomplex.Itwassavage;itwaselegant.Itwasadance;itwasawar.Itwasfiniteandeternal.Itwaslife.

“Penniesarepawns,”Itoldher.“Nickelsarerooks,dimesareknightsandbishops,quartersarekingsandqueens.”

Sheshookherhead.Ringerisanidiot.“Howcandimesandquartersbeboth?”

“Heads:knightsandkings.Tails:bishopsandqueens.”

Thecoolnessoftheivory.Thewaythefelt-coveredbasesslidoverthepolishedwood,likewhisperedthundercrashing.Myfather’sfacebentovertheboard,leanandunshaven,red-eyedandpurse-lipped,encrustedwithshadows.Thesicklysweetsmellofalcoholandfingersthatthrummedlikehummingbirds’wings.

It’scalledthegameofkings,Marika.Wouldyouliketolearnhowtoplay?

“It’sthegameofkings,”IsaidtoTeacup.

“Well,I’mnotaking.”Shecrossedherarms.Sooverme.“Ilikecheckers.”

“Thenyou’lllovechess.Chessischeckersonsteroids.”

Myfathertappinghischippednailsonthetabletop.Theratsscratchinginsidethewalls.

“Here’showthebishopmoves,Teacup.”

Thisishowtheknightmoves,Marika.

Shejammedastalepieceofgumintohermouthandchewedangrilyasthedryshardscrumbled.

Mintybreath.Whiskeybreath.Scratch,scratch,tap,tap.

“Giveitachance,”Ibeggedher.“You’llloveit.Ipromise.”

Shegrabbedthecornerofthetowel.“Here’swhatIfeel.”Isawitcoming,butstillflinchedwhensheflungthetowelandthecoinsexplodedintotheair.Anickelpoppedherintheforeheadandshedidn’tevenblink.

“Ha!”Teacupshouted.“Iguessthat’scheckmate,bitch!”

Reactingwithoutthinking,Islappedher.“Don’tevercallmethat.Ever.”

Thecoldmadetheslapmorepainful.Herbottomlippokedout,hereyeswelledup,butshedidn’tcry.

“Ihateyou,”shesaid.

“Idon’tcare.”

“No,Ihateyou,Ringer.Ihateyourfuckingguts.”

“Cussingdoesn’tmakeyougrown-up,youknow.”

“ThenIguessI’mababy.Shit,shit,shit!Fuck,fuck,fuck!”Shestartedtotouchhercheek.Shestoppedherself.“Idon’thavetolistentoyou.Youaren’tmymotherormysisteroranybody.”

“Thenwhyhaveyoubeenlatchedontomelikeapilotfishsinceweleftcamp?”

Nowateardidfall,asingledropthattraileddownherscarletcheek.Shewassopaleandthin,herskinasluminescentasoneofmyfather’schesspieces.Iwassurprisedtheslaphadn’tshatteredherintoathousandbits.Ididn’tknowwhattosayorhowtounsaywhathadbeensaid,soIsaidnothing.

Instead,Ilaidahandonherknee.Shepushedmyhandaway.

“Iwantmygunback,”shesaid.

“Whydoyouwantyourgunback?”

“SoIcanshootyou.”

“Thenyou’redefinitelynotgettingyourgunback.”

“CanIhaveitbacktoshootalltherats?”

Isighed.“Wedon’thaveenoughbullets.”

“Thenwepoisonthem.”

“Withwhat?”

Shethrewupherhands.“Okay,sowesetthehotelonfireandburnthemallup!”

“That’sagreatidea,onlywehappentobelivinghere,too.”

“Thenthey’regonnawin.Againstus.Abunchofrats.”

Ishookmyhead.Ididn’tfollowher.“Win—how?”

Hereyeswidenedindisbelief.Ringerthemoron.“Listentothem!They’reeatingit.Andprettysoonwewon’tbelivingherebecausetherewon’tbeanyheretolivein!”

“That’snotwinning,”Ipointedout.“Theywouldn’thaveahome,either.”

“They’rerats,Ringer.Theycan’tthinkthatfarahead.”

Notjusttherats,Ithoughtthatnightaftershefinallyfellasleepnexttome.Ilistenedtotheminsidethewalls,chewing,scratching,screeching.Eventually,withthehelpofweather,insects,andtime,theoldhotelwouldcollapse.Inanotherhundredyears,onlythefoundationwouldremain.Inathousand,nothingatall.Hereoranywhere.Itwouldbeasifwehadneverexisted.WhoneedsthekindofbombsusedatCampHavenwhentheycanturntheelementsthemselvesagainstus?

Teacupwaspressedtightagainstme.Evenundermoundsofcovers,thecoldsqueezedhard.Winter:awavetheydidn’thavetoengineer.Thecoldwouldkilloffthousandsmore.

Nothingthathappensisinsignificant,Marika,myfathertoldmeduringoneofmychesslessons.

Everymovematters.Masteryisinunderstandinghowmucheachtime,everytime.

Itnaggedatme.Theproblemofrats.NotTeacup’sproblem.Nottheproblemwithrats.Theproblemofrats.

9

ISEETHECHOPPERSclosinginthroughtheleaflessbranchesclothedinwhite,threeblackdotsagainstthegray.Ihaveseconds.

Options:

FinishTeacupandtakemychancesagainstthreeBlackHawksequippedwithHellfiremissiles.

LeaveTeacuptobefinishedbythem—orworse,saved.

Onelastoption:Finishbothofus.Abulletforher.Abulletforme.

Idon’tknowifZombieisokay.Idon’tknowwhat—ifanything—droveTeacupfromthehotel.WhatIdoknowisourdeathsmaybehisonlychancetolive.

Iwillmyselftosqueezethetrigger.IfIcanfirethefirstround,thesecondwillbemucheasier.Itellmyselfit’stoolate—toolateforherandtoolateforme.There’snoavoidingdeath,anyway.Isn’tthatthelessonthey’vebeenhammeringintoourheadsformonths?Nohidingfromit,norunningfromit.

Putitoffforaday,anddeathwillsurelyfindyoutomorrow.

Shelookssobeautiful,notevenreal,nestledinabowerofsnow,herdarkhairshimmeringlikeonyx,herexpressioninsleeptheindescribableserenityofanancientstatue.

Iknowthatkillingbothofusistheonlyoptionwiththeleastrisktothemostpeople.AndIthinkofratsagainandhowsometimes,topasstheinterminablehours,TeacupandIwouldplotourcampaignagainstthevermin,stratagemsandtactics,wavesofattack,eachmoreridiculousthanthelast,untilshedissolvedintohystericallaughter,andIgaveherthesamespeechIgaveZombieonthefiringrange,thesamelessonthatnowcomeshometome,thefearthatbindskillertopreyandthebulletconnectingbothasifbyasilvercord.NowIamthekillerandtheprey,acircleofacompletelydifferentkind,andmymouthhasgonedryasthesterileair,myheartascold:Thetemperatureoftruerageisabsolutezero,andmineisdeeperthantheocean,widerthantheuniverse.

Soitisn’thopethatmakesmeslipthesidearmbackintoitsholster.Itisn’tfaithanditsureisn’tlove.

It’srage.

Rage,andthefactthatIhaveadeadrecruit’simplantstilllodgedbetweenmycheekandgums.

10

ILIFTHERUP.Herheadfallsagainstmyshoulder.Wetakeoffthroughthetrees.ABlackHawkthundersoverhead.Theothertwochoppershavesplitoff,onetotheeast,onetothewest,cuttingoffanyescape.

Thehigh,thinbranchesbend.Snowwhipssidewaysintomyface.Teacupweighsnothing;Icouldbecarryingawadofdiscardedclothes.

WecomeoutofthetreesasaBlackHawkroarsinfromthenorth.Theblastofairwhipsmyhairwithcyclonicfury.Thechopperhoversaboveusandnowwearemotionless,standinginthemiddleoftheroad.Nomorerunning.Nomore.

IlowerTeacuptotheblacktop.Thehelicopterissoclose,Icanseetheblackvisorofthepilotandtheopendoortotheholdandtheclusterofbodiesinside,andIknowI’minthemiddleofahalfdozensights,meandthelittlegirlatmyfeet.AndeverysecondthatpassesmeansI’vesurvivedthatsecondand,witheachsecond,theincreasedprobabilityI’llsurvivethenext.Itmightnotbetoolate,notforme,notforher,notyet.

Idonotglowintheireyepieces.Iamoneofthem.Imustbe,right?

Islingtheriflefrommyshoulderandslipmyfingerthroughthetriggerguard.

11

FROMTHETIMEIcouldbarelywalk,myfatherwouldaskme,Cassie,doyouwanttofly?Andmyarmswouldshootovermyhead.Areyoukiddingme,oldman?DamnstraightIwanttofly!

Andhewouldgrabmywaistandtossmeintotheair.MyheadwouldsnapbackandIwouldhurtlelikearockettowardthesky.Foraninstantthatlastedathousandyears,itfeltasifI’dkeepflyinguntilIreachedthestars.Iwouldscreamwithjoy,thatfierceroller-coaster-ridefear,myfingersclutchingatclouds.

Fly,Cassie,fly!

Mybrotherknewthatfeeling,too.Betterthanme,becausethememorywasfresher.EvenaftertheArrival,Dadwaslaunchinghimintoorbit.IsawhimdoitatCampAshpitafewdaysbeforeVoschshowedupandmurderedhiminthedirt.

Sam,m’boy,doyouwanttofly?Loweringhisvoicefrombaritonetobasslikeanold-timecarnyhustler,thoughtheridehewassellingwasfree—andpriceless.Dadthelaunchingpad.Dadthelandingzone.DadthetetherthatkeptSams—andme—fromhurtlingintothenullityofdeepspace,anullityhimselfnow.

IwaitedforSamtoask.That’stheeasiestwaytobreakhorriblenews.Alsothelowest.Hedidn’task,though.Hetoldme.

“Daddy’sdead.”

Atinylumpbeneathamoundofcovers,browneyesbigandroundandblankliketheteddybear’spressedagainsthischeek.Teddybearsareforbabies,hetoldmethefirstnightatHotelHell.I’masoldiernow.

Burrowedinthebednexttohis,anothersolemn,pint-sizedsoldierstaringatme,theseven-year-oldtheycallTeacup.Theonewiththeadorablebaby-dollfaceandhauntedeyeswhodoesn’tshareabedwithastuffedanimal;shesleepswitharifle.

Welcometothepost-humanage.

“Oh,Sam.”Ileftmypostbythewindowandsatbesidethecocoonofcoversswaddlinghim.

“Sammy,Ididn’tknowhow—”

Hesluggedmeinthecheekwithaballed-up,apple-sizedfist.Ineversawitcoming,inbothmeaningsofthephrase.Brightstarsexplodedinmyvision.ForasecondIwasafraidhe’ddetachedmyretina.

Okay.Rubbingmycheek.Ideservedthat.

“Whydidyoulethimdie?”hedemanded.Hedidn’tcryorscream.Hisvoicewaslowandfierce,simmeringwithrage.“Youweresupposedtotakecareofhim.”

“Ididn’tlethimdie,Sams.”

Myfatherbleeding,crawlinginthedirt—Whereareyougoing,Dad?—andVoschstandingoverhim,watchingmyfathercrawlthewayasadistickidmightaflythathe’sdewinged,grimlysatisfied.

Teacupfromherbed:“Hitheragain.”

Samsnarledather,“Youshutup.”

“Itwasn’tmyfault,”Iwhispered,myarmwrappedaroundthebear.

“Hewassoft,”Teacupsaid.“That’swhathappenswhenyougo—”

Samwasonherintwoseconds.ThenitwasallfistsandkneesandfeetanddustflyingfromtheblanketsandDearGod,there’sarifleinthatbed!andIshovedTeacupaway,scoopedSamintomyarms,andheldhimtightlyagainstmychestwhileheswunghisarmsandkickedhislegs,spittingandgnashinghisteeth,andTeacupwasshoutingobscenitiesathimandpromisingshe’dputhimdownlikeadogifheevertouchedheragain.ThedoorflewopenandBenburstintotheroomwearingthatridiculousyellowhoodie.

“It’scool!”Ishoutedoverthescreaming.“I’vegotthis!”

“Cup!Nugget!Standdown!”

Likeaswitchbeingflipped,theminuteBenbarkedtheorder,bothkidsfellsilent.Samwentlimp.

Teacupfloppedagainsttheheadboardandfoldedherarmsoverherchest.

“Shestartedit.”Sampouted.

“IwasjustthinkingofpaintingabigredXontheroof,”Bensaid.Heholsteredhispistol.“Thanks,guys,forsavingmethetrouble.”Hegrinnedatme.“MaybeTeacupshouldbunkinmyroomuntilRingergetsback.”

“Good!”Teacupsaid.Shejumpedoutofbed,marchedtothedoor,turnedonherheel,wentbacktothebed,grabbedtherifle,andyankedonBen’swrist.“Let’sgo,Zombie.”

“Inaminute,”hesaidgently.“Dumbo’sonthewatch.Takehisbed.”

“Mybednow.”Shecouldn’tresistapartingshot:“A-holes.”

“You’rethea-hole!”Sammyshoutedafterher.Thedoorslammedinthatquick,violentwayofhoteldoors.“A-hole.”

Benlookedatme,righteyebrowcocked.“Whathappenedtoyourface?”

“Nothing.”

“Ihither,”Sammysaid.

“Youhither?”

“Forlettingmydaddydie.”

NowSamlostit.Asintears,notfists,andthenextthingIknew,Benwaskneelingandmybabybrotherwascryinginhisarms,andBenwassaying,“Hey,it’sokay,soldier.It’sgoingtobeokay.”

StrokingthecrewcutIwasstillgettingusedto—Sammyjustdidn’tseemlikeSammywithoutthemopofhair—sayingthatdumb-asscampnameoverandover.Nugget,Nugget.Iknewitshouldn’t,butitbotheredmethateveryonehadanomdeguerrebutme.IlikedDefiance.

Benpickedhimupanddepositedhiminthebed.ThenhefoundBearlyingonthefloorandplacedhimonthepillow.Samknockedhimaway.Benpickedhimupagain.

“YoureallywanttodecommissionTeddy?”heasked.

“Hisnameisn’tTeddy.”

“PrivateBear,”Bentried.

“JustBear,andIneverwanttoseehimagain!”Samyankedthecoversoverhishead.“Nowgoaway!

Everybody.Just.Go.Away!”

Itookasteptowardhim.Bentskedatmeandjerkedhisheadtowardthedoor.Ifollowedhimoutoftheroom.Alargeshadowhulkedbythewindowdownthehall:thebig,silentkidnamedPoundcake,whosesilencedidnotfallintothecreepycategory,moreliketheprofoundstillnessofamountainlakevariety.Benleanedagainstthewall,huggingBeartohischest,mouthslightlyopen,sweatingdespitethefreezingtemperature.Exhaustedafteratusslewithacoupleofkids,Benwasintrouble,whichmeantweallwere.

“Hedidn’tknowyourdadwasdead,”hesaid.

Ishookmyhead.“Hedidandhedidn’t.Oneofthosethings.”

“Yeah.”Bensighed.“Thosethings.”

AleadballofsilencethesizeofNewarkdroppedbetweenus.BenwasabsentlystrokingBear’sheadlikeanoldmanstrokesacatwhilereadingthenewspaper.

“Ishouldgobacktohim,”Isaid.

Bensidesteppedtothedoor,blockingmyway.“Maybeyoushouldn’t.”

“Maybeyoushouldn’tpokeyournoseinto—”

“Notthefirstpersoninhislifetodie.He’lldeal.”

“Wow.Thatwasharsh.”We’retalkingabouttheguywhowasmyfather,too,Zombieboy.

“YouknowwhatImeant.”

“Whydopeoplealwayssaythataftertheysaysomethingtotallycruel?”ThenIsaidit,becauseImayhavecertainissueswithself-editing:“Ihappentoknowwhatit’sliketo‘deal’withdeathallbyyourself.Justyouandnothingelsebutthebigemptyofwhereeverythingusedtobe.Itwouldhavebeennice,really,reallynice,tohavehadsomeonetherewithme...”

“Hey,”Bensaidsoftly.“Hey,Cassie,Ididn’t—”

“No,youdidn’t.Youreallydidn’t.”Zombie.Becausehedidn’thavefeelings,deadinsidelikeazombie?TherewerepeopleatAshpitlikethat.Shufflers,Icalledthem,human-shapedsackfulsofdust.

Somethingirreplaceablehadcrumbledinside.Toomuchloss.Toomuchpain.Shuffling,blank-eyed,slack-jawedmutterers.WasthatBen?Washeashuffler?ThenwhydidheriskeverythingtorescueSam?

“Whereveryouwere,”Bensaidslowly,“wewerethere,too.”

Thewordsstung.Becausetheyweretrueandbecausesomeoneelsesaidpracticallythesamethingtome:You’renottheonlyonewho’slosteverything.Thatsomeoneelsesufferedtheultimateloss.Allformysake,thecretinwhomustbereminded,again,thatshe’snottheonlyone.Lifeisfulloflittleironies,butit’salsopockmarkedwithsomethesizeofthatbigrockinAustralia.

Timetochangethesubject.“DidRingerleave?”

Bennodded.Stroke,stroke.Thebearwasbuggingme.Ituggeditfromhisarms.

“ItriedtosendPoundcakewithher,”hesaid.Helaughedsoftly.“Ringer.”Iwonderedifhewasawareofhowhesaidhername.Quietly,likeaprayer.

“Youknowwehavenobackupplanifshedoesn’tcomeback.”

“She’llcomeback,”hesaidfirmly.

“Whatmakesyousosure?”

“Becausewehavenobackupplan.”Nowanall-out,fullsmile,andit’sdisorienting,seeingtheoldsmilethatlitupclassroomsandhallwaysandyellowschoolbusesoverlaidonhisnewface,reshapedbydiseaseandbulletsandhunger.Liketurningacornerinastrangecityandrunningintosomeoneyouknow.

“That’sacircularargument,”Ipointedout.

“Youknow,someguysmightfeelthreatenedbeingsurroundedbypeoplesmarterthantheyare.Butitjustmakesmemoreconfident.”

Hesqueezedmyarmandlimpedacrossthehalltohisroom.Thenit’sthebearandthebigkiddownthehallandthecloseddoorandmeinfrontofthecloseddoor.Itookadeepbreathandsteppedinsidetheroom.Satbesidethelumpofcovers.Ididn’tseehimbutknewhewasthere.Hedidn’tseemebutknewIwasthere.

“Howdidhedie?”Muffledvoiceburied.

“Hewasshot.”

“Didyousee?”

“Yes.”

Ourfathercrawling,handsclawingthedirt.

“Whoshothim?”

“Vosch.”Iclosedmyeyes.Badidea.Thedarksnappedthesceneintosharpfocus.

“Wherewereyouwhenheshothim?”

“Hiding.”

Ireachedtopulldownthecovers.ThenIcouldn’t.Whereveryouwere.Inthewoodssomewhereoffanemptyhighway,agirlzippedherselfupinasleepingbagandwatchedherfatherdieagainandagain.

Hidingthen,hidingnow,watchinghimdieagainandagain.

“Didhefight?”

“Yes,Sam.Hefoughtveryhard.Hesavedmylife.”

“Butyouhid.”

“Yes.”CrushingBearagainstmystomach.

“Likeabigfatchicken.”

“Notlikethat,”Iwhispered.“Itwasn’tlikethat.”

Heslungtheblanketsasideandboltedupright.Ididn’trecognizehim.I’dneverseenthiskidbefore.

Faceuglyandtwistedbyrageandhate.

“I’mgoingtokillhim.I’mgoingtoshoothiminthehead!”

Ismiled.Ortriedto,anyway.“Sorry,Sams.Ihavedibs.”

Welookedateachotherandtimefoldedinonitself,thetimewehadlostinbloodandthetimewehadpurchasedinblood,thetimewhenIwasjustthebossybigsisterandhewastheannoyinglittlebrother,thetimewhenIwasthethingworthlivingforandhewasthethingworthdyingfor,andthenhecrumpledintomyarms,thebearsmushedbetweenusthewayweweretrappedbetweenthebefore-timeandtheafter-time.

Ilaydownnexttohimandtogetherwesaidhisprayer:IfIshoulddiebeforeIwake...AndthenItold

himthestoryofhowDaddied.Howhestoleagunfromoneofthebadguysandsingle-handedlytookouttwelveSilencers.HowhestooduptoVosch,tellinghim,Youcancrushourbodiesbutneverourspirit.HowhesacrificedhimselfsoIcouldescapetorescueSamfromtheevilgalactichorde.SoonedaySamcouldgathertheragtagremnantsofhumanityandsavetheworld.Sohismemoriesofhisfather’slastmomentsaren’tofabroken,bleedingmancrawlinginthedirt.

Afterhefellasleep,Islippedoutofbedandreturnedtomypostbythewindow.Astripofparkinglot,adecrepitdiner(“AllYouCanEatWednesdays!”),andastretchofgrayhighwayfadingintoblack.

TheEarthdarkandquiet,thewayitwasbeforeweshoweduptofillitwithnoiseandlight.Somethingends.Somethingnewbegins.Thiswasthein-betweentime.Thepause.

Onthehighway,besideanSUVthathadrunintothemedianstrip,starlightglintedofftheunmistakableshapeofariflebarrel,andforasecondmyheartstopped.TheshadowtotingthegundartedintothetreesandIsawtheshimmerofjet-blackhair,glossyandperfectly,annoyinglystraight,andIknewtheshadowwasRinger.

RingerandIdidn’tstartoffontherightfoot,andtherelationshipjustwentdownhillfromthere.ShetreatedeverythingIsaidwithakindoficycontempt,likeIwaslyingorstupidorjustcrazy.EspeciallywhenEvanWalkercameup.Areyousure?Thatdoesn’tmakeanysense.Howcouldhebebothhumanandalien?ThehotterIgot,thecoldershegot,untilwecanceledeachotheroutlikeeithersideofachemicalequation.LikeE=MC2,thekindofchemicalequationthatmakesmassiveexplosionspossible.

Ourpartingwordswereaperfectexample.

“Youknow,DumboIget,”Itoldher.“Thebigears.AndNugget,becauseSamissosmall.Teacup,too.ZombieIdon’tgetsomuch—Benwon’tsay—andI’mguessingPoundcakehassomethingtodo

withhisroly-poly-ness.ButwhyRinger?”

Heranswerwasanicystare.

“Itmakesmefeelalittleleftout.Youknow,theonlygangmemberwithoutastreetname.”

“Nomdeguerre,”shesaid.

Ilookedatherforaminute.“Letmeguess,NationalMeritScholar,chessclub,mathteam,topofyourclass?Andyouplayaninstrument,maybeaviolinorcello,somethingwithstrings.YourdadworkedinSiliconValleyandyourmomwasacollegeprofessor,I’mthinkingphysicsorchemistry.”

Shedidn’tsayanythingforacouplethousandyears.Thenshesaid,“Anythingelse?”

IknewIshouldstop.ButIwasinnow,andwhenIgoin,Igoallthewayin.That’stheSullivanway.

“You’retheoldest—no,anonlychild.YourdadisaBuddhist,butyourmomisanatheist.Youwerewalkingattenmonths.Yourgrandmotherraisedyoubecauseyourparentsworkedallthetime.Shetaughtyoutaichi.Youneverplayedwithdolls.Youspeakthreelanguages.OneofthemisFrench.YouwereontheOlympicdevelopmentteam.Gymnastics.YoubroughthomeaBonceandyourparentstookawayyourchemistrysetandlockedyouinyourroomforaweek,duringwhichtimeyoureadthecompleteworksof

WilliamShakespeare.”Shewasshakingherhead.“Okay,notthecomedies.Youjustcouldn’tgetthehumor.”

“Perfect,”shesaid.“That’samazing.”Hervoicewasasflatandthinasapieceofaluminumfoilfreshfromtheroller.“CanItryyou?”

Istiffenedupalittle,bracingmyself.“Youcantry.”

“You’vealwaysbeenself-consciousaboutyourlooks,especiallyyourhair.Thefrecklesareaclosesecond.You’resociallyawkward,soyoureadalotandyou’vekeptajournalsincemiddleschool.Youhadonlyoneclosefriendandyourrelationshipwascodependent,whichmeanseverytimeyoufoughtwithher,youslidintoadeepdepression.You’readaddy’sgirl,neverthatclosetoyourmother,whoalwaysmadeyoufeellikenomatterwhatyoudid,itwasn’tgoodenough.Itdidn’thelpthatshewasprettierthanyou.Whenshedied,youfeltguiltyforsecretlyhatingherandforbeingsecretlyrelievedthatshewasgone.You’restubbornandimpulsiveandalittlehyper,soyourparentsenrolledyouinsomethingtohelpwithyourcoordinationandconcentration,likeballetorkarate,probablykarate.Youwantmetogoon?”

Well,whatwasIgoingtodo?Isawonlytwooptions:laughorpunchherintheface.Okay,three:laugh,punchherintheface,orgivebackoneofherownstoicstares.Ioptedfornumberthree.

Badidea.

“Okay,”Ringersaid.“You’renotatomboyandyou’renotagirlygirl.You’reinthatgrayareainbetween.Beinganin-betweenmeantyoualwayssecretlyenviedtheoneswhoweren’t,butyousavedmostofyourresentmentfortheprettygirls.You’vehadcrushesbutneveraboyfriend.Youpretendyouhateboysyoulikeandlikeboysyouhate.Wheneveryou’rearoundsomeonewho’sprettierorsmarterorbetterthanyouinanyway,yougetangryandsarcastic,becausetheyremindyouofhowordinaryyoufeelinside.Goon?”

Andtiny-voicedme:“Sure.Whatever.”

“UntilEvanWalkercamealong,youhadneverevenheldaboy’shand,exceptonelementaryschoolfieldtrips.Evanwaskindandundemandingand,asanaddedbonus,almosttoobeautifultolookat.Hemadehimselfanemptycanvasyoucouldpaintwithyourlongingforaperfectrelationshipwiththeperfectguywhowouldeaseyourfearbyneverhurtingyou.Hegaveyouallthosethingsyouimaginedtheprettygirlshadthatyouneverdid,sobeingwithhim—ortheideaofhim—wasmostlyaboutrevenge.”

Iwasbitingmylowerlip.Myeyesburned.Iclenchedmyfistssohard,mynailswerebitingintomypalms.Why,oh,whydidn’tIgowithoptiontwo?

Shesaid,“Youwantmetostopnow.”Notaquestion.

Iliftedmychin.AndDefianceshallbemynomdeguerre!“What’smyfavoritecolor?”

“Green.”

“Wrong.It’syellow,”Ilied.

Sheshrugged.SheknewIwaslying.Ringer:thehumanWonderland.

“Seriously,though,why‘Ringer’?”That’sit.Putherbackonthedefensive.Well,sheneveractuallywasonthedefensive.Thatwouldbeme.

“I’mhuman,”shesaid.

“Yeah.”Ipeekedthroughthecrackinthecurtainstotheparkinglottwostoriesbelow.WhydidIdothat?DidIreallythinkI’dseehimstandingthere,lurkerthathewas,smilingupatme?See?IsaidI’dfindyou.“Someoneelsetoldmethat,too.And,likeadummy,Ibelievedhim.”

“Notsodumb,giventhecircumstances.”

Oh,nowshewasbeingkind?Nowshewascuttingmesomeslack?Ididn’tknowwhichwasworse:icemaidenRingerorcompassionatequeenRinger.

“Don’tpretend,”Isnapped.“Iknowyoudon’tbelievemeaboutEvan.”

“Ibelieveyou.It’shisstorythatdoesn’tmakesense.”

Thenshewalkedoutoftheroom.Justlikethat.Rightinthemiddle,beforeanythingwasresolved.

Who,besideseverymalepersoneverborn,doesthat?

Avirtualexistencedoesn’trequireaphysicalplanet...

WhowasEvanWalker?Shiftingmyeyesfromthehighwaytomybabybrotherandbackagain.Whowereyou,EvanWalker?

Iwasanidiotfortrustinghim,butIwashurtandalone(aloneasinthinkingIwasthelasthumanbeinginthefreakinguniverse)andmajorlymindscrewedbecauseIhadalreadykilledoneinnocentperson,andthisperson,thisEvanWalker,didn’tendmylifewhenhecouldhave;hesavedit.Sowhenthebellswentoff,Iignoredthem.Plusitdidn’thurt(help?)thathewasimpossiblygorgeousandequallyimpossiblyobsessedwithmakingmefeellikeImatteredmoretohimthanhedidtohimself,frombathingmetofeedingmetoteachingmehowtokilltotellingmeIwastheonethinghehadleftworthdyingfortoprovingitallbydyingforme.

HebeganasEvan,wokeupthirteenyearslatertofindouthewasn’t,thenwokeagain,hetoldme,whenhesawhimselfthroughmyeyes.Hefoundhimselfinme,andthenIfoundhiminmeandIwasinhimandtherewasnospacebetweenus.HebeganbytellingmeeverythingIwantedtohearandendedtellingmethethingsIneededto:Theprincipalweapontoeradicatethehumanhangers-onwerethehumansthemselves.Andwhenthelastofthe“infested”weredead,Voschandcompanywouldpulltheplugonthe5thWave.Purgeover.Housecleanandreadytomovein.

WhenItoldBenandRingerallthis—minusthepartaboutEvanbeinginsideme,abittoonuancedforParish—therewasalotofdubiousstaringandsignificantlooksfromwhichIwaspainfullyexcluded.

“Oneofthemwasinlovewithyou?”RingeraskedwhenIfinished.“Wouldn’tthatbelikeusfallinginlovewithacockroach?”

“Oramayfly,”Ishotback.“Maybetheyhaveathingforinsects.”

WeweremeetinginBen’sroom.OurfirstnightattheWalkerHotel,asRingerdubbedit,mostly,Ithink,togetundermyskin.

“Whatelsedidhetellyou?”Benasked.Hewassprawledonthebed.FourmilesfromCampHaventothehotel,andhelookedlikehe’djustsprintedamarathon.ThekidwhopatchedmeandSamup,Dumbo,wouldn’tcommitwhenIaskedhimaboutBen.Wouldn’tsayifhe’dgetbetter.Wouldn’tsayifhe’dgetworse.Ofcourse,Dumbowasonlytwelve.“Capabilities?Weaknesses?”

“Theyhavenobodiesanymore,”Isaid.“Evantoldmethatitwastheonlywaytheycouldmakethejourney.Someweredownloaded—him,Vosch,theotherSilencers—somearestillonthemothership,waitingforustobegone.”

Benrubbedhismouthwiththebackofhishand.“Thecampsweresetuptowinnowoutthebestcandidatesforbrainwashing...”

“Andtodisposeoftheoneswhoweren’t,”Ifinished.“Oncethe5thWavewasrolledout,alltheyhad

todowassitbackandletthestupidhumansdotheirdirtywork.”

Ringerwassittingbythewindow,silentasashadow.

“Butwhyuseusatall?”Benwondered.“Whynotdownloadenoughoftheirtroopsintohumanbodiestofinishusoff?”

“Notenoughofthem,maybe,”Iguessed.“Orsettingupthe5thWaveposedtheleastrisk.”

“Whatrisk?”Shadow-Ringersaid,breakinghersilence.

Idecidedtoignoreher.Foralotofreasons,themainonebeingyouengagedwithRingeratyourownperil.Shecouldhumiliateyouwithasingleword.

“Youwerethere,”IremindedBen.“YouheardVosch.They’dbeenwatchingusforcenturies.ButEvanprovedthat,evenwiththousandsofyearstoplan,somethingcanstillgowrong.Idon’tthinkiteveroccurredtothemthatbybecomingus,theymightactuallybecomeus.”

“Right,”Bensaid.“Sohowcanweusethat?”

“Wecan’t,”Ringeranswered.“There’snothingSullivan’stoldusthatwillhelp,unlessthisEvanpersonsomehowsurvivedtheblastandcanfillintheblanks.”

Benwasshakinghishead.“Nothingcouldhavesurvivedthat.”

“Therewereescapepods,”Isaid,graspingatthesamestrawI’dbeenreachingforsincehesaidgood-bye.

“Really?”Ringerdidn’tsoundlikeshebelievedme.“Thenwhydidn’theputyouinone?”

Itoldher,“Look,Iprobablyshouldn’ttellsomeoneholdingahigh-poweredsemiautomaticriflethis,butyou’rereallystartingtogetonmynerves.”

Sheactedsurprised.“Why?”

“We’vegottogetahandleonthis,”Bensaidsharply,cuttingoffmyanswer,whichwasagoodthing:RingerwasholdinganM16andBenhadtoldmeshewasthebestshotinthecamp.“What’stheplan?

WaitforEvantoshowuporrun?Andifwerun,whereto?”Cheeksflamingwithfever,eyesshining.

It’sfourthandlongwithfoursecondsleft.“IsthereanythingelseEvantoldyouthatmighthelp?Whataretheygoingtodowiththecities?”

“They’renotgoingtoblowthemup,”Ringersaid.Shedidn’twaitformetoanswer.Thenshedidn’twaitformetoaskhowthehellshewouldknowthat.“Ifthatwastheplan,theywould’veblownthemupfirst.Overhalftheworld’spopulationlivedinurbanareas.”

“Sotheyplantousethem,”Bensaid.“Becausethey’reusinghumanbodies?”

“Wecan’thideinacity,Zombie,”Ringersaid.“Anycity.”

“Why?”

“Becauseitisn’tsafe.Fires,sewage,diseasefromalltherottingcorpses,othersurvivorswhomustknowbynowthey’reusinghumanbodies.Ifwewanttostayaliveaslongaspossible,wehavetokeepmoving.Keepmovingandstayaloneaslongaspossible.”

Oh,boy.WheredidIhearthatrulebefore?Myheadfeltlight.Mykneewaskillingme.ThekneeshotbyaSilencer.MySilencer.I’llfindyou,Cassie.Don’tIalwaysfindyou?Notthistime,Evan.Idon’tthinkso.IsatonthebednexttoBen.

“She’sright,”Isaidtohim.“Stayinganywhereformorethanafewdaysisnotagoodidea.”

“Orstayingtogether.”

Ringer’swordshungintheicyair.Besideme,Benstiffened.Iclosedmyeyes.Heardthatrule,too:Trustnoone.

“Notgoingtohappen,Ringer,”Bensaid.

“ItakeTeacupandPoundcake.Youtaketherest.Ourchancesdouble.”

“Whystopthere?”Iaskedher.“Whydon’tweallsplitup?Ourchancesquadruple.”

“Septuple,”shecorrectedme.

“Well,I’mnomathwhiz,”Bensaid.“Butitseemstomesplittingupplaysrightintotheirstrategy.

Isolate,thenexterminate.”HegaveRingerahardlook.“Personally,Iliketheideaofsomeonehavingmy

back.”

Hepushedhimselffromthebedandswayedforasecond.Ringertoldhimtoliebackdown.Heignoredher.

“Wecan’tstay,butwehavenowheretogo.Youcan’tgettonowherefromhere,sowheredowego?”

heasked.

“South,”Ringersaid.“Asfarsouthaspossible.”Shewaslookingoutthewindow.Iunderstood—adecentsnowandyou’retrappeduntilitthaws.Ergo,getsomewherewhereitdoesn’tsnow.

“Texas?”Bensaid.

“Mexico,”Ringeranswered.“OrCentralAmerica,oncethewaterrecedes.Youcouldhideintherainforestforyears.”

“Ilikeit,”Bensaid.“Backtonature.There’sjustonelittleflaw.”Hespreadhishands.“Wedon’thavepassports.”

Hewatchedher,holdingthegesture,likehewaswaitingforsomething.Ringerlookedbackathim,expressionless.Bendroppedhishandswithashrug.

“You’renotserious,”Isaid.Thiswasgettingridiculous.“CentralAmerica?Inthemiddleofwinter,onfoot,withBenhurtandtwolittlekids.We’llbeluckytomakeittoKentucky.”

“Beatshangingaroundherewaitingforyouralienprincetocome.”

Thatdidit.Ididn’tcareifshewasholdinganM16.Iwasgrabbingahandfulofthosesilkylocksandslingingheroutthatwindow.Bensawitcomingandsteppedbetweenus.

“We’reallonthesameteamhere,Sullivan.Let’skeepittogether,okay?”HeturnedtoRinger.

“You’reright.Heprobablydidn’tmakeit,butwe’regonnagiveEvanachancetokeephispromise.I’minnoshapeforaroadtripanyway.”

“Ididn’tcomebackforyouandNuggetsowecouldbethefeaturedguestsataturkeyshoot,Zombie,”Ringersaid.“Dowhatyouthinkisright,butifthingsgethot,I’moutofhere.”

IsaidtoBen,“Teamplayer.”

“Maybeyou’reforgettingwhosavedyourlife,”Ringersaid.

“Oh,kissmyass.”

“Thatdoesit!”Benboomedinhisbestquarterback,I’m-the-guy-in-charge-herevoice.“Idon’tknowhowwe’remakingitthroughthisunholymess,butIdoknowthatthisisnottheway.Stowthecrap,bothofyou.That’sanorder.”

Hefellbackontothebed,gaspingforair,ahandpressedagainsthisside.RingerlefttofindDumbo,whichleftBenandmealoneforthefirsttimesinceourreuniondeepinthebowelsofCampHaven.

“Somethingweird,”Bensaid.“Youwouldthink,withninety-ninepercentofusgone,thetwopercentwouldgetalongbetter.”

Um,thatwouldbeonepercent,Parish.Istartedtopointthatoutandthensawhimsmiling,waitingformetocorrecthismath,knowingitwouldnearlyimpossibleformetoresist.HeplayedwiththestereotypeofthedumbjockthewaysomeoneSammy’sageplayedwithsidewalkchalk:inbroad,clumsystrokes.

“She’sapsycho,”Isaid.“Seriously,something’soff.Youlookinhereyesandthere’snoonetherethere.”

Heshookhishead.“Ithinkthere’salotthere.It’sjust...realdeep.”

Hewinced,handtuckedinthepocketofthathideoushoodielikehewasdoingaNapoleonimpression,pressingonthebulletwoundthatRingerhadgivenhim.Awoundheaskedfor.Awoundsohecouldriskeverythingtosavemylittlebrother.Awoundthatnowmaycosthimhislife.

“Itcan’tbedone,”Iwhispered.

“Ofcourseitcan,”hesaid.Helaidhishandontopofmine.

Ishookmyhead.Hedidn’tunderstand.Iwasn’ttalkingaboutus.

Theshadowoftheircomingfelluponusandwelostsightofsomethingfundamentalwithintheabsolutedarkofthatshadow.Butsimplybecausewecouldn’tseeitdidn’tmeanitwasn’tthere:Myfathermouthingtome,Run!whenhecouldn’t.Evanpullingmefromthebellyofthebeastbeforegivinghimselfuptoit.BenplungingintothejawsofhelltosnatchSamfromthem.Thereweresomethings—well,therewasprobablyonlyonething—unblemishedbytheshadow.Confounding.

Indefatigable.Undefeatable.

Theycankillus,evendowntothelastofus,buttheycan’tkill—canneverkill—whatlastsinus.

Cassie,doyouwanttofly?

Yes,Daddy.Iwanttofly.

12

THESILVERHIGHWAYthatfadedintotheblack.Theblacksearedbystarlightunleashed.Theleaflesstreeswitharmsupraisedlikethievescaughtintheact.Mybrother’sbreathcongealinginthefrigidairasheslept.ThewindowfoggingasIbreathed.And,beyondthefrostyglass,besidethesilverhighwayinthesearingstarlight,atinyfiguredartingbeneaththeupraisedarmsofthetrees.

Oh,crap.

Ilaunchedacrosstheroomandsmashedintothehall,wherePoundcakewhippedaround,rifleup,Relax,bigboy,thenbustedintoBen’sroom,whereDumboleanedagainstthewindowsillandBensprawledonthebedclosesttothedoor.Dumbostoodup.Bensatup.AndIspokeup:“Where’sTeacup?”

DumbopointedatthebednexttoBen’s.“Righthere.”GivingmealooklikeThiscrazychick’slostit.

Iwenttothebedandwhippedasidethemoundofcovers.BencursedandDumbobackedupagainstthewall,hisfaceturningred.

“IsweartoGodshewasjustthere!”

“Isawher,”ItoldBen.“Outside—”

“Outside?”Herolledhislegsoffthesideofthebed,gruntingwiththeeffort.

“Onthehighway.”

Thenheunderstood.“Ringer.She’sgoingafterRinger.”Heslappedhisopenhandonthemattress.

“Damnit!”

“I’llgo,”Dumbosaid.

Benhelduphishand.“Poundcake!”hehollered.Youcouldhearthebigkidcoming.Thefloorprotestedhispassage.Hestuckhisheadintheroom,andBensaid,“Teacuptookoff.AfterRinger.GograbherlittlebuttandbringitbackheresoIcanwhaleonit.”

PoundcakelumberedoffandthefloorwentThanksalot!

Benwasstrappingonhisholster.“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked.

“TakingPoundcake’spostuntilhegetsbackwiththatlittleshit.YoustaywithNugget.Imean,Sam.

Whoever.Weneedtopickonenameandsticktoit.”

Hisfingerswereshaking.Fever.Fear.Alittleofboth.

Dumbo’smouthopenedandclosed,butnosoundcameout.Bennoticed.“Atease,Bo.Notyourbad.”

“I’lltakethehall,”Dumbosaid.“Youstayhere,Sarge.Youshouldn’tbeonyourfeet.”

HerushedfromtheroombeforeBencouldstophim.Ben,nowlookingatmewithsparklyeyes,feverbright.“Idon’tthinkItoldyou,”hesaid.“AfterwewentrogueinDayton,Voschdispatchedtwosquadstohuntusdown.Iftheywerestillinthefieldwhenthecampblew...”

Hedidn’tfinishthethought.Eitherhethoughthedidn’tneedtoorhecouldn’t.Hestoodup.

Staggered.Iwenttohimandhethrewhisarmaroundmyshoulderswithoutembarrassment.There’sno

nicewaytosaythis:BenParishsmelledsick.Thesourodorofinfectionandoldsweat.ForthefirsttimesinceIrealizedhewasn’tacorpse,Ithoughthemightbeonesoon.

“Getbackinbed,”Itoldhim.Heshookhishead,thenhishandloosedonmyshoulderandhefell

back,hittingtheedgeofthemattresswithhisbuttandslidingdowntothefloor.

“Dizzy,”hemurmured.“GogetNuggetandbringhiminherewithus.”

“Sam.CanwegowithSam?”WheneverIheardNugget,IthoughtoftheMcDonald’sdrive-thruandhotFrenchfriesandstrawberry-bananasmoothiesandMcCaféFrappéMochastoppedwithwhippedcreamanddrizzledwithchocolate.

Bensmiled.Anditbrokemyheart,thatluminoussmileonthatwastedface.“We’llgowithit,”hesaid.

SambarelysighedwhenIpulledhimfromthebedandcarriedhimintoBen’sroom.IlaidhiminTeacup’svacatedbed,tuckedhimin,touchedhischeekwiththebackofmyhand,anoldhabitleftoverfromtheplaguedays.Benwasstillsittingonthefloor,headthrownback,staringattheceiling.Istartedtowardhim,andhewavedmeback.

“Window,”hegasped.“Nowwe’reblindononeside.Thanksalot,Teacup.”

“Whywouldshetakeofflike—?”

“EversinceDayton,she’sbeenlatchedontoRingerlikeapilotfish.”

“AllIeversawthemdoisfight.”Thinkingofthechessbrawl,thecoinsmackingTeacupinthehead,andIhateyourfuckingguts!

Benchuckled.“It’sathinline.”

Iglanceddownattheparkinglot.Theasphaltshonelikeonyx.Latchedontoherlikeapilotfish.IthoughtofEvanlurkingbehinddoorsandaroundcorners.Ithoughtoftheunblemishedthing,thethingthatlasts,andIthoughttheonlythingwiththepowertosaveusalsohadthepowertoslayus.

“Youreallyshouldn’tbeonthefloorlikethat,”Iscoldedhim.“It’swarmeruponthebed.”

“Ahalfofahalfofahalfofadegree,right.Thisisnothing,Sullivan.Aheadcoldnexttotheplague.”

“Youhadtheplague?”

“Oh,yeah.RefugeecampoutsideWright-Patterson.Aftertheytookoverthebase,theyhauledmein,pumpedmefullofantivirals,thenputarifleinmyhandandtoldmetogokillsomepeople.Howaboutyou?”

Acrucifixclutchedinabloodyhand.Youcaneitherfinishmeorhelpme.Thesoldierbehindthebeercoolerswasthefirst.No.ThefirstwastheguywhoshotCriscoinapitofashes.That’stwo,andthenthereweretheSilencers,theoneIshotrightbeforeIfoundSamandtheonerightbeforeEvanfoundme.Four,then.WasImissingsomebody?Thebodiespileupandyoulosetrack.OhGod,youlosetrack.

“I’vekilledpeople,”Isaidsoftly.

“Imeanttheplague.”

“No.Mymom...”

“Howaboutyourdad?”

“Differentkindofplague,”Isaid.Heglancedoverhisshoulderatme.“Vosch.Voschmurderedhim.”

ItoldhimaboutCampAshpit.TheHumveesandbigflatbedfulloftroops.Thesurrealappearanceoftheschoolbuses.Justthekids.Roomonlyforthelittleones.ThegatheringoftherestinthebarracksandDadsendingmewithmyfirstvictimtofindCrisco.ThenDadinthedirt,Voschtoweringoverhim,whileIhidinthewoods,andDadmouthingRun.

“Weirdthattheydidn’tputyouonabus,”Bensaid.“Ifthepointwastobuildanarmyofbrainwashedkids.”

“Isawmostlylittlekids,Sam’sage,someevenyounger.”

“Atcamp,theyseparatedanyoneunderfive,kepttheminthebunker...”

Inodded.“Ifoundthem.”Inthesaferoom,theirfaceslifteduptomineasIhuntedforSam.

“Whichmakesyouwonder:Whykeepthem?”Bensaid.“UnlessVoschexpectsaverylongwar.”

Thewayhesaidit,asifhedoubtedthatthatwasthereason.Hedrummedhisfingersonthemattress.

“WhatthehellisgoingonwithTeacup?Theyshouldbebackbynow.”

“I’llgocheck,”Isaid.

“Likehellyouwill.Thisisturningintoeveryhorrormovieevermade.Youknow?Gettingpickedoffonebyone.Uh-uh.Fivemoreminutes.”

Wefellsilent,listening.Buttherewasonlythewindwhisperinginthepoorlysealedwindowandtheconstantundercurrentofratsscratchinginthewalls.Teacupwasobsessedwiththem.IlistenedtohoursofherandRingerplottingtheirdemise.ThatannoyinglecturingtoneofRinger’s,explaininghowthepopulationwasoutofcontrol:Thehotelhadmoreratsthanwehadbullets.

“Rats,”Bensaid,asifhereadmymind.“Rats,rats,rats.Hundredsofrats.Thousandsofrats.Moreratsthanusnow.Planetoftherats.”Helaughedhoarsely.Maybehewasdelirious.“Youknowwhat’sbeenbuggingthehelloutofme?Voschtellingusthey’vebeenwatchingusforcenturies.Like,howisthatpossible?Oh,Igethowit’spossible,butIdon’tgetwhytheydidn’tattackusthen.HowmanypeoplewereonEarthwhenwebuiltthepyramids?Whywouldyouwaituntilthere’resevenbillionofusspreadoutovereverycontinentwithtechnologyalittlemoreadvancedthanspearsandclubs?Youlikeachallenge?Thetimetoexterminatethevermininyournewhouseisn’taftertheverminoutnumberyou.WhataboutEvan?Hesayanythingaboutthat?”

Iclearedmythroat.“Hesaidtheyweredividedoverwhethertoexterminateus.”

“Huh.Somaybetheydebateditforsixthousandyears.Dickedaroundbecausenobodycouldmakeuphismind,untilsomeonesaid,‘Oh,whatthehell,let’sjustoffthebastards.’”

“Idon’tknow.Idon’thavetheanswers.”Iwasfeelingalittledefensive.AsifknowingEvanmeantIshouldknoweverything.

“Voschcouldhavebeenlying,Iguess,”Benmused.“Idon’tknow,togetinourheads,messwithus.

Hemessedwithmefromthestart.”Helookedatme,thenlookedaway.“Shouldn’tadmitthis,butIworshippedtheguy.Ithoughthewas,like...”Hetwirledhishandintheair,searchingforthewords.

“Thebestofus.”

Hisshouldersbegantoshake.Atfirst,Ithoughtitmustbethefever,andthenIthoughtitcouldbesomethingelse,soIleftmyspotbythewindowandwenttohim.

Forguys,breakingdownisaprivatething.Neverletthemseeyoucry,meansyou’reweak,meansyou’resoft,ababy,awuss.NotverymanlyandallthatBS.Icouldn’timaginethepre-ArrivalBenParishcryinginfrontofanyone,theguywhohadeverything,theboywhoalltheotherboyswantedtobe,theonewhobrokeothers’heartsandneversufferedhisowntobebroken.

Isatbesidehim.Ididn’ttouchhim.Ididn’tspeak.HewaswherehewasandIwaswhereIwas.

“Sorry,”hesaid.

Ishookmyhead.“Don’tbe.”

Hewipedthebackofhishandagainstonecheek,thentheothercheek.“Youknowwhathetoldme?

Well,morelikepromised.Hepromisedhewouldemptyme.Hewouldemptymeandfillmeupwithhate.Buthebrokethatpromise.Hedidn’tfillmewithhate.Hefilledmewithhope.”

Iunderstood.Inthesaferoom,abillionupraisedfacespopulatingtheinfinite,andtheeyesthatsoughtmine,andthequestioninthoseeyestoohorribletoputintowords,WillIlive?It’sallconnected.

TheOthersunderstoodthat,understooditbetterthanmostofus.Nohopewithoutfaith,nofaithwithouthope,nolovewithouttrust,notrustwithoutlove.Removeoneandtheentirehumanhouseofcardscollapses.

ItwaslikeVoschwantedBentodiscoverthetruth.Wantedtoteachhimthehopelessnessofhope.

Andwhatcouldbethepointofthat?Iftheywantedtoannihilateus,whydidn’ttheyjustgoaheadandannihilateus?Theremustbeadozenwaystowipeusoutquickly,buttheydrewitoutinfivewavesofescalatinghorror.Why?

Uptonow,IalwaysthoughtthattheOthersfeltnothingtowardusexceptdisdainwithmaybealittledisgustmixedin,thewaywefeelaboutratsandcockroachesandbedbugsandothernastylowerformsof

life.Nothingpersonal,humans,butyougottago.Itneveroccurredtomethatitcouldbeentirelypersonal.Thatsimplykillingusisn’tenough.

“Theyhateus,”Isaid,asmuchtomyselfastohim.Benlookedatme,startled.AndIlookedbackathim,scared.“There’snootherexplanation.”

“Theydon’thateus,Cassie,”hesaidgently,thewayyoutalktoafrightenedlittlekid.“Wejusthadwhattheywant.”

“No.”Nowmycheekswerewetwithtears.The5thWavehadoneexplanationandonlyone.Anyotherpossiblereasonwasabsurd.

“Thisisn’taboutrippingtheplanetawayfromus,Ben.Thisisaboutrippingus.”

13

“THAT’SIT,”Bensaid.“Time’sup.”

Thenhewasup,buthedidn’tgetveryfar.Halfwaytohisfeetbeforeploppingdownhardonhisbutt.

Iputahandonhisshoulder.

“I’llgo.”

Hesmackedhisthighwithhispalm.“Can’tletithappen,”hemutteredasIopenedthedoorandpokedmyheadintothehallway.Can’tletwhathappen?LosingTeacupandPoundcake?Losingallofusonebyone?Losingthebattleagainsthisinjuries?Orlosingthewaringeneral?

Thehallwasempty.

FirstTeacup.ThenPoundcake.NowDumbo.Weweredisappearingfasterthancampersinaslashermovie.

“Dumbo!”Icalledsoftly.Theridiculousnameechoedinthecold,stagnantair.Mymindracedthroughthepossibilities.Leastlikelytomost:Somebodyquietlyneutralizedhimandstashedhisbody;hewascaptured;hesaworheardsomethingandwenttoinvestigate;hehadtopee.

Ilingeredinthedoorwayforacoupleofsecondsincasethelastpossibilitywastrue.Whenthehallstayedempty,Isteppedbackintotheroom.Benwasupright,checkingthemagazineofhisM16.

“Don’tmakemeguess,”hesaid.“Nevermind.Idon’tneedtoguess.”

“StayherewithSam.I’llgo.”

Heshuffledtoastopaninchfrommynose.“Sorry,Sullivan.He’syourbrother.”

Istiffened.Theroomwasfreezing;mybloodwascolder.Hisvoicewashard,flat,withoutanyfeelingat

all.Zombie.WhydotheycallyouZombie,Ben?

Thenhesmiled,averyreal,veryBenParish–ysmile.“Thoseguysoutthere—they’reallmybrothers.”

Hesidesteppedmeandstumbledtowardthedoor.Thesituationwasescalatingquicklyfromimpossiblydangeroustodangerouslyimpossible.Icouldn’tseeanyotherway:IscrambledoverBen’sbedandgrabbedSambytheshoulders.Shookhimhard.Hewokeupwithasoftcry.Islammedmyhandoverhismouthtostopperthenoise.

“Sams!Listen!Something’swrong.”IpulledtheLugerfromtheholsterandpresseditintohislittlehands.Hiseyeswidenedwithfearandsomethingthatunnervinglyresembledjoy.“BenandIhavetocheckitout.Putonthenightlatch—youknowwhatanightlatchis?”Big-eyednod.“Andputachairundertheknob.Lookthroughthelittlehole.Don’tlet...”DidIneedtospellouteverything?“Look,Sams,thisisimportant,veryimportant.Very,veryimportant.Youknowhowwetellthegoodguysfromthebadguys?Thebadguysshootatus.”Bestlessonmyfatherevertaughtme.IkissedthetopofSam’sheadandlefthimthere.

Thedoorclickedshutbehindme.Iheardthenightlatchslideintothenotch.Goodboy.Benwashalfwaydownthehall.Hemotionedformetojoinhim.Hepressedhislips,fever-hot,againstmyear.

“Wecleartherooms,thenwegodown.”

Weworkedtogether.ItookthepointwhileBencoveredme.TheWalkerHotelhadanopendoorpolicy:Everylockhadbeenbustedatsomepointassurvivorssoughtrefugeduringthewaves.Also

helpfulwasthefactthattheWalkerwasperfectforthefamilyonabudget.TheroomswereroughlythesizeofBarbie’sDreamhouse.Thirtysecondstocheckone.Fourminutestoclearthemall.

Backinthehall,Bencrushedhislipsintomyearagain.

“Theshaft.”

Hedroppedtoonekneeinfrontoftheelevatordoors.Gesturedformetocoverthestairwaydoor,thenpulledouthisten-inchcombatknifeandshovedthebladeintothecrack.Ah,Ithought.Theoldhide-in-the-elevatortrick!SowhywasIcoveringthestairs?Benpushedopenthedoorsandwavedmeover.

IsawrustycablesandalotofdustandsmelledwhatIassumedtobedeadrat.Ihopeditwasdeadrat.Hepointedatthedarknesspoolingbelow,andthenIunderstood.Weweren’tcheckingtheshaft—

wewereusingit.

“I’mclearingthestairs,”hebreathedinmyear.“Youstayintheelevator.Waitformysignal.”

Heplacedhisfootagainstonedoorandleanedbackagainsttheothertoholdthemopen.Pattedthetinyspacebetweenhishipandtheedge.Mouthed,Let’sgo.CarefullyIeasedoverhislegs,plantedmybuttinthespace,anddroppedmylegsovertheside.Thetopoftheelevatorlookedtwentymilesdown.

Bensmiledreassuringly:Don’tworry,Sullivan.Iwon’tletyoufall.

Iinchedforwarduntilmybuttdangledinopenspace.Nope,thatwon’twork.Iswungbacktotheedge,thenmaneuveredontomyknees.Bengrabbedmywristandgavemeathumbs-upwithhisfreehand.Iknee-walkeddowntheshaftwall,grippingtheedgeuntilmyarmswerefullyextended.Okay,Cassie.Timetoletgonow.Ben’sgotyou.Yeah,dumbass,andBen’shurtandaboutasstrongasathree-year-old.Whenyouletgo,yourweightisgoingtopullhimoffhisperchandyou’llbothdrop.He’lllandontopofyouandbreakyourneckandthenhe’llslowlybleedtodeathalloveryourparalyzedbody...

Oh,whatthehell.

Iletgo.IheardBengruntsoftly,buthedidn’tdropmeandhedidn’ttumbledownontopofme.

Bendingfromthewaistasheloweredmedown,untilIsawhisheadsilhouettedintheopening,hisfacemaskedinshadow.Mytoesbrushedagainsttheroofoftheelevator.Igavehimathumbs-up,thoughIwasn’tsureifhecouldseeit.Threeseconds.Four.Andthenheletgo.

Isanktomykneesandfeltaroundfortheservicehatch.Somegrease,somedirt,andalotofgreasydirt.

Beforeelectricity,theymeasuredbrightnessincandlepower.Thelightdownherewasaboutonehalfofonehalfofonecandle.

Thenthedoorsabovemeclosedandthecandlepowerdroppedtozero.

Thanks,Parish.YoucouldhavewaitedtillIfoundthehatch.

And,whenIdid,thelatchwasstuck,probablyrustedshut.IreachedformyLugerwiththethoughtofusingthebuttendasahammer,thenrememberedI’dentrustedmysemiautomaticpistoltoafive-year-old’scare.Ipulledthecombatknifefrommyankleholsterandgavethelatchthreehardwhackswiththehandle.Themetalscreeched.Averyloudscreech.Somuchforstealth.Butthelatchgave.Ipulledthehatchopen,whichresultedinanotherveryloudscreech,thistimefromtherustyhinge.Well,sure,thissoundsreallyloudtoyou,kneelingrightnexttoit.Outsidetheshaft,probablyonlyatinymouselikesqueaky-squeak.Don’tgetparanoid!Myfatherhadasayingaboutparanoia.Ineverthoughtitwasveryfunny,especiallyafterhearingittwothousandtimes:I’monlyparanoidbecauseeveryoneisagainstme.Onlyajoke,Iusedtothink.Notanomen.

Idroppedintotheutterdarkoftheelevatorcar.Waitformysignal.Whatsignal?Benneglectedtocoverthat.Ipressedmyeartothecrackbetweenthecoldmetaldoorsandheldmybreath.Countedtoten.Breathed.Countedtotenagain.Breathed.Aftersixtencountsandfourbreathsandhearingnothing,Istartedgettingalittleantsy.Whatwashappeningoutthere?WherewasBen?Wherewas

Dumbo?Ourlittlebandwasbeingrippedapartonepersonatatime.Abigmistakesplittingup,buteachtimewedidn’thaveachoice.Wewerebeingoutplayed.Someonewasmakingthislookfoolishlyeasy.

Ormultiplesomeones:AfterwewentrogueinDayton,Voschdispatchedtwosquadstohuntusdown.

Thatwasit.Thathadtobeit.Oneorpossiblybothsquadshadfoundourhidingplace.Wewaitedheretoolong.

That’sright,andwhydidyouwait,Cassiopeia“Defiance”Sullivan?Ohyeah,becausesomedeadguypromisedhe’dfindyou.Soyouclosedyoureyesandjumpedoffthecliffintothatemptiness,andnow

you’reshockedthere’snobigfatmattressatthebottom?Yourfault.Whateverhappensnow.You’reresponsible.

Theelevatorwasnotlarge,butinthepitchdarkitseemedthesizeofafootballstadium.Iwasstandinginavastundergroundpit,nolight,nosound,alifeless,lightlessvoid,frozentothespot,paralyzedbyfearanddoubt.Knowing—withoutunderstandinghowIknew—thatBen’ssignalwasn’tcoming.Understanding—withoutknowinghowIunderstood—thatEvanwasn’tcoming,either.

Youneverknowwhenthetruthwillcomehome.Youcan’tchoosethetime.Thetimechoosesyou.

I’dhaddaystofacethetruththatnowfacedmeinthatcold,blackspace,andI’drefused.Iwouldn’tgothere.Sothetruthdecidedtocometome.

Whenhetouchedmeonourlastnighttogether,therewasnospacebetweenus,nospotwhereheendedandIbegan,andnowtherewasnospacebetweenmeandthedarknessofthepit.Hepromisedhewouldfindme.Don’tIalwaysfindyou?AndIbelievedhim.AfterdistrustingeverythinghesaidfromthemomentImethim,forthefirsttime,inthelastwordshespoke,Ibelieved.

Ipressedmyfaceagainstthecoldmetaldoors.Ihadthesensationoffalling,milesuponmilesofemptyairbeneathme.Iwouldneverstopfalling.You’reamayfly.Hereforadayandthengone.No.

I’mstillhere,Evan.You’retheonewho’sgone.

“Youknewfromthemomentweleftthefarmhousewhatwouldhappen,”Iwhisperedintothevoid.

“Youknewyouweregoingtodie.Andyouwentanyway.”

Icouldn’tstayuprightanymore.Ihadnochoice.Isliddowntomyknees.Falling.Falling.Iwouldneverstopfalling.

Letgo,Cassie.Letgo.

“Letgo?I’mfalling.I’mfalling,Evan.”

ButIknewwhathemeant.

I’dneverlethimgo.Notreally.Itoldmyselfathousandtimesadayhecouldn’thavesurvived.

Lecturedmyselfthatourholingupinthisfleabagmotelwasuseless,dangerous,crazy,suicidal.ButIclungtohispromisebecauselettinggoofthepromisemeantIwaslettinggoofhim.

“Ihateyou,EvanWalker,”Iwhisperedtothevoid.

Frominsidethevoid—andfromthevoidinside—silence.

Can’tgoback.Can’tgoforward.Can’tholdon.Can’tletgo.Can’t,can’t,can’t,can’t.Whatcanyoudo?Whatcanyoudo?

Iliftedmyface.Okay.Icandothat.

Istoodup.That,too.

Isquaredmyshouldersandslippedmyfingertipsintotheplacewherethetwodoorsmet.

I’msteppingoutnow,Itoldthesilentdeep.I’mlettinggo.

Iforcedthedoorsapart.Lightfloodedintothevoid,devouringthesmallestshadow,downtothelastone.

14

ISTEPPEDINTOthelobby,ourbravenewworldinmicrocosm.Shatteredglass.Moundsoftrashpiledintocorners,likeautumnleavesblowntherebythewind.Deadbugsontheirbacks,legscurledup.Bittercold.Soquiet,yourbreathwastheonlysound:AftertheHumvanished,theHush.

NosignofBen.Betweenthesecondfloorandthestairs,somethingmusthavehappenedtohimandnotagoodsomething.Ieasedtowardthestairwaydoor,fightingtheinstincttohaulassbacktoSambeforehedisappearedlikeBen,likeDumbo,likePoundcakeandTeacup,like99.9percentofeveryoneonEarth.

Debriscracklingbeneathmyboots.Coldairburningmyfaceandhands.Myhandsgrippingtherifleandmyeyesbarelyblinkingintheweakstarlightthatblaredspotlight-brightaftertheabsolutedarkoftheelevator.

Slow.Slow.Nomistakes.

Stairwaydoor.Iheldthemetalhandleforagoodthirtyseconds,earpressedagainstthewood,butallIheardwasthethumpingofmyheart.Slowly,Ipusheddownthehandle,pulledthedooropentocreateacrackjustwideenoughtopeekthrough.Totallydark.Totallysoundless.Damnit,Parish.Wherethehellareyou?

Nowheretogobutup.Islidintothestairwell.Snick:Thedoorclosedbehindme.Plungedintodarknessagain,butthistimeIwasdeterminedtokeepitontheoutside,whereitbelonged.

Thetartsmellofdeathhunginthemustyair.Arat,Itoldmyself.Oraraccoonorsomeotherwoodlandcreaturethatgottrappedinhere.Mybootcamedownonsomethingsquishy.Tinybonescrunched.Iwipedoffthegooeyremainsontheedgeofastep;Ididn’twanttoslip,tumbledowntothebottom,breakmyneck,liehelplesslywaitingforwhoeveritwastofindmeandputabulletinmybrain.Thatwouldbebad.

Ireachedthetinylanding,onemoreflight,deepbreath,almostthere,andthentheshotrangout,followedbyanother,thenathird,thenawholebarrageaswhoeverwasshootingemptiedthemagazine.

Irocketeduptheremainingsteps,slammedthroughthedoor,andchargeddownthehalltowardtheroomthatwasnowmissingadoor,theroomwheremybabybrotherwas,andmytoecaughtonsomething—asoftsomethingIdidn’tseeinmymaddashforSam—andIwentairborne,landingwithajaw-poppingforceonthethincarpeting,jumpedup,glancedback,andsawBenParishlyinglifelesslythere,armsoutstretched,darkwetblotchofbloodseepingthroughthatridiculousyellowhoodie,andthenSam

screamedandI’mnottoolate,nottoolate,andhereIcome,yousonofabitch,hereIcome,andintheroomatallshadowloomedoverthetinyfigurewhosetinyfingeryankedimpotentlyatthetriggeroftheemptygun.

Ifired.Theshadowwhirledtowardme,thenpitchedforward,reachingforme.

Islammedmyfootdownonitsneckandjammedthemuzzleoftherifleagainstthebackoftheshadow’shead.

“Excuseme,”Igasped;Ihadnobreath.“Butyouhavethewrongroom.”

15

ASACHILD,hedreamedofowls.

Hehadn’tthoughtofthedreaminyears.Now,ashislifeslippedaway,thememorycamebacktohim.

Thememorywasnotpleasant.

Thebirdperchedonthewindowsill,staringintohisroomwithbrightyelloweyes.Theeyesblinkedslowly,rhythmically;otherwise,theowlnevermoved.

Watchingtheowlwatchinghim,paralyzedwithfearwithoutunderstandingwhy,unabletocallforhismotherand,afterward,thesickfeelingallover,nauseated,dizzy,feverish,andthejittery,unnervingsensationofbeingwatchedthatlingeredfordays.

Whenheturnedthirteen,thedreamsstopped.Hehadawakened;therewasnoneedtohidethetruthanymore.Whenthetimecame,hisawakenedselfwouldneedthegiftsthatthe“owl”hadgiven.Heunderstoodthedreams’purposebecausehispurposehadbeenrevealed.

Makeready.Preparetheway.

Theowlhadbeenalietoprotectthetenderpsycheofhishostbody.Afterheawakened,anotherlietookitsplace:hislife.Hishumanitywasalie,amask,likethedreamofowlsinthedark.

Nowhewasdying.Andtheliewasdyingwithhim.

Therewasnopain.Hedidnotfeelthebittercold.Hisbodyseemedtofloatonawarm,boundlesssea.Thealarmsignalsfromhisnervestothepaincentersofhisbrainhadbeenshutdown.Thisgentle,painlesseasingofhishumanbodyintooblivionwouldbethefinalgift.

Andthen,afterthelasthumanbeingwasdead:rebirth.

Anewhumanbodyunburdenedbythememoryofbeinghuman.Hewouldnotrememberthepasteighteenyears.Thosememoriesandtheemotionsattachedtothemwouldbeforeverlost—andtherewasnothingthatcouldbedoneabouttheagonyattendingthatknowledge.

Lost.Everythinglost.

Thememoryofherface.Lost.Thetimewithher.Lost.Thewardeclaredbetweenwhathewasandwhathepretendedtobe.Lost.

Inthequietofthewinter-drapedwoods,floatingonaboundlesssea,hereachedforher,andsheslippedaway.

Heknewwhatwouldcomeofit.Hehadalwaysknown.Oncehefoundherimprisonedinsnowand

carriedherbackandmadeherwhole,hisdeathwouldbetheprice.Virtuesarevicesnow,anddeathisthecostoflove.Notthedeathofhisbody.Hisbodywasthelie.Truedeath.Thedeathofhishumanity.

Thedeathofhissoul.

Inthewoods,inthebittercold,onthesurfaceofaboundlesssea,whisperinghername,entrustinghermemorytothewind,totheembraceofthesilentsentineltreesandtothecareofthefaithfulstars,hernamesake,pureandeverlasting,theuncontaineduniversecontainedinher:

Cassiopeia.

16

HEWOKETOPAIN.

Blindingpaininhishead,hischest,hishands,hisankle.Hisskinwasonfire.Hefeltasifhe’dbeendippedinboilingwater.

Abirdperchedonatreebranchabovehim,acrow,regardinghimwithregalindifference.Theworldbelongedtothecrowsnow,hethought.Therestwereinterlopers,short-timers.

Smokecurledinthebarebranchesoverhead:acampfire.Andthesmellofmeatsizzlinginapan.

Hewasproppedupagainstatree,coveredbyaheavywoolblanket,witharolled-upwinterparkaforapillow.Slowly,heliftedhisheadaninchandrealizedimmediatelythatanymovementatallwasaverybadidea.

Atallwomancameintoviewcarryinganarmloadofwood,thenvanishedfromsightforamomentwhileshefedthefire.

“Goodmorning.”Hervoicewaslow-pitched,lilting,andvaguelyfamiliar.

Shesatbesidehim,pulledherkneestoherchest,andwrappedherlongarmsaroundherlegs.Herfacewasfamiliar,too.Fair-skinned,blond,Nordicfeatures,likeaVikingprincess.

“Iknowyou,”hewhispered.Histhroatburned.Shepressedthemouthofhercanteenagainsthisrawlips,andhedrankforalongtime.

“That’sgood,”shesaid.“Youweretalkingnonsenselastnight.Iwasworriedyou’dsufferedsomethingalittlemoreseriousthanaconcussion.”

Shestoodupanddisappearedfromviewagain.Whenshecameback,shewasholdingafryingpan.

Shesatnexttohim,placingthepanonthegroundbetweenthem.Shewasstudyinghimwiththesamehaughtyindifferenceasthecrow.

“I’mnothungry,”hesaid.

“Youhavetoeat.”Notpleading.Statingafact.“Freshrabbit.Imadeastew.”

“Howbadisit?”

“Notbad.I’magoodcook.”

Heshookhisheadandforcedasmile.Sheknewwhathemeant.

“It’sprettybad,”shesaid.“Sixteenbrokenbones,skullfracture,second-degreeburnsovermostofyourbody.Notyourhair,though.Youstillhaveyourhair.That’sthegoodnews.”

Thewomandippedaspoonintothestew,broughtthespoontoherlips,blewgently,swipedhertongueslowlyaroundtheedge.

“What’sthebadnews?”heasked.

“Yourankleisfractured.Fairlybadly.That’sgoingtotakesometime.Therest...”Sheshrugged,sippedthestew,pursedherlips.“Needssalt.”

Hewatchedherdigintoherrucksack,searchingforthesalt.“Grace,”hesaidsoftly.“YournameisGrace.”

“Oneofthem,”thewomansaid.Thenshesaidherrealname,theonesheborefortenthousandyears.

“Ihavetobehonest.IlikeGracebetter.Somucheasiertopronounce!”

Sheswirledthesoupwiththespoon.Offeredhimasip.Hislipstightened.Thethoughtoffood...

Sheshruggedandtookanothersip.“Ithoughtitwasdebrisfromtheexplosion,”shewenton.“Ineverexpectedtofindoneoftheescapepods—oryouinit.Whathappenedtotheguidancesystem?Didyoudisarmit?”

Hethoughtcarefullybeforeheanswered.“Malfunction.”

“Malfunction?”

“Malfunction,”hesaidlouder.Histhroatwasonfire.Sheheldthecanteenforhimwhilehedrank.

“Nottoomuch,”shecautionedhim.“You’llgetsick.”

Waterdribbleddownhischin.Shewipeditforhim.

“Thebasewascompromised,”hesaid.

Sheseemedsurprised.“How?”

Heshookhishead.“Notsure.”

“Whywereyouthere?That’sthecuriousthing.”

“Ifollowedsomeonein.”Thiswasnotgoingwell.Forapersonwhoseentirelifehadbeenalie,lyingdidnotcomeeasilytohim.HeknewGracewouldnothesitatetoterminatehiscurrentbodyifshesuspectedthatthe“compromise”extendedtohim.Theyallunderstoodtheriskindonningthehumanmantle.Sharingabodywithahumanpsychecarriedwithitthedangerofadoptinghumanvices—aswellashumanvirtues.Andfarmoredangerousthangreedorlustorenvyoranyofthosethings—oranything—waslove.

“You...followedsomeone?Ahuman?”

“Ididn’thaveachoice.”Thatmuchwastrueatleast.

“Thebasewascompromised.Byahuman.”Sheshookherheadwithwonder.“Andyouabandonedyourpatroltostopit.”

Heclosedhiseyes.Perhapsshe’dthinkhepassedout.Thesmellofthestewmadehisstomachroll.

“Verycurious,”Gracesaid.“Therewasalwaysriskofacompromise,butfromwithintheprocessingcenter.Howcouldahumaninyoursectorknowanythingaboutthecleansing?”

Playingpossumwasn’tgoingtowork.Heopenedhiseyes.Thecrowhadnotmoved.Thebirdstaredathim,andherememberedtheowlonthesillandthelittleboyinthebedandthefear.“I’mnotsureshedid.”

“She?”

“Yes.Itwasa...afemale.”

“Cassiopeia.”

Helookedsharplyather,couldn’thelpit.“Howdoyou...?”

“I’vehearditalotoverthepastthreedays.”

“Threedays?”

Hisheartquickened.Hehadtoask.Buthowcouldhe?Askingmightmakehermoresuspiciousthanshealreadywas.Itwouldbefoolishtoask.Sohesaid,“Ithinkshemighthaveescaped.”

Gracesmiled.“Well,ifshedid,I’msurewe’llfindher.”

Helethisbreathoutslowly.Gracewouldhavenoreasontolie.IfshehadfoundCassie,shewouldhavekilledherandhadnoreservationsintellinghim.ThoughGracenotfindingherwasnoproofoflife:Cassiestillmaynothavesurvived.

Gracereachedintoherrucksackagainandtookoutabottleofcream.“Fortheburns,”sheexplained.

Gingerly,shepulledtheblanketdown,exposinghisnakedbodytothefreezingair.Abovethem,thecrow

cockeditspolishedblackheadandwatched.

Thecreamwascold.Herhandswerewarm.Gracehadbroughthimoutoffire;hehadbroughtCassieoutofice.He’dcarriedherthroughtheundulatingseaofwhitetotheoldfarmhouse,whereheremovedherclothesandplungedherfreezingbodyintowarmwater.AsGrace’shands,slickwithsalve,roamedhisbody,hisfingershadworkedthroughtheiceencrustedinCassie’sthickhair.Removingthebulletas

shefloatedinthewaterstainedpinkbyherblood.Thebulletmeantforherheart.Hisbullet.And,afterhepulledherfromthewaterandbandagedthewound,carryinghertohissister’sbed,avertinghiseyesashedressedherinhissister’sgown;Cassiewouldhavebeenmortifiedwhensherealizedhe’dseenherunclothed.

Grace’seyesfixedonhim.Hiseyesfixedontheteddybearonthepillow.HepulledthecoverstoCassie’schin.Gracepulledtheblankettohis.

You’regoingtolive,hetoldCassie.Moreofaprayerthanapromise.

“You’regoingtolive,”Gracetoldhim.

Youhavetolive,hesaidtoCassie.“Ihaveto,”hesaidtoGrace.

Thewayshecockedherheadasshelookedathim,likethecrowinthetree,theowlonthesill.

“Weallhaveto,”Gracesaid,noddingslowly.“It’swhywecame.”

Sheleanedforwardandkissedhimgentlyonthecheek.Warmbreath,coollips,andthefaintodorofwoodsmoke.Herlipsslidfromhischeektowardhismouth.Heturnedhishead.

“Howdidyouknowhername?”shewhisperedinhisear.“Cassiopeia.HowdidyouknowCassiopeia?”

“Ifoundhercamp.Abandoned.Shekeptajournal...”

“Ah.Andthat’showyouknewsheplannedtostormthebase.”

“Yes.”

“Well,itallmakesperfectsense,then.Didshesayinherjournalwhyshewasstormingthebase?”

“Herbrother...takenfromarefugeecamptoWright-Patterson...sheescaped...”

“That’sremarkable.Thensheovercomesourdefensesanddestroystheentirecommandcenter.That’sevenmoreremarkable.Itbordersontheunbelievable.”

Shepickedupthepan,slungthecontentsintothebrush,androsetoherfeet.Shetoweredoverhim,asix-footblondcolossus.Hercheekswereflushed,perhapsfromthecold,perhapsfromthekiss.

“Rest,”shesaid.“You’rewellenoughtotravelnow.We’releavingtonight.”

“Where’rewegoing?”EvanWalkerasked.

Shesmiled.“Myplace.”

17

ATSUNSET,Gracekilledthefire,slippedthebackpackandrifleoverhershoulder,andscoopedEvanfromthegroundforthesixteen-milehiketoherstationhouseonthesouthernoutskirtsofUrbana.Shewouldkeeptothehighwaytomakebettertime.Therewaslittleriskinitatthisstageofthegame:Shehadn’tseenahumanbeinginweeks.Thoseshehadn’tkilledhadbeentakenbythebusesorhadtakenrefugeagainsttheonslaughtofwinter.Thiswasthein-betweentime.Inanotheryear,perhapstwo,thoughnomorethanfive,therewouldbenoneedforstealth,becausetherewouldbenomorepreytostalk.

Thetemperatureplungedwiththesun.Raggedcloudsracedacrosstheindigosky,drivenbyanorthwindthattoyedwithherbangsandplayfullyflippedthecollarofherjacket.Thefirststarsappeared,themoonrose,andtheroadshoneahead,asilverribbontwistingacrosstheblackbackdropofdeadfieldsandemptylotsandtheguttedshellsofhouseslongabandoned.

ShestoppedoncetorestanddrinkandspreadmoresalveoverEvan’sburns.

“There’ssomethingdifferentaboutyou,”shemused.“Ican’tputmyfingeronit.”Puttingherfingersalloverhim.

“Ididn’thaveaneasyawakening,”hesaid.“Youknowthat.”

Shegruntedsoftly.“You’reabrooder,Evan,andaverysoreloser.”Shewrappedhimbackupintheblanket.Ranherlongfingersthroughhishair.Lookeddeeplyintohiseyes.“There’ssomethingyou’renottellingme.”

Hesaidnothing.

“Ifeltit,”shesaid.“Thefirstnight,whenIhauledyououtofthewreckage.There’sa...”Shesearchedfortherightwords.“Ahiddenroomthatwasn’ttherebefore.”

Hisvoicesoundedhollowtohim,emptyasthewind.“Nothingishidden.”

Gracelaughed.“Youshouldneverhavebeenintegrated,EvanWalker.Youfeelfartoomuchforthemtobeoneofthem.”

Shepickedhimupaseasilyasamotherhernewbornchild.Sheliftedherfacetothenightskyandgasped.“Iseeher!Cassiopeia,thequeenofthenight.”Shepressedhercheekagainstthetopofhishead.“Ourhuntisover,Evan.”

18

GRACE’SSTATIONWASanold,one-storywoodenframehouseonHighway68,locatedattheexactcenterofherassignedsix-square-milepatrolsector.Asidefromboardingupthebrokenwindowsandrepairingtheexteriordoors,she’dleftthehouseasshefoundit.Familyportraitsonthewalls,heirloomsandmementostoolargetocarryeasily,smashedfurnitureandopendrawersandthethousandpiecesoftheoccupants’livesdeemedworthlessbylooterswerescatteredineveryroom.Gracedidnotbothertocleanupthemess.Whenspringarrivedandthe5thWaverolledout,shewouldbegone.

ShecarriedEvantothesecondbedroomattherearofthehouse,thekids’room,withbrightbluewallpaperandtoyslitteringthefloorandamobileofthesolarsystemhangingdejectedlyfromtheceiling.Shelaidhiminoneofthetwinbeds.Achildhadscratchedhisinitialsintotheheadboard:K.M.

Kevin?Kyle?Thetinyroomsmelledliketheplague.Therewasn’tmuchlight—Gracehadboardedthewindowinhere,too—buthiseyesightwasmuchmoreacutethananordinaryhuman’s,andEvancouldseethedarksplotchesofbloodthathadbeenflungonthebluewallsduringsomeone’sdeaththroes.

Shelefttheroom,returningafterafewminuteswithmoresalveandarollofbandages.Sheworkedquicklywrappingtheburns,asifshehadpressingbusinesselsewhere.Neitherspokeuntilshehadcoveredhimagain.

“Whatdoyouneed?”Graceasked.“Somethingtoeat?Bathroom?”

“Clothes.”

Sheshookherhead.“Notagoodidea.Aweekontheburns.Two,maybethreeontheankle.”

Idon’thavethreeweeks.Threedaysistoolong.

Forthefirsttime,hethoughtitmightbenecessarytoneutralizeGrace.

Shetouchedhischeek.“Callifyouneedanything.Stayoffthatankle.Ihavetogetsomesupplies;Iwasn’texpectingcompany.”

“Howlongwillyoubegone?”

“Nomorethanacouplehours.Trytosleep.”

“I’llneedaweapon.”

“Evan,thereisn’tanyonewithinahundredmiles.”Shesmiled.“Oh.You’reworriedaboutthesaboteur.”

Henodded.“Iam.”

Shepressedherpistolintohishand.“Don’tshootme.”

Hewrappedhisfingersaroundthegrip.“Iwon’t.”

“I’llknockfirst.”

Henoddedagain.“Thatwouldbeagoodidea.”

Shepausedbythedoor.“Welostthedroneswhenthebasefell.”

“Iknow.”

“Whichmeanswe’rebothoffthegrid.Ifsomethingshouldhappentooneofus—oranyofus...”

“Doesitmatternow?It’salmostover.”

Gracenoddedthoughtfully.“Doyouthinkwe’llmissthem?”

“Thehumans?”Hewonderedifshewasmakingajoke.He’dneverheardhertrybefore;joking

wasn’tinhercharacter.

“Nottheonesoutthere.”Shegesturedbeyondthewalls,atthewiderworld.“Theonesinhere.”

Handtoherchest.

“Youcan’tmisswhatyoudon’tremember,”hesaid.

“Oh,IthinkI’llkeephermemories,”Gracesaid.“Shewasahappylittlegirl.”

“Thenthere’llbenothingtomiss,willthere?”

Shefoldedherarmsoverherchest.Shewasleavingandnowshewasn’t.Whydidn’tsheleave?

“Iwon’tkeepallofthem,”shesaid,meaningthememories.“Onlythegoodones.”

“That’sbeenmyworryfromthebeginning,Grace:Thelongerweplayatbeinghuman,themorehumanwebecome.”

Shelookedathimquizzicallyandsaidnothingforaverylong,veryuncomfortablemoment.

“Who’splayingatbeinghuman?”sheasked.

19

HEWAITEDUNTILherfootfallsfaded.Windwhistledinthecracksbetweentheplywoodandthewindowframe;otherwise,heheardnothing.Likehiseyesight,hishearingwasexquisitelyacute.IfGracewassittingontheporchcombingherhair,hewouldhearit.

Firstthegun.Hepulledthemagazinefromtheframe.Justashesuspected:nobullets.Hethoughtthegunhadbeentoolight.Evanallowedhimselfaquietlaugh.Theironywastoomuch.Theirprimarymissionhadnotbeentokill,buttosowmistrustamongthesurvivorsanddrivethemlikefrightenedsheeptoslaughterhouseslikeWright-Patterson.Whathappenswhenthesowersofmistrustbecomeitsreapers?Reapers.Hefoughtbackahystericalgiggle.

Hetookadeepbreath.Thiswasgoingtohurt.Hesatup.Theroomspun.Heclosedhiseyes.No.

Thatmadeitworse.Heopenedhiseyesandwilledhimselftoremainupright.Hisbodyhadbeenaugmentedinpreparationforhisawakening.Thatwasthetruththedreamoftheowldisguised.Thesecretthatthescreenmemorykepthimfromseeingandthereforefromremembering:WhileheandGraceandtensofthousandsofchildrenlikethemhadslept,giftshadbeendeliveredinthenight.Giftstheywouldneedintheyearstocome.Giftsthatwouldturntheirbodiesintofinelytunedweapons,forthedesignersoftheinvasionhadunderstoodasimple,thoughcounterintuitive,truth:Wherethebodywent,themindfollowed.

Givesomeonethepowerofthegodsandhewillbecomeasindifferentasthegods.

Thepainsubsided.Thedizzinesseased.Heslidhislegsofftheedgeofthebed.Heneededtotesttheankle.Theanklewasthekey.Theotherinjurieswereseriousbutinconsequential;hecouldmanagethose.Gently,heappliedpressuretotheballofhisfoot,andalightningboltofagonyrocketeduphisleg.Hefellontohisback,gasping.Overhead,dustyplanetswerefrozeninorbitaroundadentedsun.

Hesatupandwaitedforhisheadtoclear.Hewasn’tgoingtofindawayaroundthepain.Hewouldhavetofindawaythroughit.

Heeasedhimselfontothefloor,usingthesideofthebedtosupporthisweight.Thenheforcedhimselftorest.Noneedtorush.IfGracereturned,hecouldexplainthathefelloutofbed.Slowly,byinches,hescootedhisbuttalongthecarpetuntilhewasflatonhisback,seeingthesolarsystembehindashowerofwhite-hotmeteorsthatcascadedacrosshisfieldofvision.Theroomwasfreezing,buthewassweatingprofusely.Outofbreath.Heartracing.Skinonfire.Hefocusedonthemobile,thefadedblueoftheEarth,

theduskyredofMars.Thepaincameinwaves;hefloatednowinadifferentkindofsea.

Theslatsbeneaththebedwerenailedintoplaceandweigheddownbytheheavyframeandmattress.

Nomatter.Hewiggledintothetightspacebeneath,thebodiesofdecayedinsectscrunchingunderhisweight,andtherewasatoycaronitsbackandthetwistedlimbsofaplasticactionfigurefromthetimewhenheroespopulatedchildren’sdaydreams.Hebroketheboardfreewiththreehardwhacksoftheheelofhishand,scoochedbackthewayhecame,andbroketheotherendfree.Dustsettledintohismouth.Hecoughed,sendinganothertsunamiofpainacrosshischest,downhisside,tocurlanaconda-likearoundhisstomach.

Tenminuteslaterhewascontemplatingthesolarsystemagain,worriedthatGracewouldfindhim

passedout,clutchingafour-by-sixbedslattohischest.Thatmightbealittlemoredifficulttoexplain.

Theworldspun.Theplanetsheldstill.

There’sahiddenroom...Hehadcrossedthethresholdintothatroom,whereasimplepromisethrewathousandbolts:I’llfindyou.Thatpromise,likeallpromises,createditsownmorality.Tokeepit,hewouldhavetocrossaseaofblood.

Theworldunloosed.Theplanetsbound.

20

NIGHTHADFALLENbythetimeGracereturned,herarrivalpresagedbytheglowofalampexpandinginthehalloutside.Shesetthelamponthebedsidetable,andthelightthrewshadowsthatengulfedherface.Hedidnotprotestwhenshedrewdownthecovers,unwrappedthebandagescoveringhiswounds,andexposedhisbodytothefrigidair.

“Didyoumissme,Evan?”shemurmured,fingertipsslickwithsalveslidingoverhisskin.“Idon’tmeantoday.Howoldwerewethen?Fifteen?”

“Sixteen,”heanswered.

“Hmm.YouaskedmeifIwasafraidofthefuture.Doyouremember?”

“Yes.”

“Sucha...humanquestion.”

Thefingersofonehandmassaginghimwhilethefingersoftheotherslowlyunbuttonedhershirt.

“NotasmuchastheotheroneIasked.”

Shetiltedherheadinquisitively.Herhairfelloverhershoulder.Herfacelostinshadowandhershirt

fallingopenlikeacurtaindrawnback.

“Whatwasthat?”shewhispered.

“Ifyou’dnotbeen,foraverylongtime,inexpressiblylonely.”

Thecoolnessofherfingers.Theheatofhissearedflesh.

“Yourheartisbeatingveryfast,”shebreathed.

Shestoodup.Heclosedhiseyes.Forthepromise.Justoutsidethecircleoflight,Gracesteppedoutofthepantsthatpooledaroundherankles.Hedidnotwatch.

“Notsolonely,”Gracesaid,herbreathcaressinghisear.“Beinglockedinthesebodiesdoeshaveitscompensations.”

Forthepromise.AndCassietheislandheswamtoward,risingfromablood-filledsea.

“Notsolonely,Evan,”Gracesaid.Shetouchedhislipswithherfingers,hisneckwithherlips.

Hehadnochoice.Hispromiseaffordednone.Gracewouldneverlethimgo;shewouldnothesitatetokillhimifhetried.Therecouldbenooutrunningherorhidingfromher.Nochoice.

Heopenedhiseyes,reachedupwithhisrighthandandranhisfingersthroughherhair.Hislefthandslidbeneaththepillow.Abovethem,hecouldseethelonelysunstrippedofitsoffspring,shininginthelamplight.HethoughtGracemightnoticetheplanetsweremissing.Heexpectedhertoaskwhyheneededtoremovethem,thoughitwasn’ttheplanetsheneeded.

Itwasthewire.

ButGracehadn’tnoticed.Hermindhadbeenonotherthings.“Touchme,Evan,”shewhispered.

Herolledhardtohisrightandsmashedhisleftforearmintoherjaw.Shestumbledbackwardashecameoffthebed,drivinghisshoulderintohermidsection.Shesankhernailsdeepintotheburnsonhisbackandripped.Theroomwentblackforamoment,buthedidn’tneedtosee—hejustneededtobeclose.

Shemayhaveseenthemakeshiftgarroteofbrokenwoodandmobilewireinhishand,orshemighthavebeenjustlucky,butherfistclosedaroundthewireandpushedashedrewittight.Hesweptherleg

withtheoutsideofhisgoodankleandtookhertothefloor,followingherbodydown,crushinghiskneeintoherlowerbackonimpact.

Nochoice.

Hesummonedeveryounceofaugmentedstrengththatremainedintotighteningthewire,untilitslicedthroughherpalmandhitbone.

Shebuckedagainsthisweight.Heswunghisrightkneearoundandgrounditintoherhead.Tighter.

Tighter.Hesmelledblood.His.Hers.

Theroomspunaround.

Sinkingdeepintoblood,his,hers,EvanWalkerheldstill.

21

WHENITWASDONE,hecrawledtothebedandpulledoutthebrokenslat.Alittlelongforacrutch—hehadtoholdtheboardatadifficultangle—butitwouldhavetodo.Hehobbledtotheotherbedroom,wherehefoundmen’sclothing:apairofjeans,aplaidshirt,ahand-knitsweater,andaleatherjacketwiththenameoftheowner’sbowlingteam,TheUrbanaPinheads,emblazonedontheback.Thefabricscrapedandrubbedagainsthisrawskin,makingeverymovementastudyinpain.Thenheshuffledintothelivingroom,wherehefoundGrace’srucksackandrifle.Hethrewbothoverhisshoulder.

Hourslater,restinginthenestlikemangleofmetalinthemiddleofaneight-carpileuponHighway68,heopenedthesacktotakeinventoryandfounddozensofplasticbaggieslabeledwithblackmarker,eachbagcontainingclippingsofhumanhair.Atfirsthewaspuzzled.Whosehairwasthisandwhywasitinbaggies,eachneatlymarkedwithdates?Thenheunderstood:Gracewastakingtrophiesfromherkills.

Wherethebodywent,themindfollowed.

Hefashionedasplintforhisanklefromtwopiecesofbrokenmetalandtherestofthebandageroll.

Hedrankafewsipsofwater.Hisbodyachedforsleep,buthewouldnotsleepagainuntilhekepthispromise.Heliftedhisfacetothepinpricksofpurelightfixedabovehiminthelimitlessdark.Don’tIalwaysfindyou?

Theheadlampofthecarbesidehimexplodedinashowerofpulverizedglassandplastic.Hedovebeneaththenearestvehicle,draggingtheriflebehindhim.

Grace.Ithadtobe.Gracewasalive.

Helefttooquickly.Heassumedtoomuch,hopedtoomuch.Andnowhewastrapped,pinneddownwithnowayout,andEvanrealizedinthatmomenthowpromisescanbekeptinthemostunexpectedofways:He’dfoundCassiebybecomingher.

Wounded,trappedbeneathacar,unabletorun,unabletorise,atthemercyofafaceless,mercilesshunter,aSilencerengineeredtosnuffoutthehumannoise.

22

HEMET—foundwouldbemoreaccurate—Gracethesummertheybothturnedsixteen,attheHamilton

CountyFair.Evanwasstandingoutsidetheexoticpettingzootentwithhislittlesister,Val,whohadbeendemandingtoseethewhitetigersincetheyarrivedearlythatmorning.ItwasAugust.Thelinewaslong.Valwastiredandgrouchyandstickywithsweat.He’dputheroff.Hedidn’tliketoseeanimalsincaptivity.Whenhelookedintotheireyes,somethingintheireyeslookedbackathim.

HefoundGracefirst,standingbesidethefunnelcaketrailer,adrippingwedgeofwatermeloninherhand.Blondhairthatfelltothemiddleofherback,cool,nearlyarcticfeatures,especiallytheice-blueeyes,andthecynicalturnofhermouth,glisteningwithjuice.Sheturnedtowardhimandhequicklylookedaway,tothefaceofhisbabysister,whowouldbedeadinlessthantwoyears.Afacthecarriedwithinhim,lockedawayinadifferentkindofhiddenroom.Sometimesitwashardtoshake—theknowledgethateveryfacehesawwasthefaceofacorpse-to-be.Hisworldwaspeopledwithlivingghosts.

“What?”Valasked.

Heshookhishead.Nothing.Hetookadeepbreathandglancedtowardthetraileragain.Thetallblondgirlwasgone.

Insidethetent,behindasteelmeshfence,thewhitetigerpantedintheheat.Smallchildrencrowdedinfront.Behindthem,camerasandsmartphonesclicked.Thetigerremainedregallyindifferenttotheattention.

“Beautiful,”ahuskyvoicemurmuredinEvan’sear.Hedidnotturn.Heknew,withoutlooking,itwasthegirlwiththelongblondhairandlipsthatglistenedwithwatermelonjuice.Theexhibitwaspacked;herbarearmbrushedagainsthis.

“Andsad,”Evansaid.

“No,”Gracesaid.“Hecouldtearthroughthatfenceintwoseconds.Ripoffakid’sfaceinthree.He’schoosingtobethere.That’sthebeautifulthing.”

Helookedather.Hereyeswereevenmorestartlingupclose.Theyboredintohis,andinaknee-weakeninginstant,heknewtheentityhidinginsideGrace’sbody.

“Weshouldtalk,”Gracewhispered.

23

ATDUSK,thelightsoftheFerriswheelwereswitchedonandthetinnymusicwasturnedupandthecrowdswelledalongthemidway,cutoffshortsandflip-flopsandthesmellofcoconut-scentedsunscreenandthewaddleofbig-belliedmeninJohnDeerecapswithdeeplycallusedhandsandwalletsattachedtobeltloopsbulginginbackpockets.HehandedValofftotheirmother,thenheadedfortheFerriswheeltowaitnervouslyforGrace.Shematerializedoutofthecrowd,holdingalargestuffedanimal:awhiteBengaltiger,plasticbrightblueeyesonlyslightlydarkerthanhers.

“I’mEvan,”hesaid.

“I’mGrace.”

Theywatchedthegiantwheelturnagainstthepurplesky.

“Doyouthinkwe’llmissitwhenit’sgone?”heasked.

“Iwon’t.”Hernosecrinkled.“Thesmellofthemishorrible.Ican’tgetusedtoit.”

“You’rethefirstI’vemetsince...”

Shenodded.“Metoo.Doyouthinkit’sanaccident?”

“No.”

“Iwasn’tcomingtoday,butthismorningwhenIwokeup,therewasthislittlevoice.Go.Didyouhearit?”

Henodded.“Yes.”

“Good.”Shesoundedrelieved.“ForthreeyearsI’vebeenwonderingifI’mcrazy.”

“You’renot.”

“Youdon’twonder?”

“Notanymore.”

Shesmiledarchly.“Doyouwanttogoforawalk?”

Theywanderedovertothedesertedshowgroundsandsatonthebleachers.Thefirststarsappeared.

Thenightwaswarm,theairmoist.Graceworeapairofshortsandasleevelesswhiteblousewithalacecollar.Sittingclosetoher,Evancouldsmelllicorice.

“Thisisit,”hesaid,noddingattheemptycorralwithitsmangledfloorofsawdustandmanure.

“What?”

“Thefuture.”

Shelaughedasifhe’dmadeajoke.“Theworldends.Theworldendsandtheworldbeginsagain.It’salwaysbeenthatway.”

“You’reneverafraidofwhat’scoming?Never?”

“Never.”Huggingthestuffedtigerinherlap.Hereyesseemedtotakeonthecolorofwhatevershelookedat.Nowshewaslookingupatthedarkeningsky,andhereyeswereabottomlessblack.

Theyspokeforafewminutesintheirnativelanguage,butitwasdifficultandtheygaveupquickly.

Toomanywordswereunpronounceable.Henoticedthatshewasmuchcalmerafterward,andherealizeditwasn’tthefuturethatfrightenedher;itwasthepast,thefactthatshefearedtheentityinsideherbodywasafigmentofayounghumangirl’sshatteredmind.MeetingEvanvalidatedherexistence.

“You’renotalone,”hetoldher.Helookeddownanddiscoveredherhandinhis.Onehandforhim,

theotherforthetiger.

“That’sbeentheworstpart,”sheagreed.“Feelingasifyou’retheonlypersonintheuniverse.Thatthewholethingishere,”touchingherchest,“andnowhereelse.”

Yearslater,hewouldreadsomethingquitesimilarinthediaryofanothersixteen-year-oldgirl,theonehefoundandlost,found,thenlostagain:

SometimesIthinkImightbethelasthumanonEarth.

24

THECAR’SUNDERCARRIAGEagainsthisback.Thecoldasphaltagainsthischeek.Theuselessrifleclutchedinhishand.Hewastrapped.

Gracehadseveraloptions.Hehadtwo.

No.Iftherewasanyhopeofkeepinghispromise,hehadjustone:

Cassie’schoice.

Shehadmadeapromise,too.Ahopeless,suicidalpromisetotheonepersononEarthwhostillmatteredtoher—matteredtohermorethanherownlife.Shestoodupthatdaytofacethefacelesshunterbecauseherdeathwasnothingcomparedtothedeathofthatpromise.Iftherewasanyhopeleft,itlayinlove’shopelesspromises.

Hecrawledforward,pastthefrontbumper,intotheopenair,andthen,likeCassieSullivan,EvanWalkerstoodup.

Hetensed,waitingforthefinishinground.WhenCassiestoodupthatcloudlessautumnafternoon,herSilencerhadrun.HedidnotthinkGracewouldrun.Gracewouldfinishwhatshebegan.

Butnofinishcame.Nosilencingbullet,connectingGracetohimasifbyasilvercord.Heknewshewasthere.Knewshecouldseehimstandingcrookedlyinfrontofthecar.Andherealizedtherewasnoescapingthepast,nododginginevitableconsequences:Cassie’sterror,heruncertaintyandpain,theybelongedtohimnow.

Overhead,thestars.Straightahead,theroadthatshoneinthestars’light.ThetightgripofthefreezingairandthemedicinalsmelloftheointmentGracehadspreadoverhisburns.Yourheartisbeatingveryfast.

She’snotgoingtokillyou,hetoldhimself.Notthegoal.Ifkillingyouwasthegoal,shewouldn’thavemissedthatshot.

Therecouldbeonlyoneanswer:Graceintendedtofollowhim.Hewasariddletoherandfollowinghimwasthewaytosolvetheriddle.Hehadescapedthetraponlytosinkdeeperintothepit.Keepinghispromisenowwasnotbeingfaithful;itwasanactofbetrayal.

Hecouldn’toutrunher,notwiththebadankle.Hecouldn’treasonwithher—hecouldbarelyarticulatehisownreasonsanymore.Hecouldwaitherout.Stayhere,donothing...andriskCassiebeingdiscoveredbysoldiersofthe5thWaveorabandoningthehotelbeforehisstalematewithGraceended.Hecouldforceaconfrontation,buthe’dfailedonceandtheoddswerehewouldagain.Hewastooweak,toohurt.Heneededtimetohealandtherewasnotime.

Heleanedagainstthehoodofthecarandlookedupatthestar-encrustedsky,undimmedbyhumanlights,scrubbedcleanofcontaminants,andthesethesamestarsthatshoneontheworldbeforehumankindwalkeduponit.Forbillionsofyears,thesesamestars,andwhatwastimetothem?

“Mayfly,”Evanwhispered.“Mayfly.”

Heshoulderedtherifleandwormedhiswaythroughthepileupbacktothebackpackofsupplies,whichhethrewovertheothershoulder.Tuckedthemakeshiftcrutchbeneathhisarm.Thegoingwouldbeslow,painfullyslow,buthewouldforceGracetochoosebetweenlettinghimgoandfollowinghim,desertingherassignedterritoryatthemomentwhendesertioncouldmeanaserioussetbackinthe

carefullyconstructedtimetable.Hewouldswingnorthofthehotel—northtowardthenearestbase.

Northwheretheenemyhadfledandretrenchedandwaitedforspringtolaunchthefinal,finishingassault.

That’swherehopelay—whereallhopehadbeenfromthebeginning—ontheshouldersofthebrainwashedchild-soldiersofthe5thWave.

25

LATERTHATEVENINGonthedaytheymet,EvanandGracewalkedalongthemidwaybeneaththelightsthatbeatbackthedark,weavingtheirwaythroughthecrowd,pasttheringtossandballoondartgameandbasketballfreethrow.Musicblaredfromspeakersmountedonthelightpoles,andbubblingbeneaththemusicwasthesoundofathousandconversations,likeanundercurrent,andtheflowofthecrowdwaslikeariver,too,eddyingandswirling,swifthere,languidthere.Tallandlissomeandstrikingintheirgoodlooks,EvanandGracedrewattentionfromthepassersby,whichmadehimuncomfortable.

Heneverlikedcrowds,preferringthesolitudeofthewoodsandthefieldsofthefamilyfarm,aninclinationthatwouldservehimwellwhenthetimeofcleansingarrived.

Time.Abovethem,thestarsturnedlikethepointsoflightontheFerriswheelthatloomedabovethefairgrounds,thoughtooslowlyforthehumaneyetoregister,thehandsoftheuniversalclockthatwaswindingdown,thathadbeenwindingdownfromthebeginning,andthefacesthatpassedmarkingthe

time,likethestarsthemselves,prisonerstoit.EvanandGracewerenot.Theyhadconqueredtheunconquerable,deniedtheundeniable.Thelaststarwoulddie,theuniverseitselfwouldpassaway,buttheywouldgoonandon.

“Whatareyouthinking?”sheasked.

“‘Myspiritwillnotcontendwithhumansforever,fortheyaremortal.’”

“What?”Shewassmiling.

“It’sfromtheBible.”

Sheshiftedthestuffedtigertoherotherhandsoshecouldtakehis.“Don’tbemorbid.It’sabeautifulnightandwewon’tseeeachotheragainuntilit’sover.Yourproblemisyoudon’tknowhowtoliveinthemoment.”

Shetuggedhimfromthemainconcourseintotheshadowsbetweentwotents,whereshekissedhim,pressingherbodytightlyagainsthis,andsomethingopenedinsidehim.Sheenteredintohimandtheterriblelonelinesshe’dfeltsincehisawakeningeased.

Gracepulledaway.Hercheekswereflushed,hereyesburningwithapalefire.“Ithinkaboutitsometimes.Thefirstkill.Whatitwillbelike.”

Henodded.“Ithinkaboutit,too.Mostly,though,Ithinkaboutthelastone.”

26

HELEFTTHEHIGHWAY,cuttingthroughopenfields,crossinglonelycountrylanes,pausingtorefillhiscanteenwithwaterfromanicystream,navigatingastheancientsdid,bytheNorthStar.Hisinjuriesforcedhimtorestoften,andeachtimehesawGraceinthedistance.Shedidn’tbothertohide.Shewantedhimtoknowshewasthere,justoutsidetherangeoftherifle.BydawnhehadreachedHighway68,themajorarteryconnectingHuberHeightsandUrbana.Inasmallstandoftreesborderingtheroad,hegatheredwoodforafire.Hishandswereshaking.Hefeltfeverish.Heworriedtheburnshadbecomeinfected.Hisbodilysystemshadbeenaugmented,butanenhancedbodycouldreachatippingpointfromwhichtherewasnoreturn.Hisanklewasswollentotwiceitsnormalsize,theskinhottothetouch,andthewoundthrobbedwitheachbeatofhisheart.Hedecidedtospendadayhere,maybetwo,andkeepthefireburning.

Abeacontodrawthemintothetrap.Iftheywereoutthere.Iftheycouldbedrawn.

Theroadbeforehim.Thewoodsbehindhim.Hewouldremainintheopen.Gracewouldstayinthewoods.Shewouldwaitwithhim.Outofherassignedterritory,fullycommittednow,nogoingback.

Hewarmedhimselfbythefire.Gracemadenofire.Histhelightandwarmth.Hersthedarkandcold.

Heshruggedoutofthejacket,pulledoffthesweater,slippedofftheshirt.Alreadytheburnswere

scabbingover,buttheyhadbeguntoitchhorribly.Todistracthimself,hewhittledanewcrutchfromatreebranchsalvagedfromthewoods.

HewonderedifGracewouldrisksleep.Sheknewhisstrengthgrewwitheachpassinghourandeveryhourshedelayed,herchancesofsuccesswaned.

Hesawheratmidafternoononthesecondday,ashadowamongshadows,ashegatheredmorewoodforthefire.Fiftyyardsintothetrees,holdingahigh-poweredsniper’srifle,abloodybandagewrappedaroundherhand,anotheraroundherneck.Inthesubzeroair,hervoiceseemedtocarryintotheinfinite.

“Whydidn’tyoufinishme,Evan?”

Hedidn’tansweratfirst.Hecontinuedgatheringkindlingforthebeacon.Thenhesaid,“IthoughtIdid.”

“No.Youcouldn’thavethoughtthat.”

“MaybeI’msickofmurder.”

“Whatdoesthatmean?”

Heshookhishead.“Youwouldn’tunderstand.”

“WhoisCassiopeia?”

Herosetohisfullheight.Thelightwasweakinthetreesbeneathasheetofiron-grayclouds.Evenso,hecouldseethecynicalsetofherlipsandthepalebluefireofhereyes.

“Theonewhostoodupwhenanyoneelsewouldhavestayeddown,”Evansaid.“TheoneIcouldn’tstopthinkingaboutbeforeIevenknewher.Thelastone,Grace.ThelasthumanbeingonEarth.”

Shedidn’tsayanythingforalongtime.Heremained.Sheremained.

“You’reinlovewithahuman.”Hervoicewasfullofwonder.Andthentheobvious:“That’snotpossible.”

“Weusedtothinkthesameaboutimmortality.”

“Itwouldbelikeoneofthemfallinginlovewithaseaslug.”Smilingnow.“You’remad.You’vegoneinsane.”

“Yes.”

Heturnedhisbacktoher,invitingthebullet.Hewasmad,afterall,andmadnesscamewithitsownarmor.

“Itcan’tbethat!”sheshoutedafterhim.“Whywon’tyoutellmewhat’sreallygoingon?”

Hestopped.Thekindlingclatteredtothefrozenground.Thecrutchtoppledfromhisside.Heturnedhisheadbutdidnotturnaround.

“Takecover,Grace,”hesaidsoftly.

Herfingertwitchedonthetrigger.Normalhumaneyesmighthavemissedit.Evan’sdidnot.“Or—

what?”shedemanded.“You’llattackmeagain?”

Heshookhishead.“I’mnotgoingtoattackyou,Grace.Theyare.”

Shecockedherheadathim,likethebirdinthetreewhenheawakenedinhercamp.

“They’rehere,”Evansaid.

Thefirstbulletstruckherupperthigh.Sherockedbackwardbutremainedupright.Thenextroundpunchedintoherleftshoulderandtherifleslippedfromherhand.Thethirdround,mostlikelyfromasecondshooter,explodedinthetreedirectlybesidehim,missinghisheadbymillimeters.

Gracedovetotheground.

Evanran.

27

RANWASANEXAGGERATION.Morelikeafrantichop,swinginghisbadlegwidetokeepmostofhisweightonthegoodone,andeachtimehisheelhittheground,pinwheelsofbrightlightexplodedinhisvision.Pastthesmolderingcampfire,thebeaconthathadburnedfortwodays,thesignhe’dhunginthewoods,Hereweare!Snatchingtheriflefromthegroundinstride;hehadnointentionofstandinghisground.Gracewoulddrawtheirfire—apatrolofatleasttworecruits,perhapsmore.Hehopedmore.

MorewouldkeepGracebusyforawhile.

Howfar?Tenmiles?Twenty?Hewouldn’tbeabletomaintainthispace,butaslongashekeptmoving,heshouldbeclosetothehotelbydawnthenextday.

Hecouldhearthefirefightbehindhim.Sporadicpops,notcontinuousfire,whichmeantthatGracewasbeingmethodical.Thesoldierswouldbewearingtheeyepieces,eveningtheplayingfieldabit.Notmuch,butabit.

Heabandonedanyattemptatstealthandhitthehighway,lopingdownthecenteroftheroad,asolitaryfigureundertheimmensityofaleadensky.Amurderofcrowsathousandstrongwhippedandwheeledoverhim,headingnorth.Hekeptmoving,gruntingwithpain,everystridealesson,everyjoltingfootfallareminder.Histemperaturesoared,hislungsburned,hisheartslammedinhischest.Thefrictionfromtheclothestoreopenthedelicatescabsandsoonhewasbleeding.Bloodplasteredhisshirttohisback,soakedthroughthejeans.Hewaspushingit,heknew.Thesysteminstalledtomaintainhislifepastallhumanendurancecouldcrash.

Hecollapsedwhenthesundidbeneaththedomeofthesky,aslow-motionstumblingkindoffall,hitting

shoulderfirstandrollingtotheedgeoftheroad,wherehecametorestflatonhisback,armsspreadwide,numbfromthewaistdown,shakinguncontrollably,burninghotinthebitterair.DarknessrolledoverthefaceoftheEarth,andEvanWalkertumbleddowntothelightlessbottom,toahiddenroomthatdancedinlightandherfacethesourceofthatlight,andhehadnoexplanationforit,howherfaceillumedthelightlessplaceinside.You’remad.You’vegoneinsane.He’dthoughtso,too.Hefoughttokeepheralivewhileeverynighthelefthertokilltherest.Whyshouldonelivethoughtheworlditselfwillperish?Sheilluminedthelightless—herlifethelamp,thelaststarinadyinguniverse.

Iamhumanity,shehadwritten.Self-centered,stubborn,sentimental,childish,vain.Iamhumanity.

Cynical,naïve,kind,cruel,softasdown,hardastungstensteel.

Hemustgetup.Ifhecan’t,thelightwillgoout.Theworldwillbeconsumedbythecrushingdark.

Butthetotalityoftheatmospherepushedhimdownandheldhimunder,fivequadrilliontonsofbone-breakingforce.

Thesystemhadcrashed.Taxedpastitslimits,thealientechnologyinstalledinsidehishumanbodywhenhewasthirteenhadshutdown.Therewasnothingtosustainorprotecthimnow.Burnedandbroken,hishumanbodywasnodifferentfromhisformerprey’s.Fragile.Delicate.Vulnerable.Alone.

Hewasnotoneofthem.Hewascompletelyoneofthem.WhollyOther.Fullyhuman.

Herolledontohisside.Hisbackspasmed.Bloodrushedintohismouth.Hespatitout.

Ontohisstomach.Thenknees.Thenhands.Hiselbowsquivered,hiswriststhreatenedtobuckleunderhisownweight.Self-centered,stubborn,sentimental,childish,vain.Iamhumanity.Cynical,

naïve,kind,cruel,softasdown,hardastungstensteel.

Iamhumanity.

Hecrawled.

Iamhumanity.

Hefell.

Iamhumanity.

Hegotup.

28

ALIFETIMELATER,fromhishidingplacebeneaththehighwayoverpass,Evanwatchedthedark-hairedgirlsprintacrossthehotelparkinglot,crosstheinterstateaccessramp,trotafewhundredyardsnorthon

Highway68,thenpausebesideanSUVtolookbackatthebuilding.Hefollowedhergazetoasecond-storywindow,whereashadowflittedforaninstant,thenwasgone.

Mayfly.

Thedark-hairedgirlvanishedintothetreesborderingthehighway.Whyshehadleftandwhereshewasgoingwereunknown.Perhapsthegroupwassplittingup—itwouldincreasethechanceofsurvivalalittle—orperhapsshewasscoutingamoresecurehidingplacetorideoutthewinter.Whicheverthecase,hehadthesensehe’dfoundthemjustintime.

Thedark-hairedgirlwasone,leavingatleastfourinside,theoneshehadseenmanningthewindows.

Hedidnotknowifanyofthemhadsurvivedtheexplosion.Hewasn’tevensureithadbeenCassie’sshadowinthewindow.

Notthatitmattered.He’dmadeapromise.Hehadtogoin.

Hecouldn’tapproachopenly.Thesituationwascomplicatedbytoomanyunknowns.Whatifitwasn’tCassiebutasquadof5thWavesoldierscutoffwhenthebaseblew—likethesquadhe’dleftinGrace’scare?He’dbedeadbeforehecrossedadozenfeet.TheriskwasnearlyasgreatevenifitwasCassieandagroupofsurvivors:Theymightdrophimbeforetheyrealizedwhohewas.

Goinginnow,though,poseditsownsetofrisks.Hedidn’tknowhowmanytherewereinside.Didn’tknowifhecouldmanagetwo,muchlessfour,heavilyarmedtrigger-happykidsjackeduponadrenaline,readytoblowawayanythingthatmoved.Thesystemthataugmentedhisbodyhadcrashed.

I’mfullyhuman,he’dtoldCassie.Nowthatwasliterallytrue.

Hewasstillweighingtheoptionswhenatinyfigureappearedintheparkinglot.Achildwearing5thWavefatigues.NotSam—Samhadbeendressedinthewhitejumpsuitoftheunderagedandnewlyprocessed—butyoung.Sixorseven,heguessed.Followingthesamerouteasthedark-hairedgirl,evenpausingbythesameSUVtolookbackatthehotel.Thistimehesawnoshadowinthewindow;whoeverhadbeentherewasgone.

Thatmadetwo.Weretheyabandoningthehoteloneatatime?Tactically,itmadesomesense.

Shouldn’thesimplywait,then,forCassietocomeout,ratherthanriskhislifegoingin?

Andthestarsspunoverhead,markingthetimewindingdown.

Hestartedtogetup,thensankback.Anotheroneexitedthehotel,muchlargerthantheonebefore,abigkidwithalargehead,totingarifle.Threenow,noneofthemCassieorSamorthefriendfromCassie’shighschool—whatwashisname?Ken?Witheachexodus,theoddsofCassienotbeinginthisgroupincreased.Shouldheevenattemptentry?

Hisinstinctsaidgo.Noanswers,noweapons,andhardlyanystrength.Instinctwasallhehadleft.

Hewent.

29

FOROVERFIVEYEARShe’dreliedonthegiftsthatmadehimsuperiortohumansinalmosteveryway.

Hearing.Eyesight.Reflexes.Agility.Strength.Thegiftshadspoiledhim.He’dforgottenwhatnormalfeltlike.

Hewasgettingacrashcoursenow.

Heslippedintoaground-floorroomthroughabroken-outwindow.Hobbledtothedoorandpressedhisearagainstit,butallhecouldhearwasthethunderingofhisheart.Easingthedooropen,slidingintothehall,listening,waitinginvainforhiseyestoadjusttothedark.Downthehallandintothelobby.

Hisownbreath,frostinginthefrigidair,otherwisesilence.Apparentlythegroundfloorwasdeserted.

Heknewsomeonewasstandingatthesmallhallwaywindowupstairs;hecaughtaglimpseofhimashemaneuveredhiswayintothebuilding.

Stairwell.Twoflights.Bythetimehereachedthesecondlanding,hewasdizzyfromthepainandoutofbreathfromtheeffort.Hetastedblood.Therewasnolight.Hewasentombedinutterdarkness.

Iftherewasonlyonepersonontheothersideofthisdoor,hehadseconds.Morethanoneandtimedidn’tmatter;hewasdead.Everyinstinctsaidwait.

Hewent.

InthehallontheothersideofthedoorwasasmallkidwithextraordinarilylargeearsandamouthflyingopeninastonishmentthemomentbeforeEvanlockedhiminthechokehold,pressinghisforearmhardagainstthekid’scarotid,cuttingoffthebloodsupplytohisbrain.Hedraggedhissquirmingcatchbackintotheblackpitofthestairwell.Thekidwentlimpbeforethedoorclickedshutagain.

Evanwaitedforafewsecondsontheotherside.Thehallhadbeenempty,thesnatchquickandrelativelyquiet.Itcouldbeawhilebeforetheothers—iftherewereothers—realizedtheirsentrywasgone.Hedraggedthekidtothebottomofthestairsandtuckedhisunconsciousbodyintothesmallspacebetweenthestepsandthewall.Wentbackup.Crackedopenthedoor.Halfwaydownthehall,anotherdooropenedandtwoshadowyfiguresemerged.Hewatchedthemcrossthehallandenteranotherroom.Theyreappearedamomentlaterandwenttoanotherdoor.

Theywerecheckingeachroom.Thestairswouldbenext.Ortheelevator;he’dforgottenabouttheelevator.Wouldtheydropdowntheshaftandtakethestairsfrombelow?

No.Ifthere’reonlytwo,they’llsplitup.Oneforthestairs,onedowntheshaft,andmeetupinthelobby.

Hewatchedthemcomeoutofthelastroom,thengototheelevator,whereoneheldthedoorswhiletheotherdroppedoutofsightintotheshaft.Theonewhoremainedhadtroublestanding,holdinghisstomachandgruntingsoftlyfromtheeffort,favoringonesideashelimpedtowardEvan.

Hewaited.Twentyfeet.Ten.Five.Holdingtherifleinhisrighthand,hisgutwithhisleft.Standingontheothersideofthedoor,Evansmiled.Ben.NotKen.Ben.

Foundyou.

ToodangeroustotrustthatBenwouldrecognizehimandnotshoothimonthespot.HeburstthroughthedoorandrammedhisfistashardashecouldintoBen’swoundedstomach.Theblowknockedthebreathoutofhim,butBenrefusedtogodown.Rockingback,hebroughthisrifleup.Evanslungitto

onesideandhithimagain,samespot,andthistimeBenwentdown,droppingtohiskneesatEvan’sfeet.Hisheadfellback.Theireyesmet.

“Iknewyouweren’tforreal,”Bengasped.

“Where’sCassie?”

Heknelt,grabbedtwofistfulsoftheyellowhoodieBenwaswearing,andbroughttheirfacesclose.

“Where’sCassie?”

Ifhehadbeenhisoldself,ifthesystemhadn’tcrashed,hewouldhaveseentheblurofthebladeasitcamearound,heardtheinfinitesimallysmallwhistleofitcuttingthroughtheair.Instead,hewasn’tawareoftheknifeuntilBenhadburieditinhisthigh.

Hefellback,draggingBenwithhim.HurledhimtoonesideasBenrippedtheknifefree.EvanslammedhiskneedownonBen’swristtoneutralizethethreatandclampedbothhandsoverBen’sface,coveringhisnoseandmouthandpushinghard.Timespunout.Beneathhim,Benthrashedandkicked,whippedhisheadfromsidetoside,hisfreehandclawingfortheriflelessthananinchfromhisfingertips,andtimefroze.

ThenBenwentstillandEvanfellaway,gulpingair,drenchedinbloodandsweatandfeelingasifhisbodymightburstintoflames.Notimetorecover,though:Downthehall,throughacrackinthedoor,asmall,heart-shapedfaceturnedhisway.

Sam.

Hepushedhimselftohisfeet,losthisbalance,careenedintothewall,fell.Backupagain,convincednowitwasCassiewhohaddroppedintotheshaft,buthehadtosecureSamfirst,exceptthekidhadslammedthedoorandwasnowscreamingobscenitiesthroughit,andthen,asEvandroppedhishandontheknob,heopenedfire.

HethrewhimselfagainstthewallnexttothedoorwhileSamemptiedthemagazine.Whenthepausecame,hedidn’thesitate.Samhadtobeneutralizedbeforehecouldreload.

Evanhadachoice:kickopenthedoorwiththebadfootorputallhisweightonitwhilehekickedwiththeother.Neitheroptionwasgood.Hechosetokickwiththebrokenone;hecouldn’trisklosinghisbalance.

Threehard,sharpkicks.Threekicksthatproducedpainashe’dneverexperienceditbefore.Butthelock

brokewithaloudwallopandthedoorslammedintothewallontheotherside.HefellintotheroomandtherewasCassie’sbrothercrab-crawlingtowardthewindowandsomehowEvanremainedupright,somethingheldhimupandpropelledhimtowardthechild,handoutstretched,I’mhere,rememberme?Isavedyoubefore;I’llsaveyouagain...

Andthen,behindhim,thelastone,thefinalstar,theonehecarriedacrossaninfiniteseaofwhite,theonethinghe’dfoundworthdyingfor,openedfire.

Andthebulletconnectedthemwhenitweddedbone,bindingthemtogetherasifbyasilvercord.

30

THEBOYSTOPPEDtalkingthesummeroftheplague.

Hisfatherhaddisappeared.Theirsupplyofcandlesranlowandheleftonemorningtofindmore.Henevercameback.

Hismotherwassick.Herheadhurt.Sheachedallover.Evenherteethhurt,shetoldhim.Thenightsweretheworst.Herfevershotup.Hertummycouldn’tholdanythingdown.Thenextmorningshewouldfeelbetter.MaybeI’llgetoverit,shesaid.Sherefusedtogotothehospital.They’dheardstories,terriblestories,aboutthehospitalsandwalk-inclinicsandemergencyshelters.

Onebyone,familiesfledtheneighborhood.Lootingwasgettingbadandgangsroamedthestreetsatnight.Themanwholivedtwodoorsdownwaskilled,shotinthehead,forrefusingtosharehisfamily’sdrinkingwater.Sometimesastrangerwanderedintotheneighborhoodandtoldstoriesofearthquakesandwallsofwaterfivehundredfeethigh,floodingthelandasfareastasLasVegas.Thousandsdead.

Millions.

Whenhismotherbecametooweaktogetoutofbed,thebabybecamehisresponsibility.Theycalledhimthebaby,buthewasactuallyalmostthree.Don’tbringhimnearme,hismothertoldhim.He’llgetsick.Thebabywasn’tthatmuchwork.Hesleptalot.Heplayedonlyalittle.Hewasjustatinykid;hedidn’tknow.SometimeshewouldaskwherehisdaddywasorwhatwasthematterwithMommy.Mostofthetime,heaskedforfood.

Theywererunningoutoffood.Buthismotherwouldn’tlethimleave.It’stoodangerous.You’llgetlost.You’llgetabducted.You’llgetshot.Hewouldarguewithher.Hewaseightandverybigforhisage,thetargetofschool-yardtauntsandcruelinsultssincehewassix.Hewastough.Hecouldhandlehimself.Butshewouldn’tlethimgo.Ican’tkeepanythingdownandyoucouldstandtolosealittleweightanyway.Shewasn’tbeingcruel;shewastryingtobefunny.Hedidn’tthinkitwasfunny,though.

Thentheyweredowntotheirlastcanofcondensedsoupandwrapperofstalecrackers.Heheatedthesoupinthefireplace,overafirehefedwithpiecesofbroken-upfurnitureandhisfather’soldhuntingmagazines.Thebabyateallthecrackersbutsaidhedidn’twantthesoup.Hewantedmacandcheese.

Wedon’thavemacandcheese.Wehavesoupandcrackers,andthat’sallwehave.Thebabycriedandrolledonthefloorinfrontofthefireplace,screamingformacandcheese.

Hebroughtacupofthesouptohismother.Herfeverwasbad.Thenightbefore,shehadstartedthrowingupthelumpyblackstuff,whichwastheliningofherstomachmixedwithblood,thoughhedidn’tknowthatthen.Shewatchedhimcomeintotheroomwithdead,expressionlesseyes,thefixedstareoftheRedDeath.

Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?Ican’teatthat.Takeitaway.

Hetookitawayandateitstandingatthekitchensinkwhilehisbabybrotherrolledonthefloorandscreamedandhismothersankdeeperintomindlessness,thevirusspreadingintoherbrain.Inthefinalhours,hismotherwoulddisappear.Herpersonality,hermemory,thewhoofwhoshewas,surrenderingbeforeherbody.Heatethelukewarmsoupandthenlickedthebowlclean.Hewouldhavetoleaveinthemorning.Therewasnomorefood.Hewouldtellhislittlebrothertostayinsidenomatterwhatand

hewouldn’tcomebackuntilhefoundsomethingforthemtoeat.

Hesnuckoutthenextmorning.Helookedinabandonedgroceriesandconveniencestores.Helookedinlootedrestaurantsandfast-foodplaces.HefoundDumpstersreekingofdecayingproduceandoverflowingwithtorn-opengarbagebagswheremanyhandsbeforehishadsearched.Bylateafternoon,he’dfoundonlyoneediblemorsel:asmallcakeaboutthesizeofhispalm,stillinitsplasticwrapper,underneathanemptyshelfinagasstation.Itwasgettinglate;thesunwasgoingdown.Hedecidedtogohomeandreturnthenextmorning.Maybethereweremorecakesandotherkindsoffoodstashedorlostandheneededtolookharder.

Whenhegothome,thefrontdoorwasajar.Herememberedclosingitbehindhim,soheknewsomethingwaswrong.Heraninside.Hecalledforthebaby.Hewentroomtoroom.Helookedunderbedsandinsideclosetsandinthecarsthatsatcoldanduselessinthegarage.Hismothercalledhimintoherroom.Wherehadhebeen?Thebabywouldn’tstopcryingforhim.Heaskedhismotherwherethebabywasandshesnappedathim,Can’tyouhearhim?

Butheheardnothing.

Hewentoutsideandyelledthebaby’sname.Hecheckedthebackyard,walkedovertotheneighbor’shouseandbangedonthedoor.Hebangedoneverydooronthestreet.Nobodyanswered.Eitherthepeopleinsideweretooscaredtocomeoutortheyweresickordeadorjustgone.Hewalkedseveralblocksoneway,thenseveralmoretheotherway,callinghisbrother’snameuntilhewashoarse.Anoldwomantotteredoutontoherporchandscreamedathimtogoaway;shehadagun.Hewenthome.

Thebabywasgone.Hedecidednottotellhismother.Whatwouldshedoaboutit?Hedidn’twanthertothinkhewasbadforleaving.Heshouldhavebroughthimalong,buthethoughtitwassaferathome.YourhomeisthesafestplaceonEarth.

Thatnight,hismothercalledtohim.Whereismybaby?Hetoldherthebabywasasleep.Itwastheworstnightyet.Bloodytissueswaddedonthebed.Bloodytissuescrowdingthenightstand,litteringthefloor.

Bringmemybaby.

He’sasleep.

Iwanttoseemybaby.

Youmightmakehimsick.

Shecursedhim.Shetoldhimtogotohell.Shespatbloodyphlegmathim.Hestoodinthedoorway,handsnervouslyfiddlinginhispockets,andthecakewrappercrackled,theplasticdamagedbytheheat.

Wherehaveyoubeen?

Lookingforfood.

Shegagged.Don’tsaythatword!

Watchinghimwithbrightred,bloodyeyes.

Whywereyoulookingforfood?Youdon’tneedanyfood.You’rethemostdisgustingpieceofpiglardI’veeverseen.Youcouldlivetillwinteronjustyourbellyfat.

Hedidn’tsayanything.Heknewitwastheplaguetalking,nothismother.Hismotherlovedhim.

Whentheteasingatschoolgotbad,shewenttotheprincipalandsaidshewouldfilealawsuitifthebullyingdidn’tstop.

What’sthatnoise?What’sthathorriblenoise?

Hetoldherhedidn’thearanything.Shegotveryangry.Shestartedtocurseagainandbloodyspittlespatteredontheheadboard.

It’scomingfromyou.Whatareyouplayingwithinyourpocket?

Therewasnothinghecoulddo.Hehadtoshowher.Hepulledoutthecakeandshescreamedforhimtoputitawayandnevertakeitoutagain.Nowonderhewassofat.Nowonderhisbabybrotherwasstarvingwhileheatecakesandcandiesandallthemacandcheese.Whatsortofmonsterwashethathe

ateallhisbabybrother’smacandcheese?

Hetriedtodefendhimself.Buteverytimehestartedtalking,shescreamedathimtoshutup,shutup,shutUP.Hisvoicemadehersick.Hemadehersick.Hedidit.Hedidsomethingtoherhusbandandhedidsomethingtohisbabybrotherandhedidsomethingtoher,madehersick,poisonedher,hewaspoisoningher.

Andeverytimehetriedtospeak,shescreamedathim.Shutup,shutup,shutUP.

Shediedtwodayslater.

Hewrappedherinacleansheetandcarriedherbodyintothebackyard.Hedousedthebodywithhisfather’scharcoallighterfluidandsetitonfire.Heburnedhismother’sbodyandallthebedding,too.

Hewaitedanotherweekforhisbabybrothertocomehome,butheneverdid.Hesearchedforhim—

andforfood.Hefoundfood,butnothisbrother.Hestoppedcallingforhim.Hestoppedtalkingaltogether.Heshutup.

Sixweekslater,hewaswalkingdownahighwaydottedwithstalled-outcarsandwrecksofcarsandtrucksandmotorcycleswhenhesawblacksmokeinthedistanceand,afterafewminutes,thesourceofthesmoke,ayellowschoolbusfullofchildren.Thereweresoldiersonthebusandthesoldiersaskedhisnameandwherehewasfromandhowoldhewas,andlaterherememberednervouslystuffinghishands

inhispocketsandfindingtheoldpieceofcake,stillinitswrapper.

Piglard.Livetillwinteronyourbellyfat.

What’sthematter,kid?Can’tyoutalk?

Hisdrillsergeantheardthestoryofhowhecametocampwithnothingbuttheclothesonhisbackandapieceofcakeinhispocket.Beforeheheardthestory,thedrillsergeantcalledhimFatboy.Afterheheardthestory,thedrillsergeantrenamedhimPoundcake.

Ilikeyou,Poundcake.Ilikethefactthatyou’reabornshooter.Ibetyoupoppedoutofyourmommawithaguninonehandandadoughnutintheother.IlikethefactthatyougotthelooksofElmerFuddandthegoddamnedheartofMufasa.AndIespeciallylikethefactthatyoudon’ttalk.Nobodyknowswhereyou’refrom,whereyou’vebeen,whatyouthink,howyoufeel.Hell,Idon’tknowandIdon’tgiveashit,andyoushouldn’t,either.You’reamute-assed,stone-coldkillerfromtheheartofdarknesswithahearttomatch,aren’tyou,PrivatePoundcake?

Hewasn’t.

Notyet.

31

THEFIRSTTHINGIplannedtodowhenhewokeupwaskillhim.

Ifhewokeup.

Dumbowasn’tsurethatwouldhappen.“He’smessedupbad,”hetoldmeafterwestrippedhimdownandDumbogotagoodlookatthedamage.Stabbedinoneleg,shotintheother,coveredinburns,bonesbroken,shakingwithahighfever—thoughwepiledcoversonhim,Evanstillshooksoviolentlythatitlookedlikethebedwasvibrating.

“Sepsis,”Dumbomuttered.Henoticedmestaringdumblyathimandadded,“Whentheinfectiongetsintoyourbloodstream.”

“Whatdowedo?”Iasked.

“Antibiotics.”

“Whichwedon’thave.”

Isatontheotherbed.Samscootedtothefoot,clutchingtheemptypistol.Herefusedtogiveitup.

Benwasleaningonthewall,cradlinghisrifleandeyeingEvanwarily,likehewassureanysecondEvanwouldboltoutofbedandmakeanotherattempttotakeusout.

“Hedidn’thaveachoice,”ItoldBen.“Howcouldhejuststrollupinthedarkwithoutsomebodyshootinghim?”

“IwanttoknowwherePoundcakeandTeacupare,”Bensaidthroughgrittedteeth.

Dumbotoldhimtogetoffhisfeet.He’drepackedthebandages,butBenhadlostalotofblood.Benwavedhimaway.Hepushedhimselffromthewall,limpedtoEvan’sbedside,andwhackedhimacrossthecheekwiththebackofhishand.

“Wakeup!”Whack.“Wakeup,yousonofabitch!”

IshotfromthebedandgrabbedBen’swristbeforehecouldpopEvanagain.

“Ben,thiswon’t—”

“Fine.”Heyankedhisarmawayandlurchedtowardthedoor.“I’llfindthemmyself.”

“Zombie!”Samcalledout.Hepoppedupandrantohisside.“I’llcome,too!”

“Cutitout,bothofyou,”Isnapped.“Nobody’sgoinganywhereuntilwe—”

“What,Cassie?”Benyelled.“Untilwewhat?”

Mymouthopenedandnowordscameout.Samwastuggingonhisarm:Comeon,Zombie!Myfive-year-oldbrotherwavingaroundanemptygun;there’sametaphorforyou.

“Ben,listentome.Areyoulisteningtome?Yougoouttherenow—”

“Iamgoingouttherenow—”

“—andwemightloseyou,too!”Shoutingoverhim.“Youdon’tknowwhathappenedoutthere—

EvanprobablyknockedthemoutlikehedidyouandDumbo.Butmaybehedidn’t—maybethey’reonthewaybackrightnow,andgoingoutthereisastupidrisk—”

“Don’tlecturemeaboutstupidrisks.Iknowallabout—”

Benswayed.Thecolordrainedfromhisfaceandhewentdowntooneknee,Samgrabbingfutilelyonhissleeve.DumboandIpulledhimupandgothimtotheemptybed,wherehefellback,cussingusandcussingEvanWalkerandcussingthewholefucked-upsituationingeneral.Dumbowasgivingmea

deer-in-headlightslook,likeYougottheanswers,right?Youknowwhattodo,right?

Wrong.

32

IPICKEDUPDumbo’srifleandpusheditintothekid’schest.

“We’reblind,”Itoldhim.“Stairway,bothhallwindows,east-siderooms,west-siderooms,keepmovingandkeepyoureyesopen.I’llstayherewiththealphamalesandtrytokeepthemfromkillingeachother.”

Dumbowasnoddinglikeheunderstood,buthewasn’tmoving.Iputmyhandsonhisshouldersandfocusedonhisjigglyeyes.“Stepup,Dumbo.Understand?Stepup.”

Hejerkedhisheadupanddown,ahumanPEZdispenser,andslumpedoutoftheroom.Leavingwasthelastthinghewantedtodo,butwe’dbeenatthatpointforalongtimenow,thepointofdoingthelastthingwewantedtodo.

Behindme,Bengrowled,“Whydidn’tyoushoothiminthehead?Whytheknee?”

“Poeticjustice,”Imuttered.IsatnexttoEvan.Icouldseehiseyesquiveringbehindthelids.Hehadbeendead.I’dsaidgood-bye.NowhewasaliveandImightnotbeabletosayhello.We’reonlyaboutfourmilesfromCampHaven,Evan.Whattookyousolong?

“Wecan’tstayhere,”Benannounced.“ItwasabadcallsendingRingerahead.Iknewweshouldn’t’vesplitup.We’rebuggingoutofhereinthemorning.”

“Howarewegoingtodothat?”Iasked.“You’rehurt.Evanis—”

“Thisisn’tabouthim,”Bensaid.“Well,Iguessitistoyou—”

“He’sthereasonyou’realiverightnowtobitch,Parish.”

“I’mnotbitching.”

“Yes,youare.You’rebitchinglikeajuniormissbeautyqueen.”

Sammylaughed.Idon’tthinkI’dheardmybrotherlaughsinceourmotherdied.Itstartledme,likefindingalakeinthemiddleofadesert.

“Cassiecalledyouabitch,”SaminformedBen,incasehemissedit.

Benignoredhim.“Wewaitedhereforhimandnowwe’retrappedherebecauseofhim.Dowhatyouwant,Sullivan.Inthemorning,I’moutofhere.”

“Metoo!”Samssaid.

Bengotup,leanedonthesideofthebedforaminutetocatchhisbreath,thenhobbledtothedoor.

Samtrailedafterhim,andIdidn’ttrytostopeitheroneofthem.Whatwouldbethepoint?BencrackedthedoorandcalledsoftlytoDumbonottoshoothim—hewascomingouttohelp.ThenEvanandIwerealone.

IsatonthebedBenhadjustabandoned.Itwasstillwarmfromhisbody.IgrabbedSammy’sbearandpulleditintomylap.

“Canyouhearme?”Iasked—Evan,notthebear.“Guesswe’reevennow,huh?Youshootmeintheknee;Ishootyouintheknee.Youseemebuttnaked;Iseeyoubuttnaked.Youprayoverme;I—”

Theroomswamoutoffocus.ItookBearandpoppedEvaninthechestwithit.

“Andwhatwaswiththatridiculousjacketyouwerewearing?ThePinheads,that’saboutright.Thatnailsit.”Ihithimagain.“Pinhead.”Again.“Pinhead.”Again.“Andnowyou’regoingtocheckoutonme?Now?”

Hislipsmovedandawordleakedoutslowly,likeairescapingfromatire.

“Mayfly.”

33

HISEYESOPENED.WhenIrecalledwritingabouttheirwarm,meltedchocolateness,somethinginmewentgah.Whydidhehavethisknees-to-jellyeffectonme?Thatwasn’tme.WhydidIlethimkissandcuddleandgenerallymopearoundaftermelikeaforlornlittlelostalienpuppy?Whowasthisguy?

Fromwhatwarpedversionofrealitydidhetransportintomyownpersonalwarpedversionofreality?

Noneofitfit.Noneofitmadesense.Fallinginlovewithmemightbelikemefallinginlovewithacockroach,butwhatdoyoucallmyreactiontohim?What’sthatcalled?

“Ifyouweren’tdyingandall,I’dtellyoutogotohell.”

“I’mnotdying,Cassie.”Flutterylids.Sweatyface.Shakyvoice.

“Okay,thengotohell.Youleftme,Evan.Inthedark,justlikethat,andthenyoublewupthegroundbeneathme.Youcouldhavekilledallofus.Youabandonedmerightwhen—”

“Icameback.”

Hereachedouthishand.“Don’ttouchme.”NoneofyourcreepyVulcanmind-meldtricks.

“Ikeptmypromise,”hewhispered.

Well,whatsnarkycomebackdidIhaveforthat?Apromisewaswhatbroughtmetohiminthebeginning.AgainIwasstruckbyhowreallyweirditwasthathewaswhereIhadbeenandIwaswherehehadbeen.Hispromiseformine.Mybulletforhis.Downtostrippingeachothernakedbecausethere’snochoice;clingingtomodestyintheageoftheOthersislikesacrificingagoattomakeitrain.

“Youalmostgotshotinthehead,moron,”Itoldhim.“Itdidn’toccurtoyoutojustshoutupthestairs,‘Hey,it’sme!Holdyourfire!’?”

Heshookhishead.“Toorisky.”

“Oh,right.Muchmoreriskythanchancingyourheadgettingblownoff.Where’sTeacup?Where’sPoundcake?”

Heshookhisheadagain.Who?

“Thelittlegirlwhotookoffdownthehighway.Thebigkidwhochasedafterher.Youmusthaveseenthem.”

Nowhenodded.“North.”

“Well,Iknowwhichdirectiontheywent...”

“Don’tgoafterthem.”

Thatbroughtmeupshort.“Whatdoyoumean?”

“Itisn’tsafe.”

“Nowhereissafe,Evan.”

Hiseyeswererollingbackinhishead.Hewaspassingout.“There’sGrace.”

“Whatdidyousay?Grace?Asin‘AmazingGrace’orwhat?What’sthatmean,‘There’sgrace’?”

“Grace,”hemurmured,andthenheslippedaway.

34

ISTAYEDWITHHIMtilldawn.Sittingwithhimlikehesatwithmeintheoldfarmhouse.Hebroughtmetothatplaceagainstmywillandthenmywillbroughthimtothisplace,andmaybethatmeantwesortofownedeachother.Orowedeachother.Anyway,nodebtiseverfullyrepaid,notreally,nottheonesthatreallymatter.Yousavedme,hesaid,andbackthenIdidn’tunderstandwhatIhadsavedhimfrom.Thatwasbeforehetoldmethetruthaboutwhohewas,andafterwardIthoughthemeantIhadsavedhimfromthatwholehumangenocide,mass-murdererthing.NowIwasthinkinghedidn’tmeanIsavedhimfromanything,butforsomething.Thetrickypart,theunanswerablepart,thepartthatscaredthecrapoutofme,waswhatthatsomethingmightbe.

Hemoanedinhissleep.Hisfingersclawedatthecovers.Delirious.Beenthereanddonethat,too,Evan.Itookhishand.Burnedandbruisedandbroken,andIhadwonderedwhattookhimsolongtofindme?Hemusthavecrawledhere.Hishandwashot;hisfaceshonewithsweat.ForthefirsttimeitoccurredtomethatEvanWalkermightdie—sosoon,too,afterrisingfromthedead.

“You’regoingtolive,”Itoldhim.“Youhavetolive.Promise,Evan.Promisemeyou’regoingtolive.Promiseme.”

Islippedalittle.Triednotto.Couldn’thelpit:

“That’llcompletethecircle,thenwe’redone;we’rebothdone,meandyou.YoushotmeandIlived.

Ishotyouandyoulive.See?That’showitworks.Askanybody.Plusthefactthatyou’reMr.Ten-Centuries-OldSuperbeingdestinedtosaveuspitifulhumansfromtheintergalacticswarm.That’syourjob.Whatyouwereborntodo.Orbredto.Whatever.Youknow,asplanstoconquertheworldgo,yourshasbeenprettysucky.Almostayearintoitandwe’restillhere,andwho’stheoneflatonhisbacklikeabugwithdroolonhischin?”

Actually,hedidhavesomedroolonhischin.Idabbeditupwithacorneroftheblanket.

Thedooropenedandbigol’Poundcakesteppedintotheroom.ThenDumbo,grinningfrombigeartobigear,thenBen,andfinallySam.FinallyasinnoTeacup.

“Howishe?”Benasked.

“Burningup,”Ianswered.“Delirious.Hekeepstalkingaboutgrace.”

Benfrowned.“Like‘AmazingGrace’?”

“Maybesayinggrace,likebeforeameal,”Dumbosuggested.“He’sprobablystarving.”

Poundcakelumberedovertothewindowandstareddownattheicyparkinglot.IwatchedhimEeyore-walkacrosstheroom,thenturnedtoBen.“Whathappened?”

“Hewon’tsay.”

“Thenmakehimsay.You’rethesarge,right?”

“Idon’tthinkhecan.”

“SoTeacup’svanishedandwedon’tknowwhereorwhy.”

“ShecaughtupwithRinger,”Dumboguessed.“AndRingerdecidedtotakehertothecaverns,notwasteanytimebringingherback.”

IjerkedmyheadtowardPoundcake.“Wherewashe?”

“Foundhimoutside,”Bensaid.

“Doingwhat?”

“Just...hangingout.”

“Justhangingout?Really?YouguyseverwonderwhichteamPoundcakemightbeplayingfor?”

Benshookhisheadwearily.“Sullivan,don’tstart—”

“Seriously.Themuteactcouldbejustanact.Keepsyoufromhavingtoansweranyawkwardquestions.Plusthefactthatitmakesalotofsenseplantingoneofyourownintoeachbrainwashedsquad,incaseanybodystartstowise—”

“Right,andbeforePoundcakeitwasRinger.”Benwaslosingit.“Nextit’llbeDumbo.Orme.Whentheguywhoadmittedhewastheenemyislyingrightthere,holdingyourhand.”

“Actually,I’mholdinghishand.Andheisn’ttheenemy,Parish.Ithoughtwecoveredthis.”

“Howdoweknowhedidn’tkillTeacup?OrRinger?Howdoweknowthat?”

“Oh,Christ,lookathim.Hecouldn’tkilla...a...”Itriedtothinkoftheproperthinghehadthestrengthtokill,buttheonlythingmyhungry,sleep-deprivedbraincouldcomeupwithwasmayfly,whichwouldhavebeenareally,reallybadchoiceofwords.Likeaninadvertentomen,ifanomencanbeinadvertent.

BenwhippedaroundtoDumbo,whoflinched.IthinkhepreferredBen’swrathbedirectedatanybodybuthim.“Willhelive?”

Dumboshookhishead,thetipsofhisearsgrowingbrightpink.“It’sbad.”

“That’smyquestion.Howbad?Howsoonbeforehecantravel?”

“Notforawhile.”

“Damnit,Dumbo,when?”

“Acoupleweeks?Amonth?Hisankle’sbroke,butthat’snottheworst.Theinfection,thenyou’vegottheriskofgangrene...”

“Amonth?Amonth!”Benlaughedhumorlessly.“Hestormsthisplace,takesyouout,beatsthecrapoutofme,andacouplehourslaterhecan’tmoveforamonth!”

“Thengo!”Ishoutedacrosstheroomathim.“Allofyou.Leavehimwithme,andwe’llfollowyouassoonaswecan.”

Ben’smouth,whichhadbeenhangingopen,snappedclosed.SamwashoveringnearBen’sleg,onetinyfingerhookedintohisbigbuddy’sbeltloop.Somethinginmyheartgavealittleatthesight.Bentoldmetheycalledmylittlebrother“Zombie’sdog”incamp,meaningeverfaithfullybyhisside.

Dumbowasnodding.“Makessensetome,Sarge.”

“Wehadaplan,”Bensaid.Hislipsbarelymoved.“Andwe’restickingtotheplan.IfRingerisn’tbackbythistimetomorrow,we’rebuggingout.”Heglaredatme.“Allofus.”HejabbedhisthumbatPoundcakeandDumbo.“Theycancarryyourboyfriend,ifheneedstobecarried.”

Benturned,bumpedintothewall,pinballedoffit,lurchedthroughthedoorandintothehall.

Dumbotrailedafterhim.“Sarge,where’reyou...?”

“Bed,Dumbo,bed!IgottaliedownorI’mgonnafalldown.Takethefirstwatch.Nugget—Sam—

whateveryournameis—whatareyoudoing?”

“I’mcomingwithyou.”

“Staywithyoursister.Wait.You’reright.She’sgotherhandsfull—literally.Poundcake!Sullivanhastheduty.Getsomeshut-eye,youbigmutemother...”

Hisvoicefadedaway.DumbocamebacktothefootofEvan’sbed.

“Sargeisstrungout,”heexplained,likeIneededhimtoexplain.“He’susuallyprettychill.”

“Metoo,”Isaid.“I’mthelaid-backtype.Noworries.”

Hewouldn’tgoaway.Hewaslookingatmeandhischeekswereasbrightredashisears.“Ishereallyyourboyfriend?”

“Who?No,Dumbo.He’sjustaguyImetonedaywhilehewastryingtokillme.”

“Oh.Good.”Heseemedrelieved.“He’slikeVosch,youknow.”

“He’snothinglikeVosch.”

“Imeanhe’soneofthem.”Loweringhisvoicelikehewassharingadarksecret.“Zombiesaysthey’renotlikethesetinybugsinourbrains,butsomehowtheydownloadedthemselvesintouslikeacomputervirusorsomething.”

“Yeah.Somethinglikethat.”

“That’sweird.”

“Well,Iguesstheycouldhavedownloadedthemselvesintohousecats,butgoingthatroutewould’vemadeourexterminationmoretime-consuming.”

“Onlybyamonthortwo,”Dumbosaid,andIlaughed.LikeSammy’s,minesurprisedme.Ifyouwantedtoseparatehumansfromtheirhumanity,Ithought,killinglaughterwouldbeagoodplacetostart.Iwasneververygoodathistory,butIwasprettysuredouchebagslikeHitlerdidn’tlaughverymuch.

“Istilldon’tgetit,”hewenton.“Whyoneofthemwouldbeonourside.”

“I’mnotsurehecompletelyunderstandstheanswertothatquestion.”

Dumbonodded,squaredhisshoulders,tookadeepbreath.Hewasdeadonhisfeet.Weallwere.Icalledsoftlytohimbeforehesteppedoutside.

“Dumbo.”Ben’squestion,unanswered.“Ishegoingtomakeit?”

Hedidn’tsayanythingforalongtime.“IfIwereanalienandIcouldpickanybodyIwanted,”hesaidslowly,“I’dpickareallystrongone.Andthen,justtomakesureI’dlivethroughthewar,I’dlike,Idon’tknow,makemyselfimmunetoeveryvirusandbacteriaonEarth.Oratleastresistant.Youknow,likegettingyourdogvaccinatedforrabies.”

Ismiled.“You’reprettysmart,youknowthat,Dumbo?”

Heblushed.“That’sanicknamebasedonmyears.”

Heleft.Ihadtheeeriefeelingofbeingwatched.BecauseIwasbeingwatched:Poundcakestaredatmefromhispostbythewindow.

“Andyou,”Isaid.“What’syourstory?Whydon’tyoutalk?”

Heturnedaway,andhisbreathfoggedthewindow.

35

“CASSIE!CASSIE,wakeup!”

Iboltedupright.I’dbeencurledupnexttoEvan,myheadpressedagainsthis,myhandinhis,andhowthehelldidthathappen?Samwasstandingbesidethebed,pullingonmyarm.

“Getup,Sullivan!”

“Don’tcallmethat,Sams,”Imumbled.Thelightwasbleedingfromtheroom;itwaslateafternoon.

I’dsleptthroughtheday.“What...?”

Heputonefingertohislipsandpointedattheceilingwithanother.Listen.

Iheardit:theunmistakablesoundofachopper’srotors—faintbutgrowinglouder.Ijumpedfromthebed,grabbedmyrifle,andfollowedSamintothehall,wherePoundcakeandDumbohuddledaroundBen,theformerquarterbacksquattingonhishaunches,callingtheplay.

“Mightbejustapatrol,”hewaswhispering.“Notevenafterus.Thereweretwosquadsouttherewhenthecampblew.Mightbearescuemission.”

“They’llpickupoursignatures,”Dumbosaid,panicking.“We’redone,Sarge.”

“Maybenot,”Bensaidhopefully.He’dgottenbacksomeofhismojo.“Hearit?Fadingalready...”

Nothisimagination:Thesoundwasfainter.Youhadtoholdyourbreathtohearit.Wehungthereinthehallforanothertenminutesuntilthesounddisappeared.Waitedanothertenanditdidn’tcomeback.

Benblewouthischeeks.

“Thinkwe’regood...”

“Forhowlong?”Dumbowantedtoknow.“Weshouldn’tstayheretonight,Sarge.Isayweheadforthecavernsnow.”

“AndchancemissingRingeronherwayback?”Benshookhishead.“Orriskthatchoppercomingbackwhilewe’reexposed?No,Dumbo.Westicktotheplan.”

Hepushedhimselftohisfeet.Hiseyesfellonmyface.“What’supwithBuzzLightyear?Nochange?”

“HisnameisEvanandno.Nochange.”

Bensmiled.Idon’tknow,maybeimminentperilmadehimfeelmorealivesomehow,forthesamereasonzombiesarecarnivoreswithonlyoneitemonthemenu.Youneverheardofundeadvegetarians.

Where’sthechallengeinattackingaplateofasparagus?

Samsgiggled.“Zombiecalledyourboyfriendaspaceranger.”

“Heisn’taspaceranger—andwhyiseveryonecallinghimmyboyfriend?”

Ben’ssmilebroadened.“He’snotyourboyfriend?Buthekissedyou...”

“Fullon?”Dumboasked.

“Oh,yeah.Twice.That’swhatIsaw.”

“Withtongue?”

“Ewww.”Sammymouth’sformedasourlemonpout.

“Ihaveagun,”Iannounced,onlyhalfjoking.

“Ididn’tseeanytongue,”Bensaid.

“Wantto?”Istuckmytongueoutathim.Dumbolaughed.EvenPoundcakesmiled.

That’swhenthegirlappeared,steppingintothehallwayfromthestairwell,andtheneverythinggotverystrange,veryfast.

36

AMUD-(oritcouldhavebeenblood-)stained,tatteredpinkHelloKittyT-shirt.Apairofshortsthatoncehadbeentan,maybe,fadedtoadirtywhite.Grungywhiteflip-flopswithacouplestubbornrhinestonesclingingtothestraps.Anarrow,pixieishfacedominatedbyhugeeyes,toppedbyamassoftangleddarkhair.Andyoung,aroundSammy’sage,thoughshewassothin,herfacelookedlikealittleoldlady’s.

Nobodysaidanything.Wewereshocked.Seeingheratthefarendofthehall,teethchattering,knobbykneesknockinginthefreezingcold,wasanotherCampAshpit,yellow-school-bus-pulling-up-when-school-would-never-exist-againmoment.Somethingthatsimplycouldnotbe.

ThenSammywhispered,“Megan?”

AndBensaid,“WhothehellisMegan?”Whichwasverymuchwhattherestofuswerethinking.

Samtookoffbeforeanybodycouldgrabhim.Pulleduphalfwaytoher.Thelittlegirldidn’tmove.

Didn’thardlyblink.Hereyesseemedtoshineinthedwindlinglight,brightandbirdlike,likeawizenedowl’s.

Samturnedtousandsaid,“Megan!”Asifhewerepointingouttheobvious.“It’sMegan,Zombie.

Shewasonthebuswithme!”Heturnedbacktoher.“Hi,Megan.”Casually,liketheyweremeetingupatthemonkeybarsforaplaydate.

“Poundcake,”Bensaidsoftly.“Checkthestairs.Dumbo,takethewindows.Thensweepthefirstfloor,bothofyou.There’snowayshe’salone.”

Shespoke,andhervoicecameoutinahigh-pitched,scratchywhinethatremindedmeoffingernailsscrapingacrossablackboard.

“Mythroathurts.”

Herbigeyesrolledbackinherhead.Herkneesbuckled.Samracedtowardher,buthewastoolate:She

wentdownhard,smackingthethincarpetingwithherforeheadasecondbeforeSamcouldreachher.BenandIrushedover,andhebentdowntopickherup.Ipushedhimaway.

“Youshouldn’tbeliftinganything,”Iscoldedhim.

“Shedoesn’tweighanything,”heprotested.

Ipickedherup.Hewasnearlyright.Meganweighedlittlemorethanasackofflour;bonesandskinandhairandteethandthat’saboutit.IcarriedherintoEvan’sroom,putherintheemptybed,andpiledsixlayersofblanketsoverherquakinglittlebody.ItoldSamtofetchmyriflefromthehall.

“Sullivan,”Bensaidfromthedoorway.“Thisdoesn’tfit.”

Inodded.Worsethantheoddsofherluckingintothishotelatrandomweretheoddsofhersurvivingthisweatherinhersummeroutfit.BenandIwerethinkingthesamething:Twentyminutesafterourhearingthechopper,Li’lMissMeganappearedonourdoorstep.

Shedidn’twanderinhereonherown.Shewasdelivered.

“Theyknowwe’rehere,”Isaid.

“Butinsteadoffirebombingthebuilding,theydropherin.Why?”

Samcamebackwithmyrifle.Hesaid,“That’sMegan.WemetonthebusonthewaytoCampHaven,Cassie.”

“Smallworld,huh?”Ipushedhimawayfromthebed,towardBen.“Thoughts?”

Herubbedhischin.Irubbedmyneck.Toomanythoughtsskitteringaroundbothourheads.Istaredathimrubbinghischinandhestaredatmerubbingmyneck,andthat’swhenhesaid,“Tracker.

They’veimplantedherwithapellet.”

Ofcourse.ThatmustbewhyBen’sincharge.He’stheIdeaMan.ImassagedthebackofMegan’spencil-thinneck,probingforthetelltalelump.Nothing.IlookedatBenandshookmyhead.

“Theyknowwe’dlookthere,”hesaidimpatiently.“Searchher.Everyinch,Sullivan.Sam,youcomewithme.”

“Whycan’tIstay?”Samwhined.Afterall,he’djustreunitedwithalong-lostfriend.

“Youwanttoseeanakedgirl?”Benmadeaface.“Gross.”

BenpushedSamoutthedoorandbackedoutoftheroom.Idugmyknucklesintomyeyes.Damnit.

Goddamnit.Ipulledthecoverstothefootofthebed,exposingherwastedbodytothedyinglightofamidwinter’sevening.Coveredinscabsandbruisesandopensoresandlayersofdirtandgrime,whittleddowntoherbonesbythehorriblecrueltyofindifferenceandthebrutalindifferenceofcruelty,shewasoneofusandshewasallofus.ShewastheOthers’masterwork,theirmagnumopus,humanity’spastand

itsfuture,whattheyhaddoneandwhattheypromisedtodo,andIcried.IcriedforMeganandIcriedformeandIcriedformybrotherandIcriedforalltheonestoostupidorunluckytobedeadalready.

Suckitup,Sullivan.We’rehere,thenwe’regone,andthatwastruebeforetheycame.That’salwaysbeentrue.TheOthersdidn’tinventdeath;theyjustperfectedit.Gavedeathafacetoputbackinourface,becausetheyknewthatwastheonlywaytocrushus.Itwon’tendonanycontinentorocean,nomountainorplain,jungleordesert.Itwillendwhereitbegan,whereithadbeenfromthebeginning,onthebattlefieldofthelastbeatinghumanheart.

Istrippedherofthefilthy,threadbaresummerclothes.IspreadherarmsandlegsliketheDaVincidrawingofthenakeddudeinsidethebox,containedwithinthecircle.Iforcedmyselftogoslowly,methodically,startingwithherheadandmovingdownherbody.Iwhisperedtoher,“I’msorry,I’msosorry,”pressing,kneading,probing.

Iwasn’tsadanymore.IthoughtofVosch’sfingerslammingdownonthebuttonthatwouldfrymyfive-year-oldbrother’sbrains,andIwantedtotastehisbloodsobadly,mymouthbegantowater.

Yousayyouknowhowwethink?ThenyouknowwhatI’mgoingtodo.I’llripyourfaceoffwithapairoftweezers.I’lltearyourheartoutwithasewingneedle.I’llbleedyououtwithsevenbilliontinycuts,oneforeachoneofus.

That’sthecost.That’stheprice.Getready,becausewhenyoucrushthehumanityoutofhumans,you’releftwithhumanswithnohumanity.

Inotherwords,yougetwhatyoupayfor,motherfucker.

37

ICALLEDBENintotheroom.

“Nothing,”Itoldhim.“AndIchecked...everywhere.”

“Whataboutherthroat?”Bensaidquietly.Hecouldheartheresidualrageinmyvoice.Hegotthathewastalkingtoacrazypersonandhadtotreadlightly.“Rightbeforeshefainted,shesaidherthroathurt.”

Inodded.“Ilooked.There’snopelletinher,Ben.”

“Areyoupositive?‘Mythroathurts’isaveryweirdthingforafreezing,malnourishedkidtosaytheminutesheshowsup.”

Hesidledovertothebed,Idon’tknow,maybebecausehewasconcernedImightjumphiminamomentofmisplacedfury.Notthatthat’severhappened.Hegingerlypressedonehandtoherforeheadwhilepryinghermouthopenwiththeother.Stuckhiseyeclose.“Hardtoseeanything,”hemuttered.

“That’swhyIusedthis,”Isaid,handinghimSam’scamp-issuedpenlight.

Heshonethelightdownherthroat.“It’sprettyred,”heobserved.

“Right.Whichiswhyshesaidithurt.”

Benscratchedhisstubble,worryingovertheproblem.“Not‘helpme’or‘I’mcold’oreven

‘resistanceisfutile.’Just‘mythroathurts.’”

Icrossedmyarmsovermychest.“‘Resistanceisfutile’?Really?”

Samwashoveringinthedoorway.Bigbrownsaucereyes.“Issheokay,Cassie?”heasked.

“She’salive,”Isaid.

“Sheswallowedit!”Bensaid.TheIdeaMan.“Youdidn’tfinditbecauseit’sinherstomach!”

“Thosetrackingdevicesarethesizeofagrainofrice,”Iremindedhim.“Whywouldswallowingonehurtherthroat?”

“I’mnotsayingthedevicehurtherthroat.Herthroathasnothingtodowithit.”

“Thenwhyareyousoworriedaboutitbeingsore?”

“Here’swhatI’mworriedabout,Sullivan.”Hewastryingveryhardtostaycalm,becauseclearlysomebodyhadtobe.“Hershowingupoutofthebluelikethiscouldmeanalotofthings,butnoneofthosethingscouldbeagoodthing.Infact,itcanonlybeabadthing.Averybadthingmadeevenbadderbythefactthatwedon’tknowthereasonshewassenthere.”

“Badder?”

“Ha-ha.Thedumbjockwhocan’ttalktheQueen’sEnglish.IsweartoGod,thenextpersonwhocorrectsmygrammargetspunchedintheface.”

Isighed.Theragewasleachingoutofme,leavingmeahollow,bloodless,human-shapedlump.

BenlookedatMeganforalongmoment.“Wehavetowakeherup,”hedecided.

ThenDumboandPoundcakecrowdedintotheroom.“Don’ttellme,”BensaidtoPoundcake,whoofcoursewouldn’t.“Youdidn’tfindnothing.”

“Anything,”Dumbocorrectedhim.

Bendidn’tpunchhimintheface.Buthedidholdouthishand.“Givemeyourcanteen.”HeunscrewedthecapandheldthecontaineroverMegan’sforehead.Adropofwaterhungquiveringon

thelipforaneternity.

Beforeeternityended,acroakyvoicespokeupbehindus.“Iwouldn’tdothatifIwereyou.”

EvanWalkerwasawake.

38

EVERYBODYFROZE.Eventhedropofwater,swellingattheedgeofthecanteen’smouth,heldstill.Fromhisbed,Evanwatcheduswithred,fever-brighteyes,waitingforsomeonetoasktheobviousquestion,whichBenfinallydid:“Why?”

“Wakingherlikethatcouldmakehertakeaverydeepbreath,andthatwouldbebad.”

Benturnedtofacehim.Thewaterdribbledontothecarpet.“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?”

Evanswallowed,grimacingfromtheeffort.Hisfacewasaswhiteasthepillowcasebeneathit.“Sheisimplanted—butnotwithatrackingdevice.”

Ben’slipstightenedintoahard,whiteline.Hegotitbeforetherestofus.HewhippedonDumboandPoundcake.“Out.Sullivan,youandSam,too.”

“I’mnotgoinganywhere,”Itoldhim.

“Youshould,”Evansaid.“Idon’tknowhowfinelyit’sbeencalibrated.”

“Howfinelywhat’sbeencalibratedtowhat?”Idemanded.

“TheincendiarydevicetoCO.”Hiseyescutaway.Thenextwordswerehardforhim.“Ourbreath,2

Cassie.”

Everybodyunderstoodbythatpoint.Butthere’sadifferencebetweenunderstandingandaccepting.

Theideawasunacceptable.Afterallwehadexperienced,therewerestillplacesourmindssimplyrefusedtogo.

“Getdownstairsnow,allofyou,”Bensnarled.

Evanshookhishead.“Notfarenough.Youshouldleavethebuilding.”

BengrabbedDumbo’sarmwithonehandandPoundcake’swiththeotherandslungthemtowardthedoor.Samhadbackedintothebathroomentrance,tinyfistpressedagainsthismouth.

“Also,somebodyshouldopenthatwindow,”Evangasped.

IpushedSamintothehall,trottedovertothewindow,andpushedhardagainsttheframe,butitwouldn’tbudge,probablyfrozenshut.Benpushedmeoutofthewayandsmashedouttheglasswiththebuttofhisrifle.Freezingairrushedintotheroom.BenstrodebacktoEvan’sbedandconsideredhimforasecondbeforegrabbingahandfulofhishairandyankinghimforward.

“Yousonofabitch...”

“Ben!”Iputmyhandonhisarm.“Lethimgo.Hedidn’t—”

“Oh,right.Iforgot.He’sagoodevilalien.”Heletgo.Evanfellback;hedidn’thavethestrengthtostayup.ThenBensuggestedhedosomethingtohimselfthatwasanatomicallyimpossible.

Evan’seyescutovertome.“Inherthroat.Suspendeddirectlyabovetheepiglottis.”

“She’sabomb,”Bensaid,hisvoicequaveringwithrageanddisbelief.“TheytookachildandturnedherintoanIED.”

“Canweremoveit?”Iasked.

Evanshookhishead.“How?”

“That’swhatshe’saskingyou,dipshit,”Benbarked.

“TheexplosiveisconnectedtoaCOdetectorimbeddedinherthroat.Iftheconnection’slost,it2

detonates.”

“Thatdoesn’tanswermyquestion,”Ipointedout.“Canweremoveitwithoutblowingourselvesintoorbit?”

“It’sfeasible...”

“Feasible.Feasible.”Benwaslaughingthisweird,hiccuppingkindoflaugh.Iwasworriedthathemightbefallingovertheproverbialedge.

“Evan,”IsaidassoftlyandcalmlyasIcould.“Canwedoitwithout...”Icouldn’tsayit,andEvandidn’tmakeme.

“Theoddsofitnotdetonatingarealotbetterifyoudid.”

“Doitwithout...what?”Benwashavingahardtimefollowing.Nothisfault.Hewasstillflailingintheunthinkableplacelikeapoorswimmercaughtinariptide.

“Killingherfirst,”Evanexplained.

39

BENANDICONVENEDthelatestoh-we’re-screwedplanningmeetinginthehallway.Benorderedeverybodyelsetogoacrosstheparkinglotandhideinthedineruntilhegavethemtheall-clear—orthehotelblewup,whichevercamefirst.Samrefused.Bengotstern.Samtearedupandpouted.Benremindedhimthathewasasoldierandagoodsoldierfollowsorders.Besides,ifhestayed,whowasgoingtoprotectPoundcakeandDumbo?

Beforeheleft,Dumbosaid,“I’mthemedic.”He’dfiguredoutwhatBenwasupto.“Ishoulddoit,

Sarge.”

Benshookhishead.“Getoutofhere,”hesaidtersely.

Thenwewerealone.Ben’seyeswouldnotstaystill.Thetrappedcockroach.Thecorneredrat.Thefallingman,offthecliffandnoscrawnyshrubtograsp.

“Well,Iguessthebigriddle’sbeenanswered,huh?”hesaid.“WhatIdon’tgetiswhytheydidn’tjustwasteuswithacoupleofHellfiremissiles.Theyknowwe’rehere.”

“Nottheirstyle,”Isaid.

“Style?”

“Hasn’titeverstruckyouhowpersonalit’sbeen—fromthebeginning?There’ssomethingaboutkillingusthatgetsthemoff.”

Benlookedatmewithsickwonder.“Yeah.Well.Icanseewhyyou’dwanttodateoneofthem.”Notthethingtosay.Herealizeditimmediatelyandquicklybackedoff.“Who’rewekidding,Cassie?

There’snothingreallytodecide,exceptwho’sgoingtodoit.Maybeweshouldflipacoin.”

“MaybeitshouldbeDumbo.Didn’tyoutellmehetrainedinfieldsurgeryatthecamp?”

Hefrowned.“Surgery?You’rekidding,right?”

“Well,howelsearewe...?”ThenIunderstood.Couldn’taccept,butunderstood.IwaswrongaboutBen.Hehaddroppedfartherthanmeintothatunthinkableplace.Hewasfivethousandfathomsdown.

Hereadthelookonmyfaceanddroppedhischintowardhischest.Hisfacewasflushed.Notembarrassedsomuchasangry,intenselyangry,theangerthat’spastallwords.

“No,Ben.Wecan’tdothat.”

Heliftedhishead.Hiseyesshone.Hishandsshook.“Ican.”

“No,youcan’t.”BenParishwasdrowning.Hewassofarunder,Iwasn’tsureIcouldreachhim,wasn’tsureIhadthestrengthtopullhimbacktothesurface.

“Ididn’taskforthis,”hesaid.“Ididn’taskforanyofthis!”

“Neitherdidshe,Ben.”

HeleanedcloseandIsawadifferentkindoffeverburninginhiseyes.“I’mnotworriedabouther.

Anhourago,shedidn’texist.Understand?Shewasnothing,literallynothing.Ihadyou,andIhadyourlittlebrother,andIhadPoundcakeandDumbo.Shewastheirs.Shebelongstothem.Ididn’ttakeher.Ididn’ttrickherintogettingonabusandtellhershewasperfectlysafeandthenstuffabombdownherthroat.Thisisn’tmyfault.Itisn’tmyresponsibility.Myjobistokeepmyassandyourassaliveforas

longaspossible,andifthatmeanssomebodyelsewhoisnothingtomedies,thenIguessthat’swhatitmeans.”

Iwasn’tholdingupwell.Hewastoodeep,therewastoomuchpressure,Icouldn’tbreathe.

“That’sit,”hesaidbitterly.“Cry,Cassie.Cryforher.Cryforallthechildren.Theycan’thearyouandtheycan’tseeyouandtheycan’tfeelhowreallybadyoufeel,butcryforthem.Atearforeachofthem,fillupthefuckingocean,cry.

“YouknowI’mright.YouknowIdon’thaveachoice.AndyouknowRingerwasright.It’sabouttherisk.It’salwaysbeenabouttherisk.Andifonelittlegirlhastodiesosixpeoplecanlive,thenthat’stheprice.That’stheprice.”

Hepushedpastmeandlimpeddownthehalltothebrokendoor,andIcouldn’tmove,Icouldn’tspeak.Ididn’tliftafingerorframeanargumenttostophim.I’dreachedtheendofwords,andgesturesseemedpointless.

Stophim,Evan.Please,stophim,becauseIcan’t.

Inthesaferoomunderground,theirfaceslifteduptome,andmysilentprayer,myhopelesspromise:Climbontomyshoulders,climbontomyshoulders,climbontomyshoulders.

Hewouldn’tshoother.Becauseoftherisk.He’dsmotherher.Placeapillowoverherfaceandpressuntilhedidn’tneedtopressanymore.Hewouldn’tleaveherbodythere:therisk.Hewouldcarryitoutside,buthewouldn’tburyitorburnit:therisk.Hewouldtakeitfarintothewoodsandtossitonthefrozengroundlikesomuchtrashforthebuzzardsandcrowsandinsects.Therisk.

Isankdownthewallanddrewmykneestomychest,duckedmyhead,andcovereditupwithmyarms.Istoppedmyears.Iclosedmyeyes.AndtherewasVosch’sfingerslammingdownonthebutton,Ben’shandsholdingthepillow,myfingeronthetrigger.Sam,Megan.TheCrucifixSoldier.AndRinger’svoice,speakingoutofthesilentdark:Sometimesyou’reinthewrongplaceatthewrongtimeandwhathappensisnobody’sfault.

AndwhenBencameout,alltornupandempty,IwouldgetupandIwouldgotohimandIwouldcomforthim.Iwouldtakethehandthatmurderedachildandwewouldgrieveforourselvesandthechoiceswemadethatweren’tchoicesatall.

Bencameout.Hesatagainstthewalltendoorsdown.Afteraminute,Igotupandwenttohim.Hedidn’tlookup.Herestedhisforearmsonhisupraisedkneesandbowedhishead.Isatnexttohim.

“You’rewrong,”Isaid.Hetwirledhishand:Whatever.“Shedidbelongtous.Theyallbelongtous.”

Hisheadfellbackagainstthewall.“Hearthem?Thosemother-effingrats.”

“Ben,Ithinkyouneedtogo.Now.Don’twaittillmorning.TakeDumboandPoundcakeandgettothecavernsasfastasyoucan.”MaybeRingercouldhelphim.Helistenedtoher,alwaysseemedalittleintimidatedbyher,evenawed.

Helaughedfromaspotdeepinhisgut.“I’mkindofbusteduprightnow.Broke.I’mbroke,Sullivan.”He

lookedatme.“AndWalkerisinnoshapetodoit.”

“Noshapetodowhat?”

“Cutthedamnthingout.You’retheonlyoneherewhohashalfachance.”

“Youdidn’t...?”

“Icouldn’t.”

Helaughedagain.Hisheadbrokethesurfaceandhetookadeep,life-givingbreath.

“Icouldn’t.”

40

THEROOMWHEREshelaywascolderthanawalk-infreezer,andEvanwassittingupnow,watchingmeasIwalkedin.ApillowonthefloorwhereBenhaddroppedit,andmepickingitupandsittingatthefootofEvan’sbed.Ourbreathscongealingandourheartsbeatingandthesilencethickeningbetweenus.

UntilIsaid,“Why?”

Andhesaid,“Toblowapartwhatremains.Tobreakthefinal,unbreakablebond.”

Ihuggedthepillowtomychestandrockedslowlybackandforth.Cold.Socold.

“Noonecanbetrusted,”Isaid.“Notevenachild.”Thecoldboreddowntomybonesandcurledinsidethemarrow.“Whatareyou,EvanWalker?Whatareyou?”

Hewouldn’tlookatme.“Itoldyou.”

Inodded.“Yes,youdid.Mr.GreatWhiteShark.I’mnot,though.Notyet.We’renotgoingtokillher,Evan.I’mgoingtopullitout,andyou’regoingtohelpme.”

Hedidn’targue.Heknewbetter.

Benhelpedmegatherthesuppliesbeforehelefttojointheothersinthedineracrosstheparkinglot.

Washcloth.Towels.Acanofairfreshener.Dumbo’sfieldkit.Wesaidgood-byeatthestairwaydoor.Itoldhimtobecareful,thereweresomeslipperyratgutsonthewaydown.

“Ilostitbackthere,”hesaid,loweringhiseyesandscrubbinghisfootacrossthecarpetlikeanembarrassedlittleboycaughtinalie.“Thatwasn’tcool.”

“Yoursecretissafewithme.”

Hesmiled.“Sullivan...Cassie...incaseyoudon’t...Iwantedtotellyou...”

Iwaited.Ididn’tpushhim.

“Theymadeamajormistake,”heblurtedout,“thedumbbastards,whentheydidn’tstartbykillingyoufirst.”

“BenjaminThomasParish,thatwasthesweetestandmostbizarrecomplimentanyone’severgivenme.”

Ikissedhimonthecheek.Hekissedmeonthemouth.

“Youknow,”Iwhispered,“ayearago,Iwouldhavesoldmysoulforthat.”

Heshookhishead.“Notworthit.”And,forone–tenthousandthofasecond,allofitfellaway,thedespairandgriefandangerandpainandhunger,andtheoldBenParishrosefromthedead.Theeyesthatimpaled.Thesmilethatslayed.Inanothermoment,hewouldfade,slidebackintothenewBen,theonecalledZombie,andIunderstoodsomethingIhadn’tbefore:Hewasdead,theobjectofmyschoolgirldesires,justastheschoolgirlwhodesiredhimwasdead.

“Getoutofhere,”Itoldhim.“Andifyouletanythinghappentomylittlebrother,I’llhuntyoudownlikeadog.”

“Imaybedumb,butI’mnotthatdumb.”

Hedisappearedintotheabsolutedarkofthestairwell.

Iwentbacktotheroom.Icouldn’tdothis.Ihadtodothis.Evanscootedbackinthebeduntilhisbutttouchedtheheadboard.IslidmyarmsbeneathMeganandslowlyliftedher,turned,andthen

loweredhercarefullyontoEvan,leaningherheadbackintohislap.Ipickedupthespraycanofairfreshener(ADelicateBlendofEssences!)andsaturatedthewashcloth.Myhandswereshaking.NowaycouldIdothis.NowayIcouldn’t.

“Afive-prongedhook,”Evansaidquietly.“Embeddedbeneaththerighttonsil.Don’ttrytopullitout.Getagoodgriponthewire,makethecutasclosetothehookasyoucan,thenpullthehookout—

slowly.Ifthewirecomesloosefromthecapsule...”

Inoddedimpatiently.“Kaboom.Iknow.Youalreadytoldmethat.”

Iopenedthemedkitandtookoutapairoftweezersandsurgicalscissors.Small,buttheyseemedhuge.Iclickedonthepenlightandstuckthebuttendbetweenmyteeth.

IhandedEvanthewashclothreekingofpine.HepressedtheclothoverMegan’snoseandmouth.Herbodyjerked,hereyelidsflutteredopen,hereyesrolledtothebackofherhead.Herhands,foldedprimlyinherlap,twitched,becamestill.Evandroppedtheclothontoherchest.

“IfshewakesupwhileI’minthere...”Isaidaroundtheflashlight,soundinglikeaverybadventriloquist:Ehcheewecksuh...

Evannodded.“Ahundredwaysitcangowrong,Cassie.”

Hetiltedherheadbackandforcedhermouthopen.Istareddownaglisteningredtunnelthewidthofarazorandamiledeep.Tweezersinmylefthand.Scissorsinmyright.Bothhandsthesizeoffootballs.

“Canyouopenitanywider?”Iasked.

“IfIopenitanywider,I’lldislocateherjaw.”

Well,inthegrandschemeofthings,adislocatedjawwasbetterthanbeingabletopickupourpieceswiththispairoftweezers.Butwhatever.

“Thisone?”Touchingthetonsilgentlywiththeendofthetweezers.

“Ican’tsee.”

“Whenyousaidrighttonsil,youmeantherright,notmyright,right?”

“Herright.Yourleft.”

“Okay,”Ibreathed.“Justwantedtomakesure.”

Icouldn’tseewhatIwasdoing.Ihadthetweezersdownherthroatbutnotthescissors,andIdidn’tknowhowIwasgoingtostuffbothinthetinymouthofthislittlegirl.

“Hookthewirewiththeendofthetweezers,”Evansuggested.“Thenveryslowlyliftitupsoyoucanseewhatyou’redoing.Don’tyank.Ifthewiredisconnectsfromthecapsule—”

“DearJesusChrist,Walker,youdon’thavetowarnmeeverytwominuteswhathappensifthefreakingwiredisconnectsfromthefreakingcapsule!”Ifeltthetipofthetweezerscatchonsomething.

“Okay,IthinkI’vegotit.”

“It’sverythin.Black.Shiny.Yourlightshouldreflect—”

“Pleasebequiet.”Or,inpenlightspeak:Pweezbeqwiwet.

Mywholebodywasshakingbutmyhands,miraculously,hadbecomerocksteady.Iforcedmyrighthandintohermouthbypushingagainsttheinsideofhercheek,maneuveringthetipsofthescissorsintoposition.Wasthatit?DidIactuallyhaveit?Thewire,ifthatwasthewireshininginmylight,wasasthinasastrandofhumanhair.

“Slowly,Cassie.”

“Shut.Up.”

“Ifsheswallowsit—”

“Iamgoingtokillyou,Evan.Seriously.”Ihadthewirenow,pinchedbetweenthetinesofthetweezers.IcouldseethetinyhookembeddedinherenflamedfleshasItugged.Slow,slow,slow.Makesureyoucutontherightendofthewire.Theclawend.

“You’retooclose,”hewarnedme.“Stoptalkinganddon’tbreathedirectlyintohermouth...”

Right.Soinstead,IthinkI’mgoingtopunchyoudirectlyinyours.

Ahundredwaysitcouldgowrong,hesaid.Butthere’swrongways,reallywrongways,andreallyreallywrongways.WhenMegan’seyesflippedopenandherbodybuckedbeneathmine,wewentdownareallyreallyone.

“She’sawake!”Iyelledunnecessarily.

“Don’tletgoofthewire!”heshoutedback,necessarily.

Herteethclampeddownhardonmyhand.Herheadwhippedfromsidetoside.Myfingersweretrappedinsidehermouth.Itriedtoholdthetweezersstill,butonehardtugandthecapsulewouldpullfree...

“Evan,dosomething!”

Hefumbledfortheragsoakedinairfreshener.

Ishouted,“No,holdherheadstill,moron!Don’tlether—”

“Letgoofthewire,”hegasped.

“What?Youjustsaiddon’tletgoofthe...”

Hepinchedhernoseshut.Letgo?Don’tletgo?IfIletgo,thewiremighttwistaroundthetweezersandpullfree.IfIdon’tletgo,alltheturningandtwistingandwhippingaroundmightyankitfree.

Megan’seyesrolledinherhead.Painandterrorandconfusion,theconstantmixtheOthersneverfailedtodeliver.HermouthflewopenandIjammedthescissorsdownherthroat.

“Ihateyourightnow,”Ibreathedathim.“IhateyoumorethanIhateanyoneelseintheworld.”IfeltlikeheneededtoknowthatbeforeIsnappedthescissorsclosed.Incasewewerevaporized.

“Doyouhaveit?”heasked.

“IhavenofreakingclueifIhaveit!”

“Doit.”Thenhesmiled.Smiled!“Cutthewire,Mayfly,”hesaid.

Icutthewire.

41

“IT’SATEST,”Evansaid.

Thegreenliquid-gelcap-lookingthinglayonthedesk,safely—wehoped—sealedinsideaclearplastic

baggie,thekindyourmomusedinthelong-gonegoodolddaystokeepyoursandwichandchipsfreshforlunchperiod.

“What,likehumanIEDsarestillintheR-and-Dphase?”Benasked.Hewasleaningonthesillofthebusted-outwindow,shivering,butsomeonehadtowatchtheparkinglot,andhewasn’tlettinganyoneelsetaketherisk.Atleasthehadchangedoutoftheblood-soaked,hideous(itwashideousbeforeitwasblood-soaked)yellowhoodieandintoablacksweatshirtthatalmostbroughthimbacktohispre-Arrival,buffed-outperiod.

Fromthebed,Samgiggledhesitantly,unsureifhisbelovedZombieleaderwasmakingajoke.I’mnoshrink,butIguessedSamshadundergonesometransferenceduetoseriouslyunresolveddaddyissues.

“Notthebomb,”Evananswered.“Us.”

“Great,”Bengrowled.“FirsttestI’vepassedinthreeyears.”

“Cutitout,Parish,”Isaid.Whopassedthelawthatsaidjockshadtoactstupidtobecool?“IknowforafactyouwereaNationalMeritFinalistlastyear.”

“Really?”Dumbo’searsperkedup.Okay,Ishouldn’tmakeremarksabouthisears,buthedidappeartobedumbfounded.

“Yes,really,”BensaidwithapatentedParishsmile.“Butitwasaveryweakyear.Aliensinvaded.”

HelookedatEvan.Hissmiledied,whichhissmileusuallydidwhenhelookedatEvan.“Whataretheytestingusfor?”

“Knowledge.”

“Yeah,thatwouldbethepurposeofatest.Youknowwhatwouldbereallyhelpfulrightnow?Ifyou’dknockofftheenigmaticalienroutineandgetthefuckreal.Becauseeverysecondthatgoesbyandthatthingdoesn’tgooff”—noddingtothebaggie—“isasecondthatdoublesourrisk.Soonerorlater,andI’mleaningtowardsooner,they’recomingbackandblowingourassestoDubuque.”

“Dubuque?”Dumbosqueaked.Hedidn’tgetthereferenceandthatfrightenedhim.WhatwaswronginDubuque?

“Justatown,Dumbo,”Bensaid.“Arandomtown.”

Evanwasnodding.IglancedoveratPoundcakefillingthedoorway,hismouthhangingopenslightlyashisbigheadping-pongedtofollowtheconversation.

“Theywillcomeback,”Evansaid.“Unlesswefailthetestsotheydon’thaveto.”

“Failit?Wepassed,didn’twe?”Benturnedtome.“Ifeelasifwepassed.Howaboutyou?”

“Failingmeanswetookherin,allfat,dumb,andhappy,”Iexplained,“andthengotourassesblownbacktoDubuque.”

“Dubuque,”Dumboechoed,mystified.

“Theabsenceofdetonationcanmeanonlyoneofthreethings,”Evansaid.“One,thedevicemalfunctioned.Two,thedevicewasincorrectlycalibrated.Orthree...”

Benhelduphishand.“Orthree,someoneinthehotelknowsaboutthebomb-childrenandwasable

toremoveit,putitinaplasticbaggie,andconductaseminaronhowtoinstillpanicandparanoiaamongthedopeyhumans.ThetestistoseeifwehaveaSilenceramongus.”

“Wedo!”Samyelled.HejabbedhisfingeratEvan.“You’reaSilencer!”

“Somethingyouabsolutelycan’tknowforsureifyouvaporizethejointwithacoupleofwell-placedHellfiremissiles,”Benfinished.

“Whichraisesthequestion,”Evansaidquietly.“Whywouldtheysuspectsuchathing?”

Asilencesettledovertheroom.Bendrummedhisfingersonhisforearm.Poundcake’smouthsnappedclosed.Dumbotuggedonanearlobe.Irockedbackandforthinthechair,pluckingatBear’spaw.Ididn’tknowhowIcameintopossessionofBear.MaybeIgrabbedhimwhilePoundcakewasmovingMeganintotheadjacentroom.Irememberedhisgettingknockedtothefloorbutdidn’trememberpickinghimup.

“Well,it’sobvious,”Bensaid.“Theymusthaveawayofknowingyou’rehere.Right?Otherwise,youruntheriskoftakingoutyourownplayers.”

“IftheyknewIwashere,therewouldbenoneedforatest.TheysuspectI’mhere.”

ThenIgotit.Andgettingitdidnotbringmeanycomfort.

“Ringer.”

Ben’sheadwhippedtowardme.Theslightestbreathofwindwouldhavetoppledhimfromhisperch.

“She’sbeencaptured,”Isaid.“OrTeacup.Orboth.”IturnedtoEvan,becausethelookonBen’sfacewastoomuchtobear.

“Thatmakesthemostsense,”Evanagreed.

“Bullshit!Ringerwouldnevergiveusup,”Benbarkedathim.

“Notwillingly,”Evansaid.

“Wonderland,”Ibreathed.“They’vedownloadedhermemories...”

Bencameoffthesillthen,losthisbalance,staggeredforward,knockedagainsttheedgeofSammy’sbed.Hewasshaking,andnotfromthecold.“Ohno.No,no,no.Ringerhasnotbeencaptured.She’ssafeandTeacup’ssafeandwearenotgoingthere...”

“No,”Evansaid.“We’realreadythere.”

IslidoutofthechairandwenttoBen.Oneofthosemomentswhenyouknowyouhavetodosomethingbutyouhavenoideawhat.“Ben,he’sright.Thereasonwe’realiverightnowisthesamereasontheysentMegan.”

“Whatisitwithyou?”Bendemanded.“Youbuyintoeverythinghesayslikehe’sMosescomedownfromthemountaintop.Iftheythinkhe’shere,forwhateverreason,thentheyknowhe’satraitorandwouldstillsenduspackingtoDubuque.”

EverybodylookedatDumbo,waitingforit.

“Theydon’twanttokillme,”Evansaidfinally.Hehadasad,sicklookonhisface.

“That’sright,Iforgot,”Bensaid.“Thatwouldbeme.”Hepulledawayfrommeandshuffledbacktothewindow,leanedhishandsonthesillandstudiedthenightsky.“Stayhere,we’redone.Bugout,we’redone.We’relikefive-year-oldsplayingchesswithBobbyFischer.”HeswungbackaroundtoEvan.“Youcouldhavebeenspottedbyapatrol,followedhere.”Hepointedatthebaggie.“Thatdoesn’tmeantheyhaveRingerorCup.Allitmeansiswe’reoutoftime.Can’thide,can’trun,sothequestioncirclesbacktosamequestionit’salwaysbeen:notifwe’regonnadie,buthow.Howarewegoingtodie?Dumbo,howdoyouwanttodie?”

Dumbostiffened.Hisshoulderssquared,hischincameup.“Standingup,sir.”

BenlookedatPoundcake.“Cake,doyouwanttodiestandingup?”

Poundcakehadcometoattention,too.Henoddedsmartly.

Bendidn’thavetoaskSam.Mylittlebrothersimplystoodupandveryslowlyanddeliberatelygavehiscommandingofficerasalute.

42

OH,BROTHER.Guys.

ItossedBearonthedesk.“I’vebeenherebefore,”ItoldtheMachoBrigade.“Runequalsdie.Stayequalsdie.SobeforewegoallO.K.Corralonthis,let’sconsiderthethirdoption:Weblowitup.”

Thatsuggestionsuckedalltheairfromtheroom.Evangotitfirst,noddingslowly,butclearlynothappywiththeidea.Lotsofvariables.Athousandwaysitcangowrong,onlyonewayright.

Bencutrighttothegooeygutsoftheproblem:“How?Whohasthedutyofbreathingonitandgettingvaporized?”

“I’lldoit,Sarge,”Dumbosaid.Hisearshadturnedred,likehewasembarrassedbyhisowncourage.

Hesmiledshyly.He’dfinallygottenit:“I’vealwayswantedtoseeDubuque.”

“Humanbreathisn’ttheonlysourceofCO,”IpointedouttotheNationalMeritFinalist.

2

“Coke!”Dumbofairlyshouted.

“Goodluckfindingoneofthose,”Bensaid.Itwastrue.Alongwithanythingalcoholic,softdrinkswereoneofthefirstcasualtiesoftheinvasion.

“Acanorabottle,yes,”Evansaid.“Cassie,didn’tyoutellmetherewasadinernextdoor?”

“TheCOcanistersforthefountaindrinks,”Istarted.

2

“Areprobablystillthere,”hefinished.

“Attachthebombtothecanister...”

“RigthecanistertodispensetheCO...”

2

“Aslowleak...”

“Inaconfinedspace...”

“Theelevator!”wesaidinunison.

“Wow,”Benbreathed.“Brilliant.ButI’malittleunclearonhowthissolvestheproblem.”

“They’llthinkwe’redead,Zombie,”Samsaid.Thefive-year-oldunderstood,buthelackedBen’sburdenofexperienceinoutwittingVoschandcompany.

“Thentheycheckitout,theyfindnobodies,theyknow,”Bensaid.

“Butitwillbuyustime,”Evanpointedout.“Andmyguessisbythetimetheyrealizethetruth,it’llbetoolate.”

“Becauseobviouslywe’rejusttoodarncleverforthem?”Benasked.

Evansmiledgrimly.“Becausewe’regoingtothelastplacethey’dthinktolook.”

43

THEREWASNOTIMEformoredebate;wehadtopullthetriggeronOperationEarlyCheckoutbeforethe5thWavepulledthetriggeronus.BenandPoundcakelefttofetchaCOcanisterfromthediner.

2

Dumbotookhallpatrol.ItoldSamhehadtowatchMegan,herbeingapalfromtheolddaysontheschoolbus.Heaskedforthegunback.Iremindedhimthathavingthegundidn’thelpsomuchthelasttime:He’demptiedthemagazinewithoutevennickingthetarget.ItriedtogivehimBear.Herolledhiseyes.Bearwassosixmonthsago.

ThenEvanandIwerealone.Justhim,me,andalittlegreenbombmadethree.

“Spillit,”Iorderedhim.

“Spillwhat?”EyesallbigandinnocentasBear’s.

“Yourguts,Walker.You’reholdingback.”

“Whydoyou—?”

“Becausethat’syourstyle.Yourmodusoperandi.Likeaniceberg,three-quartersunderthesurface,butthere’snowayI’mlettingyouturnthishotelintotheTitanic.”

Hesighed,avoidingmyglare.“Penandpaper?”

“What?Timeforatenderlovepoem?”Thatwashisstyle,too:EverytimeIedgedtooclosetosomething,hedeflectedbytellingmehowmuchhelovedmeorhowIsavedhimorsomeotherswoony,pseudo-profoundobservationaboutthenatureofmymagnificence.ButIgrabbedthepadandpenfromthedeskandhandedthemoverbecause,attheendoftheday,whomindsgettingatenderlovepoem?

Insteadhedrewamap.

“Single-story,white—orusedtobewhite—woodframe,Idon’tremembertheaddress,butit’srightonHighway68.Nexttoaservicestation.Hasoneofthoseoldmetalsignshangingoutfront,HavolineOilorsomethinglikethat.”

Hetoreoffthesheetandpresseditintomyhand.

“Andwhyisthisthelastplacethey’dlookforus?”Iwasfallingforthedeflectingtechniqueagain,notthatHavolineOilhadanythingcloyinglypoeticalaboutit.“Andwhyareyoudrawingmeamapwhenyou’recomingwithus?”

“Incasesomethinghappens.”

“Toyou.Whatifsomethinghappenstobothofus?”

“You’reright.I’llmakefivemore.”

Hestartedonthenextone.Iwatchedfortwoseconds,thengrabbedthepadoutofhishandandthrewitathishead.

“Yousonofabitch.Iknowwhatyou’redoing.”

“Iwasdrawingamap,Cassie.”

“RiggingadetonatorfromasodafountainMission:Impossiblestyle,really?WhileweallrunlikehellfortheHavolinesignwithyouintheleadonyourbrokenankleandstabbedleg,sportingahundred-and-six-degreetemperature...”

“IfIhadahundred-and-six-degreetemperature,I’dbedead,”hepointedout.

“No,andyouwanttoknowwhy?Becausedeadpeoplehavenotemperature!”

Hewasnoddingthoughtfully.“God,I’vemissedyou.”

“There!Thereitis,rightthere!JustliketheWalkerhomestead,justlikeCampAshpit,justlikeVosch’sdeathcamp.WheneverI’vegotyoucornered...”

“YouhadmecorneredtheminuteIlaid—”

“Stopit.”

Hestopped.Isatonthebednexttohim.MaybeIwasgoingaboutthisallwrong.Youcatchmoreflieswithhoney,mygrandmotheralwayssaid.Theproblemwasthatwomanlywilesweren’tsomethingI

carriedinmywheelhouse.Itookhishand.Ilookeddeeplyintohiseyes.Iconsideredunbuttoningmyshirtabit,butdecidedhemightseethroughthatlittleploy.Notthatmyployswerethatlittle.

“I’mnotlettingyoupullanotherCampHavenonme,”Isaid,addingwhatIhopedtobeanalluringpurrtothetimbre.“Thatisn’tgoingtohappen.You’recomingwithus.PoundcakeandDumbocancarryyou.”

Hereachedupwithhisotherhandandtouchedmycheek.Iknewthattouch.I’dmissedit.“Iknow,”

hesaid.Theexpressioninhischocolatey(gah)eyeswasinfinitelysad.Iknewthatlook,too.I’dseenitbefore,inthewoodswhenheconfessedwhohereallywas.“Butyoudon’tknoweverything.Youdon’tknowaboutGrace.”

“Grace,”Iechoed,pushinghishandfrommycheek,forgettingallaboutthehoney.Ilikedhistouchtoomuch,Idecided.Ineededtoworkonnotlikingitsomuch.AndalsoworkonnotlikingthewayhelookedatmeasifIwerethelastpersononEarth,whichIactuallythoughtIwasbeforehefoundme.

That’saterriblething,anawfulburdentoputonsomeone.Youmakeyourwholeexistencedependentonanotherhumanbeingandyou’reaskingforaworldoftrouble.Thinkofeverytragiclovestoryeverwritten.AndIdidn’twanttoplayJuliettoanybody’sRomeo,notifIcouldhelpit.Eveniftheonlycandidateavailablewaswillingtodieformeandsittingrightbesidemeholdingmyhandandlookingdeeplyintomyeyeswiththenot-so-gah-noweyesthecolorofmeltedchocolate.PlusbeingpracticallynakedunderthosecoversandpossessingthebodyofaHollisterdude...butI’mnotgettingintoallthat.

“Graceagain.YoukeptmentioninggraceafterIshotyou,”Itoldhim.

“Youdon’tknowGrace.”

Well,thatstung.Ineverknewhewassoreligious—orjudgmental.Thetwousuallygohandinhand,still...

“Cassie,Ihavetotellyousomething.”

“You’reaBaptist?”

“ThatdayonthehighwayafterI—letyougetaway,Iwasveryafraid.Ididn’tunderstandwhathappened,whyIcouldn’t...dowhatIcametodo.DowhatIwasborntodo.Itdidn’tmakesensetome.Andinalotofways,itstilldoesn’tmakesense.Youthinkyouknowyourself.Youthinkyouknowthepersonyouseeinthemirror.Ifoundyou,butinfindingyou,Ilostmyself.Nothingwasclearanymore.Nothingwassimple.”

Inodded.“Irememberthat.Iremembersimple.”

“Inthebeginning,afterIbroughtyouback,Ireallydidn’tknowifyouweregoingtomakeit.AndIwouldsittherewithyouandI’dthink,Maybesheshouldn’t.”

“Gee,Evan.That’ssoromantic.”

“Iknewwhatwascoming,”hesaid,andthatsurewassomethingclearandsimple.Hegrabbedbothmyhandsandpulledmeclose,andIfellathousandmilesintothosedamneyes,whichiswhythehoney

techniquedoesn’tfitme:I’mmoretheflywhenI’maroundhim.“Iknowwhat’scoming,Cassie,anduntilnowIthoughtthedeadweretheluckyones.ButIseeitnow.Iseeit.”

“What?Whatdoyousee,Evan?”Myvoicequivering.Hewasscaringme.Maybeitwasthefever

talking,butEvanwasactingveryun-Evanish.

“Thewayout.Thewaytofinishit.TheproblemisGrace.Graceistoomuchforyou—foranyofyou.GraceisthedoorwayandI’mtheonlyonewhocanwalkthroughit.Icangiveyouthat.Andtime.

Thosetwothings,Graceandtime,andthenyoucanfinishit.”

44

THENDUMBO,withperfecttiming,poppedhisheadintotheroom.“They’reback,Sullivan.Zombiesaid

—”Hestopped.Obviouslyhe’dinterruptedanintimatemoment.ThankGodIhadn’tunbuttonedmyshirt.IpulledmyhandsfromEvan’sandstoodup.

“Didtheyfindacanister?”

Dumbonodded.“They’reputtingitintheelevatornow.”HelookedatEvan.“Zombiesaidanytimeyou’reready.”

Evannoddedslowly.“Okay.”Buthedidn’tmove.Ididn’tmove.Dumbostoodthereforafewseconds.

“Okay,”hesaid.Evandidn’tsayanything.Ididn’tsayanything.ThenDumbosaid,“Seeyouguyslater—inDubuque!Heh-heh.”Hebackedoutoftheroom.

IwhirledonEvan.“Allright.RememberwhatBensaidabouttheenigmaticalienthing?”

ThenEvanWalkerdidsomethingI’dneverseenhimdo—orheardhimsay,tobeaccurate.

“Shit,”hesaid.

Dumbowasbackinthedoorway,slack-jawed,red-eared,andinthegraspofatallgirlwithacascadeofhoney-blondhairandstrikingNorwegian-model-typefeatures,piercingblueeyes,full,pouty,collagen-packedlips,andthewillowyfigureofarunwayfashionprincess.

“Hello,Evan,”CosmoGirlsaid.AndofcoursehervoicewasdeepandslightlyscratchylikeeveryseductivevillainesseverconceivedbyHollywood.

“Hello,Grace,”Evansaid.

45

GRACE:APERSON,notaprayeroranythingclosetobeingconnectedtoGod.Andarmedtotheteeth:ShehadDumbo’sM16inadditiontotheheftysniperriflehangingfromherback.Sheshovedthekidintotheroomandthenblewoutmyeyesightwithhermegawattsmile.

“AndyoumustbeCassiopeia,queenofthenightsky.I’msurprised,Evan.She’snothinglikeIpictured.Kindofaginger.Didn’tknowthatwasyourtype.”

IlookedatEvan.“Whothehellisthisperson?”

“Graceislikeme,”Evansaid.

“Wegowayback.Tencenturies,giveortake.Speakingoftaking...”Gracemotionedformyrifle.Itosseditatherfeet.“Sidearm,too.Andthatknifestrappedtoyourankle,underthefatigues.”

“Letthemgo,Grace,”Evansaid.“Wedon’tneedthem.”

Graceignoredhim.ShegavemyriflealittlekickandtoldmetotossitoutthewindowwiththeLugerandtheknife.Evannoddedatmeasiftosay,Betterdoit.SoIdid.Myheadwasspinning.Icouldn’tgrabholdofasinglecoherentthought.GracewasaSilencerlikeEvan—thatoneIcouldhugtight.ButhowdidsheknowmynameandwhywasshehereandhowdidEvanknowshewascomingandwhatdidhemeanbyGraceisthedoorway?Thedoorwaytowhat?

“Iknewshewashuman.”GracewasbackonEvan’sfavoritesubject.“ButIneverimaginedhowcompletelyhumanshewas.”

Evanknewitwascoming,buthetriedtostopitanyway.“Cassie...”

“Fuckyouandthehorseyourodeinon,youfuckingalienmotherfucker.”

“Colorful.Imaginative.Nice.”GracemotionedwithDumbo’srifleformetosit.

Again,Evanshotmealook:Doit,Cassie.SoIsatonthebednexttohis,besideDumbo,whowasbreathingthroughhismouthlikeanasthmatic.Graceremainedinthedoorwaysoshecouldkeepaneyeonthehall.Maybeshedidn’tknowaboutSamandMeganinthenextroomorBenandPoundcakewaitingforEvanintheelevatordownstairs.IunderstoodEvan’sstrategythen:Stall.Buytime.WhenBenandPoundcakecameuptoseewhatthehellwasgoingon,thatwouldbeourchance.IrememberedEvantakingoutanentiresquadof5thWavers,outgunnedandoutnumbered,inpitchdarkness,andthought,No,whentheyshowup,thatwillbeherchance.

Istudiedher,thewaysheleanedagainstthejambwithoneanklethrowncasuallyovertheother,goldentressesflowingoveroneshoulder,herheadturnedslightlytodisplayforouradmirationherstunningNordicprofile,andIthought,Sure,makessense.Ifyoucandownloadyourselfintoanysortofhumanbody,whynotpickanimpeccableone?Evan,too.Inthatsense,hewasnothingbutabigphony.

Andthat’sweirdtothinkabout.Deepdown,thedudewhogavemetheJell-Okneeswasaneffigy,amaskoverafacelessfacethatprobablytenthousandyearsagolookedlikeasquidorsomething.

“Well,theydidtellustherewasrisk,livingsolongashumansamonghumans,”Gracesaid.“Tellmesomething,Cassiopeia:Don’tyouthinkhe’sperfectlyperfectinbed?”

“Whydon’tyoutellme,”Ishotback.“Youextraterrestrialslut.”

“Feisty,”GracesaidtoEvanwithasmile.“Likehernamesake.”

“Theyhavenothingtodowiththis,”Evansaid.“Letthemgo,Grace.”

“Evan,I’mnotevensureIunderstandwhatthisis.”Sheleftherpostandfloated—there’snootherwordforit—tohisbedside.“AndnobodyisgoinganywhereuntilIdo.”Sheleanedoverandtookhisfaceinherhandsandkissedhimlongandlingeringonthelips.Hefoughther—Icouldseethat—butsheimmobilizedhimwithherotherworldlyüberwiles,whichshecarriedinspadesinherwheelhouse.

“Didyoutellher,Evan?”shemurmuredagainsthischeek,thoughshemadesureIcouldhear.“Doessheknowhowallofthisends?”

“Likethis,”Isaid,andlaunchedmyselfather,leading,asIusuallydid,withmyhead,aimingthehardcrownpartofitatthesofttemplepartofhers.Theimpactknockedhersidewaysintotheclosetdoors.IendedupsprawledacrossEvan’slap.Perfectlyperfect,Ithought,alittleincoherently.

IpushedmyselfupandEvanwrappedhisarmsaroundmywaistandyankedmebackdown.“No,Cassie.”

ButhewasweakandIwasstrongandIrippedfreeeasilyandjumpedfromthebedontoherback.

Thatwasabigmistake:Shegrabbedmyarmandhurledmeacrosstheroom.Ismashedagainstthewallbesidethewindowandploppedstraightdownonmyass,sendingahotjoltofpainupmyback.Fromthehallway,Iheardadoorflyopen,andIshouted,“Getout,Sam!GetZombie!Get—”

ShewasgonebeforeIgotthesecondgetout.ThelasttimeIsawsomeonemovethatfastwasatCampAshpit,whenthephonysoldiersfromWright-Pattersonspottedmehidinginthewoods.Like,cartoonfast,whichmightbehumorousifnotforthereasonshebolted.

Ohnoyoudon’t,bitch.Notmylittlebrother.

IracedpastDumbo,pastEvan,whohadthrownoffthecoversandwasstrugglingtoswinghisbadlywoundedselfoutofbed,intothehall,whichwasempty,notagoodthing,notgoodatall,thentwostepstoSam’sroom,andwhenmyfingerstouchedthehandle,awreckingballsmashedintothebackofmyheadandmynosesmackedintothewood.Somethingwentcrunch,anditwasn’tthewood.Isteppedbackward,bloodpouringdownmyface.Icouldtastemybloodandsomehowitwasthetastethatkeptmeupright—Ididn’tknowtillthenthatragehadatasteandittastedlikeyourownblood.

ColdfingerslockedaroundmyneckandIwatchedmyfeetleavethegroundthroughashowerofredrain.ThenIwassoaringdownthelengthofthehallway,comingdownhardonmyshoulder,androllingtoastopafootfromthewindowatthefarend.

Grace:“Staythere.”

ShewasstandingbySammy’sdoor,alitheshadowdownadimlylittunnel,shimmeringontheothersideofthetearsthatwelleduncontrollablyandspilleddownmycheekstomixwithblood.

“Leave.My.Brother.Alone.”

“Thatadorablelittleboy?He’syourbrother?I’msorry,Cassiopeia,Ididn’tknow.”Shakingherheadinmocksadness.Liketheymockedeverydecenthumanthing.

“He’salreadydead.”

46

THREETHINGSHAPPENEDthen,allatthesametime.Four,ifyoucountedmyheartblowingapart.

Iran—notawaybuttoward.Iwasgoingtoriphercover-modelfaceoff.Iwasgoingtotearherpseudo-humanheartfrombetweenherperfectlyshapedhumanboobs.Iwasgoingtoopenherupwithmyfingernails.

Thatwasthefirstthing.

ThesecondwasthestairwaydoorflyingopenandPoundcakeenteringthehallinanythingbutEeyorefashion,shovingmebackwithonearmastheotherbroughthisrifletobearonGrace.Notaneasyshotbyanymeans,butPoundcakewasthesquad’sbestmarksmanafterRinger,accordingtoBen.

Thethirdthingwasashirtless,boxer-shorts-wearingEvanWalker,crawlingoutoftheroombehindGrace.Expertmarksmanornot,ifPoundcakemissed...orifGracedivedoutofthewayatthelastsecond...

SoIdidthediving,wrappingmyarmsaroundthekid’sankles.Hetoppledforward,hisrifledischarged,andthenIheardthestairwaydooragainandBenshouting,“Freeze!”justliketheyusedtointhemovies,butnobodyfroze,notme,notPoundcake,andnotEvan—andcertainlynotGrace,whowasgone.Shewasthereandthenshewasn’t.BenhoppedovermeandPoundcakeandlimpeddownthehalltotheroomoppositeSam’s.

Sam.

Ijumpedupandraceddownthehall.BenwasmotioningtoPoundcake,saying,“She’sinthere.”

Iyankedonthehandle.Locked.Thankyou,God!Ipoundedonthedoor.“Sam!Sam,openup!It’sme!”

Andfromtheotherside,avoicenolouderthanamouse’ssqueak:“It’satrick!You’retrickingme!”

Ilostit.Pressedmybloodycheekagainstthedoorandhadagood,solid,andverysatisfyingmini-breakdown.I’dletmyguarddown.I’dforgottenhowcrueltheOtherscouldbe.Notenoughtopunchaholethroughmyheartwithabullet.No,firstyouhavetopummelitandstomponitandcrushitinyourhandsuntilthetissueoozesfrombetweenyourfingerslikePlay-Doh.

“Okay,okay,okay,”Iwhimpered.“Stayinthere,okay?Nomatterwhat,Sam.Don’tcomeouttillIcomeback.”

Poundcakewasstandingtoonesideofthedooracrossthehall.BenwashelpingEvantohisfeet—ortryingto.Everytimeheloosenedhisgrip,Evan’skneesbuckled.Benfinallydecidedtoleanhimagainstthewall,whereEvanrocked,gaspingforair,hisskinthecoloroftheashesatthecampwheremyfatherdied.

Evanlookedoveratmeandhehardlyhadthebreathforthewords:“Getoutofthishallway.Now.”

ThedrywallinfrontofPoundcakeblewapartinarainoffinewhitedustandchunksofmoldywallpaper.Hestaggeredbackward.Hisriflefellfromhislimpfingers.HeknockedintoBen,whograbbedhimbytheshoulderandthrewhimintotheroomwithDumbo.Benreachedformenext,butIslappedhishandawayandtoldhimtograbEvanbeforepickingupPoundcake’srifleandopeninguponGrace’sdoor.Thesoundwasdeafeninginthenarrowhall.IemptiedthemagazinebeforeBengotholdofmeandpulledmeback.

“Don’tbeanidiot!”heshouted.Heslappedafullmagazineintomyhandandtoldmetowatchthedoorbutstaydown.

ThesceneplayedoutlikeaTVshowgoingoninanotherroom:justvoices.Iwasflatonmystomach,restingmyupperbodyonmyelbows,therifletrainedonthedoordirectlyacrossfromme.

Comeon,icemaiden.Ihavealittlesomethingforyou.Runningmytongueovermybloodylips,hatingthetaste,lovingthetaste.Comeon,youcreepySwede.

Ben:Dumbo,howisit?Dumbo!

Dumbo:It’sbad,Sarge.

Ben:Howbad?

Dumbo:Prettybad...

Ben:Oh,Christ.Icanfreakingseethatit’sbad,Dumbo!

Evan:Ben—listentome—youhavetolistentome—wehavetogetoutofhere.Now.

Ben:Why?Wegothercontained—

Evan:Notforlong.

Ben:Sullivancanhandleher.Whothehellisshe,anyway?

Evan:(unintelligible)

Ben:Well,sure.Themorethemerrier.Guesswe’rewellintoPlanB.I’vegotyou,Walker.Dumbo,youhavePoundcake.Sullivanwilltakethekids.

Beneaseddownbesideme,placinghishandonthesmallofmyback.Henoddedtowardthedoor.

“Wecan’tbugoutuntilthethreat’sneutralized,”hewhispered.“Hey,whathappenedtoyournose?”

Ishrugged.Swipe,swipewentthetongue.“How?”IsoundedlikeIhadabadheadcold.

“Prettysimple.Somebodytakesthedoor,onelow,onehigh,onetotheright,onetotheleft.Worstpartthefirsttwoandahalfseconds.”

“What’sthebestpart?”

“Thelasttwoandahalfseconds.Ready?”

“Cassie,wait.”Evan,onhiskneesbehinduslikeapilgrimatthealtar.“Bendoesn’tknowwhathe’sdealingwith—butyoudo.Tellhim.Tellhimwhatshe’scapa—”

“Shutup,loverboy,”Bengrowled.Hetuggedonmyshirt.“Let’sroll.”

“She’snoteveninthereanymore—Iguaranteeyou,”Evansaid,raisinghisvoice.

“What?Shejumpedtwostories?”Benlaughed.“That’sgreat.I’llpopherbroken-leggedasswhenIgetdownthere.”

“Sheprobablyhasjumped—butshedidn’tbreakanything.Graceislikeme.”Evanwastalkingtobothofusbutlookingdesperatelyatme.“Likeme,Cassie.”

“Butyou’rehuman—Imean,yourbodyis,”Bensaid.“Andnohumanbodycould—”

“Herbodycould.Notmineanymore.Minehas...crashed.”

“Yougettingallthis?”Benaskedme.“Becausetome,thissoundslikemoreofMr.E.T.’sbullshit.”

“Whatdoyousuggestwedo,Evan?”Iasked.Despitethemightytastybloodinmymouth,theragewasdrainingoutofme,replacedbytheveryuncomfortableand,bynow,veryfamiliarfeelingofbeinginfivethousandfathomsovermyhead.

“Getout.Now.Itisn’tyoushewants.”

“Sacrificialgoat,”Bensaidwithanastysmile.“Ilikeit.”

“She’lljustletuswalkaway,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.Mysenseofdrowningwasgrowingmoreacute.CouldBenberight?WhatwasIthinking,trustingEvanWalkerwithmylifeandthelifeofmybrother?Somethingwasoffhere.Somethingwaswrong.“Justlikethat.”

“Idon’tknow,”Evananswered,whichwasapointinhisfavor.Hecouldhavesaid,Sure,she’sanokaypersononceyougetpastheritsy-bitsysadismproblem.“ButIdoknowwhatwillhappenifyoustay.”

“Goodenoughforme,”Benannounced.Hebackedintotheroom.“Changeofplans,boys.I’llhandlePoundcake.Dumbo,youtakeMegan.Sullivan’sgotherbrother.Dropyourtrunkandgrabyourjunk,

we’regoin’toaparty!”

“Cassie.”Evanscootedbesideme.Heturnedmyfacetowardhis,ranhisthumbovermybloodycheek.“It’stheonlyway.”

“I’mnotleavingyou,Evan.AndI’mnotlettingyouleaveme.Notagain.”

“AndSam?Youmadeapromisetohim,too.Youcan’tkeepboth.Graceismyproblem.She...shebelongstome.NotthewaythatSambelongstoyou;Idon’tmeanthat...”

“Really?I’msurprised,Evan.You’reusuallysoclearabouteverything.”

Isatup,tookadeepbreath,andslappedhisbeautifulface.Icouldhaveshothimbutdecidedtolethimoffeasy.

Andthat’swhenweheardit,liketheslapwasthesignalithadbeenwaitingfor:thesoundofanattackhelicopter,cominginfast.

47

THESPOTLIGHTHITNEXT:Brilliantbrightlightfloodedthehall,pouredintotheroom,flunghard-edgedshadowsagainstthewallsandfloor.Benracedoverandyankedmetomyfeet;IgrabbedEvan’sarmandtugged.Hepulledfree,shakinghishead.

“Justleaveagunwithme.”

“Yougotit,pal,”Bensaid,handingoverhissidearm.“Sullivan,getyourbrother.”

“What’sthematterwithyouguys?”Isaid.Icouldn’tbelieveit.“Wecan’trunnow.”

“What’syourplan?”Benshouted.Hehadtoshout.Theroarofthechoppersmasheddownanythingsofter—bytheangleoflightandthesound,directlyoverthehotelnow.

Evanwrappedhisfingersaroundthesplintereddoorjambandheavedhimselftohisfeet—ortohisfoot;hecouldn’tputanyweightontheotherone.Ishoutedinhisear,“Justtellmeonething,andforonceinyourten-thousand-year-oldlifebehonest.Youneverintendedtorigabombandescapewithus.

YouknewGracewascomingandyouwereplanningtoblowbothof—”

Atthatmoment,Sammybangedoutofhisroom,onehandlockedaroundMegan’swrist.Atsomepoint,thelittlegirlhadacquiredBear.Samsprobablygaveittoher—hewasalwayspassingthatbeartosomeoneinneed.“Cassie!”Hebarreledintome,hittingmehardinthegutwithhishead.Ihauledhimontomyhip,swayed,Jesus,he’sgettingheavy,andgrabbedMegan’shand.

Amaelstromoficywindroaredthroughthebrokenwindow,andIheardDumboscream,“They’re

landingontheroof!”

Iheardhimbecausehewaspracticallyclimbingintomybackpockettryingtogetintothehall.Benwasrightbehindhim,Poundcakeleaningagainsthisside,thebigkid’sarmdrapedaroundhisshoulder.

“Sullivan!”Benshouted.“Moveit!”

Evanlockedhisfingersaroundmyelbow.“Wait.”Helookedupattheceiling.Hislipsmovedsoundlessly,ormaybetherewassoundandIjustcouldn’thearit.

“Wait?”Ihollered.Thegeneralsenseofpanichadbecomequitespecific.“Waitforwhat?”

Eyesstillheavenward:“Grace.”

Abansheehowlroseoverthethrummingoftherotors,increasinginvolumeandpitchuntilitbecameanear-piercing,unearthlyscream.Thewholebuildingshook.Acrackraceddowntheceiling.Thehorriblehotelprintsintheircheapframestoppledfromthewalls.Thespotlightwinkedout,andasecondlater,theexplosion,andasuperheatedblastofairrumbledintotheroom.

“Shegotthepilot,”Evansaidwithanod.Hepulledme,Sams,andMeganintothehallandsaidoverhisshouldertoBen,“Nowyougo.”Thentome:“Thehouseonthemap.It’sGrace’snow,butitwon’tbeaftertonight.Don’tleaveit.There’sfoodandwaterandplentyofsuppliestolastthroughthewinter.”Speakingveryquicklynow,almostoutoftime—the5thWavemightnotbecoming,butGracewas.“You’llbesafethere,Cassie.Attheequinox...”

Ben,Dumbo,andPoundcakehadreachedthestairs.Benwasfranticallywavingatus,Comeon!

“Cassie!Areyoulistening?Attheequinox,themothershipwillsendapodtoextractGracefromthesafehouse...”

“Sullivan!Now!”Benbellowed.

“Ifyoucanfigureoutawaytorigit...”Hewaspressingsomethingintomystomach,butmyhandswerefull.Iwatchedwide-eyedasmylittlebrothersnatchedtheplasticbaggieholdingthebombfromEvan’shand.

ThenEvanWalkercuppedmyfaceinhishandsandkissedmehardonthemouth.

“Youcanendit,Cassie.You.Andthat’sthewayitshouldbe.Itshouldbeyou.You.”

Kissingmeagain,andmybloodmarkinghisface,histearsmarkingmine.

“Ican’tmakeanypromisesthistime,”hehurriedon.“Butyoucan.Promiseme,Cassie.Promisemeyou’llendit.”

Inodded.“I’llendit.”Andthepromiseasentencehandeddown,acelldoorslammingshut,astonearoundmynecktocarrymedowntothebottomofaninfinitesea.

48

IPAUSEDFORahalfsecondatthestairwaydoor,knowingImightbeseeinghimforthelasttimeor,moreaccurately,forthesecondlasttime.Thentheplungeintopitchdark,notunlikethefirstlasttime,andwhisperingtoMegantowatchoutforratguts,andthenintothelobby,wheretheboyswhobroughtmetothispartyhungbythefrontdoors,theirbodiessilhouettedintheduskyorangeglowoftheburningchopper.Fleeingthroughthemainentrancewasabrilliantlycounterintuitivemove,Ithought.GraceprobablyassumedwewerebarricadedinaroomupstairsandwouldMatrix-hopherwayupawalltothebusted-outwindowontheothersideofthebuilding.

“Cassie,”Samsaidinmyear.“Yournoseisreallybig.”

“That’sbecauseit’sbroken.”Likemyheart,kid.It’saset.

PoundcakewasnolongerleaningagainstBenwithhisarmaroundhisneck.HiswholebigbodywasdrapedoverBen’sinafireman’scarry.AndBendidnotlooklikehewasenjoyingit.

“Thatisn’tgoingtowork,youknow,”Iinformedhim.“Youwon’tgetahundredyards.”

Benignoredme.“Bo,you’vegotMeganduty.Sam,you’regonnahavetoclimbdown;yoursister’stakingthepoint.I’vegottherear.”

“Ineedagun!”Sammysaid.

Benignoredhim,too.“Stages.StageOne:theoverpass.StageTwo:thetreesontheothersideoftheoverpass.StageThree—”

“East,”Isaid.IsetSammyonthegroundandpulledthecrumpledmapfrommypocket.BenwaslookingatmelikeI’dlostmymind.“We’regoinghere.”PointingatthetinysquarerepresentingGrace’ssafehouse.

“Noooo,Sullivan.We’regoingtothecavernstomeetupwithRingerandTeacup.”

“Idon’tcarewherewego,aslongasit’snotDubuque!”Dumbocried.

Benshookhishead.“You’rekillingit,Dumbo.Justkillingit.Okay,herewego.”

Wewent.Alightsnowwasfalling,thetinycrystalsignitedintheorangelightspinning,andyoucouldsmelltheoilystenchofthefuelburningandfeeltheheatpressingdownonyourhead,andItooktheleadasBensuggested—well,ordered—SammyhangingontoabeltloopandDumborightbehindwithMegan,whohadn’tspokenaword,andwhocouldblameher?Shewasinshock,probably.

Halfwayacrosstheparkinglot,nearingthestripofdirtthatseparateditfromtheinterstateon-ramp,IglancedbehindmeintimetoseeBengodownundertheweightofhisburden.IslungSammytowardDumboandskiddedacrosstheslickpavementtoBen.Ontheroofofthehotel,IcouldseethemangledmetalremainsoftheBlackHawk.

“Itoldyouthiswouldn’twork!”Iwhisper-yelledathim.

“I’mnotleavinghim...”Benwasonallfours,gasping,retching.Hislipsshonecrimsoninthefirelight;hewascoughingupblood.

ThenDumbowasstandingbesideme.“Sarge.Hey,Sarge...?”

SomethinginDumbo’svoicegrabbedhisattention.HelookedupatDumbo,whoshookhisheadslowly:He’snotgoingtomakeit.

AndBenParishslammedhisopenhandontothefrozenground,archinghisbackandyelling

incoherently,andI’mthinking,OhGod,ohGod,notthetimeforanexistentialcrisis.We’redoneifhelosesit.Wearesodone.

IkneltbesideBen.Hisfacewascontortedbypainandfearandrage,theangerrootedintheunchangeable,ever-presentpast,wherehissistercriedforhimandhestillabandonedhertodeath.Heabandonedherbutshewouldnotabandonhim.Shewouldalwaysbewithhim.Shewouldbewithhimuntilhetookhislastbreath.Shewaswithhimnow,bleedingoutafootaway,andtherewasnothinghecoulddotosaveher.

“Ben,”Isaid,runningmyfingersoverthebackofhishead.Hishairshimmered,dottedincrystallinesnow.“It’sover.”

Ashadowflittedpastus,racingtowardthehotel.Ijumpedupandtookoffafterit,becausetheshadowwasattachedtomybabybrotherandhewashaulingasstowardthefrontdoors.Icaughthimandyankedhimofftheground,andhecommencedkickingandsquirmingandgenerallygoingberserk,andIwassureDumbowasgoingtopopnext,andthreelunaticsweretoomanyforanypersontomanage.

Iwasworriedfornothing,though.DumbohadBenonhisfeetandMeganbythehand,urgingbothtowardtheroad,havinganeasiertimeofitthanIwaswithSammyhookedundermyarmfacedown,armsandlegsflailing,yelling,“Wegottagoback,Cassie!Wegottagoback!”

Acrosstheon-ramp,downthesteephilltotheoverpass,StageOnecomplete,andthenIdepositedSammyonthegroundandwhackedhimhardonthebuttandtoldhimtoknockitofforhe’dgetusallkilled.

“What’sthematterwithyou,anyway?”Iasked.

“Iwastryingtotellyou!”hesobbed.“Butyouwouldn’tlisten.Youneverlisten!Idroppedit!”

“Youdropped—?”

“Thebag,Cassie.Runningout,I...Idroppedit!”

IlookedoveratBen.Hunchedover,headdown,forearmsrestingonhisupraisedknees.IlookedatDumbo.Slump-shouldered,wide-eyed,handholdingMegan’s.

“Ihaveabadfeelingaboutthis,”hewhispered.

Theworldwentbreathless.Eventhesnowseemedtohangsuspendedintheair.

Thehotelblewapartinablindingfireballofneongreen.Thegroundshuddered.Airrushedintothevacuum,knockingthefourofusoffourfeet.Thenthedebrisroaringtowardus,andIthrewmyselfoverSammy.Awaveofconcrete,glass,wood,andmetalparticles(and—yes—bitsofBen’seffingrats)nolargerthangrainsofsandbarreleddownthehill,agrayboilingmassthatengulfedus.

WelcometoDubuque.

49

HEDIDN’TLIKEbeingaroundthesmallestkidsatthecamp.Theyremindedhimofhisbabybrother,theonehelost.Theonethatwastherethemorninghewentoutlookingforfoodandwasn’ttherewhenhereturned.Theoneheneverfound.Atcamp,whenhewasn’ttrainingoreatingorsleepingorwashingdownthebarracksorshininghisbootsorcleaninghisrifleorpullingKPdutyorworkingintheP&D

hangar,hewasvolunteeringinthechildren’shousingorworkingthebusesastheycamein.Hedidn’tlikebeingaroundthelittlekids,buthediditanyway.Heneverlosthopethatonedayhe’dfindhisbabybrother.Thatonedayhewouldwalkintothereceivinghangarandfindhimsittinginoneofthebigredcirclespaintedonthefloor,orseehimswingingfromtheoldtirehungfromthetreeinthemakeshiftplaygroundnexttotheparadegrounds.

Butheneverfoundhim.

Atthehotel,whenhediscoveredtheenemywasplantingbombsinchildren,hewonderedifthat’swhathappenedtohisbrother.Iftheyfoundhimandtookhimandmadehimswallowthegreencapsuleandsenthimoutagaintobefoundbysomeoneelse.Probablynot.Mostchildrenweredead.Onlyahandfulweresavedandbroughttothecamp.Hisbrotherprobablydidn’tlivemanydayspastthedayhedisappeared.

Buthecouldhavebeentaken.Hecouldhavebeenforcedtoswallowthegreencapsule.Hecouldhavebeenthrownbackoutintotheworldandlefttowanderuntilhestumbledontoagroupofsurvivorswhowouldtakehiminandfeedhimandfilltheroomwiththeirbreath.Itcouldhavehappenedthatway.

What’sbotheringyou?Zombiewantedtoknow.TheyhadgoneacrosstheparkinglottofindaCO2

canisterintheolddiner.Zombiehadgivenuptalkingtohimunlesshewasgivinganorder,andhe’dgivenuptryingtogethimtotalk.Whenheaskedthequestion,Zombiereallydidn’texpectananswer.

Icanalwaystellwhensomething’sbotheringyou.Yougetlikethisconstipatedlook.Likeyou’retryingtocrapabrick.

Thecanisterwasn’tthatheavy,butZombiewashurtandtookthepointonthewayback.Zombiewasnervous,jumpingateveryshadow.Hekeptsayingtherewassomethingwrong.SomethingwrongaboutthisEvanWalkerandsomethingwrongaboutthesituationingeneral.Zombiethoughttheywerebeingtricked.

Backinthehotel,ZombiesentDumboupstairstogetEvan.ThentheywaitedinsidetheelevatorforEvantocomedown.

See,Cake,thisgoesbacktomypoint,rightbacktoit.EMPsandtsunamisandplaguesandaliensindisguiseandbrainwashedkidsandnowkidswithbombsinsidethem.Whyaretheymakingthissodamncomplicated?It’sliketheywantafight.Orwantthefighttobeinteresting.Hey.Maybethat’sit.

Maybeyoureachacertainpointinevolutionwhereboredomisthegreatestthreattoyoursurvival.

Maybethisisn’taplanetarytakeoveratall,butagame.Likeakidpullingwingsoffflies.

Astheminutespassed,Zombiegotmorenervous.

Whatnow?Wherethehellishe?OhChrist,youdon’tthink...?Bettergetupthere,Poundcake.

Throwhisassoveryourshoulderandcarryhimdownhereifyouhaveto.

Halfwayupthestairs,heheardaheavythumpoverhishead,thenasecond,softerthump,andthenheheardsomeonescream.HegottothedoorintimetoseeCassie’sbodyflypastandhitthefloor.Hefollowedhertrajectorybackwardandsawthetallgirlstandingbesidetheroomwiththebusteddoor.

Andhedidn’thesitate,heburstintothehallandheknewthetallgirlwouldnotsurvive.Hewasagoodshot,thebestinhissquaduntilRingercame,andheknewthathewouldnotmiss.

ExceptCassietackledhimandthetallgirlslippedfromhissights.HewouldhavekilledherifCassiehadn’tdonethat.Hewassureofit.

Thenthetallgirlshothimthroughthewall.

Dumbotoreopenhisshirtandpressedawadded-upsheetintothewound.Hetoldhimthatitwasn’tbad,thathewasgoingtomakeit,butheknewhewasn’t.He’dbeenaroundtoomuchdeath.Heknewwhatitsmelledlike,tastedlike,feltlike.Hecarrieddeathinsidehiminthememoriesofhismotherandtheten-footpyresandthebonesalongtheroadandtheconveyorbeltcarryinghundredsintothefurnaceofthepowerplantatcamp,thedeadburnedtolighttheirbarracksandheattheirwaterandkeepthemwarm.Dyingdidn’tbotherhim.Dyingwithoutknowingwhathappenedtohisbrotherbotheredhim.

Dying,hewastakendownstairs.Dying,hewasthrownoverZombie’sshoulders.AndthenintheparkinglotZombiefellandtheothersgatheredaroundandZombiepoundedthefrozenpavementuntiltheskinonhispalmsburstopen.

Theylefthimafterthat.Hewasn’tangry.Heunderstood.Hewasdying.

Andthenhegotup.

Notatfirst.Atfirst,hecrawled.

Thetallgirlwasstandinginthelobbywhenhedraggedhimselfinside.Shewasbesidethedoorthatopenedtothestairs,holdingapistolinbothhands,bowingherheadasifshewerelisteningforsomething.

That’swhenhestoodup.

Thetallgirlstiffened.Sheturned.Sheraisedthegunandthenshelowereditwhenshesawhewasdying.Shesmiledandsaidhello.Shewaswatchinghimbesidethefrontdoorsandcouldn’tseetheelevatororEvandroppingdownintoitfromtheescapehatch.Evansawhimandfroze,likehedidn’tknowwhattodo.

Iknowyou.Thetallgirlwaswalkingtowardhim.Ifsheturnednow,ifsheglancedbehindher,shewould

seeEvan,sohedrewhissidearmtodistracther,butthegunslippedfromhishandandlandedonthefloor.Hehadlostalotofblood.Hisbloodpressurewasdropping.Hisheartcouldn’tpumphardenoughandhewaslosingfeelinginhishandsandfeet.

Hedroppedtohiskneesandreachedforthegun.Sheshothiminthehand.Hefellontohisbutt,jammingthewoundedhandintohispocketasifthatmightprotectit.

Gosh,you’reabig,strongboy,aren’tyou?Howoldareyou?

Shewaitedforhimtoanswer.

What’sthematter?Catgotyourtongue?

Sheshothimintheleg.Thenshewaitedforhimtoscreamorcryorsaysomething.Whenhedidn’t,sheshothimintheotherleg.

Behindher,Evandroppedtohisstomachandstartedtocrawltowardthem.HeshookhisheadatEvan,gulpingair.Hefeltnumballover.Therewasnopain,butagraycurtainhaddrawndownoverhiseyes.

Thetallgirlcamecloser.ShewasnowhalfwaybetweenhimandEvan.Sheaimedthegunatthemiddleofhisforehead.

SaysomethingorIwillblowyourbrainsout.Where’sEvan?

Shestartedtoturn.ShemighthaveheardEvancrawlingtowardher.Sohestoodupforthenexttolasttimetodistracther.Hedidn’tstandupfast.Ittookoveraminute,bootsslippingonthetilewet

frommeltedsnow,risingup,floppingbackdown,thefactthathekepthishandinhispocketmakingittwiceashard.Thetallgirlsmiledandchuckled,smirkingthewaythekidsdidatschool.Hewasfat.Hewasclumsy.Hewasstupid.Hewaspiglard.Whenhefinallygottohisfeet,sheshothimagain.

Pleasehurryup.I’mwastingammo.

Theplasticofthecakewrapperhadbeenstiffandcrinklyandalwaysmadeanoisewhenheplayedwithitinhispocket.That’showhismomknewhehaditthedayhisbrotherdisappeared.That’showthesoldiersonthebusknew,too.AndthedrillsergeantcalledhimPoundcakebecausehelovedthestoryofthefatkidcomingintocampwithjusttheclothesonhisbackandawrapperfullofstalecakecrumbsinhispocket.

Theplasticsandwichbagthathefoundjustoutsidethehoteldoorsdidn’tcrinkle.Itwasmuchsofter.

Therewasnonoisewhenhepulleditfromhispocket.Thebagslidoutsilently,assilentashehadbeenafterhewastoldtoshutup,shutup,shutUP.

Thetallgirl’ssmilewentaway.

AndPoundcakestartedmovingagain.Nottowardherandnottowardtheelevator,buttowardthesidedoorattheendofthehall.

Hey,whathaveyougotthere,bigfella?Huh?Whatisthat?I’mguessingitisn’taTylenol.

Thetallgirl’ssmilecameback.Adifferentkindofsmile,though.Anicesmile.Shewasveryprettywhenshesmiledlikethat.Shewasprobablytheprettiestgirlhehadeverseen.

You’vegottobeverycarefulwiththat.Doyouunderstand?Hey.Hey,youknowwhat?I’llmakeadealwithyou.I’llputmygundownifyouputthatdown,okay?How’sthatsound?

Andthenshedid.Shelaidhergunonthefloor.Shetooktherifleoffhershoulderandlaidthatdown,too.Thensheheldupherhands.

Icanhelpyou.PutthatdownandI’llhelpyou.Youdon’thavetodie.Iknowhowtofixyou.I’m—

I’mnotlikeyou.I’mdefinitelynotasbraveandstrongasyou,that’sforsure.Ican’tbelieveyou’restillstandinglikethat.

Shewasgoingtowait.Shewouldwaituntilhepassedoutorfelloverdead.Allshehadtodowaskeeptalkingandsmilingandpretendingshelikedhim.

Heunzippedthebag.

Thetallgirlwasn’tsmilingnow.Shewasrunningtowardhim,fasterthanhe’dseenanyoneruninhislife.Thegrayveilshimmeredasshecameon.Whenshewasclose,herfeetleftthegroundandshejavelinedintothespotwherethefirstbullethithim,hurlinghimbackwardandsmashinghimintothemetaldoorframe.Thebaggieflewfromhisnumbfingersandslidlikeahockeypuckacrossthetile.

Thegrayveilturnedblackforasecond.Thetallgirlpivotedasgracefullyasaballerinatowardthebag.

Hehookedheranklewithhislegandsenthersprawling.

Shewastooquickandhewastoohurt.She’dgettherebeforehim.Sohepickedupthegunthathehaddroppedandshotherintheback.

Thenhegotupforthelasttime.Hetossedthegunaway.Hesteppedoverherwrithingbody,andthat’sasfarashegotbeforefallingforthelasttime.

Hecrawledtowardthebag.Shecrawledafterhim.Shecouldn’tstandup.Thebullethadshatteredherspinalcord.Shewasparalyzedfromthewaistdown.Butshewasstrongerthanhimandhadn’tlostasmuchblood.

Hescoopedtheplasticbagfromthefloor.Herhandfellonhisarmandyankedhimtowardherasifheweighednothingatall.Shewouldfinishhimwithasinglepunchtohisdyingheart.

Butallhehadtodowasbreathe.

Heslappedtheopeningofthebagoverhismouth.

Andbreathed.

BOOKTWO

50

I’MSITTINGALONEinawindowlessclassroom.Bluecarpet,whitewalls,longwhitetables.Whitecomputermonitorswithwhitekeyboards.I’mwearingthewhitejumpsuitofnewrecruits.Differentcamp,samedrill,downtotheimplantinmyneckandatriptoWonderland.I’mstillpayingforthattrip.

Youdon’tfeelemptyaftertheydrainyourmemories.You’resoreashellallover.Musclesretainmemory,too.That’swhytheyhavetostrapyoudownfortheride.

ThedooropensandCommanderAlexanderVoschstepsintotheroom.Hecarriesawoodenboxthathesetsdownonthetableinfrontofme.

“You’relookingwell,Marika,”hesays.“MuchbetterthanIexpected.”

“MynameisRinger.”

Henods.HeunderstandsexactlywhatImean.MorethanonceI’vewonderediftheinformationgatheredbyWonderlandflowsbothways.Ifyoucandownloadhumanexperience,whycouldn’tyouuploadit?It’spossiblethepersonwhoissmilingatmenowcontainsthememoriesofeverysinglehumanbeingwho’sbeenthroughtheprogram.Hemaynotbehuman—andIhavemydoubtsaboutthat

—buthemayalsobethesumofallhumanswhohavepassedthroughWonderland’sgates.

“Yes.Marikaisdead.”Hesitsdownacrossfromme.“Andnowhereyouare,risingphoenixlikefromherashes.”

HeknowswhatI’mgoingtosay.Icantellbythetwinklinginhisbaby-blueeyes.Whycan’thejusttellme?WhydoIhavetoask?

“IsTeacupalive?”

“Whichanswerareyoumorelikelytotrust?Yesorno?”

Thinkbeforeyourespond.Chessteachesthat.“No.”

“Why?”

“Yescouldbealietomanipulateme.”

He’snoddingappreciatively.“Togiveyoufalsehope.”

“Togainleverage.”

Hecockedhisheadandlookeddownhisnarrownoseatme.“Whywouldsomeonelikemeneedleverageoversomeonelikeyou?”

“Idon’tknow.Theremustbesomethingyouwant.”

“Otherwise...?”

“OtherwiseI’dbedead.”

Hedoesn’tsayanythingforalongmoment.Hisstarepiercesdowntomybones.Hegesturesatthewoodenbox.

“Ibroughtyousomething.Openit.”

Ilookatthebox.Lookbackathim.“I’mnotgoingtodoit.”

“It’sjustabox.”

“Whateveryouwantmetodo,Iwon’t.You’rewastingyourtime.”

“Andtimeistheonlycurrencywehaveleft,isn’tit?Time—andpromises.”Tappingthelidofthebox.“Ispentagreatdealofthatfirstpreciouscommoditytofindoneofthese.”Henudgesthebox

towardme.“Openit.”

Iopenit.Hegoeson.“Benwouldn’tplaywithyou.OrlittleAllison—ImeanTeacup;Allisonisdead,too.Youhaven’tplayedagameofchesssinceyourfatherdied.”

Ishakemyhead.Notinanswertohisquestion.IshakemyheadbecauseIdon’tgetit.Thechiefarchitectofthegenocidewantstoplaychesswithme?

I’mshiveringinthepaper-thinjumpsuit.Theroomisverycold.Smiling,Voschiswatchingme.No.

Notjustwatching.Thisisn’tlikeWonderland.Itisn’tjustyourmemoriesheknows.Heknowswhatyou’rethinking,too.Wonderlandisadevice.Itrecords,butVoschreads.

“They’regone,”Iblurtout.“They’renotatthehotel.Andyoudon’tknowwheretheyare.”Thathastobeit.Icanthinkofnootherreasonwhyhehasn’tkilledme.

Acrappyreason,though.Inthisweatherandwithhisresources,howhardcoulditbetofindthem?Iclampmycoldhandsbetweenmykneesandforcemyselftobreatheslowlyanddeeply.

Heopensthelid,removestheboard,andtakesoutthewhitequeen.“White?Youpreferwhite.”

Long,nimblefingerssetuptheboard.Thefingersofamusician,asculptor,apainter.Herestshiselbowsonthetableandlacesthosefingerstomakeashelfforhischin,likemyfatherdideverytimeheplayed.

“Whatdoyouwant?”Iask.

Heraisesaneyebrow.“Iwanttoplayagameofchess.”

Staringatmesilently.Fivesecondsbecomesten.Tenbecomestwenty.Afterthirtyseconds,aneternity

haspassed.IthinkIknowwhathe’sdoing:playingagamewithinagame.Ijustdon’tunderstandwhy.

IopenwiththeRuyLopez.Notthemostoriginalopeninginthehistoryofthegame;I’malittlestressed.Asweplay,hehumssoftly,tunelessly,andnowIknowhe’sdeliberatelymockingmyfather.

Mystomachrollswithrevulsion.TosurviveIbuiltwalls,anemotionalfortressthatprotectedmeandkeptmesaneinaworldgonedangerouslyinsane,buteventhemostopenpersonhasaprivate,sacredplacewherenooneelsemaygo.

Iunderstandthegamewithinthegamenow:Thereisnothingprivate,nothingsacred.Thereisnopartofmehiddenfromhim.Mystomachchurnswithrevulsion.He’sviolatedmorethanmymemories.He’smolestingmysoul.

Themouseandkeyboardtomyrightarewireless.Butthemonitorbesidehimisn’t.Alungeacrossthetable,awallopupsidehishead,andawrapofthecordaroundhisneck.Executedinfourseconds,overinfourminutes.Unlesswe’rebeingwatched,andweprobablyare.Voschwilllive,TeacupandIwilldie.AndevenifImanagetotakehimoutfirst,thevictorywillbePyrrhic,assumingEvanWalker’sclaimistrue.Atthehotel,IpointedthisouttoSullivanwhenshesaidEvanhadsacrificedhimselftoblowupthebase:Iftheycandownloadthemselvesintohumanbodies,theycanalsomakecopiesofthemselves.Thesetof“Evans”and“Voschs”wouldbeinfinite.Evancouldkillhimself.IcouldkillVosch.Wouldn’tmatter.Bydefinition,theentitiesinsidethemareimmortal.

YouneedtopaycloseattentiontowhatI’mtellingyou,Sullivansaidwithexaggeratedpatience.

There’sahumanEvanwhomergedwiththealienconsciousness.He’snotoneortheother;he’sboth.Sohecandie.

Nottheimportantpart.

Right,shesnapped.Justtheinsignificanthumanpart.

Voschisleaningovertheboard.Hisbreathsmellslikeapples.Ipressmyhandsintomylap.Heraisesaneyebrow.Problem?

“I’mgoingtolose,”Itellhim.

Hefeignssurprise.“Whatmakesyouthinkso?”

“YouknowmymovesbeforeImakethem.”

“You’rereferringtotheWonderlandprogram.Butyou’reforgettingthatwearemorethanthesumofourexperiences.Humanbeingscanbemarvelouslyunpredictable.YourrescueofBenParishduringthefallofCampHaven,forexample,defiedlogicandignoredthefirstprerogativeofalllivingthings:tocontinueliving.Oryourdecisionyesterdaytogiveyourselfupwhenyourealizedcapturewasthelittlegirl’sonlychancetosurvive.”

“Didshe?”

“Youalreadyknowtheanswertothatquestion.”Impatiently,likeaharshteachertoapromisingstudent.

Hegesturesattheboard:Play.

IwrapahandaroundmyfistandsqueezeashardasIcan.Imaginingmyfistishisneck.Fourminutestochokethelifeoutofhim.Justfourminutes.

“Teacup’salive,”Itellhim.“Youknowthethreattofrymybrainwon’tmakemedowhatyouwantmetodo.ButyouknowI’lldoitforher.”

“Youbelongtoeachothernow,yes?Connectedasifbyasilvercord?”Smiling.“Anyway,besidestheseriousinjuriesfromwhichshemaynotrecover,you’vegivenherthepricelessgiftoftime.ThereisasayinginLatin.Vincitquipatitur.Doyouknowwhatitmeans?”

I’mbeyondcold.I’vereachedabsolutezero.“YouknowIdon’t.”

“‘Heconquerswhoendures.’RememberpoorTeacup’srats.Whatcantheyteachus?Itoldyouwhenyoufirstcametome;itisn’tsomuchaboutcrushingyourcapacitytofightasitisyourwilltofight.”

Theratsagain.“Ahopelessratisadeadrat.”

“Ratsdonotknowhope.Orfaith.Orlove.Youwererightaboutthosethings,PrivateRinger.Theywillnotdeliverhumanitythroughthestorm.Youwerewrong,however,aboutrage.Rageisn’ttheanswer,either.”

“What’stheanswer?”Idon’twanttoask,don’twanttogivehimthesatisfaction,butIcan’thelpit.

“You’reclosetoit,”hesays.“Ithinkyoumightbesurprisedhowcloseyouare.”

“Closetowhat?”Myvoicesoundsassmallasarat’s.

Heshakeshishead,impatientagain.“Play.”

“It’spointless.”

“AworldinwhichchessdoesnotmatterisnotaworldinwhichIwishtolive.”

“Stopdoingthat.Stopmockingmyfather.”

“Yourfatherwasagoodmaninthralltoaterribledisease.Youshouldn’tjudgehimharshly.Noryourselfforabandoninghim.”

Pleasedon’tgo.Don’tleaveme,Marika.

Long,nimblefingersclawingatmyshirt,thefingersofanartist.Facesculptedbythemercilessknifeofhunger,theinfuriatedartistwiththehelplessclay,andredeyesrimmedinblack.

I’llcomeback.Ipromise.You’regoingtodiewithoutit.Ipromise.I’llcomeback.

Voschissmilingsoullessly,ashark’ssmileoraskull’ssneer,andifrageisnottheanswer,whatis?

I’msqueezingmyfisthardenoughtoforcemynailsintomypalm.Here’showEvandescribedit,Sullivansaid,wrappingherfistinherhand.ThisisEvan.Thisisthebeinginside.Myhandistherage,butwhatismyfist?Whatisthethingwrappedupinrage?

“Onemovefrommate,”Voschsayssoftly.“Whywon’tyoumakeit?”

Mylipsbarelymove.“Idon’tliketolose.”

Hepullsasilverdevicethesizeofacellphonefromhisbreastpocket.I’veseenonebefore.Iknowwhatitdoes.Theskinaroundthetinypatchofadhesivesealingtheinsertionpointonmyneckbeginstoitch.

“We’realittlebeyondthatstage,”hesays.

Bloodinsidethefistthat’swithinthehandclenchingthefist.“Pushthebutton.Idon’tgiveashit.”

Henodsapprovingly.“Nowyou’reveryclosetotheanswer.Butitisnotyourimplantlinkedtothis

transmitter.Doyoustillwantmetopushit?”

Teacup.Ilookdownattheboard.Onemovefrommate.Thematchwasoverbeforeitbegan.Whenthegameisfixed,howdoyouavoidlosing?

Aseven-year-oldknewtheanswertothatquestion.Islidemyhandbeneaththeboardandhurlittowardhishead.Iguessthat’scheckmate,bitch!

Heseesitcomingandduckseasilyoutoftheway.Piecesclatteronthetable,rolllazilyonthetabletopbeforefallingofftheedge.Heshouldn’thavetoldmethatthedeviceislinkedtoTeacup:Ifhepushesthebutton,heloseshisleverageoverme.

Voschpushesthebutton.

51

MYREACTIONISmonthsinthemaking.Andinstantaneous.

Ileapacrossthetable,drivemykneehardintohischest,andknockhimstraightbackontothefloor.Ilandontopofhimandsmashtheheelofmybloodyhandintohisaristocraticnose,rotatingmyshouldersintotheblowtomaximizetheimpact,textbookperfect,justlikemytrainersatCampHaventaughtme.Drillafterdrillafterdrilluntilthere’snoneedtothink:Musclesretainmemory,too.Hisnosebreakswithasatisfyingcrunch.Thisisthepoint,theinstructorstoldme,whenawisesoldierwithdraws.Hand-to-handisunpredictableandeverysecondyouremainengagedincreasestherisk.

GettingofftheXwastheexpression.Vincitquipatitur.

Butthere’snogettingoffthisparticularX.Theclock’sdowntothefinaltick;I’moutoftime.Thedoorfliesopenandsoldierspourintotheroom.I’mtakendownquickandhard,yankedoffVoschandthrown

face-firstontothefloor,ashinpressedagainstmyneck.Ismellblood.Notmine,his.

“Youdisappointme,”hewhispersinmyear.“Itoldyouragewasn’ttheanswer.”

Theypullmetomyfeet.ThelowerhalfofVosch’sfaceiscoveredinblood.Itsmearshischeekslikewarpaint.Hiseyesarealreadyswelling,givinghimaweird,piglikeappearance.

Heturnstothesquadleaderstandingbesidehim,aslender,fair-skinnedrecruitwithblondhairandsoulfuldarkeyes.

“Prepher.”

52

HALLWAY:LOWCEILINGS,flickeringfluorescents,cinder-blockwalls.Thepressofbodiesaroundme,oneinfront,onebehind,twooneithersideholdingmyarms.Thesqueakofrubber-soledshoesagainstthegrayconcretefloorandthefaintodorofsweatandthebittersweetsmellofrecycledair.Stairwell:metalrailspaintedgraylikethefloors,cobwebsflutteringincorners,dustyyellowlightbulbsinwirecages,descendingintowarmer,mustierair.Anotherhall:unmarkeddoorsandlargeredstripesrunningdowneachgraywallandsignsthatreadNOACCESSandAUTHORIZEDPERSONNELONLY.Room:small,windowless.Cabinetsononewall,ahospitalbedinthemiddle,vitalsignsmonitorbesideit,screendark.Oneithersideofthebed,twopeoplewearingwhitecoats.Amiddle-agedman,ayoungerwoman,forcingsmiles.

Thedoorclangsshut.I’malonewiththeWhiteCoats,exceptfortheblondrecruitstandingatthedoorbehindme.

“Easyorhard,”themaninthewhitecoatsays.“Yourchoice.”

“Hard,”Isay.Iwhiparoundanddroptherecruitwithapunchtothethroat.Hissidearmclattersontothetile.IscoopitupandturnbacktotheWhiteCoats.

“There’snoescape,”themansayscalmly.“Youknowthat.”

Idoknowthat.Butescapingisn’tthereasonIneedthegun.Notescapinginthesensehemeansit.

I’mnottakinghostagesandI’mnotkillinganyone.Killinghumanbeingsistheenemy’sgoal.Behindme,thekidwrithesonthefloor,makinghiccupping,gurglingsounds.Imayhavefracturedhislarynx.

Iglanceupatthecameramountedinthefarcorneroftheroom.Ishewatching?ThankstoWonderland,heknowsmebetterthananyoneonEarth.HemustknowwhyItookthegun:

I’mmated.Andit’stoolatetoresignthegame.

Ipressthecoldmuzzleagainstmytemple.Thewoman’smouthcomesopen.Shetakesasteptowardme.

“Marika.”Kindeyes.Softvoice.“She’salivebecauseyouare.Ifyouaren’t,shewon’tbe.”

Itclicksthen.Hetoldmerageisn’ttheanswer,andrageistheonlyexplanationforhimhittingthekillswitchwhenIupendedtheboard.That’swhatIthoughtwhenithappened.Itneveroccurredtomethathemightbebluffing.

Anditshouldhave.There’snowayhe’dgiveuphisleverage.Whydidn’tIseethat?I’mtheoneblindedbyrage,nothim.

I’mdizzy;theroomwon’tstaystill.Bluffsinsidebluffs,feintswithincounterfeints.I’minagameinwhichIdon’tknowtherulesoreventheobject.TeacupisalivebecauseIam.I’malivebecausesheis.

“Takemetoher,”Isaytothewoman.Iwantproofthatthatonefundamentalassumptionistrue.

“Notgoingtohappen,”themansays.“Sonowwhat?”

Goodquestion.Buttheissuehastobepressedandpressedhard,ashardasIpressthegunagainstmytemple.“TakemetoherorIsweartoGodI’lldoit.”

“Youcan’t,”theyoungwomansays.Softvoice.Kindeyes.Handoutstretched.

She’sright.Ican’t.Itcouldbealie;Teacupcouldbedead.Butachanceremainsthatshe’salive,andifI’mgone,there’snoreasontokeepherthatway.Theriskisunacceptable.

Thisisthebind.Thisisthetrap.Thisiswheretheroadofimpossiblepromisesdead-ends.Thisistheonlypossibleoutcomeoftheantiquatedbeliefthattheinsignificantlifeofaseven-year-oldkidstillmatters.

I’msorry,Teacup.Ishouldhavefinishedthisbackinthewoods.

Ilowerthegun.

53

THEMONITORFLICKERSon.Pulse,bloodpressure,breathing,temperature.ThekidItookdownisbackup,leaningagainstthedoor,onehandmassaginghisthroat,theotherholdingthegun.Heglowersatmelyingonthebed.

“Somethingtohelpyourelax,”thewomanwiththesoftvoiceandkindeyesmurmurs.“Alittlestick.”

Thebiteoftheneedle.Thewallsdisappearintocolorlessnothing.Athousandyearspass.Iamgroundtodustbeneaththeheeloftime.Theirvoiceslumber,theirfacesexpand.Thethinfoambeneathmedissolves.Iamfloatingonanunboundedoceanofwhite.

Adisembodiedvoiceemergesfromthefog.“Andnowlet’sreturntotheproblemofrats,shallwe?”

Vosch.Idon’tseehim.Hisvoicehasnosource.Itoriginatesfromeverywhereandnowhere,asifhe’sinsideme.

“You’velostyourhome.Andthelovelyone—theonlyone—thatyou’vefoundtoreplaceitisinfestedwithvermin.Whatcanyoudo?Whatareyourchoices?Resignyourselftolivepeaceablywiththedestructivepestsorexterminatethembeforetheycandestroyyournewhome?Doyousaytoyourself,‘Ratsaredisgustingcreatures,butneverthelesstheyarelivingthingswiththesamerightsasme’?Ordoyousay,‘Weareincompatible,theseratsandI.IfIamtolivehere,theseverminmustdie’?”

Fromathousandmilesaway,Ihearthemonitorbeeping,markingthebeatofmyheart.Theseaundulates.Iriseandfallwitheachrollofthesurface.

“Butitisn’treallyabouttherats.”Hisvoicepounds,dense,thickasthunder.“Itneverwas.Thenecessityofexterminatingthemisagiven.It’sthemethodthattroublesyou.Therealissue,thefundamentalproblem,isrocks.”

Thewhitecurtainpeelsaway.I’mstillfloating,butnowI’mfarabovetheEarthinablackvoidawashwithstars,andthesunkissingthehorizonpaintstheplanet’ssurfacebeneathmeashimmeringgold.Themonitorbeepsfrantically,andavoicesays,“Oh,crap,”andthenVosch’s:“Breathe,Marika.

You’reperfectlysafe.”

Perfectlysafe.Sothat’swhytheysedatedme.Iftheyhadn’t,myheartprobablywouldhavestoppedfromshock.Theeffectisthree-dimensional,indistinguishablefromreality,exceptIwouldnotbebreathinginspace.OrhearingVosch’svoiceinaplacewheresounddoesnotexist.

“ThisistheEarthasitwassixty-sixmillionyearsago.Beautiful,isn’tit?Edenic.Unspoiled.Theatmospherebeforeyoupoisonedit.Thewaterbeforeyoufouledit.Thelandlushwithlifebeforeyou,rodentsthatyouare,shreddedittopiecestofeedyourvoraciousappetitesandbuildyourfilthynests.Itmayhaveremainedpristineforanothersixty-sixmillionyears,unsulliedbyyourmammaliangluttony,ifnotforachanceencounterwithanalienvisitorone-quarterthesizeofManhattan.”

Itwhizzespastme,pockmarkedandcraggy,blottingoutthestarsasitbarrelstowardtheplanet.

Whenitbreaksthroughtheatmosphere,thelowerhalfoftheasteroidbeginstoglow.Brightyellow,thenwhite.

“Andthusthefateoftheworldisdecided.Byarock.”

NowI’mstandingontheshoresofavast,shallowsea,watchingtheasteroidfall,atinydot,apebble,insignificant.

“Whenthedustfromtheimpacthassettled,three-quartersofalllifeonEarthwillbegone.Theworldends.Theworldbeginsagain.Humanityowesitsexistencetoabitofcosmicwhimsy.Toarock.Itreallyisremarkablewhenyouthinkaboutit.”

Thegroundshudders.Adistantboom,thenaneeriesilence.

“Andthereinliestheconundrum,theriddleyou’vebeenavoiding,becauseconfrontingtheproblem

shakesaparttheveryfoundation,doesn’tit?Itdefiesexplanation.Itrendersallthat’shappenedimpossiblydiscordant,absurd,nonsensical.”

Thesearoils;steamwhipsandswirls.Thewaterisboilingaway.Amassivewallofdustandpulverizedstoneroarstowardme,blottingoutthesky.Theairisfilledwithhigh-pitchedscreeching,likethescreamsofadyinganimal.

“Idon’thavetostatetheobvious,doI?Thequestionhasbeenbotheringyouforaverylongtime.”

Ican’tmove.Iknowitisn’treal,butmypanicisasthethunderingwallofsteamanddustbearsdown.Amillionyearsofevolutionhastaughtmetotrustmysenses,andtheprimitivepartofmybrainisdeaftotherationalpartthatscreamsinahighpitchlikeadyinganimal,Notrealnotrealnotrealnotreal.

“Electromagneticpulses.Giantmetalrodsrainingfromthesky.Viralplague...”Hisvoiceriseswitheachwordandthewordsarelikethunderclapsortheheelofabootslammingdown.“Sleeperagentsimplantedinhumanbodies.Armiesofbrainwashedchildren.Whatisthis?That’sthecentralquestion.

Theonlyonethatreallymatters:Whybotherwithanyofitwhenallyouneedisavery,verybigrock?”

Thewaverollsoverme,andIdrown.

54

I’MBURIEDFORMILLENNIA.

Milesaboveme,theworldwakes.Inthecoolshadowspoolingontherainforestfloor,aratlikecreaturedigsfortenderroots.Itsdescendantswilltamefire,inventthewheel,discovermathematics,createpoetry,rerouterivers,levelforests,buildcities,exploredeepspace.Fornow,theonlyimportantbusinessisfindingfoodandstayingalivelongenoughtomakemoreratlikecreatures.

Annihilatedinfireanddust,theworldisreborninahungryrodentdigginginthedirt.

Theclockticks.Nervously,thecreaturesniffsthewarm,moistair.Themetronomicbeatoftheclockspeedsup,andIrisetowardthesurface.WhenIemergefromthedust,thecreaturehastransformed:It’ssittinginachairbesidemybed,wearingapairofjeansstiffwithdirtandatornT-shirt.Stoop-shouldered,unshaven,hollow-eyedinventorofthewheel,inheritor,caretaker,prodigal.

Myfather.

Thebeep-beepofthemonitor.ThedrippingIVandthestiffsheetsandthehardpillowandthelinessnakingfrommyarms.Andthemansittingbesidethebed,sallowandsweaty,coveredwithgrime,restless,nervouslypluckingathisshirt,bloodshoteyesandwet,swollenlips.

“Marika.”

Iclosemyeyes.It’snothim.It’sthedrugVoschpumpedintoyou.

Again:“Marika.”

“Shutup.You’renotreal.”

“Marika,there’ssomethingIwanttotellyou.Somethingyoushouldknow.”

“Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’redoingthistome,”IsaytoVosch.Iknowhe’swatching.

“Iforgiveyou,”myfathersays.

Ican’tcatchmybreath.There’sasharppaininmychest,likeaknifedrivinghome.

“Please,”IbegVosch.“Pleasedon’tdothis.”

“Youhadtoleave,”myfathersays.“Youdidn’thaveachoice,andanyway,whathappenedismyowndamnfault.Youdidn’tmakemeadrunk.”

Instinctively,Ipressmyhandsagainstmyears.Buthisvoiceisn’tintheroom;it’sinme.

“Ididn’tlastlongafteryouleft,”myfathertriestoreassureme.“Onlyacouplehours.”

WemadeitasfarasCincinnati.Alittleoverahundredmiles.Thenhisstashranout.Hebeggedmenottoleavehim,butIknewifIdidn’tfindsomealcoholfast,he’ddie.Ifoundsome—abottleofvodkatuckedunderneathamattress—afterbreakingintosixteenhouses,ifyoucancallitbreakingin,sinceeveryhousewasabandonedandallIhadtodowasstepthroughabrokenwindow.Iwassohappytofindthatbottle,Iactuallykissedit.

ButIwastoolate.HewasdeadbythetimeImadeitbacktoourcamp.

“Iknowyoubeatyourselfupoverthat,butIwould’vediedeitherway,Marika.Eitherway.Youdidwhatyouthoughtyouhadtodo.”

There’snohidingfromhisvoice.Norunningfromit,either.Iopenmyeyesandlookstraightintohis.“Iknowthisisalie.Youaren’treal.”

Hesmiles.ThesamesmileaswhenImadeaparticularlygoodmoveinamatch.Thedelighted

teacher.

“That’swhatI’vecometotellyou!”Herubshislongfingersagainsthisthighs,andIcanseethedirtencrustedbeneaththenails.“That’sthelesson,Marika.That’swhattheywantyoutounderstand.”

Warmhandagainstcoolskin:He’stouchingmyarm.ThelasttimeIfelthishandwasagainstmycheek,inhard,stingingslapswhiletheotherhandheldmestill.Bitch!Don’tleaveme.Don’tyoueverleaveme,bitch!Eachbitch!punctuatedbyaslap.Hismindwasgone.Seeingthingsthatweren’tthereintheprofounddarknessthatslammeddowneverynight.Hearingthingsintheawfulsilencethatthreatenedtocrushyoueveryday.Onthenighthedied,hewokeupscreaming,clawingathiseyes.Hecouldfeelbugsinsidethem,crawling.

Thosesameswolleneyesstaringatmenow.Andtheclawmarksbeneaththemstillfresh.Anothercircle,anothersilvercord:NowIamtheoneseeingthings,hearingthings,feelingthingsthataren’tthereinawfulsilence.

“Firsttheytaughtusnottotrustthem,”hewhispers.“Thentheytaughtusnottotrusteachother.

Nowthey’reteachinguswecan’teventrustourselves.”

AndIwhisperback,“Idon’tunderstand.”

He’sfadingaway.AsIdropdeeperintolightlessdepths,myfatherfadesintodepthlesslight.Hekissesmeontheforehead.Abenediction.Acurse.

“Youbelongtothemnow.”

55

THECHAIRISEMPTYAGAIN.I’malone.ThenIremindmyselfIwasalonewhenthechairwasn’tempty.Iwaitforthepoundingofmyhearttosubside.Iwillmyselftostaycalm,tocontrolmybreathing.ThedrugwillworkitswaythroughmysystemandI’llbefine.You’resafe,Itellmyself.Perfectlysafe.

TheblondrecruitIpunchedinthethroatcomesin.He’scarryingatrayoffood:aslabofgraymysterymeat,potatoes,amushypileofbeans,andatallglassoforangejuice.Hesetsthetraybythebed,pushesthebuttontoraisemetoasittingposition,rotatesthetrayinfrontofme,thenstandsthere,armscrossed,asifhe’swaitingforsomething.

“Letmeknowhowittastes,”hewhispershoarsely.“Ican’teatsolidfoodforthreemoreweeks.”

Hisskinisfair,whichmakeshisbrown,deep-seteyesseemevendarker.Heisn’tbig,notbufflikeZombieorblockylikePoundcake.He’stallandlean,aswimmer’sbody.There’saquietintensityabouthim,inthewayhecarrieshimselfbutespeciallyintheeyes,acarefullycontainedforcecoiledjustbeneaththesurface.

I’mnotsurewhatheexpectsmetosay.“Sorry.”

“Suckerpunch.”Drumminghisfingersonhisforearm.“You’renotgoingtoeat?”

Ishakemyhead.“Nothungry.”

Isthefoodreal?Isthekidwhobringsthefoodreal?Theuncertaintyofmyownexperienceiscrushing.Iamdrowninginaninfinitesea.Sinkingslowly,theweightofthelightlessdepthsforcingmedown,forcingtheairfrommylungs,squeezingthebloodfrommyheart.

“Drinkthejuice,”hescolds.“Theysaidyoushouldatleastdrinkthejuice.”

“Why?”Imanagetochokeout.“What’sinthejuice?”

“Alittleparanoid?”

“Alittle.”

“Theyjustdrainedaboutapintofbloodfromyou.Sotheysaidmakesureyoudrinkthejuice.”

Ihavenomemoryoftheirtakingmyblood.DidthathappenwhileIwas“talking”tomyfather?

“Whyaretheydrainingmyblood?”

Dead-eyedstare.“Let’sseeifIcanremember.Theytellmeeverything.”

“Whatdidtheytellyou?WhyamIhere?”

“I’mnotsupposedtotalktoyou,”hesays.Then:“Theytoldusyou’reaVIP.Veryimportantprisoner.”Shakinghishead.“Idon’tgetit.Inthegoodolddays,Dorothysjust...disappeared.”

“I’mnotaDorothy.”

Heshrugs.“Idon’taskquestions.”

ButIneedhimtoanswersome.“DoyouknowwhathappenedtoTeacup?”

“Ranawaywiththespoon,whatIheard.”

“Thatwasthedish.”

“Iwasmakingajoke.”

“Idon’tgetit.”

“Well.Fuckyou.”

“Thelittlegirlwhochopperedinwithme.Badlywounded.Ineedtoknowifshe’salive.”

Noddingseriously.“I’llgetrightonthat.”

I’mgoingaboutthiswrong.Iwasnevergoodwithpeople.MynicknameinmiddleschoolwasHerMajestyMarikaandadozenvariationsofthesame.MaybeIshouldestablisharapportbeyondeff-you.

“Myname’sRinger.”

“That’swonderful.Youmustbeverysatisfiedwiththat.”

“Youlookfamiliar.WereyouatCampHaven?”

Hestartstosaysomething.Stopshimself.“Ihaveordersnottotalktoyou.”

IalmostsayThenwhyareyou?ButIcatchmyself.“It’sprobablyagoodidea.Theydon’twantyoutoknowwhatIknow.”

“Oh,Iknowwhatyouknow:It’sallalie,we’vebeentrickedbytheenemy,they’reusingustowipeoutsurvivors,blah,blah,blah.TypicalDorothycrap.”

“Iusedtothinkallthat,”Iadmit.“NowI’mnotsosure.”

“You’llfigureitout.”

“Iwill.”Rocksandratsandlife-formsevolvedbeyondtheneedforphysicalbodies.I’llfigureitout,butprobablytoolate,thoughit’sprobablyalreadytoolate.Whydidtheytakemyblood?WhyisVoschkeepingmealive?WhatcouldIhavethathecouldpossiblyneed?Whydotheyneedme,thisblondkid,oranyhuman?Iftheycouldgeneticallyengineeravirusthatkillsnineoutoftenpeople,whynottenoutoften?Or,asVoschsaid,whybotherwithanyofit,whenallyouneedisaverybigrock?

Myheadhurts.I’mdizzy.Nauseated.Imissbeingabletothinkclearly.Itusedtobemynumberonefavoritething.

“DrinkyourdamnjuicesoIcango,”hesays.

“TellmeyournameandI’lldrinkit.”

Hehesitates,then:“Razor.”

Idrinkthejuice.Hepicksupthetrayandleaves.Igothisnameatleast.Aminorvictory.

56

THEWOMANINthewhitelabcoatshowsup.ShesayshernameisDr.Claire.Dark,wavyhairpulledbackfromherface.Eyesthecolorofanautumnsky.Shesmellslikebitteralmonds,whichisalsotheodorofcyanide.

“Whydidyoutakemyblood?”

Shesmiles.“BecauseRingerissosweet,wedecidedtocloneahundredofher.”Thereisnotahintofsarcasminhervoice.ShedisconnectstheIVandstepsbackquickly,asifshe’safraidI’llleapfromthebedandstrangleher.Stranglingherdidoccurtome,briefly,butI’dratherstabhertodeathwithapocketknife.Idon’tknowhowmanystabsthatwouldtake.Alot,probably.

“That’sanotherthingthatdoesn’tmakesense,”Itellher.“Whydownloadyourconsciousnessintoahumanbodywhenyoucancloneasmanyasyoulikeinyourmothership?Zerorisk.”EspeciallysinceoneofyourdownloadscangoallEvanWalkeronyouandfallinlovewithahumangirl.

“That’sagoodpoint.”Noddingseriously.“I’llbringthatupatthenextplanningmeeting.Maybeweneedtorethinkthiswholehostile-takeoverthingy.”Shemotionstowardthedoor.“March.”

“Where?”

“You’llfindout.Don’tworry.”Claireadds,“You’regoingtoenjoyit.”

Wedon’tgofar.Twodoorsdown.Theroomisspare.Asinkandacabinet,atoiletandashowerstall.

“Howlonghasitbeensinceyou’vehadadecentshower?”sheasks.

“CampHaven.ThenightbeforeIshotmydrillsergeantintheheart.”

“Didyou?”sheaskscasually,asifI’dtoldherIusedtoliveinSanFrancisco.“Towelrightthere.

Toothbrush,comb,deodorantinthecabinet.I’llberightontheothersideofthedoor.Knockifyouneedanything.”

Alone,Iopenthecabinet.Roll-onantiperspirant.Acomb.Atravel-sizedtubeoftoothpaste.Atoothbrushinaplasticwrapper.Nofloss.I’dhopedthere’dbefloss.Iwasteacoupleofminuteswonderinghowlongitwouldtaketosharpentheendofthetoothbrushintoapropercuttinginstrument.

ThenIslipoutofthejumpsuitandstepintotheshower,andIthinkofZombie,notbecauseI’mnakedinashower,butrememberinghimtalkingaboutFacebookanddrive-thrusandtardybellsandtheendlesslistofallthingslost,likegreasyfriesandmustybookstoresandhotshowers.IturnthetemperatureashighasIcanstanditandletthewaterrainovermeuntilmyfingertipspucker.Lavendersoap.Fruityshampoo.Thehardlumpofthetinytransmitterrollsbeneathmyfingers.Youbelongtothemnow.

Ihurltheshampoobottleagainsttheshowerwall.Slammyfistintothetileagainandagainuntiltheskinonmyknucklessplitsopen.Myangerisgreaterthanthesumofalllostthings.

•••

Voschiswaitingformebackintheroomtwodoorsdown.HesaysnothingasClairebandagesmyhand,silentuntilwe’realone.

“Whatdidyouaccomplish?”heasks.

“Ineededtoprovesomethingtomyself.”

“Painbeingtheonlytrueproofoflife?”

Ishakemyhead.“IknowI’malive.”

Henodsthoughtfully.“Wouldyouliketoseeher?”

“Teacupisdead.”

“Whydoyouthinkthat?”

“There’snoreasontoletherlive.”

“That’scorrect,ifweproceedfromtheassumptionthattheonlyreasontokeepheraliveistomanipulateyou.Really,thenarcissismoftoday’syouth!”

Hepressesabuttononthewall.Ascreenlowersfromtheceiling.

“Youcan’tforcemetohelpyou.”Fightingdownarisingsenseofpanic,oflosingcontrolofsomethingIneverhadcontrolover.

Voschholdsouthishand.Inhispalmisashinygreenobjectthesizeandshapeofalargegelcapsule.

Ahair-thinwireprotrudesfromoneend.“Thisisthemessage.”

Thelightsdim.Thescreenflickerstolife.Thecamerasoarsoverawinter-killedfieldofwheat.Inthedistance,afarmhouseandacoupleofoutbuildings,arustysilo.Atinyfigurestumblesfromastandoftreesborderingthefieldandlurchesthroughthedryandbrokenstalkstowardtheclusterofbuildings.

“Thatisthemessenger.”

Fromthisheight,Ican’ttellifit’saboyorgirl,onlythatit’sasmallchild.Nugget’sage?Younger?

“CentralKansas,”Voschgoeson.“Yesterdayatapproximatelythirteenhundredhours.”

Anotherfigurecomesintoviewontheporchsteps.Afteraminute,someoneelsecomesout.Thechildbeginstoruntowardthem.

“Thatisn’tTeacup,”Iwhisper.

“No.”

Crashingthroughthebrittlechafftowardtheadultswhowatchmotionlessly,andoneofthemholdsagun,andthereisnosound,whichsomehowmakesitmoreterrible.

“It’stheancientinstinct:Intimesofgreatdanger,bewaryofstrangers.Trustnooneoutsideyourcircle.”

Mybodytenses.Iknowhowthisends;Ilivedit.Themanwiththegun:me.Thechildcrashingtowardhim:Teacup.

Thechildfalls.Getsup.Runs.Fallsagain.

“Butthere’sanotherinstinct,farolder,asoldaslifeitself,nearlyimpossibleforthehumanmindtooverride:Protecttheyoungatallcosts.Preservethefuture.”

Thechildbreaksthroughthewheatintotheyardandfallsforthelasttime.Theonewiththegundoesn’tlowerit,buthiscompanionracestothefallenchildandscoopsitoffthefrozenground.Thegunmanblockstheirwaybackintothehouse.Thetableauholdsforseveralseconds.

“It’sallaboutrisk,”Voschobserves.“Yourealizedthatlongago.Soofcourseyouknowwhowillwintheargument.Afterall,howmuchriskdoesalittlechildpose?Protecttheyoung.Preservethefuture.”

Thepersoncarryingthechildsidestepstheonewiththegunandrushesupthestepsintothehouse.

Thegunmandropshisheadasifinprayer,thenliftshisheadasifinsupplication.Thenheturnsandgoes

inside.Theminutesspinout.

Besideme,Voschmurmurs,“Theworldisaclock.”

Thefarmhouse,theoutbuildings,thesilo,thebrownfields,andtheblurofnumbersasthetimedisplayatthebottomofthescreenticksoffthesecondsbythehundredths.Iknowwhat’scomingbutstillIflinchwhenthesilentflashwhitesoutthescene.Thenroilingdustanddebrisandbillowingsmoke:Thewheatisburning,consumedinamatterofseconds,tenderfodderforthefire,andwherethe

buildingsusedtobe,acrater,ablackholeboredintotheEarth.Thefeedgoesblack.Thescreenretracts.Thelightsstaydim.

“Iwantyoutounderstand,”Voschsaysgently.“You’vewonderedwhywekeptthelittleones,theonestooyoungtofight.”

“Idon’tunderstand.”Tinyfigureinacresofbrown,dressedindenimoveralls,barefoot,runningthroughthewheat.

Hemisreadsmyconfusion.“Thedeviceinsidethechild’sbodyiscalibratedtodetectminutefluctuationsincarbondioxide,thechiefcomponentofhumanbreath.WhentheCOreachesacertain2

threshold,indicatingthepresenceofmultipletargets,thedevicedetonates.”

“No,”Iwhisper.Theybroughthiminside,wrappedhiminawarmblanket,broughthimwater,washedhisface.Thegroupgatheredaroundhim,bathinghimintheirbreath.“They’dbejustasdeadifyoudroppedabomb.”

“Itisn’taboutthedead,”hesnapsimpatiently.“Itneverwas.”

Thelightscomeup,thedoorcomesopen,andClairecomesinwheelingametalcart,followedbyherwhite-coatedbuddyandRazor,wholooksatmeandthenlooksaway.Thatgottomemorethanthecartwithitsarrayofsyringes:Hecouldn’tbringhimselftolookatme.

“Itdoesn’tchangeanything.”Myvoicerising.“Idon’tcarewhatyoudo.Idon’tevencareaboutTeacupanymore.I’llkillmyselfbeforeIhelpyou.”

Heshakeshishead.“You’renothelpingme.”

57

CLAIRETIESarubberstraparoundmyarmandtapstheinsideofmyelbowtobringupavein.Razorstandsontheothersideofthebed.Themaninthewhitecoat—Inevergothisname—isbythemonitor,holdingastopwatch.Voschleansagainstthesink,watchingmewithbright,flintyeyesglittering,likethecrows’inthewoodsonthedayIshotTeacup,curiousbutcuriouslyindifferent,andthenIunderstandthatVoschisright:Theanswertotheirarrivalisnotrage.Theanswerisrage’sopposite.Theonlypossibleansweristheoppositeofallthings,likethepitwherethefarmhouseoncestood:simplynothing.Nothate,

notanger,notfear,notanythingatall.Emptyspace.Thesoullessindifferenceoftheshark’seye.

“Toohigh,”murmuredMr.WhiteCoat,lookingatthemonitor.

“Firstsomethingtorelaxyou.”Claireslidestheneedleintomyarm.IlookatRazor.Helooksaway.

“Better,”WhiteCoatsays.

“Idon’tcarewhatyoudotome,”ItellVosch.Mytonguefeelsbloated,clumsy.

“Itdoesn’tmatter.”HenodsatClaire,whopicksupthesecondsyringe.

“Insertingthehubonmymark,”shesays.

Thehub?

“Uh-oh,”WhiteCoatsays.“Careful.”Eyeingthemonitorasmyheartratekicksupanotch.

“Don’tbeafraid,”Voschsays.“Itwon’tharmyou.”Clairegiveshimastartledlook.Heshrugs.

“Well.Werantests.”Heflickshisfingerather:Getonwithit.

Iweightenmilliontons.Mybonesareiron;therestisstone.Idon’tfeeltheneedleslideintomyarm.Clairesays,“Mark,”andWhiteCoatclicksthestopwatch.Theworldisaclock.

“Thedeadhavetheirreward,”Voschsays.“Itistheliving—youandI—whostillhaveworktodo.

Callitwhatyoulike,fate,luck,providence.Youhavebeendeliveredintomyhandstobemyinstrument.”

“Appendingtothecerebralcortex.”FromClaire.Hervoicesoundsmuffled,asifmyearshavebeenstuffedwithcotton.Irollmyheadtowardher.Athousandyearsgoby.

“You’veseenonebefore,”Voschsays,athousandmilesaway.“Inthetestingroom,onthedayyouarrivedatCampHaven.Wetoldyouitwasaninfestationofanalienlife-formattachedtothehumanbrain.Thatwasalie.”

IcanhearRazorbreathing,loud,likeadiver’sbreaththrougharegulator.

“Itisactuallyamicroscopiccommandhubaffixedtotheprefrontallobeofyourbrain,”Voschsays.

“ACPU,ifyouwill.”

“Bootingup,”Clairesays.“Lookinggood.”

“Nottocontrolyou...,”Voschsays.

“Introducingfirstarray.”Needleglintinginfluorescentlight.Blackspeckssuspendedinamberfluid.

Ifeelnothingassheinjectsitintomyvein.

“Buttocoordinatethefortythousandorsomechanizedgueststowhichyouwillplayhost.”

“Tempninety-ninepointsix,”WhiteCoatsays.

Razorbesidemebreathing.

“Ittooktheprehistoricratsmillionsofyearsandathousandgenerationstoreachthecurrentstageinhumanevolution,”Voschsays.“Itwilltakeyoudaystoachievethenext.”

“Linkwiththefirstarraycomplete,”Clairesays,bendingovermeagain.Bitteralmondbreath.

“Introducingsecondarray.”

Theroomisfurnace-hot.I’mdrenchedinsweat.WhiteCoatannouncesthatmytemperatureisonehundredandtwo.

“It’samessybusiness,evolution,”Voschsays.“Manyfalsestartsandblindalleys.Somecandidatesaren’tsuitablehosts.Theirimmunesystemscrashortheysufferfrompermanentcognitivedissonance.

Inlayman’sterms,theygomad.”

I’mburning.Myveinsarefilledwithfire.Waterflowsfrommyeyes,tricklesdownmytemples,poolsinmyears.IseeVosch’sfaceleaningoverthesurfaceoftheundulatingseaofmytears.

“ButIhavefaithinyou,Marika.Youdidnotcomethroughfireandbloodonlytofallnow.Youwillbethebridgethatconnectswhat-wastowhat-will-be.”

“We’relosingher,”WhiteCoatcallsout,tremble-voiced.

“No,”Voschmurmurs,coolhandonmywetcheek.“Wehavesavedher.”

58

THEREISNODAYornightanymore,onlythesterileglowofthefluorescentlights,andthoselightsnevergoout.ImeasurethehoursbyRazor’svisits,threetimesadaytodelivermealsIcan’tkeepdown.

Theycan’tcontrolmyfever.Can’tstabilizemybloodpressure.Can’tsubduemynausea.Mybodyisrejectingtheelevenarraysdesignedtoaugmenteachofmybiologicalsystems,eacharrayconsistingoffourthousandunits,whichmakesatotalofforty-fourthousandmicroscopicroboticinvaderscoursingthroughmybloodstream.

Ifeellikeshit.

Aftereverybreakfast,Clairecomesintoexamineme,tinkerwithmymeds,andmakecrypticremarkslike,Youbetterstartfeelingbetter.Thewindowofopportunityisclosing.Orsnideoneslike,I’mstartingtothinkthewholevery-big-rockideawastherightwaytogo.SheseemstoresentthatI’ve

reactedbadlytoherpumpingmefulloffortythousandalienmechanisms.

“It’snotlikethere’sanythingyoucandoaboutit,”shetoldmeonce.“Theprocedureisirreversible.”

“Thereisonething.”

“What?Oh.Sure.Ringertheirreplaceable.”Shepulledthekillswitchdevicefromherlabcoatpocketandhelditup.“Gotyoukeyedin.I’llpushthebutton.Goahead.Tellmetopushthebutton.”

Smirking.

“Pushthebutton.”

Shelaughedsoftly.“It’samazing.WheneverIstartwonderingwhatheseesinyou,yousaysomethinglikethat.”

“Who?Vosch?”

Hersmilefaded.Hereyeswentshark-eyedblank.“Wewillterminatetheupgradeifyoucan’tadjust.”

Terminatetheupgrade.

Shepeeledthebandagesawayfrommyknuckles.Noscabs,nobruises,noscars.Asifithadn’thappened.AsifI’dneverpoundedmyfistintothewalluntiltheskinsplitdowntothebone.IthoughtofVoschappearinginmyroomcompletelyhealed,daysafterIsmashedhisnoseandgavehimtwoblackeyes.AndSullivan,whotoldthestoryofEvanWalkertornapartbyshrapnelandyet,somehow,hourslater,abletoinfiltrateandtakeoutanentiremilitaryinstallationbyhimself.

FirsttheytookMarikaandmadeherRinger.Nowthey’vetakenRingerand“upgraded”herintosomeonecompletelydifferent.Someonelikethem.

Orsomething.

Thereisnodayornightanymore,onlyaconstantsterileglow.

59

“WHATHAVETHEYdonetome?”IaskRazoronedaywhenhecartsinanotherinediblemeal.Idon’texpectananswer,buthe’sexpectingmetoaskthequestion.ItmuststrikehimasweirdthatIhaven’t.

Heshrugs,avoidingmygaze.“Let’sseewhat’sonthemenutoday.Oooh.Meatloaf!Luckyduck.”

“I’mgoingtovomit.”

Hiseyeswiden.“Really?”Helooksaroundfortheplasticupchuckcontainer,desperate.

“Please,takethetrayaway.Ican’t.”

Hefrowns.“They’llpulltheplugonyouifyoudon’tgetyourshittogether.”

“Theycouldhavedonethistoanyone,”Isay.“Whydidtheydoittome?”

“Maybeyou’respecial.”

Ishakemyheadandanswerasifhewereserious.“No.Ithinkit’sbecausesomeoneelseis.Doyouplaychess?”

Startled:“Playwhat?”

“Maybewecouldplay.WhenI’mfeelingbetter.”

“I’mmoreofabaseballguy.”

“Really?Iwouldhaveguessedswimming.Ortennis.”

Hecockshishead.Hiseyebrowscometogether.“Youmustbefeelingbad.Makingconversationlikeyou’rehalfwayhuman.”

“Iamhalfwayhuman.Literally.Theotherhalf...”Ishrug.Itcoaxesoutagrin.

“Oh,the12thSystemisdefinitelytheirs,”hesays.

The12thSystem?Whatdidthatmeanexactly?I’mnotsure,butIsuspectit’sinreferencetotheelevennormalsystemsofthehumanbody.

“WefoundawaytoyankthemoutofTeds’bodiesand...”Razortrailsoff,givesthecameraanabashedlook.“Anyway,youhavetoeat.Ioverheardthemtalkingaboutafeedingtube.”

“Sothat’stheofficialstory?LikeWonderland:We’reusingtheirtechnologyagainstthem.Andyoubelievethat.”

Heleansagainstthewall,crosseshisarmsoverhischest,andhums“FollowtheYellowBrickRoad.”

Ishakemyhead.Amazing.Itisn’tthattheliesaretoobeautifultoresist.It’sthatthetruthistoohideoustoface.

“CommanderVoschisimplantingbombsinsidechildren.He’sturningkidsintoIEDs,”Itellhim.Hehumslouder.“Littlekids.Toddlers.They’reseparatedwhentheycomein,aren’tthey?TheywereatCampHaven.Anyoneyoungerthanfiveiscartedoffandyouneverseethemagain.Haveyouseenany?Wherearethechildren,Razor?Wherearethey?”

Hestopshumminglongenoughtosay,“Shutup,Dorothy.”

“Anddoesthatmakesense:loadingupaDorothywithsuperioralientechnology?Ifcommanddecidedto‘enhance’peopleforthewar,doyoureallythinkitwouldpickthecrazyones?”

“Idon’tknow.Theypickedyou,didn’tthey?”Hegrabsthetrayofuntouchedfoodandheadsforthedoor.

“Don’tgo.”

Heturns,surprised.Myfaceishot.Thefevermustbespiking.Thathastobeit.

“Why?”heasks.

“You’retheonlyhonestpersonIhavelefttotalkto.”

Helaughs.It’sagoodlaugh,authentic,unforced;Ilikeit,butIamfeverish.“WhosaysI’mhonest?”

heasks.“We’reallenemiesindisguise,right?”

“Myfatherusedtotellthisstoryaboutsixblindmenandanelephant.Onemanfelttheelephant’slegandsaidanelephantmustlooklikeapillar.Anotherfeltthetrunkandsaidanelephantmustlooklikeatreebranch.Blindguynumberthreefeltthetailandsaidanelephantislikearope.Fourthguyfeelsthebelly:Theelephantislikeawall.Fifthguy,ear:Theelephantisshapedlikeafan.Sixthguy,atusk,soanelephantmustbelikeapipe.”

Razorstaresatmestone-facedforalongmoment,thensmiles.It’sagoodsmile;Ilikeit,too.

“That’sabeautifulstory.Youshouldtellitatparties.”

“Thepointis,”Itellhim,“fromthemomenttheirshipappeared,we’veallbeenblindmenpattinganelephant.”

60

INTHECONSTANTsterileglow,Imeasurethedaysbytheuneatenmealshebrings.Threemeals,oneday.

Six,twodays.Onthetenthday,afterhesetsthetrayinfrontofme,Iaskhim,“Whydoyoubother?”

Myvoicelikehisnow,athroatycroak.I’msoakedinsweat,feverspiking,headpounding,heartracing.

Hedoesn’tanswer.Razorhasn’tspokentomeinseventeenmeals.Heseemsjittery,distracted,evenangry.Claire’sgonesilent,too.ShecomestwiceadaytochangemyIVbag,lookintomyeyeswithanotoscope,testmyreflexes,changeoutthecatheterbag,andemptythebedpan.Everysixthmeal,Igetaspongebath.Oneday,shebringsatapemeasureandwrapsitaroundmybiceps,IguesstoseehowmuchmuscleI’velost.Idon’tseeanyoneelse.NoMr.WhiteCoat.NoVoschordeadfatherspumpedintomyheadbyVosch.I’mnotsooutofitthatIdon’tknowwhatthey’redoing:holdingvigil,waitingtoseeifthe“enhancement”killsme.

She’srinsingoutthebedpanonemorningwhenRazorcomesinwithmybreakfast,andhewaitssilentlyuntilshe’sfinished,andthenIhearhimwhisper,“Isshedying?”

Claireshakesherhead.Ambivalent:couldbeno,couldbeyourguessisasgoodasmine.Iwaittill

she’sgonetosay,“You’rewastingyourtime.”

Heglancesatthecameramountedintheceiling.“Ijustdowhattheytellme.”

Ipickupthetrayandhurlitontothefloor.Hislipstighten,buthedoesn’tsayanything.Silently,hecleansupthemesswhileIliepanting,exhaustedfromtheeffort,sweatpouringoffme.

“Yeah,pickthatup.Makeyourselfuseful.”

Whenmyfevershootsup,somethinginmymindloosens,andIimagineIcanfeeltheforty-fourthousandmicrobotsswarminginmybloodstreamandthehubwithitsdelicatelaceoftendrilsburrowedintoeverylobe,andIunderstandwhatmyfatherfeltinhisdyinghoursasheclawedathimselftosubduetheimaginaryinsectscrawlingbeneathhisskin.

“Bitch,”Igasp.Fromthefloor,Razorlooksupatme,startled.“Leaveme,bitch.”

“Noproblem,”hemutters.Onhishandsandknees,usingawetragtomopupthemess,andthetartsmellofdisinfectant.“FastasIcan.”

Hestandsup.Hisivorycheeksareflushed.Deliriously,Ithinkthecolorbringsouttheauburnhighlightsinhisblondhair.“Itwon’twork,”hetellsme.“Starvingyourself.Soyoubetterthinkofsomethingelse.”

I’vetried.Butthere’snoalternative.Icanbarelyliftmyhead.Youbelongtothemnow.Voschthesculptor,mybodytheclay,butnotmyspirit,nevermysoul.Unconquered.Uncrushed.Uncontained.

Iamnotbound;theyare.Languish,die,orrecover,thegame’sover,thegrandmasterVoschmated.

“Myfatherhadafavoritesaying,”ItellRazor.“Wecallchessthegameofkingsbecause,throughchess,welearnhowtorulekings.”

“Againwiththechess.”

Hedropsthedirtyragintothesinkandslamsoutthedoor.Whenhereturnswiththenextmeal,there’safamiliarwoodenboxbesidethetray.Withoutaword,Razorpicksupthefoodanddumpsitintothetrash,tossesthemetaltrayintothesink,whereitlandswithaloudclang.Thebedhums,maneuveringmybodyintoasittingposition,andheslidestheboxinfrontofme.

“Yousaidyoudidn’tplay,”Iwhisper.

“Soteachme.”

Ishakemyheadandsaytothecamerabehindhim,“Nicetry.Butstuffitupyourass.”

Razorlaughs.“Nottheiridea.Butspeakingofasses,youcanbetyoursIgotpermissionfirst.”

Heopensthebox,pullsouttheboard,fumbleswiththepieces.“Yougotyourqueensandkingsandtheprawnsandtheseguard-tower-lookingthings.Howcomeeverypieceislikeapersonexceptthose?”

“Pawns,notprawns.Aprawnisabigshrimp.”

Henods.“That’sthenameofaguyinmyunit.”

“Shrimp?”

“Prawn.Neverknewwhatthehellitmeant.”

“You’resettingitupwrong.”

“ThatcouldbebecauseIdon’tknowhowtofreakingplay.Youdoit.”

“Idon’twanttodoit.”

“Thenyou’reconcedingdefeat?”

“Resigning.It’scalledresigning.”

“That’sgoodtoknow.Ihaveafeelingthat’llcomeinhandy.”Smiling.NottheZombiehigh-voltagetype.Smaller,subtler,moreironic.HesitsbesidethebedandIcatchawhiffofbubblegum.“Whiteorblack?”

“Razor,I’mtooweaktoevenlift—”

“ThenyoupointwhereyouwanttogoandI’llmoveyou.”

He’snotgivingup.Ididn’treallyexpecthimto.Bythispoint,wafflersandwusseshavebeenwinnowedout.Therearenopussiesleft.Itellhimwheretoplacethepiecesandhoweachonemoves.

Describethebasicrules.Lotsofnoddinganduh-huhs,butIgetthefeelingthere’salotofagreeingandnotmuchgrasping.ThenweplayandIslaughterhiminfourmoves.Thenextgame,hefallsintoarguinganddenying:Youcan’tdothat!Tellmethatisn’tthestupidestdamnruleever.GamethreeandI’msurehe’sregrettingthewholeidea.Myspiritsaren’tbeingliftedandhisarebeingtotallycrushed.

“Thisisthedumbest-assedgameeverinvented,”hepouts.

“Chesswasn’tinvented.Itwasdiscovered.”

“LikeAmerica?”

“Likemathematics.”

“Iknewgirlsjustlikeyouinschool.”Heleavesthepointthereandstartstosetuptheboardagain.

“That’sallright,Razor.I’mtired.”

“TomorrowI’mbringingsomecheckers.”Spokenlikeathreat.

Hedoesn’t,though.Tray,box,board.Thistimehesetsupthepiecesinastrangeconfiguration:theblackkinginthecenterfacinghim,thequeenontheedgefacingtheking,threepawnsbehindthekingatten,twelve,andtwoo’clock,oneknightontheking’sright,anotheronhisleft,abishopdirectlybehindhimand,nexttothebishop,anotherpawn.ThenRazorlooksatme,wearingthatseraphicgrin.

“Okay.”I’mnodding,notsurewhy.

“I’veinventedagame.Areyouready?It’scalled...”Hetapsonthebedrailtoproduceadrumroll.

“Chaseball!”

“Chaseball?”

“Chess-baseball.Chaseball.Getit?”Heplopsacoinbesidetheboard.

“What’sthat?”Iask.

“It’saquarter.”

“Iknowit’saquarter.”

“Forthepurposesofthegame,it’stheball.Well,notreallytheball,butitrepresentstheball.Orwhathappenswiththeball.Ifyou’dbequietasecond,Icouldexplainalltherules.”

“Iwasn’ttalking.”

“Good.Yougivemeaheadachewhenyoutalk.Name-callingandYodaquotesaboutchessandcrypticelephantstories.Youwanttoplayornot?”

Hedoesn’twaitforananswer.Heplacesawhitepawnjustinfrontoftheblackqueen,sayingthat’shim,thebatter.

“Youshouldleadoffwithyourqueen.She’sthemostpowerful.”

“That’swhyshebatscleanup.”Heshakeshishead.Myignoranceisastounding.“Realsimple:Defense,that’syou,flipsfirst.Heads,it’sastrike.Tails,aball.”

“Acoinwon’twork,”Ipointout.“Therearethreepossibilities:strike,ball,orahit.”

“Actually,therearefour,countingfouls.Yousticktochess;I’llhandlebaseball.”

“Chaseball,”Icorrecthim.

“Anyway.Ifyouflipaball,that’saball,andyouflipagain.Comesupheads,though,andthenIgetthecoin.See,thatgivesmeachancetogetahit.HeadsIconnect,tailsImiss.IfImiss,strikeone.Andsoon.”

“Igetit.Andifyouflipheads,IgetthecoinbacktoseeifIcanfieldit.HeadsIthrowyouout...”

“Wrong!Sowrong!No.FirstIflip,threetimes.FourtimesifIgetaTT.”

“TT?”

“Twotails.That’satriple.WithaTTyougetonemoreflip:headsisahomerun;tails,justatriple.

Heads-headsisasingle;heads-tailsisadouble.”

“Maybeweshouldjuststartplayingandyoucan—”

“Thenyougetthecoinbacktoseeifyoucanfieldmypotentialsingle,double,triple,orhomer.

Heads,I’mout.Tails,I’monbase.”Hetakesadeepbreath.“Unlessit’sahomerun,ofcourse.”

“Ofcourse.”

“Areyoumakingfunofme?BecauseIdon’tknow—”

“I’mjusttryingtoabsorb—”

“Itkindofsoundslikeyouare.Youhavenoideahowlongittookmetocomeupwiththis.It’sprettycomplicated.Imean,notlikethegameofkings,butyouknowwhattheycallbaseball,don’tyou?Thenationalpastime.Baseballiscalledthenationalpastimebecause,byplayingit,welearnhowtomastertime.Orthepast.Oneof’em.”

“Nowyou’retheonemakingfunofme.”

“Actually,I’mtheonlyonemakingfunofyourightnow.”Hewaits.Iknowwhathe’swaitingfor.

“Youneversmile.”

“Doesitmatter?”

“Once,whenIwasakid,Ilaughedsohard,Ipeedmypants.WewereatSixFlags.TheFerriswheel.”

“Whatmadeyoulaugh?”

“Ican’tremembernow.”Heslideshishandbeneathmywristandliftsmyarmtopressthequarterintomyupturnedpalm.“Flipthedamncoinsowecanplay.”

Idon’twanttohurthisfeelings,butthegameisn’tthatcomplicated.Hegetsveryexcitedonhisfirsthit,triumphantlyfistpumping,thenproceedingtomovetheblackpiecesaroundtheboardwhilehecallstheplayinahoarse,high-pitchedimitationofanannouncer’svoice,likeakidplayingwithactionfigures.

“It’sadeepdriveintocenterfield!”Thecenter-fieldpawnslidestowardsecondbase,thebishopsecondbasemanandthepawnshortstopdropback,andtheleft-fieldpawnrunsup,thencutstowardcenter.That’swithonehandwhiletheothermanipulatesthequarter,turningitinhisfingerslikeaballspinninginflight,loweringitasifinslowmotiontolandincenter-leftfield.It’ssoridiculousandchildishthatIwouldhavesmiledifIstillsmiled.

“He’ssafe!”Razorbellows.

No.Notchildish.Childlike.Eyesfeverbright,voicerisinginexcitement,he’stenagain.Notallthingsarelost,nottheimportantthings.

Hisnexthitisablooperthatdropsbetweenfirstbaseandrightfield.Hecreatesadramaticcollisionbetweenmyfielderandbaseman,firstbaseslidingback,rightfieldslidingup,thensmack!Razorcacklesattheimpact.

“Wouldn’tthatbeanerror?”Iask.“It’sacatchableball.”

“Catchableball?Ringer,it’sjustadorkygameImadeupinfiveminuteswithabunchofchesspiecesandaquarter.”

Twomorehits;he’sthreerunsupatthetopofthefirst.I’vealwayssuckedatgamesofchance.

Alwayshatedthemforthatreason.Razormustsensemyenthusiasmwaning.Heampsupthecommentarywhileslidingthepiecesaround(despitemypointingoutthey’remypieces,sinceI’mondefense).Anotherdrivedeepcenter-left.Anotherfloaterbehindfirstbase.Anotherimpactoffirstbasemanandoutfielder.Idon’tknowifhe’srepeatinghimselfbecausehethinksit’sfunnyorbecausehehasaseriousdeficitinimagination.There’sapartofmethatfeelsasifIshouldbedeeplyaffrontedonbehalfofchessplayerseverywhere.

Bythethirdinning,I’mexhausted.

“Let’spickitupagaintonight,”Isuggest.“Ortomorrow.Tomorrowwouldbebetter.”

“What?Youdon’tlikeit?”

“No.It’sfun.I’mjusttired.Reallytired.”

Heshrugslikeitdoesn’tmatter,whichitdoes,orhewouldn’tshrug.Heslipsthequarterbackintohispocketandpacksupthebox,mutteringunderhisbreath.Icatchthewordchess.

“Whatdidyousay?”

“Nothing.”Cuttinghiseyesaway.

“Somethingaboutchess.”

“Chess,chess,chess.Chessonthebrain.Sorrychaseballhasnothingonchessinthesheerthrillcategory.”

Heshovestheboxunderhisarmandstompstothedoor.Onelastpartingshotbeforehegoes:“IthoughtmaybeI’dcheeryouupalittle,that’sall.Thanks.Wedon’thavetoplayanymore.”

“Areyouangryatme?”

“Igavechessachance,didn’tI?Youdidn’tseemebitching.”

“Youdidn’t.Andyoudid.Alot.”

“Justthinkaboutit.”

“Thinkaboutwhat?”

Heshoutsacrosstheroom:“Justthinkaboutit!”

Heslamsoutthedoor.I’moutofbreath,shaky,andcan’tfigureoutwhy.

61

I’MREADYWITHanapologywhenthedooropensthatnight.ThemoreIthinkaboutitwithmyfeverishmind,themoreIfeellikethebullyatthebeachwhokicksoversomelittlekid’ssandcastle.

“Hey,Razor,I’m—”

Mymouthdropsopen.There’sastrangerholdingthetray,akidaroundtwelveorthirteen.

“Where’sRazor?”Iask.Well,morelikedemand.

“Idon’tknow,”thekidsqueaks.“Theyhandedmethetrayandsaidtakeit.”

“Takeit,”Iechostupidly.

“Yeah.Takeit.Takethetray.”

TheypulledRazoroffRingerduty.Maybechaseball’sagainstregs.MaybeVoschgotticked,twokidsactinglikekidsforacoupleofhours.Despairisaddictive,fortheonewatchingitandtheoneexperiencingit.

OrmaybeRazor’sthetickedpartyhere.Maybeheaskedtobereassigned,tookhischaseballandwenthome.

Idon’tsleepwellthatnight,ifyoucancallitnightundertheconstantsterileglow.Myfevershootsuptoahundredandthreeasmyimmunesystemlaunchesitsfinal,desperateassaultonthearrays.Icanseetheblurrygreennumbersonthemonitorinchingupward.Islipintoasemi-deliriousdoze.

Bitch!Leaveme.Youknowwhytheycallitbaseball,don’tyou?It’sadeepdriveintocenterfield!I’mdone.Takecareofyourself.

ThegrungysilverturninginRazor’sfingers.It’sadeepdrive.Adeepdrive.Loweringtowardtheboardinslowmotion,wherethefielderscomeup,secondbaseandshortstopgoback,leftgoesright.

Blooperonthefirst-baseline!Fielderracesup,basemanback,boom.Fieldersup,infieldback,cuttotheright.Firstbasemanback,rightfielderup,boom.Up,back,cut.Back,up.Boom.

Overandover,let’sgototheinstantreplay,up,back,cut.Back,up.

Boom.

NowI’mwide-awake,staringattheceiling.No.Can’tseeitaswell.Betterwithmyeyesclosed.

Centerandleftslashdown.Leftcutsacross:

H

Rightstepsup.Firstbaserunsback:

I

Oh,comeon.Ridiculous.You’redelusional.

WhenIgotbacktoourcampthatnightwiththevodka,Ifoundmydeadfathercurledintoafetalposition,hisfacecoveredinbloodwherehehadclawedatthebugsborninsidehismind.Bitch,hecalledmebeforeIlefttofindthepoisonthatwouldsavehim.Hecalledmeanothername,too,thenameofthewomanwholeftuswhenIwasthree.HethoughtIwasmymother,whichwasironic.FromthetimeIwasfourteen,Iwasmorelikehismother,feedinghim,washinghisclothes,takingcareofthehouse,makingsurehedidn’tdosomethingcatastrophicallystupidtohimself.AndeverydayIwenttoschoolinmyperfectlypresseduniformandtheycalledmeHerMajestyMarikaandsaidIthoughtIwasbetterthaneverybodyelsebecausemyfatherwasasemi-famousartist,thereclusivegeniustype,when

thetruthwasthatmostdaysmyfatherdidn’tknowwhatplanethewason.BythetimeIgothomefromschool,he’dbefull-ondelusional.AndIletpeopleontheoutsideholdtheirdelusions,too.IletthemthinkIthoughtIwasbetter,thewayIletSullivanthinkshewasrightaboutme.Ididn’tjustfosterthedelusions.Ilivedthem.Evenaftertheworldcrashedaroundus,Iclungtothem.Butafterhedied,Itoldmyselfnomore.Nomorebravefrontsorfalsehopesorpretendingeverything’sokaywhennothingis.IthoughtIwasbeingtoughbypretending,callingitbeingoptimistic,brave,keepingmyheaduporwhateverbullshitseemedtofitthemoment.That’snottough.That’stheverydefinitionofsoft.Iwasashamedofhisdiseaseandangryathim,butIwasjustasguilty.Iplayedrightintotheliesrightuptotheend:Whenhecalledmemymother’sname,Ididn’tcorrecthim.

Delusional.

Inthecorner,thecamera’sblank,soullesseyestaring.

WhatdidRazorsay?Justthinkaboutit!

That’snotallyousaid,isit?Iaskhim,lookingblanklybackattheblank,blackeye.Thatisn’teverything.

62

IHOLDMYBREATHwhenthedooropensthenextmorning.

AllnightIseesawedbetweenbeliefanddoubt.Iwallowedineveryaspectofthenewreality.

Firstoption:Razordidn’tinventchaseballanymorethanIinventedchess.ThegameisVosch’screationforreasonstoomurkytoseeclearly.

Secondoption:Razor,forreasonsonlycleartoRazor,hasdecidedtoseriouslymesswithmyhead.Itwasn’tjustthehardheartedandresilientwhosurvivedthewinnowingofthehumanrace.Alotofsadisticassholespersisted,too.That’sthewayofeveryhumancatastrophe.Thedouchebagisnearlyindestructible.

Thirdoption:Allofitisentirelyinmyhead.ChaseballisasillygamemadeupbyakidtotakemymindoffthefactthatImaybedying.There’snootherpoint,nosecretmessagestracedonachessboard.

Myseeingletterswheretherearenolettersisthehumanbrain’stendencytofindpatterns,evenwheretherearenopatterns.

AndIholdmybreathforanotherreason:Whatifit’sthesqueaky-voicedkidagain?WhatifRazordoesn’tcomeback,evercomeback?There’sarealpossibilitythatRazorisdead.IfhewastryingtosecretlycommunicatewithmeandVoschfigureditout,I’msureVosch’sresponsewouldbeonethingandonlyonething.

Iletoutmybreathslowandsteadywhenhestepsintotheroom.Thebeepingofthemonitorkicksupanotch.

“What?”Razorasks,narrowinghiseyesatme.Hesensessomething’suprightaway.

Isayit.“Hi.”

Hiseyescutright,cutleft.“Hi.”Drawingthetinywordoutslowly,asifhe’snotsureifhe’swithalunatic.“Hungry?”

Ishakemyhead.“Notreally.”

“Youshouldtrytoeatthis.YoulooklikemycousinStacey.Shewasamethaddict.Idon’tmeanyouliterallylooklikeamethaddict.Just...”Faceturningred.“Youknow,likesomethingiseatingyoufromtheinside.”

Hepushesthebuttonbesidethebed.Irise.Hesays,“YouknowwhatI’maddictedto?SourPatchKids.Raspberry.Notsocrazyaboutthelemon.Ihaveastash.I’llbringyousomeifyouwant.”

Hesetsthetrayinfrontofme.Coldscrambledeggs,friedpotatoes,ablackened,crustythingthatmayormaynotbebacon.Mystomachclenches.Ilookupathim.

“Trytheeggs,”hesuggests.“They’refresh.Freerange,organic,chemicalfree.Weraisethemrighthereincamp.Thechickens,nottheeggs.”

Dark,soulfuleyesandthatsmall,mysterious,beatificsmile.WhatdidhisreactionmeanwhenIsaidhi?WashestartledIofferedhimahalfwayhumangreetingorwashestartledbecauseIhadfiguredouttherealpointofchaseball?OrwashenotstartledatallandI’mpickingupcuesthataren’tthere?

“Idon’tseethebox.”

“Whatbox?Oh.Itwaskindofastupidgame.”Helooksawayandsayssoftlytohimself,“Imissbaseball.”

He’squietforthenextcoupleofminuteswhileImovethecoldeggsaroundtheplate.Imissbaseball.Auniverseoflossinfoursyllables.

“No,Ilikedit,”Itellhim.“Itwasfun.”

“Really?”Alook:Areyouserious?Hedoesn’tknowthatIam99.99999percentofthetime.“Youdidn’tseemtoodownwithitatthetime.”

“IguessI’mjustnotfeelingwelllately.”

Helaughsandthenseemssurprisedathisownreaction.“Okay.Well,Ileftitinmyquarters.I’llbringitsomedayifnobodyswipesit.”

Theconversationmeandersoffthegame.IdiscoverRazorwastheyoungestoffivekids,grewupinAnnArbor,wherehisdadworkedasanelectricianandhismomasamiddleschoollibrarian,playedbaseballandsoccerandlovedMichiganfootball.Untilhewastwelve,hisgreatambitionwastobethestartingquarterbackfortheWolverines.Buthegrewtall,notbig,andbaseballbecamehispassion.

“Momwantedmetobeadoctororalawyer,buttheoldmandidn’tthinkIwassmartenough...”

“Wait.Yourdaddidn’tthinkyouweresmart?”

“Smartenough.There’sadifference.”Defendinghisfatherevenindeath.Peopledie;loveendures.

“Hewantedmetobeanelectricianlikehim.Dadwasabigunionguy,presidentofhislocal,stufflikethat.Thatwastherealreasonhedidn’twantmetobealawyer.Suits,hecalledthem.”

“Hehadaproblemwithauthority.”

Razorshrugs.“‘Beyourownman,’healwayssaid.‘Don’tbetheMan’sman.’”Heshuffleshisfeet,embarrassed,likehe’stalkingtoomuch.“Whataboutyouroldman?”

“Hewasanartist.”

“That’scool.”

“Hewasalsoadrunk.Didmoredrinkingthanpainting.”Thoughnotalways.Yellowedphotographsofshowingshangingcrookedindustyframesandthestudentsbuzzinginhisstudionervouslycleaningbrushesandthecathedralhushthatfellwhenhewalkedintoacrowdedroom.

“Whatkindofshitdidhepaint?”Razorasks.

“Mostlythat.Shit.”Notalways,though.NotwhenhewasyoungerandIwassmallandthehandthatheldminewasstainedwithrainbowcolors.

Helaughs.“Thewayyoujoke.Likeyoudon’tevenknowit’sajoke,andit’syourownjoke.”

Ishakemyhead.“Iwasn’tjoking.”

Henods.“Maybethat’swhyyoudon’tknowit.”

63

AFTERTHEEVENINGmealIdon’teatandtheforcedbanterandtheminusculeawkwardsilencesthatdropbetweenoursentences,andaftertheboardcomesoutofthewoodenboxandhe’ssetupthepieces

andwefliptoseewho’sthehometeamandhewins,ItellhimIthinkIcanhandlemyownfielding,andhesmirks,Yeah,right,let’sgo,girl,afterhe’ssittingbesidemeontheedgeofthebedandafterweeksoflearningtoletgoofmyrageandembracethehowlingemptinessandafteryearsoferectingfortresswallsaroundpainandlossandthefeelingthatIwillneverfeelagain,afterlosingmyfatherandlosingTeacupandlosingZombieandlosingeverythingbutthehowlingemptinessandthatisnothing,nothingatall,Isilentlysaytheword:HI

Razornods.“Yeah.”Hetapshisfingerontheblanket.Ifeelthetapagainstmythigh.“Yeah.”Tap.

“Notbad,thoughit’scoolerwhenyoudoitinslo-mo.”Hedemonstrates.“Getitnow?”

“Ifyouinsist.”Isigh.“Yeah.”Itapmyfingeronthebedrail.“Well,tobehonestIdon’treallyseethepoint.”

“No?”Tap-tapontheblanket.

“No.”Tap-tapontherail.

Thenextwordtakesovertwentyminutestotrace:

HLP

Tap.“DidIevertellyouaboutmysummerjobbeforetherewerenomoresummerjobs?”heasks.

“Doggrooming.Worstpartofthejob?Expressingtheanalglands...”

He’sonaroll.Fourrunsandnotasingleout.

HOW

Iwon’tgetananswerforanotherfortyminutes.I’malittletiredandmorethanalittlefrustrated.

Thisisliketextingwithsomeoneathousandmilesawayusingone-leggedrunners.Timeslowsdown;eventsspeedup.

PLN

Ihavenoideawhatthatmeans.Ilookathimbuthe’slookingattheboard,movingthepiecesbackintoposition,talking,fillinginthetinysilencesthatdrop,stuffingtheemptyspacewithchatter.

“That’swhattheyactuallycalledit:expressing,”hesays,stillonthedogs.“Rinse,wash,rinse,express,repeat.Sofreakingboring.”

Andtheblack,soulless,unblinkingeyeofthecamera,staringdown.

“Ididn’tunderstandthatlastplay,”Itellhim.

“Chaseballisn’tsomelame-assgamelikechess,”hesayspatiently.“Thereareintricacies.Intricacies.

Towin,yougottahaveaplan.”

“Andthat’syou,Iguess.Themanwiththeplan.”

“Yes,that’sme.”

Tap.

64

IHADN’TSEENVoschindays.Thatchangesthenextmorning.

“Let’shearit,”hetellsClaire,who’sstandingbesideMr.WhiteCoatlookinglikeamiddle-schoolerdraggedintotheprincipal’sofficeforbullyingthescrawnykid.

“She’slosteightpoundsandtwentypercentofhermusclemass.She’sonDiovanforthehighbloodpressure,Phenerganforthenausea,amoxicillinandstreptomycintokeepherlymphaticsystemtampeddown,butwe’restillstrugglingwiththefever,”Clairereports.

“‘Strugglingwiththefever’?”

Claire’seyescutaway.“Ontheupside,herliverandkidneysarestillfunctioningnormally.Abitoffluidinherlungs,butwe’re—”

Voschwavesheroffandstepsuptomybedside.Brightbirdeyesglittering.

“Doyouwanttolive?”

Ianswerwithouthesitating.“Yes.”

“Why?”

Thequestiontakesmeoffguardforsomereason.“Idon’tunderstand.”

“Youcannotovercomeus.Noonecan.Notifyounumberedseventimessevenbillionwhenitbegan.

Theworldisaclockandtheclockhaswoundtoitsfinalsecond—whywouldyouwanttolive?”

“Idon’twanttosavetheworld,”Itellhim.“I’mjusthopingImightgettheopportunitytokillyou.”

Hisexpressiondoesn’tchange,buthiseyesglitteranddance.Iknowyou,hiseyessay.Iknowyou.

“Hope,”hewhispers.“Yes.”Nodding:He’spleasedwithme.“Hope,Marika.Clingtoyourhope.”

HeturnstoClaireandMr.WhiteCoat.“Pullheroffthemeds.”

Mr.WhiteCoat’sfaceturnsthecolorofhissmock.Clairestartstosaysomething,thenlooksaway.

Voschturnsbacktome.

“Whatistheanswer?”hedemands.“Itisn’trage.Whatisit?”

“Indifference.”

“Tryagain.”

“Detachment.”

“Again.”

“Hope.Despair.Love.Hate.Anger.Sorrow.”I’mshaking;myfevermustbespiking.“Idon’tknow.Idon’tknow.Idon’tknow.”

“Better,”hesays.

65

ITGETSSOBADthatnight,Icanbarelymakeitthroughfourinningsofchaseball.

XMEDS

“Heardarumorgoingaroundtheytookyouoffyourmeds,”Razorsays,shakingthequarterinhisclosedfist.“True?”

“TheonlythingleftinmyIVbagissalinetokeepmykidneysfromshuttingdown.”

Heglancesatmyvitalsonthemonitor.Frowning.WhenRazorfrowns,heremindsmeofalittleboywho’sstubbedhistoeandthinkshe’stoobigtocry.

“Soyoumustbegettingbetter.”

“Guessso.”Tap-taponthebedrail.

“Okay,”hebreathes.“Myqueenisup.Lookout.”

Mybackstiffens.Myvisionblurs.Ileantothesideandemptymystomach,whatlittleisinsidemystomach,ontothewhitetile.Razorleapsupwithadisgustedcry,topplingtheboard.

“Hey!”heshouts.Notatme.Attheblackeyeaboveus.“Hey,alittlehelphere!”

Nohelpcomes.Helooksatthemonitor,looksatme,andsays,“Idon’tknowwhattodo.”

“I’mokay.”

“Sure.You’refine,justfine!”Hegoestothesink,wetsacleantowel,andlaysitacrossmyforehead.

“Fine,myass!Whythehelldidtheytakeyouoffthemeds?”

“Whynot?”I’mfightingtheurgetohurlagain.

“Oh,Idon’tknow.Maybebecauseyou’lldiewithoutthem.”Heglaresatthecamera.

“Maybeyoushouldhandmethatcontaineroverthere.”

Hedabsatthecrudstickingonmychin,refoldsthecloth,grabsthecontainer,andplacesitonmylap.

“Razor.”

“Yeah?”

“Pleasedon’tputthatbackonmyface.”

“Huh?Oh.Shit.Yeah.Hangon.”Hegrabsacleantowelandrunsitunderthewater.Hishandsareshaking.“Youknowwhatitis?Iknowwhatitis.Whydidn’tIthinkofit?Whydidn’tyouthinkofit?

Themedsmustbeinterferingwiththesystem.”

“Whatsystem?”

“The12thSystem.Theonetheyinjectedintoyou,Sherlock.Thehubandhisfortythousandlittlefriendstosuperchargetheothereleven.”Heputsthecooltowelonmyforehead.“You’recold.Youwantmetofindanotherblanket?”

“No,I’mburningup.”

“It’sawar,”hesays.Hetapshischest.“Inhere.Yougottadeclareatruce,Ringer.”

Ishakemyhead.“Nopeace.”

Henods,squeezingmywristbeneaththethinblanket.Squatsonthefloortogatherthefallenchesspieces.Curseswhenhecan’tfindthequarter.Decideshecan’tleavethevomitjustlyingthere.Grabsthedirtytowelheusedtowipemychinandswabsthedeckonhishandsandknees.He’sstillcursingwhenthedooropensandClairecomesintotheroom.

“Goodtiming!”Razorbarksather.“Hey,can’tyouatleastgivehertheanti-pukeserum?”

Clairejerksherheadtowardthedoor.“Getout.”Shepointsatthebox.“Andtakethatwithyou.”

Razorglowersather,buthedoesit.Iseeagainthetightlycontainedforcebehindhisangelicfeatures.Careful,Razor.That’snottheanswer.

Thenwe’realone,andClairestudiesthemonitorforalong,silentmoment.

“Wereyoutellingthetruthearlier?”sheasks.“YouwanttolivesoyoucankillCommanderVosch?

You’resmarterthanthat.”Inthetoneofamotherscoldingaveryyoungchild.

“You’reright,”Ianswer.“I’llnevergetthatchance.ButI’mgoingtohavetheopportunitytokillyou.”

Shelooksstartled.“Killme?Whywouldyouwanttokillme?”WhenIdon’tanswer,shesays,“Idon’tthinkyou’regoingtolivethroughthenight.”

Inod.“Andyou’renotgoingtoliveoutthemonth.”

Shelaughs.Thesoundofherlaughtercausesbiletoriseintomythroat.Burning.Burning.

“Whatareyougoingtodo?”shesayssoftly.Sheyanksthetowelfrommyforehead.“Smothermewiththis?”

“No.I’mgoingtoovercometheguardbysmashinghisheadinwithaheavyobject,andthenI’mgoingtotakehisgunandshootyouintheface.”

Shelaughsthroughthewholething.“Well,goodluckwiththat.”

“Itwon’tbeluck.”

66

CLAIRETURNSOUTtobewrongaboutmebeingdeadbymorning.

Nearlyamonthlater,bymyreckoningofthreemealsperday,andI’mstillhere.

Idon’tremembermuch.AtsomepointtheydisconnectedmefromtheIVandthemonitor,andthesilencethatslammeddownaftertheconstantbeepingwasloudenoughtocrackmountains.TheonlypersonIsawduringthattimewasRazor.He’smyfull-timecaretakernow.Feedsme,emptiesmybedpan,washesmyfaceandhands,turnsmesoIdon’tdevelopbedsores,playschaseballinthehourswhenI’mnotdelirious,andtalksnonstop.Hetalksabouteverything,whichisanotherwayofsayinghetalksaboutnothing.Hisdeadfamily,hisdeadfriends,hissquadmates,thedrudgeryofwintercamp,thefightsborneofboredomandfatigueandfear(butmostlyfear),therumorsthatwhenspringcomestheTedsarelaunchingamajoroffensive,alast-ditchefforttopurgetheworldofthehumannoise,ofwhichRazorisverymuchanactivepart.Hetalksandtalksandtalks.Hehadagirlfriend,hernamewasOliviaandherskinwasdarklikeamuddyriverandsheplayedclarinetintheschoolbandandwasgoingtobeadoctorandhatedRazor’sdadbecausehedidn’tthinkRazorcouldbeadoctor.HeletsitslipthathisgivennameisAlexlikeA-RodandhisdrillsergeantnamedhimRazornotbecausehewasslenderbutbecausehecuthimselfshavingonemorning.Ihaveverysensitiveskin.Hissentencesarewithoutperiods,withoutcommas,withoutparagraphs,or,tobeaccurate,it’sallonelongparagraphwithnomargins.

Heshutsupjustonetimeafternearlyamonthoftheverbaldiarrhea.He’sgoingonabouthowhewonfirstplaceinthefifth-gradesciencefairwithhisprojectabouthowtoturnapotatointoabatterywhenhestopsinmidsentence.Hissilenceisjarring,likethestillnessafterabuildingimplodes.

“Whatisthat?”heasks,staringintentlyintomyface,andnobodystaresmoreintentlythanRazor,notevenVosch.

“Nothing.”Iturnmyheadawayfromhim.

“Areyoucrying,Ringer?”

“Myeyesarewatering.”

“No.”

“Don’ttellmeno,Razor.Idon’tcry.”

“Bullshit.”Atapontheblanket.

Tap-tapontherailing.“Diditwork?”Iask,turningbacktohim.Whatdoesitmatterifheseesmecry?“Thepotatobattery.”

“Sureitworked.It’sscience.Neveradoubtaboutitworking.Youplanitallout,followthesteps,anditcan’tgowrong.”Squeezingmyhandthroughtheblanket:Don’tbescared.Everything’sset.Iwon’tletyoudown.

It’stoolatetogobacknowanyway:Hiseyeswandertothefoodtraybesidethebed.“Youateallthepuddingtonight.Youknowhowtheymakechocolatepuddingwithoutchocolate?Youdon’twanttoknow.”

“Letmeguess.Ex-Lax.”

“What’sEx-Lax?”

“Seriously?Youdon’tknow?”

“Oh,sosorryIdon’tknowwhatEx-Lax-who-gives-a-shitis.”

“It’sachocolate-flavoredlaxative.”

Hemakesaface.“That’ssick.”

“That’sthepoint.”

Hegrins.“Thepoint?OhGod,didyoujustmakeajoke?”

“HowwouldIknow?JustpromisemenobodyslippedEx-Laxintomypudding.”

“Promise.”Tap.

Ilastforafewhoursafterheleaves,longafterlights-outineveryotherpartofthecamp,deepintothebellyofthewinternight,beforethepressurebecomesunbearable,andthen,whenIcan’ttakeitanymore,Istartshoutingforhelp,wavingatthecameraandthenrollingovertopressmychestagainstthecoldmetalrailings,poundingmyfistintothepillowinfrustrationandfury,untilthedoorburstsopenandClairechargesin,followedcloselybyabigbearofarecruit,whosehandimmediatelyfliestocoverhisnose.

“Whathappened?”Clairesays,thoughthesmellshouldtellherallsheneedstoknow.

“Oh,crap!”therecruitburblesbehindhishand.

“Exactly,”Igasp.

“Great.Justgreat,”Clairesays,throwingtheblanketandsheetontothefloorandmotioningfortherecruittohelpher.“Finejob,missy.Ihopeyou’reproudofyourself.”

“Notyet,”Iwhimper.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Claireshoutsattherecruit.Goneisthesoftvoice.Vanishedarethekindeyes.

“Helpmewiththis.”

“Helpyouwithwhat,ma’am?”Hehasaflattenednoseandverysmalleyesandaforeheadthatbulgesinthemiddle.Hisbellyhangsoverhisbeltandhispantsareaninchtooshort.He’shuge;he’sgotaboutahundredpoundsormoreonme.

Itwon’tmatter.

“Getup,”Clairesnapsatme.“Comeon.Getyourlegsunderyou.”ShetakesonearmandJumboRecruittakestheotherandtogethertheyhaulmeoutofthebed.BigRecruit’ssmushed-infaceistwistedwithrevulsion.

“Ah,God.It’severywhere!”hesoftlywails.

“Idon’tthinkIcanwalk,”ItellClaire.

“ThenI’llmakeyoucrawl,”shesnarls.“Ishouldjustleaveyoulikethis.It’ssoperfectlymetaphorical.”

Theyhaulmetwodoorsdownandintotheshowerroom.BigRecruitiscoughingandgaggingandClaireisbitchingandI’mapologizingwhileshestripsoffthejumpsuitandthrowsitatJumboRecruit,tellinghimtowaitoutside.“Don’tleanonme.Leanonthewall,”sheordersharshly.Mykneesarebuckling.Ihangontotheshowercurtaintokeepupright;Ihaven’tusedmylegsinamonth.

Withonehandlockedaroundmyleftarm,Clairepushesmeunderthewater,bendingatthewaisttostaydry.Thesprayisicy.Shedidn’tbothertoadjustthetemperature.Theslapofcoldwateragainstmybodyislikeanalarmgoingoff,snappingmefromalongwinter’shibernation,andIreachupandgrabtheshowerheadpipecomingfromthewallandtellClaireIthinkI’vegotit;IthinkIcanstand;shecanletgo.

“Areyousure?”sheasks,holdingon.

“Prettysure.”

IwrenchthepipedownwardwithalltheforceIhave.Thepipebreaksoffatthejointwithametallicsquealandthecoldwatergushesoutinaropeysnarl.Leftarmup,slippingthroughClaire’sfingers,thenI’vegotherbythewristandIswingmybodytowardher,rotatingmyhipstomaximizetheblow,andslamthejaggededgeofthebrokenpipeintoherneck.

Iwasn’tsureIcouldbreakasteelpipewithmybarehands,butIwasprettysure.

Ihavebeenenhanced.

67

CLAIRESTAGGERSAWAY,bloodpouringfromthetwo-inchpuncturewoundinherneck.ThefactthatIdidn’tdropherdoesn’tsurpriseme;I’dassumedshewouldbeenhanced,too,butI’dhopedtogetluckyandseverhercarotidartery.Shefumblesinthepocketofherlabcoatforthekillswitch.Ianticipatedthat.Itossthebrokenpipeaway,grabthebolted-inshowerrod,breakitfromitsbracketsandsmashoneendintothesideofherhead.

Theimpactbarelyrocksher.Inamillisecond,fasterthanmyeyescanfollowthemotion,shehastheendoftherodinhergrip.Iletgoinhalfamillisecond,sowhensheyanksthere’snothingholdingtheotherend,andshestumblesbackintothewall,hittingwithenoughforcetocrackthetiles.Ibarreltowardher.Sheswingstherodtowardmyhead,butIanticipatedthat,too—countedonit,whenIrehearsedthisinthethousandsilenthoursbeneaththeconstantglow.

Igrabtheotherendoftherodasitarcstowardme,firstwithmyrighthand,thenwiththeleft,handsshoulder-widthapart,andpowertherodintoherneck,spreadingmylegsforthebalanceandleveragenecessarytocrushherwindpipe.

Ourfacesareinchesapart.I’mcloseenoughtosmellthecyanidebreathtricklingoutofherpartedlips.

Herhandsareoneithersideofmine,pushingbackwhileIpushforward.Thefloorisslick;I’mbarefoot,sheisn’t;I’mgoingtolosetheadvantagebeforesheblacksout.Ihavetodropher—fast.

Islidemyfoottotheinsideofherankleandkickout.Perfect:ShefallstothefloorandIfollowherdown.

Shelandsonherback.Ilandonherstomach.Iclampmykneestightlyagainsthersidesandshovetheroddownhardintoherneck.

ThenthedoorbehindusfliesopenandJumboRecruitlumbersin,gundrawn,shoutingincoherently.

ThreeminutesinandthelightinClaire’seyesisfading,butit’snotallthewayout,andIknowIhavetotakearisk.Idon’tlikerisk,neverdid;Ijustlearnedtoacceptit.Somethingsyoucanchooseandsomeyoucan’t,likeSullivan’sCrucifixSoldier,likeTeacup,likegoingbackforZombieandNuggetbecausenotgoingbackmeantthere’snovaluetoanythinganymore,notlife,nottime,notpromises.

AndIhaveapromisetokeep.

Jumbo’sgun:The12thSystemlocksinonitandthousandsofmicroscopicdroidsgotoworkaugmentingthemuscles,tendons,andnervesinmyhands,eyes,andbraintoneutralizethethreat.Inamicrosecond,objectiveidentified,informationprocessed,methoddetermined.

Jumbodoesn’thaveaprayer.

Theattackhappensfasterthanhisunenhancedbraincanprocessit.Idoubtheevenseesthecurtainrodwhizzingtowardhishand.Thegunfliesacrosstheroom.Hegoesoneway—forthegun—whileIgotheother—forthetoilet.

Thetanklidissolidceramic.Andheavy.Icouldkillhim;Idon’t.ButIsmackhimhardenoughinthebackofheadtoputhimoutforalongtime.

Jumbofallsdown.Clairerisesup.Islingthelidtowardherhead.Herarmrisestoblocktheprojectile.Myenrichedhearingpicksupthesoundofabonesnappingfromthecollision.Thesilverdeviceinherhandclatterstothefloor.ShedivesforitasIstepforward.Islamonefootonheroutstretchedhandandwiththeotherkickthedevicetotheothersideoftheroom.

Done.

Andsheknowsit.Shelookspastthebarrelofthegunleveledatherface—beyondthetinyholefilledwithimmensenothingness—intomyeyes,andhersarekindagainandhervoiceissoftagain,thebitch.

“Marika...”

No.Marikawasslow,weak,sentimental,dimwitted.Marikawasalittlegirlclingingtorainbowfingers,helplesslywatchingthetimewinddown,teeteringontherazor’sedgeofthebottomlessabyss,exposedbehindherfortresswallsbypromisesshecouldneverkeep.ButIwillkeepherfinalpromisetoClaire,thebeastwhostrippedhernakedandbaptizedherinthecoldwaterthatstillroarsinthebrokenshower.IwillkeepMarika’spromise.Marikaisdead,andIwillkeepherpromise.

“MynameisRinger.”

Ipullthetrigger.

68

JUMBOSHOULDHAVEaknifeonhim.Standardissueforallrecruits.Ikneelbesidehisunconsciousbody,sliptheknifefromitssheath,andcarefullycutoutthepelletembeddednearthespinalcordatthebaseofhisskull.Islipitbetweenmycheekandgums.

Nowmine.NopainwhenIcutitout,andonlyasmallamountofbloodtricklesfromtheincision.

Botstodeadensensation.Botstorepairdamage.That’swhyClairedidn’tdiewhenIrammedabrokenpipeintoherneckandwhy,aftertheinitialgush,thebleedingquicklystopped.

Alsowhy,aftersixweeksflatonmybackwithverylittlefoodandaburstofintensephysicalactivity,I’mnotevenoutofbreath.

IinsertthetinypelletfrommyneckintoJumbo’s.Trackmenow,CommanderAsshole.

Freshjumpsuitfromthestackunderthesink.Shoes:Claire’sfeetaretoosmall;Jumbo’smuchtoolarge.I’llworkonshoeslater.Thebigkid’sleatherjacketmightcomeinhandy,though.Thejackethangsonmelikeablanket,butIliketheextraroominthesleeves.

There’ssomethingI’mforgetting.Iglancearoundthesmallroom.Thekillswitch,that’sit.Thescreengotcrackedinthemelee,butthedevicestillworks.Anumberglowsabovetheflashinggreenbutton.Mynumber.Iswipemythumboverthedisplayandthescreenfillswithnumbers,hundredsofsequencesrepresentingeveryrecruitonthebase.Iswipeagaintoreturntomynumber,taponit,andamappopsupshowingmyimplant’spreciselocation.Izoomoutandthescreenfillswithtiny,glowinggreendots:thelocationofeveryimplantedsoldierintheentirebase.Jackpot.

Andcheckmate.Withaswipeofmythumbandatapofmyfinger,Icanhighlightallthenumbers.

Thebuttononthebottomofthedevicewilllightup.Afinaltapandeveryrecruitneutralized,gone.Icanpracticallystrollout.

Ican—ifI’mwillingtostepoverseveralhundredcorpsesofinnocenthumanbeings,kidswhoarenolessvictimsthanIam,whosesolecrimeisthesinofhope.Ifthewageofsinisdeath,thenvirtueisavicenow:Adefenseless,starvingchildlostinawheatfieldisgivenshelter.Awoundedsoldiercriesoutforhelpbehindarowofbeercoolers.Alittlegirlshotbymistakeisdeliveredtoherenemiesinordertosaveher.

AndIdon’tknowwhichismoreinhuman:thealienbeingsthatcreatedthisnewworldorthehumanbeingwhoconsiders,ifonlyforaninstant,pressingthegreenbutton.

Threelargeclumpsofstationarydotshoverontherightsideofthescreen:thesleeping.Adozenisolatedindividualsontheperiphery:sentries.Twointhemiddle:mineinJumbo’sneck,hisinmymouth.Anotherthreeorfourveryclose,onthesamefloor:thesickandinjured.Onefloordown,theICU,whereonlyonegreensphereglows.So:barracks,observationposts,hospital.Acoupleofthesentrydotsaremanningthemagazinebuilding.Iwon’thavetoguesswhichtwo.I’llknowinafewminutes.

Comeon,Razor,let’sgo.I’vegotonelastpromisetokeep.

Watchingthegusherpourfromthebrokenpipe.

69

“DOYOUPRAY?”Razoraskedmeafteranexhaustingnightofchaseball,whilehepackedupthegameboardandpieces.

Ishookmyhead.“Doyou?”

“DamnrightIdo.”Noddinghisheademphatically.“Noatheistsinfoxholes.”

“Myfatherwasone.”

“Afoxhole?”

“Anatheist.”

“Iknowthat,Ringer.”

“Howdidyouknowmyfatherwasanatheist?”

“Ididn’t.”

“Thenwhydidyouaskifhewasafoxhole?”

“Ididn’t.Itwasafreaking—”Hesmiled.“Oh,Igetit.Iknowwhatyou’redoing.Thedisturbingthingtomeiswhy.Likeyou’renottryingtobefunnybuttryingtoprovehowsuperioryouare.Orthinkyouare.You’renoteither.Funnyorsuperior.Whydon’tyoupray?”

“Idon’tlikeputtingGodonthespot.”

Hepickedupthequeenandexaminedherface.“Youevercheckedherout?Sheisonescary-lookingshe-bitch.”

“Ithinkshelooksregal.”

“Shelookslikemythird-gradeteacher,alotofmanandverylittlewo.”

“What?”

“Youknow:heavyonthemale,lightonthefe.”

“She’sjustfierce.Awarriorqueen.”

“Mythird-gradeteacher?”Hestudiedmyface.Waiting.Waiting.“Sorry,triedthatjokeonce.Epicfail.”Heplacedthepieceinthebox.“Mygrandmabelongedtoaprayercircle.Youknowwhataprayercircleis?”

“Yes.”

“Really?Ithoughtyouwereanatheist.”

“Myfatherwasanatheist.Andwhycouldn’tanatheistknowwhataprayercircleis?Religiouspeopleknowaboutevolution.”

“Iknowwhatitis.I’vegotit,”hesaidthoughtfully,dark,intenseeyesstillonmyface.“Youwere,like,fiveorsixandsomerelativeremarkedinaverypositivewaywhataseriouslittlegirlyouwere,andfromthenon,youthoughtseriousnesswasattractive.”

“Whathappenedintheprayercircle?”Attemptingtogethimbackontrack.

“Ha!Soyoudon’tknowwhatitis!”Hesettheboxdownandscoochedfartherontothebed.Hisbuttnow

touchingmythigh.Ieasedmylegaway.Subtly,Ihoped.“I’lltellyouwhathappened.Mygrandma’sdoggotsick.Oneofthosepursedogsthatbiteseverybodyandlivesabouttwenty-fiveyears,bitingpeople.SoherpetitionhadtodowithGodsavingthatmeanlittledogsoitcouldbitemorepeople.Andhalftheoldladiesinhergroupagreedandhalfdidn’t,I’mnotsurewhy,ImeanaGodwhodoesn’tlikedogswouldn’tbeGod,butanyway,therewasthisbigdebateaboutwastedprayer,whichbecameanargumentaboutiftherecouldbesuchathingaswastedprayer,whichturnedintoafightabouttheHolocaust.SoinfiveminutesitwentfromanippyoldpursedogtotheHolocaust.”

“Sowhathappened?Didtheyprayforthedog?”

“No,theyprayedforthesoulsoftheHolocaust.Thenthenextdaythedogdied.”Andnowhewasnoddingthoughtfully.“Grandmaprayedforhim.Prayedeverynight.Toldallusgrandkidstopray,too.

SoIprayedforadogthatterrorizedandhatedmeandgavemethis.”Heswunghislegontothebedandpulleduphispantstoexposehiscalf.“Seethescar?”

Ishookmyhead.“No.”

“Well,it’sthere.”Hepusheddownthepantslegbutkepthisfootonthebed.“Soafteritdied,IsaidtoGrandma,‘IprayedreallyhardandFlubbystilldied.DoesGodhateme?’”

“Whatdidshesay?”

“SomeBSaboutGodwantingFlubbyinheaven,whichwasimpossibleformysix-year-oldbraintoprocess.Therearenippyoldpursedogsinheaven?Isn’theavensupposedtobeaniceplace?Itbotheredmeforalongtime.Like,everynight,whileIsaidmyprayers,Icouldn’thelpbutwonderifIevenwantedtogotoheavenandspendeternitywithFlubby.SoIdecidedhemustbeinhell.Otherwise,theologyfallsapart.”

Hewrappedhislongarmsaroundhisupraisedknee,whereherestedhischinandstaredintospace.

Hewasbackinatimewhenalittleboy’squestionsaboutprayerandGodandheavenstillmattered.

“Ibrokeacuponce,”hewenton.“PlayingaroundinMom’schinacabinet,partofherweddingset,thisdaintylittlecupfromateaset.Didn’ttotallybreakit.Droppeditontheflooranditcracked.”

“Thefloor?”

“No,notthefloor.Thecu—”Hiseyeswidenedinshock.“Didyoujustmakethesame...?”

Ishookmyhead.Hepointedhisfingeratme.“Naw,Icaughtyou!AmomentoflightheartedlevityfromRingerthewarriorqueen!”

“Ijokeallthetime.”

“Right.Butthey’resosubtlethatonlysmartpeoplegetthem.”

“Thecup,”Iproddedhim.

“SoI’vecrackedMom’spreciouschina.Iputitbackinthecabinet,turningitscrackedsidetowardthebacksomaybeshewon’tnotice,eventhoughIknowit’sonlyamatteroftimebeforeshedoesandI’mdeadmeat.KnowwhereIturnforhelp?”

Ididn’thavetothinkhard.Iknewwherethestorywasgoing.“God.”

“God.IprayedforGodtokeepMomawayfromthatcup.Like,fortherestofherlife.OratleastuntilImovedawaytocollege.ThenIprayedthathecouldhealthecup.He’sGod,right?Hecanhealpeople—what’satinyfreakingmade-in-Chinacup?Thatwastheoptimalsolutionandthat’swhathe’sallabout,optimalsolutions.”

“Shefoundthecup.”

“Youbetyourassshefoundthecup.”

“I’msurprisedyoustillpray.AfterFlubbyandthecup.”

Heshookhishead.“Notthepoint.”

“There’sapoint?”

“Ifyou’dletmefinishthestory—yes,thereisapoint.Hereitis:AftershefoundthecupandbeforeIknewshe’dfoundit,shereplacedit.Sheorderedanewcupandthrewawaytheoldone.OneSaturdaymorning—IguessI’dbeenprayingforaboutamonth—Iwenttothecabinettoprovetheprayercirclewrongaboutwastedprayer,andIsawit.”

“Thenewcup,”Isaid.Razornodded.“Butyoudidn’tknowyourmomreplacedit.”

Hethrewhishandsintotheair.“It’safuckingmiracle!What’scrackedhasbeenuncracked!Thebrokenmadewhole!Godexists!Inearlycrappedmypants.”

“Thecupwashealed,”Isaidslowly.

Hisdarkeyesdugdeepintomine.Hishandfelltomyknee.Asqueeze.Thenatap.

Yes.

70

INTHEBATHROOM,thegushbecomesastream,thestreambecomesatrickle,thetricklebecomesananemicdribble.Thewaterslowsandmyheartquickens.Myparanoiawasgettingthebetterofme.AdecadepassedwhileIwaitedforthewatertobecutoff:thegosignalfromRazor.

Thehalloutsideisdeserted.IalreadyknowthatthankstoClaire’strackingdevice.IalsoknowexactlywhereI’mgoing.

Stairs.Oneflightdown.Onelastpromise.IpauselongenoughonthelandingtoslipJumbo’ssidearmintothejacketpocket.

ThenIslamthroughthedoorandhitthehallrunning.Straightaheadisthenurses’station.Isprintstraighttowardit.Thenursepopsoutofherchair.

“Takecover!”Ishout.“It’sgoingtoblow!”

Iswervepastthecounterandracetowardtheswingingdoorsthatleadtotheward.

“Hey!”sheshouts.“Youcan’tgobackthere!”

Anydaynow,Razor.

Shehitsthelockdownbuttononherdesk.Itdoesn’tmatter.Ihurtleintothedoorsatfullspeedandsmashbothofftheirhinges.

“Freeze!”shescreams.

Theentirelengthofthehallwayremains;Iwon’tmakeit.I’vebeenenhanced,butIcan’toutrunabullet.Iskittertoahalt.

Razor,I’mserious.Nowwouldbeaverygoodtime.

“Handsonyourhead!Now.”Strugglingtocatchherbreath.“Goodjob.Nowwalktowardme,backward.Slow.Veryslow,orIsweartoGodI’llshootyou.”

Iobey,shufflingtowardthesoundofhervoice.Sheordersmetostop.Istop.I’mstill,butthemechanismsinsidemearen’t.Herpositionisfixed:Idon’thavetoseehertoknowexactlywhereshe’sstanding.Thehub’sdispatchedthemanagersofmymuscularandnervoussystemstoexecutethedirectivewhencalledupon.Iwon’thavetothinkwhenthetimecomes.Thehubwilltakeover.

ButIwon’towemylifeentirelytothe12thSystem:ItwasmyideatograbJumbo’sjacket.

Andthatremindsme:

“Shoes,”Imurmur.

“Whatdidyousay?”Hervoiceisquivering.

“Ineedshoes.Whatsizeareyou?”

“Huh?”

Atthespeedoflightthehub’ssignalfires.Mybodydoesn’tmovequitethatfast,butdoublethespeedthatisprobablynecessary.

RighthandjamsintoJumbo’sbaggysleeve,whereIslippedtheten-inchknife,pivottotheleft,thenthrow.

Anddownshegoes.

Ipulltheknifefromherneck,slidethebloodybladebackintotheleftsleeveofthejacket,andcheckouthershoes.Apairofthosewhite,thick-solednurse’sshoes.Ahalfsizetoobig,butthey’llwork.

Attheendofthehallway,Istepintothelastroomontheright.It’sdark,butmyeyeshavebeenenhanced:Icanseeherclearlyinthebed,fastasleep.Ordoped.I’llhavetodeterminewhich.

“Teacup?It’sme.Ringer.”

Thethick,darklashesflutter.I’msojackedupbythispoint,IswearIcanhearthetinyhairsthrummingtheair.

Shewhisperssomethingwithoutopeninghereyes.Toosoftfortheunenhancedtohear,buttheauditorybotstransmittheinformationtothehub,whichrelaysittotheinferiorcolliculus,thehearingcenterofmybrain.

“You’redead.”

“Notanymore.Andneitherareyou.”

71

THEWINDOWBESIDEthebedjigglesinitsframe.Thefloorquivers.Brightorangelightfloodstheroom,winksout,thenanearsplittingroarandafinemistofplasterfloatingdownfromtheceiling.Thesequencerepeats.Thenagain.Thenagain.

Razor’shitthemagazinebuilding.

“Teacup,wehavetogo.”Islideonehandbehindherheadandliftgently.

“Gowhere?”

“Asfaraswecan.”

Bracingthebackofherheadwithonehand,Ihitherintheforeheadwiththeheeloftheother.Thepreciseamountofforce,nomore,noless.Herbodygoeslimp.Iheaveheroutofthebed.Anotherblastastheordnanceinthemagazinecontinuestodetonate.Ikickoutthewindow.Bittercoldaircrashesintotheroom.Isitonthesillfacingthebed,cradlingTeacupagainstmychest.Myintentalertsthehub:I’mtwostoriesabovetheground.Reinforcementsracetothebonesandtendonsinmyfeet,ankles,shins,knees,andpelvis.

Wedeploy.

Iflipaswedrop,likeacatfallingoffacountertop.Welandsafely,likeacat,exceptTeacup’sheadbouncesuponimpactandsmacksmehardunderthechin.Infrontofusthehospital.Behindustheblazing

ammunitionstorehouse.Andtoourright,exactlywhereRazorsaiditwouldbe,theblackDodgeM882.

Ithrowopenthedoor,shoveTeacupintothepassengerseat,jumpbehindthewheel,andtakeoffacrosstheparkinglot,cuttinghardtothelefttomaketheturnnorthtowardtheairfield.Asirenscreams.Floodlightsblare.Intherearviewmirrors,emergencyvehiclesracetowardtheburningmagazine.Thefirebrigadewillhaveahardtimeofitsincesomeonehasshutdownthepumpingstation.

Anotherhardleft,andnowstraightaheadarethehulkingbodiesoftheBlackHawks,glisteninglikethebodiesofblackbeetlesintheharshlightofthefloods.Igripthewheelhardandtakeadeepbreath.

Thisisthetrickiestpart.IfRazorcouldn’tkidnapapilot,we’reallscrewed.

Ahundredyardsaway,Iseesomeonejumpfromoneofthechoppers’holds.He’swearingaheavyparkaandtotinganassaultrifle.Hisfaceispartiallyobscuredbythehood,butI’dknowthatsmileanywhere.

IhopfromtheM882.

AndRazorsays,“Hi.”

“Where’sthepilot?”Iask.

Hejerkshisheadtowardthecockpit.“Igotmine.Where’syours?”

IpullTeacupfromthetruckandjumpinsidethechopper.AguywearingnothingbutadrabgreenTshirtandamatchingpairofboxershortssitsbehindthecontrols.Razorslidesintothecopilotseatbesidehim.

“Fireherup,LieutenantBob.”Razorgrinsatthepilot.“Oh.Manners.Ringer,LieutenantBob.

LieutenantBob,Ringer.”

“There’snowaythisisgoingtowork,”LieutenantBobsays.“They’llcomeafterushard.”

“Yeah?What’sthis?”Razorholdsupamassoftangledelectricalwire.

Thepilotshakeshishead.Socold,hislipsareturningblue.“Idon’tknow.”

“NeitherdoI,butI’mguessingthey’reveryimportantfortheproperoperationofahelicopter.”

“Youdon’tunderstand...”

Razorleanstowardhimandallhisplayfulnessisgone.Hisdeep-seteyesburnasifbacklitandthecoiledforceIsensedfromthebeginningspringsfreewithsuchferocity,Iactuallyflinch.

“Listentome,youaliensonofabitch,youfirethismother-effingstickbuddyupASAPorI’m—”

Thepilotshoveshishandsintohislapandstaresstraightahead.Aftergettingoneintothechopperundetected,mybiggestconcernwasgettingapilottocooperate.Ileanforward,grabBobbythewrist,andbendhispinkyfingerbackward.

“I’llbreakit,”Ipromisehim.

“Goahead!”

Ibreakit.Histeethclampdownonhisbottomlip.Hislegsjerk.Hiseyesswimwithtears.Thatshouldn’thappen.Ipressmyfingersagainstthebackofhisneck,thenturntoRazor.

“He’simplanted.Heisn’toneofthem.”

“Yeah,well,whothehellareyou?”thepilotsqueals.

Ipullthetrackingdevicefrommypocket.There’sthehospitalandthemagazinesurroundedbyaswarmofgreendots.Andtherearethreedotsglowingontheairstrip.

“Youcutyoursout,”IsaytoRazor.

He’snodding.“Andleftitundermypillow.Thatwastheplan.Orwasthattheplan?Shit,Ringer,wasn’tthattheplan?”Alittlepanicky.

Idroptheknifeintomyhand.“Holdhim.”

Razorunderstandsimmediately.HegrabsLieutenantBobandputshiminaheadlock.Bobdoesn’tputupmuchresistance.Iworrynowthathemightgointoshock.Ifhedoes,it’sover.

Thereisn’tmuchlightandRazorcan’tholdhimperfectlystill,soItellBobtochillorImightseverhisspinalcord,addingparalysistotheproblemofabrokenfinger.Ipulloutthepellet,tossitontothetarmac,yankBob’sheadback,andwhisperinhisear,“I’mnottheenemyandIhaven’tgoneDorothy.

I’mjustlikeyou—”

“Onlybetter,”Razorfinishes.Heglancesthroughthewindowandsays,“Uh,Ringer...”

Iseethem:Theglowofheadlightsexpandinglikeapairofstarsgoingsupernova.“They’recoming,andwhentheygethere,theywillkillus,”ItellBob.“Youtoo.Theywon’tbelieveyouandtheywillkillyou.”

Bobstaresintomyface,tearsofpainstreamingdownhis.

“Youhavetotrustme,”Isay.

“Orshe’llbreakanotherfinger,”Razoradds.

Adeep,shudderingbreath,shakinguncontrollably,cradlinghiswoundedhand,bloodtricklingdownhisneckandsoakingintothecollarofhisT-shirt.“It’shopeless,”hewhispers.“They’lljustshootusdown.”

Onimpulse,Ireachforwardandpressmyhandagainsthischeek.Hedoesn’trecoil.Hebecomesverystill.Idon’tunderstandwhyItouchedhimorwhat’shappeningnowthatIam,butIfeelsomethingopeninginsideme,likeabudspreadingitsdelicatepetalstowardthesun.I’mfreezingcold.Myneckisonfire.Andthelittlefingeronmyrighthandthrobstothebeatofmyheart.Thepainbringstearstomy

eyes.Hispain.

“Ringer!”Razorbarks.“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”

IpourmywarmthintothemanItouch.Idousethefire.Icaressthepain.Isoothehisfear.Hisbreathevensout.Hisbodyrelaxes.

“Bob,wereallyhavetogo,”Itellhim.

Andtwominuteslater,wedo.

72

ASWEASCEND,thetruckscreechestoastopandatallmanstepsout,andhisfaceisastudyindeepshadowsthrownbythefloods,butIseehiseyeswitheyesenhanced,brightandhardlikethecrows’inthewoods,polishedbluewhilethecrows’wereblack,anditmustbeatrickoflightorshadow,thesmall,tightsmileheseemstowear.

“Keepuslow,”IorderBob.

“Wherearewegoing?”

“South.”

Thechopperbanks;thegroundrushestowardus.Iseethemagazineburningandthespinninglightsofthefiretrucksandrecruitsswarmingaroundlikeants.Wepassoverariver,blackwatersparkinginthespilloverlightfromthefloods.Behindusnow,thecampisanoasisoflightinadesertofwinterdark.Weplungeintothatdark,skimmingsixfeetabovethetreetops.

IslideintotheseatnexttoTeacup,leanherintomychest,andpullherhairtooneside.IhopethisisthelasttimeIhavetodothis.WhenI’mdone,Icrushtheimplantwiththeheeloftheknife.

Razor’svoicesquawksinmyheadset:“How’sshedoing?”

“Okay,Ithink.”

“How’reyoudoing?”

“Good.”

“Glitches?”

“Minor.You?”

“Smoothasanewbornbaby’sass.”

IeaseTeacupbackintotheseat,standup,andopencompartmentsuntilIfindthechutes.Razorrattleson

asIchecktheassemblies.

“Anythingyouwanttosaytome?Like,Idon’tknow,Thankyou,Razor,forsavingmyassfromalifetimeofalienservitudeafterIpunchedyouinthethroatandgenerallyactedlikeadouchebag?

Somethingalongthoselines?Youknow,itwasn’texactlyliketakingawalkinbaseball,secretcodesembeddedinbogusgamesandslippinglaxativeinpuddingandriggingexplosivesandstealingtrucksandkidnappingpilotswithfingersforyoutobreak.MaybeHey,Razor,Icouldn’thavedoneitwithoutyou.Yourock.Somethinglikethat.Doesn’thavetobeword-for-word,justsomethingtocapturethegeneralspirit.”

“Whydidyou?”Iask.“Whatmadeyoudecidetotrustme?”

“Whatyousaidthatdayaboutthekids—turningkidsintobombs.Ididsomeaskingaround.NextthingIknow,I’mintheWonderlandchairandthentheytakemetothecommanderandhe’salldownonmyassaboutsomethingyousaid,andheordersmetostoptalkingtoyoubecausehecan’tordermetostoplistening,andthemoreIthinkaboutit,thestinkieritgets.TheytrainustoterminateTedsandthenloaddowntoddlerswithalienordnance?Who’rethegoodguyshere?AndthenI’mlike,whoamIhere?Itgotreallyangsty,arealexistentialcrisis.Whattippeditforme,though,wasthemath.”

“Math?”

“Yeah,math.Aren’tallyouAsiansreallygoodatmath?”

“Don’tberacist.AndI’mthree-quartersAsian.”

“‘Three-quarters.’See?Math.Itcomesdowntosimpleaddition.Asinitdoesn’taddup.Okay,somaybewegetluckyandseizetheWonderlandprogramfromthem.Evensuper-superioralienscanscrewup,nobody’sperfect.Butwedon’tjustsnatchWonderland.Wehavetheirbombs,wehavetheirtrack-and-killimplants,theirsuper-sophisticatednanobotsystem—shit,weevenhavethetechnologycapableofdetectingthem.Whaduhfuh?We’vegotmoreoftheirweaponsthantheydo!Buttherealkickercamethatdaytheyjackedyouup,whenVoschsaidtheyliedtousabouttheorganismattachedtohumanbrains.Unbelievable!”

“Becauseifthat’salie...”

“Theneverything’salie.”

Belowusthelandiscoveredinablanketofwhite.Thehorizonisindiscernibleinthedark,lost.

Everythingisalie.IthoughtofmydeadfathertellingmethatIbelongedtothemnow.Instinctively,IgatherTeacup’slittlehandintomine:truth.

IhearBobsayintheheadset,“I’mconfused.”

“Relax,Bob,”Razorsays.“Hey,Bob.Wasn’tthatthemajor’snameatCampHaven?What’sitwithofficersandthenameBob?”

Analarmsounds.IreturnTeacup’shandtoherlapandshuffleforward.“Whatisit?”

“Company,”Bobsays.“Sixo’clock.”

“Choppers?”

“Negative.F-15s.Threeofthem.”

“Howmuchtimebeforethey’reinrange?”

Heshakeshishead.Despitethecold,hisshirtissoakedinsweat.Hisfaceshineswithit.“Fivetoseven.”

“Bringusup,”Itellhim.“Maximumaltitude.”

IgrabacoupleparachuterigsanddroponeintoRazor’slap.

“We’rebailing?”heasks.

“Wecan’tengageandwecan’toutrun.You’rewithTeacup.Tandemjump.”

“I’mwithTeacup?Whoareyouwith?”

Bobglancesattheotherriginmyhand.“I’mnotbailing,”hesays.Andthen,justincaseIdidn’thearordon’tunderstand:“I’m.Not.Bailing.”

Noplanisperfect.I’dplannedforaSilencerBob,whichmeantmyplanentailedkillinghimbeforewebailedfromthechopper.Nowit’scomplicated.Ididn’tkillJumboforthesamereasonIdon’twanttokillBob.KillenoughJumbos,murderenoughBobs,andyou’veplungedtothesamedepthsastheoneswhoshoveabombdownatoddler’sthroat.

Ishrugtohidemyuncertainty.Tosstherigintohislap.“ThenIguessyougetincinerated.”

We’reatfivethousandfeet.Darksky,darkground,nohorizon,alldark.Thebottomofthelightlesssea.Razorislookingattheradarscreen,buthesaystome,“Where’syourchute,Ringer?”

Iignorethequestion.“Canyougivemeasixty-secondETAontheirrange?”IaskBob.Henods.

Razorasksthequestionagain.“It’smath,”Itellhim.“WhichI’mthree-quartersreallygoodat.Iftherearefourofusandtheymarktwochutes,thatleavesatleastoneofusonboard.One,maybetwoofthemwillstaywiththechopper,atleastuntiltheycantakeitdown.It’llbuytime.”

“Whatmakesyouthinkthey’llstaywiththechopper?”

Ishrug.“It’swhatI’ddo.”

“Stilldoesn’tanswermyquestionaboutyourchute.”

“They’rehailingus,”Bobannounces.“Orderingustosetitdown.”

“Tellthemtosuckit,”Razorsays.Hestuffsapieceofbubblegumintohismouth.Tapshisear.

“Popping’sbad.”Jamsthegumwrapperintohispocket.NoticesI’mwatchingandsmiles.“Nevernoticedallthecrapintheworlduntiltherewasnobodylefttopickitup,”heexplains.“TheEarthismycharge.”

ThenBobcallsout,“Sixtyseconds!”

ItugonRazor’sparka.Now.

Helooksupatmeandsaysslowlyanddistinctly,“Where’syourfreakingchute?”

Ihaulhimoutoftheseatone-handed.Hechirpsinsurprise,stumblingtowardtheback.Ifollowhim,squatinfrontofTeacuptoremoveherharness.

“Fortyseconds!”

“Howarewegoingtofindyou?”Razoryells,standingrightnexttome.

“Headforthefire.”

“Whatfire?”

“Thirtyseconds!”

Ihaulopenthehatchdoor.TheblastofairthatpunchesintotheholdblowsRazor’shoodoffhishead.IscoopupTeacupandpressherintohischest.

“Don’tletherdie.”

Henods.

“Promise.”

Nodsagain:“Ipromise.”

“Thankyou,Razor,”Isay.“Foreverything.”

Heleansforwardandkissesmehardonthemouth.

“Don’teverdothatagain,”Itellhim.

“Why?Becauseyoulikeditorbecauseyoudidn’t?”

“Both.”

“Fifteenseconds!”

RazormaneuversTeacupoverhisshoulder,grabsthesafetycable,andshufflesbackuntilhisheelstouchthejumppad.Silhouettedintheopening,theboyandthechildovertheboy’sshoulder,andfivethousandfeetbeneaththem,thelimitlessdark.TheEarthismycharge.

Razorreleasesthecable.Hedoesn’tseemtofall.Heissuckedoutintotheravenousvoid.

73

IHEADBACKtothecockpit,whereIfindthepilot’sdoorunlatched,theseatempty,andnoBob.

Iwonderedwhythecountdownstopped;nowIknow:Hechangedhismindaboutthewholebailingissue.

Wemustbeinrange,whichmeanstheydon’tintendtoshootusdown.They’vemarkedthelocationofRazor’sdrop,andthey’llstaywiththechopperuntilIbailoritrunsoutoffuelandI’mforcedtobail.

Bythispoint,VoschhasfiguredoutwhyJumbo’simplantisonthisaircraftwhileitsownerisintheinfirmarybeingtreatedforaverybadheadache.

Withthetipofmytongue,Ipushthepelletfrommymouthandlickitontomypalm.

Doyouwanttolive?

Yes,andyouwantthat,too,ItellVosch.Idon’tknowwhyand,hopefully,Ineverwill.

Iflickthepelletfrommyhand.

Thehub’sresponseisinstantaneous.Myintentalertedthecentralprocessor,whichcalculatedtheoverwhelmingprobabilityofterminalfailureandshutdownallbuttheessentialfunctionsofmymuscularsystem.The12thSystemhasthesameorderIgaveRazor:Don’tletherdie.Likeaparasite’s,thesystem’slifedependsonthecontinuationofmine.

Theinstantmyintentchanges—Okay,fine.I’llparachuteout—thehubwillreleaseme.Thenandonlythen.Ican’tlietoitorbargainwithit.Can’tpersuadeit.Can’tforceit.UnlessIchangemymind,itcan’tletmego.Unlessitletsmego,Ican’tchangemymind.

Heartonfire.Bodyofstone.

There’snothingthatthehubcandoaboutmysnowballingpanic.Itcanrespondtoemotions;itcan’tcontrolthem.Endorphinsrelease.Neuronsandmastocytesdumpserotoninintomybloodstream.Otherthanthesephysiologicaladjustments,it’sasparalyzedasIam.

Theremustbeananswer.Theremustbeananswer.Theremustbeananswer.Whatistheanswer?

AndIseeVosch’spolished,birdlikebrighteyesboringintomine.Whatistheanswer?Notrage,nothope,notfaith,notlove,notdetachment,notholdingon,notlettinggo,notfighting,notrunning,nothiding,notgivingup,notgivingin,notnotnot,knot,knot,knot,naughtnaughtnaught.

Naught.

Whatistheanswer?heasked.

AndIanswered,Nothing.

74

ISTILLCAN’TMOVE—notevenmyeyes—butI’vegotaprettygoodangleontheinstruments,includingthealtimeterandfuelgauge.We’refivethousandfeetupandthefuelwon’tlastforever.Inducingparalysismightstopmefromjumping,butitwon’tkeepmefromfalling.Theprobabilityofterminalfailureinthatscenarioisabsolute.

Ithasnootheroption:Thehubreleasesme,andthesensationislikebeinghurledthelengthofafootballfield.I’mshovedbackintomybody,hard.

Okay,Ringer2.0.Let’sseehowgoodyouare.

Igrabthehandleofthepilot’sdoorandkilltheengines.

Analarmsounds.Ikillthat,too.Thereisthewindnowandonlythewind.

Forafewseconds,momentumkeepsthechopperlevel,thenfreefall.

I’mthrowntotheceiling;myheadsmacksagainstthewindshield.Whitestarsexplodeinmyvision.

Thechopperbeginstospinasitdrops,andIlosemygriponthedoor.I’mtossedaroundlikeadieinaYahtzeecup,graspingatemptyspace,searchingforahandhold.Thechopperflips,noseup,andI’mflungtwelvefeetintotherearoftheaircraft,thenslungbackasitflipsagain,smashingchest-firstintothebackofthepilot’sseat.Ahotkniferipsacrossmyside:I’vebrokenarib.Theloosenylonstrapofthepilot’sharnesssmacksmeinthefaceandIsnatchitbeforeI’mthrownagain.Anotherflip,andthecentrifugalforcewhipsmebackintothecockpit,whereIsmashintothedoor.ItfliesopenandIjammywhite-solednurse’sshoeagainsttheseatforleverageandheavemyselfhalfwayout.Releasethestrap,lockmyfingersaroundthehandle,andpushhard.

Roll,pitch,flip,somersault,flashesofgrayandblackandsparklingwhite.I’mhangingontothehandleasthechopperrollspilotsideupandthedoorslamsclosedonmywrist,snappingtheboneandtearingmyfingersfromthehandle.MybodybouncesandtwistsalongthelengthoftheBlackHawkuntilitwhacksintotherearwheel,rocketingstraightup,andwhenthetailrotatesskyward,I’mshottowardthehorizonlikearockfromaslingshot.

Ihavenosensationoffalling.I’msuspendedontheupdraftofwarmerairpressingagainstthecolder,ahawksailinginthenightskyonoutstretchedwings,behindandbelowmethetumblinghelicopterprisonertothegravitythatIdeny.Idon’theartheexplosionwhenitcrashes.Justthewindandthebloodroaringinmyears,andthereisnopainfromthebeatinginsidethechopper.Iamdeliriously,exhilaratinglyempty.Iamnothing.Thewindismoresubstantialthanmybones.

TheEarthrushestowardme.Iamnotafraid.I’vekeptmypromises.I’veredeemedthetime.

Istretchoutmyarms.Ispreadmyfingerswide.IliftmyfacetowardthelinewheretheskymeetstheEarth.

Myhome.Mycharge.

75

IAMFALLINGatterminalvelocitytowardafeaturelesslandscapeofwhite,avastnothingnessthatgobblesupeverythinginitspath,explodingtowardthehorizoninalldirections.

It’salake.Averybiglake.

Afrozen-oververybiglake.

Goinginfeet-firstismyonlyoption.Iftheiceismorethanafootthick,I’mdone.Noamountofalienenhancementwillprotectme.Thebonesinmylegswillshatter.Myspleenwillrupture.Mylungswillcollapse.

Ihavefaithinyou,Marika.Youdidnotcomethroughfireandbloodonlytofallnow.

Actually,Commander,Idid.

Thewhiteworldbeneathmeshineslikepearls,ablankcanvas,analabasterabyss.AscreamingwallofwindpushesagainstmylegsasIdrawmykneestomychesttoexecutetherotation.Ihavetogoinatninetydegrees.Straightentoosoonandthewindwillknockmeoff-kilter.ToolateandI’llhitwithmyassormychest.

Iclosemyeyes;Idon’tneedthem.Thehub’sperformedperfectlysofar;timeformetogiveitallmytrust.

Mymindempties:blankcanvas,alabasterabyss.Iamthevessel,thehubthepilot.

Whatistheanswer?

AndIsaid,Nothing.Nothingistheanswer.

Bothlegskickouthard.Mybodyswivelsupright.Myarmscomeup,foldthemselvesovermychest.

Myheadfallsback,myfacetothesky.Mymouthopens.Deepbreath,exhale.Deepbreath,exhale.

Deepbreath,hold.

Verticalnow,releasedbythewind,Ifallfaster.Ihittheicestraighton,feet-first,atahundredmilesanhour.

Idon’tfeeltheimpact.

Orthecoldwaterclosingoverme.

OrthepressureofthatwaterasIplummetintoinkydarkness.

Ifeelnothing.Mynerveshavebeenshutdownorthepainreceptorsinmybrainturnedoff.

Hundredsoffeetaboveme,atinypointoflight,apinprick,faintasthefartheststar:theentrypoint.

Alsotheexitpoint.Ikicktowardthestar.Mybodyisnumb.Mymindisempty.I’vecompletelysurrenderedtothe12thSystem.Itisn’tpartofmeanymore.The12thSystemisme.Weareone.

Iamhuman.AndIamnot.Risingtowardthestarthatshinesintheice-encrustedvault,aprotogodascendingfromtheprimordialdeep,fullyhuman,whollyalien,andIunderstandnow;IknowtheanswertotheimpossibleriddleofEvanWalker.

Ishootintotheheartofthestarandhurlmyselfovertheedgeontotheicecap.Acoupleofbrokenribs,afracturedwrist,adeepgashinmyforeheadfromthepilot’sharness,totallynumb,completelyoutofbreath,empty,whole,aware.

Alive.

76

IREACHTHESMOLDERINGwreckageofthechopperbydawn.Thecrashsitewasn’thardtofind:TheBlackHawkwentdowninthemiddleofanopenfieldcoveredinafreshfallofsnow.Youcouldseethefire’sglowformiles.

Iapproachslowlyfromthesouth.Tomyright,thesunbreaksthehorizonandlightshootsacrossthewinterscape,settingablazeacrystallineinferno,asifabilliondiamondshadfallenfromthesky.

Mywater-soakedclothesarefrozen,cracklinglikekindlingwhenImove,andsensationhasbeenreturnedtome.The12thSystemperpetuatesmyexistencetoperpetuateitsown.It’scallingforrest,food,helpwiththehealingprocess;that’sthepurposeofgivingmebackmypain.

No.NorestuntilIfindthem.

Theskyisempty.Thereisnowind.Smokecurlsfromthemangledremainsofthechopper,blackandgray,likethesmokethatroseoverCampHavencarryingtheincineratedremainsoftheslaughtered.

Whereareyou,Razor?

Thesunclimbsandtheglarecomingoffthesnowbecomesblinding.Thevisualarrayadjustsmyeyes:Adarkfilterwithnodiscernabledifferencefromsunglassesdropsovermyvision,andthenIseeablotintheperfectionofwhiteaboutamiletothewest.Ilieflatonmystomach,usingabreaststrokemotiontodigmyselfasmalltrench.Atitdrawscloser,thedarkimperfectiontakesonahumanshape.

Tallandthin,wearingaheavyparkaandcarryingarifle,movingslowlyagainsttheankle-grippingsnow.Thirtyminutescrawlby.Whenhe’sahundredyardsaway,Irise.Hedropsasifshot.Icallhisname,notloudly,though;soundcarriesfartherinwinterair.

Hisvoicefloatsbacktome,highpitchedwithanxiety.“Holyshit!”

Heslogsforafewsteps,thentakesoffrunning,liftinghiskneeshighandpumpinghisarmslikeadeterminedcardiofiendonatreadmill.Hestopsanarm’slengthfromme,warmbreathexplodingfromhisopenmouth.

“You’realive,”hewhispers.Iseeitinhiseyes:Impossible.

“Where’sTeacup?”

Hejerkshisheadbehindhim.“She’sokay.Well,Ithinkherlegmightbebroken...”

Isteparoundhimandstartwalkingthewayhecame.Hetrudgesafterme,fussingformetoslowdown.

“Iwasabouttogiveuponyou,”hepuffs.“Nochute!What,youcanflynow?Whathappenedtoyourhead?”

“Ihitit.”

“Oh.Well,youlooklikeanApache.Youknow,warpaint.”

“That’stheotherquarter:Apache.”

“Seriously?”

“Whatdoyoumean,youthinkshebrokeherleg?”

“Well,whatImeanisIthinkherlegmightbebroken.Withthehelpofyourx-rayvision,maybeyoucandefinitivelydiagnose—”

“Thisisstrange.”I’mstudyingtheskyaswewalk.“Where’sthepursuit?Theywouldhavemarked

thelocation.”

“I’veseennothing.Liketheyjustgaveup.”

Ishakemyhead.“Theydon’tgiveup.Howmuchfarther,Razor?”

“Anothermile?Don’tworry,Igothertuckedawayniceandsafe.”

“Why’dyouleaveher?”

Helooksatmesharply,dumbstruckforasecond.Butonlyforasecond.Razordoesn’tstayspeechlessforlong.“Tolookforyou.Youtoldmetomeetyoubythefire.Sortofgenericdirections.

Youcouldhavesaid,‘MeetmeatthecrashsitewhereIputthischopperdown.Thatfire.’”

Wewalkforafewminutesinsilence.Razorisoutofbreath.I’mnot.ThearrayswillsustainmeuntilIreachher,butIhaveafeelingthatwhenIcrash,I’llcrashhard.

“Sowhatnow?”heasks.

“Restupafewdays—oraslongaswecan.”

“Then?”

“South.”

“South.That’stheplan?South.Alittleelaborate,isn’tit?”

“WehavetogetbacktoOhio.”

Hestopsasifhe’drunintoaninvisiblewall.Itrudgeonforafewsteps,thenturn.Razorisshakinghisheadatme.

“Ringer,doyouhaveanyideawhereyouare?”

Inod.“AbouttwentymilesnorthofoneoftheGreatLakes.I’mguessingErie.”

“Whatareyou—Howarewe—YoudorealizeOhioisoverahundredmilesfromhere,”hesputters.

“Wherewe’regoing,moreliketwohundred.Asthecrowflies.”

“‘Asthe...’Well,toofuckingbad,wearen’tcrows!What’sinOhio?”

“Myfriends.”

Icontinuewalking,followingtheimprintofhisbootsinthesnow.

“Ringer,Idon’twanttoburstyourbubble,but—”

“Youdon’twanttoburstmybubblebutt?”

“Thatsoundedsuspiciouslylikeajoke.”

“Iknowthey’reprobablydead.AndIknowI’llprobablydielongbeforeIreachthem,evenifthey’renot.ButImadeapromise,Razor.Ididn’tthinkitwasapromiseatthetime.Itoldmyselfitwasn’t.

Toldhimitwasn’t.Butthere’rethethingswetellourselvesaboutthetruth,andthere’rethethingsthetruthtellsaboutus.”

“Whatyoujustsaidmakesnosense.Youknowthat,right?Mustbetheheadinjury.Youusuallymakealot.”

“Headinjuries?”

“Now,thatdefinitelywasajoke!”Hefrowns.“Madeapromisetowho?”

“Anaïve,thick-headed,stereotypicaljockwhothinkshe’sGod’sgifttotheworldwhenheisn’tthinkingtheworldisGod’sgifttohim.”

“Oh.Okay.”Hedoesn’tsayanythingforafewshufflingsteps,then:“SohowlonghasMr.NaïveThick-

headedStereotypicalJockbeenyourboyfriend?”

Istop.Iturn.Igrabhisfacewithbothhandsandkisshimhardonthemouth.Hiseyesarewideandfilledwithsomethingthatcloselyresemblesfear.

“Whatwasthatfor?”

Ikisshimagain.Ourbodiespressedclose.Hiscoldfacecradledinmycolderhands.Icansmellthebubblegumonhisbreath.TheEarthismycharge.Wearetwopillarsrisingfromanundulatingseaofdazzlingwhite.Limitless.Withoutborders,withoutboundaries.

Hebroughtmefromthetomb.Heraisedmefromthedead.HeriskedhislifesoImighthavemine.

Easiertoturnaside.Easiertoletmego.Easiertobelievethebeautifulliethanthehideoustruth.Aftermyfatherdied,Ibuiltafortresssafeandstrongtolastathousandyears.Amightystrongholdthatcrumbleswithakiss.

“Nowwe’reeven,”Iwhisper.

“Notexactly,”hesayshoarsely.“Ionlykissedyouonce.”

77

ASWEAPPROACH,thecomplexseemstorisefromthesnowlikealeviathanfromthedeep.Silos,conveyors,bins,mixers,storageandofficebuildings,anenormouswarehousetwicethesizeofanairplanehangar,allsurroundedbyarustychain-linkfence.Itseemscreepilysymbolic,fittingsomehow,forthistoendataconcreteplant.Concreteistheomnipresenthumansignature,ourprincipalartisticmediumontheworld’sblankcanvas:Whereverwewent,theEarthslowlydisappearedbeneathit.

Razorpullsasideasectionoftherottingfenceformetoduckthrough.Colorhighinhischeeks,nosebrightredfromthecold,soft,soulfuleyesdartingabout.MaybehefeelsasexposedasIdointheopen,dwarfedbythetoweringsilosandmassiveequipment,beneaththebright,cloudlesssky.

Maybe,thoughIdoubtit.

“Givemeyourrifle,”Itellhim.

“Huh?”He’sclutchingtheweaponagainsthischest,triggerfingernervouslytapping.

“I’mabettershot.”

“Ringer,I’vecheckeditallout.There’snobodyhere.It’sperfectly—”

“Safe,”Ifinishforhim.“Right.”Iholdoutmyhand.

“Comeon,she’srightoverthereinthewarehouse...”

Idon’tmove.Herollshiseyes,tipshisheadbacktoconsidertheemptysky,looksbackatme.

“Iftheywerehere,youknowwe’dalreadybedead.”

“Therifle.”

“Fine.”Heshovesitatme.Ipulltheriflefromhishandsandsmashthestockagainstthesideofhishead.Hedropstohisknees,eyesonmyface,butthere’snothinginthoseeyes,nothingatall.

“Fall,”Itellhim.Hepitchesforwardandliesstill.

Idon’tthinkshe’sinthewarehouse.There’sareasonhewantedmetogointhere,butIdon’tbelievethatreasonhadanythingtodowithTeacup.Idoubtshe’swithinahundredmilesofthisplace.Ihavenochoice,though.AslightadvantagewiththerifleandRazorneutralized,andthat’sall.

HeopeneduptomewhenIkissedhim.Idon’tknowhowtheenhancementopensanempatheticpathwayintoanotherhumanbeing.Maybeitturnsthecarrierintoakindofhumanliedetector,gatheringandcollatingdatafromamyriadofsensoryinputsandfunnelingitthroughthehubforinterpretationandanalysis.Howeveritworks,IfelttheblankspotinsideRazor,anullity,ahiddenroom,andIknewsomethingwasterriblywrong.

Lieswithinlieswithinlies.Feintsandcounterfeints.Likeadesertmirage,nomatterhowhardyourantowardit,itstayedforeverinthedistance.Findingthetruthwaslikechasingthehorizon.

AsIentertheshadowofthebuilding,somethingloosensinside.Mykneesbegintoshake.MychestacheslikeI’vebeenhitwithabatteringram.Ican’tcatchmybreath.The12thSystemcansustainandstrengthenme,superchargemyreflexes,enhancemysensestenfold,healme,andprotectmeagainsteveryphysicalhazard,butthere’snothingmyfortythousanduninvitedguestscandoaboutabrokenheart.

Can’t,can’t.Can’tgosoftnow.Whathappenswhenwegosoft?Whathappens?

Ican’tgoinside.Imustgoinside.

Ileanagainstthecoldmetalwallofthewarehouse,besidetheopendoor,wheredarknessdwells,profoundasthegrave.

78

ROTTENMILK.

ThestenchoftheplagueissointensewhenIstepinsidethatIgag.Theolfactoryarrayimmediatelysuppressesmysenseofsmell.Mystomachsettles.Myeyesclear.Thewarehouseistwicethesizeofafootballfieldandsectionedintothreeascendingtiers.Thebottomsection,inwhichI’mstanding,hadbeenconvertedintoafieldhospital.Hundredsofcots,wadsofbedding,andtipped-overcartsofmedicalsupplies.Bloodeverywhere.Glisteninginthelightstreamingthroughtheholesinthepartiallycollapsedceilingthreestoriesovermyhead.Frozensheetsofbloodonthefloor.Bloodsmearedonthewalls.

Blood-soakedsheetsandpillows.Blood,blood,bloodeverywhere,butnobodies.

Iclimbthefirstsetofstairstothesecondtier.Supplylevel:bagsofflourandotherdrygoods,rippedopen,contentsstrewnbyratsandotherscavengers,stacksofcannedgoods,jugsofwater,barrelsofkerosene.Stockpiledinanticipationofwinter,buttheRedTsunamicaughtthemfirstanddrownedthemintheirownblood.

Iclimbthesecondsetofstairstothethirdtier.Acolumnofsunlightcutsthroughthedustyairlikeaspotlight.I’vereachedtheend.Thefinallevel.Theplatformislitteredwithcorpses,stackedsixhighinsomeplaces,theonesonthebottomwrappedcarefullyinsheets,theonesclosertothetophastilytossedthere,adiscordantjumbleofarmsandlegs,atwistedmassofboneanddesiccatedskinandskeletalfingersgraspinguselesslyattheemptyair.

Themiddleofthefloorhasbeencleared.Awoodentablesitsinthecenterofthecolumnoflight.

Andonthetable,awoodenboxand,besidethewoodenbox,achessboard,setupinanendgamethatIinstantlyrecognize.

Andthenhisvoice,comingfromeverywhereandnowhere,likethewhisperofdistantthunder,impossibletoplace.

“Weneverfinishedourgame.”

Ireachforwardandtopplethewhiteking.Ihearasighlikeahighwindinthetrees.

“Whyareyouhere,Marika?”

“Itwasatest,”Iwhisper.Thewhitekingonhisback,blankstare,theeyesanalabasterabysslookingbackatme.“Youneededtotestthe12thSystemwithoutmeknowingitwasatest.Ihadtobelieveitwasreal.ItwastheonlywayI’dcooperate.”

“Anddidyoupass?”

“Yes.Ipassed.”

Iturnmybacktothelight.He’sstandingatthetopofthestairs,alone,faceinshadow,thoughIswearIcanseehisbrightblue,birdlikeeyesglitteringinthecharneldark.

“Notquiteyet,”hesays.

Iaimtherifleatthespacebetweenthoseglitteringeyesandpullthetrigger.Theclicksechofromtheemptychamber:Click,click,click,click,click,click.

“You’vecomesofar,Marika.Don’tdisappointmenow,”Voschsays.“Youmusthaveknownitwouldn’tbeloaded.”

IdroptherifleandshufflebackwarduntilIknockagainstthetable.Ipressmyhandsonthetopto

steadymyself.

“Askthequestion,”heordersme.

“Whatdidyoumean,‘Notquiteyet’?”

“Youknowtheanswertothat.”

Ipickupthetableandhurlitathim.Heslapsitawaywithonearm,andbythattimeI’vereachedhim,launchingmyselffromsixfeetaway,hittinghimsquareinthechestwithmyshoulderandwrappingmyarmsaroundhiminabearhug.Weflyoffthethirdlevelandsmashontothesecond.Theboardsbeneathusgiveathunderouscrack.Theimpactloosensmygrip.Hewrapsthelongfingersofonehandaroundmyneckandslingsmetwentyfeetintoatowerofcannedgoods.I’monmyfeetinlessthanasecond,buthestillbeatsme,movingsofast,hisrisingtracesanafterimageinmyvision.

“Thepoorrecruitinthewashroom,”hesays.“ThenurseoutsidetheICU,thepilot,Razor—evenClaire,poorClaire,whowasatadistinctdisadvantagefromthebeginning.Notenough,notenough.Totrulypass,youmustovercomewhatcannotbeovercome.”

Hespreadshisarmswide.Aninvitation.“Youwantedtheopportunity,Marika.Well.Hereitis.”

79

THERE’SLITTLEDIFFERENCEbetweenwhathappensnextandourchessgame.HeknowshowIthink.Heknowsmystrengths,myweaknesses.KnowseverymovebeforeImakeit.Hepaysparticularattentiontomyinjuries:mywrist,myribs,myface.Bloodstreamsfromthereopenedwoundonmyforehead,steaminginthesubzeroair,runningintomymouth,myeyes;theworldturnscrimsonbehindabloodycurtain.AfterIfallathirdtime,hesays,“Enough.Staydown,Marika.”

Igetup.Heputsmedownafourthtime.

“You’lloverloadthesystem,”hecautionsme.I’monmyhandsandknees,watchingdumblyasbloodspattersfrommyfacetothefloor,arainofblood.“Itcouldcrash.Ifthathappens,yourinjuriesmightkillyou.”

I’mscreaming.Pouringfromtheverybottomofmysoul:thedeathhowlsofsevenbillionslaughteredhumanbeings.Thesoundricochetsaroundthecavernousspace.

ThenI’mupagainforthelasttime.Evenenhanced,myeyescan’tfollowhisfists.Likequantumparticles,they’reneitherherenorthere,impossibletoplace,impossibletopredict.Heflingsmylimpbodyfromtheplatformtotheconcretefloorbelow,throughwhichIseemtofallforever,intodarknessthickerthanthatwhichengulfedtheuniversebeforethebeginningoftime.Irollontomystomachandpushmyselfup.Hisbootslamsintomyneckandstampsdown.

“Whatistheanswer,Marika?”

Hedoesn’thavetoexplain.Finally,Iunderstandthequestion.Finally,Igettheriddle:Heisn’taskingaboutouranswertotheproblemofthem.Heneverwas.He’saskingabouttheiranswertotheproblemof

us.

SoIsay,“Nothing.Nothingistheanswer.They’renothere.Theyneverwere.”

“Who?Who’snothere?”

Mymouthisfullofblood.Iswallow.“Therisk...”

“Yes.Verygood.Theriskisthekey.”

“They’renothere.Therearenoentitiesdownloadedintohumanbodies.Noalienconsciousnessinsideanyone.Becauseoftherisk.Therisk.Theriskisunacceptable.It’sa...aprogram,adelusionalconstruct.Insertedintotheirmindsbeforetheywereborn,switchedonwhentheyreachedpuberty—alie,it’salie.They’rehuman.Enhancedlikeme,buthuman...humanlikeme.”

“Andme?Ifyouarehuman,whatamI?”

“Idon’tknow...”

Thebootpressesdown,crushingmycheekagainsttheconcrete.

“WhatamI?”

“Idon’tknow.Thecontroller.Thedirector.Idon’tknow.Theonechosento...Idon’tknow,Idon’tknow.”

“AmIhuman?”

“Idon’tknow!”AndIdidn’t.We’dcometotheplaceIcouldnotgo.TheplacefromwhichIcouldnotreturn.Above:theboot.Below:theabyss.“Butifyouarehuman...”

“Yes.Finishit.IfIamhuman...what?”

Iamdrowninginblood.Notmine.Thebloodofthebillionswhodiedbeforeme,aninfiniteseaofbloodthatenvelopsmeandbearsmedowntothelightlessbottom.

“Ifyouarehuman,thereisnohope.”

80

HELIFTSMEfromthefloor.Hecarriesmetooneofthecotsandgentlylaysdownmybody.“Youarebent,butnotbroken.Thesteelmustbemeltedbeforetheswordcanbeforged.Youarethesword,Marika.Iamtheblacksmithandyouarethesword.”

Hecupsmyface.Hiseyesshinewiththefervorofareligiouszealot,thelookofastreet-cornercrazypreacher,exceptthiscrazyholdsthefateoftheworldinhishands.

Herunshisthumbovermybloodycheek.“Restnow,Marika.You’resafehere.Perfectlysafe.I’mleavinghimtotakecareofyou.”

Razor.Ican’ttakethat.Ishakemyhead.“Please.No.Please.”

“Andinaweekortwo,you’llbeready.”

Hewaitsforthequestion.He’sverypleasedwithhimself.Orwithme.Orwhathehasachievedinme.Idon’task,though.

Andthenhe’sgone.

Later,Ihearthechoppercometotakehimaway.Afterthat,Razorappears,lookingasifsomeoneshovedanappleundertheskinthatcoveredhischeek.Hedoesn’tsayanything.Idon’tsayanything.

Hewashesmyfacewithwarm,soapywater.Hebandagesmywounds.Hebindsmyfracturedribs.Hesplintsmybrokenwrist.Hedoesn’tbothertooffermewater,thoughhemustknowI’mthirsty.HejabsanIVintomyarmandhooksupasalinedrip.Thenheleavesmeandsitsinafoldingchairbytheopendoor,cocoonedintheheavyparka,rifleacrosshislap.Whenthesunsets,helightsakerosenelampandplacesitonthefloorbesidehim.Lightflowsupandbatheshisface,buthiseyesarehiddenfromme.

“Where’sTeacup?”Myvoiceechoesinthevastspace.

Hedoesn’tanswer.

“Ihaveatheory,”Itellhim.“It’saboutrats.Doyouwanttohearit?”

Silence.

“Tokilloneratiseasy.Allyouneedisapieceofoldcheeseandaspring-loadedtrap.Buttokillathousandrats,amillionrats,abillion—orsevenbillion—that’salittlebitharder.Forthatyouneedbait.

Poison.Youdon’thavetopoisonallsevenbillionofthem,justacertainpercentagethatwillcarrythepoisonbacktothecolony.”

Hedoesn’tmove.Ihavenoideaifhe’slisteningorevenawake.

“We’retherats.Theprogramdownloadedintohumanfetuses—that’sthebait.What’sthedifferencebetweenahumanwhocarriesanalienconsciousnessandahumanwhobelievesthathedoes?Thereisnodifferenceexceptone.Risk.Riskisthedifference.Notourrisk.Theirs.Whywouldtheyriskthemselveslikethat?Theansweristheydidn’t.Theyaren’there,Razor.Theyneverwere.It’sjustus.

It’salwaysbeenjustus.”

Hebendsforwardveryslowlyanddeliberatelyandextinguishesthelight.

Isigh.“Butlikealltheories,thereareholes.Youcan’treconcileitwiththebigrockquestion.Whybotherwithanyofitwhenalltheyhadtodowasthrowaverybigrock?”

Veryquietlynow,soquietlyIwouldn’thearhimwithouttheenhancementarray:“Shutup.”

“Whydidyoudoit,Alex?”IfAlexisreallyhisname.Hisentirehistorycouldbealiedesignedby

Voschtomanipulateme.Theoddsareitis.

“I’masoldier.”

“Youwerejustfollowingorders.”

“I’masoldier.”

“It’snotyourstoreasonwhy.”

“I.Am.A.SOLDIER!”

Iclosemyeyes.“Chaseball.WasthatVosch’s,too?Sorry.Stupidquestion.”

Silence.

“It’sWalker,”Isay,myeyessnappingopen.“Ithastobe.It’stheonlythingthatmakessense.It’sEvan,isn’tit,Razor?HewantsEvanandI’mtheonlypathtohim.”

Silence.

TheimplosionofCampHavenandthedisableddronesrainingfromthesky:Whydidtheyneeddrones?Thequestionalwaysbotheredme.Howhardcoulditbetofindpocketsofsurvivorswhenthereweresofewsurvivorsleftandyouhadplentyofhumantechnologyinyourpossessiontofindthem?

Survivorsclustered.Theycrowdedtogetherlikebeesinahive.Thedronesweren’tbeingusedtokeeptrackofus.Theywerebeingusedtokeeptrackofthem,thehumanslikeEvanWalker,solitaryanddangerouslyenhanced,scatteredovereverycontinent,armedwithknowledgethatcouldbringthewholeedificecrashingdowniftheprogramdownloadedintothemmalfunctioned—asitclearlydidinhiscase.

Evanisoffthegrid.Voschdoesn’tknowwhereheisorifhe’saliveordead.ButifEvanisalive,Voschneedssomeoneontheinside,someoneEvanwouldtrust.

Iamtheblacksmith.

Youarethesword.

81

FORAWEEK,heismysolecompanion.Guard,nursemaid,watchman.WhenI’mhungry,hebringsmefood.WhenIhurt,heeasesmypain.WhenI’mdirty,hebathesme.Heisconstant.Heisfaithful.HeistherewhenIwakeandtherewhenIfallasleep.Inevercatchhimsleeping:Heisconstant,butmysleepneveris;Iwakeseveraltimesanight,andhe’salwayswatchingfromhisspotbythedoor.Heissilent

andsullenandstrangelynervous,thisguywhoeffortlesslyconnedmeintobelievinghimandinhim.

AsifImighttrytoescape,whenheknowsIcanbutwon’t,whenheknowsIamimprisonedbyapromisemorebindingthanathousandchains.

Ontheafternoonofthesixthday,Razortiesaragoverhisnoseandmouth,clumpsupthestairstothethirdlevel,andcomesbackcartingabody.Hecarriesitoutside.Thenbackupthestairs,histreadasheavyempty-handedasitisburdenedwithacorpse,andanotherbodydescendstothebottom.Ilosecountatonehundredtwenty-three.Heemptiesthewarehouseofthedead,pilingthemintheyard,andatdusk,hesetsthepileonfire.Thebodieshavemummifiedandthefirecatchesquicklyandburnsveryhotandbright.Thepyrecanbeseenformiles,ifthereareanyeyestoseeit.Itslightglowsinthedoorway,lapsacrossthefloor,turnstheconcreteintoagolden,undulatingseabed.Razorloungesinthedoorwaywatchingthefire,aleanshadowhaloedlikealunareclipse.Heshrugsoutofhisjacket,removeshisshirt,rollsupthesleeveofhisundershirttoexposehisshoulder.Thebladeofhisknifeglimmersintheyellowglowasheetchessomethingintohisskinwiththetip.

Thenightwearson;thefiredwindles;thewindshiftsandmyheartacheswithnostalgia—summercampsandcatchinglightningbugsandAugustskiesaflamewithstars.Thewaythedesertsmellsandthelong,wistfulsighofwindrushingdownfromthemountainsasthesundipsbeneaththehorizon.

Razorlightsthekerosenelampandwalksovertome.Hesmellslikethesmokeand,faintly,likethedead.

“Whydidyoudothat?”Iask.

Abovetherag,hiseyesswimwithtears.Idon’tknowifhe’stearyfromthesmokeorsomethingelse.

“Orders,”hesays.

HepullstheIVfrommyarmandwrapsthetubingoverthehookonthestand.

“Idon’tbelieveyou,”Isay.

“Well,I’mshocked.”

It’sthemosthe’sspokensinceVoschleft.I’msurprisedthatI’mrelievedtohearhisvoiceagain.He’sexaminingthewoundonmyforehead,faceveryclosebecausethelightisdim.

“Teacup,”Iwhisper.

“Whatdoyouthink?”hesayscrossly.

“She’salive.She’stheonlyleveragehehas.”

“Okay,then.She’salive.”

Hespreadsantibacterialointmentoverthecut.Anunenhancedhumanbeingwouldhaveneededseveralstitches,butinafewdaysnoonewillbeabletotellthatIwasinjured.

“Icouldcallhisbluff,”Isay.“Howcanhekillhernow?”

Razorshrugs.“Becausehedoesn’tgiveashitaboutonelittlekidwhenthefateofthewholeworldis

atstake?Justaguess.”

“Afterallthat’shappened,aftereverythingyouheardandeverythingyousaw,youstillbelievehim.”

Helooksdownatmewithsomethingthatcloselyresemblespity.“Ihavetobelievehim,Ringer.IletgoofthatandI’mdone.I’mthem.”Henodstowardtheyardwheretheblackenedbonessmolder.

Hesitsonthecotnexttomineandpullsdownthemakeshiftmask.Thelanternbetweenhisfeetandthelightthatflowsoverhisfaceandtheshadowsthatpoolinhisdeep-seteyes.

“Toolateforthat,”Itellhim.

“Right.We’realldeadalready.Sothereisnoleverage,right?Killme,Ringer.Killmerightnowandrun.Run.”

I’dbeoffthecotbeforehecouldblinkagain.Asinglepunchtohischestandtheaugmentedblowwouldshoveashatteredribintohisheart.AndthenIcouldwalkout,walkaway,walkintothewildernesswhereIcanhideforyears,decades,untilIamoldandbeyondthecapabilityofthe12thSystemtosustainme.Imightoutliveeveryone.ImightwakeonedaythelastpersononEarth.

Andthen.Andthen.

Hemustbefreezing,sittingtherewithnothingbutaT-shirton.Icanseealineofdriedbloodacrosshisbiceps.

“Whatdidyoudotoyourarm?”Iask.

Hepullsuphissleeve.Thelettersarecrudelydrawn,bigandblockyandshaky,thewayalittlekidmakesthemwhenhe’sfirstlearning:VQP

“Latin,”hewhispers.“Vincitquipatitur.Itmeans—”

“Iknowwhatitmeans,”Iwhisperback.

Heshakeshishead.“Ireallydon’tthinkthatyoudo.”Hedoesn’tsoundangry.Hesoundssad.

Alexturnshisheadtowardthedoorway,beyondwhichthedeadarebornetowardtheindifferentsky.

Alex.

“IsAlexreallyyourname?”Iask.

HelooksatmeagainandIseetheplayfullyironicsmile.Likehearinghisvoiceagain,I’msurprisedatmyselfformissingit.“Ididn’tlieaboutanyofthat.Onlytheimportantstuff.”

“DidyourgrandmotherhaveadognamedFlubby?”

Helaughssoftly.“Yes.”

“That’sgood.”

“Whyisthatgood?”

“Iwantedthatparttobetrue.”

“Becauseyoulovemeanlittlenippypursedogs?”

“BecauseIlikethatonceuponatimethereweremeanlittlenippypursedogsnamedFlubby.That’sgood.That’sworthremembering.”

He’soffthecotbeforeIcanblinkagain,andhe’skissingme,andIplungeinsidehimwherenothingishidden.He’sopentomenow,theonewhosustainedmeandtheonewhobetrayedme,theonewhobroughtmebacktolifeandtheonewhodeliveredmebacktodeath.Rageisnottheanswer,no,andnothate.Layerbylayer,thatwhichseparatesusfallsaway,untilIreachthecenter,thenamelessregion,thedefenselessstronghold,anageless,bottomlessache,thelonelysingularityofhissoul,unspoiledbytimeorexperience,beyondthought,infinite.

AndIamtherewithhim—Iamalreadythere.Withinthesingularity,Iamalreadythere.

“Thatcan’tbetrue,”Iwhisper.Withinthecenterofeverything,wherenothingis,Ifoundhimholdingme.

“Idon’tbelieveallofyourbullshit,”hemurmurs.“Butyou’rerightaboutthis:Somethings,downtothesmallestofthings,areworththesumofallthings.”

Outside,thebitterharvestburns.Inside,heslipsthesheetsdown,andthesearethehandsthatheldme,thehandsthatbathedandfedandliftedmewhenIcouldnotliftmyself.Hebroughtmetodeath;hebringsmetolife.That’swhyheremovedthedeadfromtheuppertier.Hebanishedthem,consignedthemtothefire,nottodesecratethembuttosanctifyus.

Theshadowthatwrestleswithlight.Thecoldthatcontendswithfire.It’sawar,hetoldmeonce,andwearetheconquerorsoftheundiscoveredcountry,anislandoflifecenteredinaboundlessseaofblood.

Thepiercingcold.Thesearingheat.Hislipsslidingovermyneckandmyfingersfeelinghisshatteredcheek,thewoundIgavehim,andthewoundsonhisarm—VQP—thathegavehimself,thenmyhandsslidingdownhisback.Don’tleaveme.Pleasedon’tleaveme.Thesmellofbubblegumandthesmellofsmokeandthesmellofhisblood,andthewayhisbodyslidesovermineandthewayhissoulslicesintomine:Razor.Thebeatofourheartsandtherhythmofourbreathandthespinningstarswecouldnotsee,markingthetime,measuringtheshrinkingintervalsuntiltheendofus,himandmeandeverythingelse.

Theworldisaclockandtheclockwindsdown,andtheircominghadnothingtodowiththat.Theworldhasalwaysbeenaclock.Eventhestarswillwinkoutonebyoneandtherewillbenolightorheat,andthisisthewar,theendless,futilewaragainstthelightless,heatlessvoidrushingtowardus.

Heentwineshisfingersbehindmybackandpullsmetightlyagainsthim.Nospacebetweenusanymore.NospotwhereheendsandIbegin.Theemptinessfilled.Thevoiddefied.

82

HELINGERSBESIDEMEuntilourbreathevensandourheartsslow,runninghisfingersthroughmyhair,staringatmyfaceintentlyasifhecannotleaveuntilhe’smemorizedeveryaspect.Hetouchesmylips,mycheeks,myeyelids.Runsthetipofhisfingeralongthelengthofmynose,aroundthecurveofmyear.Hisfacemoreinshadow,minemoreinlight.

“Run,”hewhispers.

Ishakemyhead.“Ican’t.”

Herisesfromthecot,butIhavethesensationoffallingasheremainsstill.Hepullsonhisclothesquickly.Ican’treadhisexpression.Razorhasclosedhimselfofftome.Iamboundinsidetheemptinessagain.Ican’tbearit.Itwillcrushme,theabsenceIlivedwithforsolongthatIhardlynoticed.

Unnoticeduntilthismoment:Heshowedmehowenormoustheemptinesswasbyfillingit.

“Theywon’tcatchyou,”hepresses.“Howcouldtheyevercatchyou?”

“HeknowsIwon’trunaslongashehasher.”

“OhChrist.Whatisshetoyou,anyway?Issheworthyourlife?Howcanonepersonbeworthyourwholelife?”It’saquestionhealreadyknowstheanswerto.“Fine.Dowhatyouwant.LikeIcare.Likeitmatters.”

“That’sthelessontheytaughtus,Razor.Whatmattersandwhatdoesn’t.Theonetruthatthecenterofallthelies.”

Hepicksuphisrifleandslingsitoverhisshoulder.Hekissesmeontheforehead.Ablessing.Abenediction.Thenhepicksupthelampandwalksunsteadilytothedoorway,thewatchman,thecaretaker,theonewhodoesnotrestorgrowwearyorfalter.Heleansagainsttheopendoor,facingthenight,andtheskyabovehimburnswiththecoldlightoftenthousandpyresmarkingthetimetickingdown.

“Run,”Ihearhimsay.Idon’tthinkhe’sspeakingtome.“Run.”

83

ONTHEEIGHTHDAY,thechopperreturnsforus.IletRazorhelpwithmyclothes,butbesidesacoupleofsoreribsandapairofweaklegs,thetwelvearrayscollectivelyknownasRingerarefullyoperational.

Myfacehascompletelyhealed;notevenascarremains.Ontheridebacktothebase,Razorsitsacrossfromme,studyingthefloor,lookingupatmeonlyonce.Run,hemouths.Run.

Whiteland,darkriver,thehelicopterbankshard,swoopingaroundthecontroltowerattheairfield,closeenoughformetoseeatall,solitaryfigurebehindthetintedwindows.Wesetdowninthesamespotfrom

whichwetookoff,anothercirclecomplete,andRazorputshishandonmyelbowtoguidemeintothetower.Ontheridetothetop,hishandwrapsbrieflyaroundmine.

“Iknowwhatmatters,”hesays.

Voschstandsattheotherendoftheroomwithhisbacktowardus,butIcanseehisfacereflecteddimlyintheglass.Besidehimstandsaburlyrecruitgrippingarifletohischestwiththedesperationofsomeonehangingoveraten-mile-deepgorgebyashoestring.Sittingnexttotherecruit,wearingthestandard-issuewhitejumpsuit,isthereasonI’mhere,myvictim,mycross,mycharge.

Teacupstartstogetupwhensheseesme.Thebigrecruitputshishandonhershoulderandpushesherbackdown.Ishakemyheadandmouthtoher,No.

Theroomisquiet.Razorisonmyrightside,standingslightlybehindme.Ican’tseehim,buthe’scloseenoughthatIcanhearhimbreathing.

“So.”Voschdrawsouttheword,aprelude.“Haveyousolvedtheriddleoftherocks?”

“Yes.”

Iseehimsmiletightlyinthedarkglass.“And?”

“Throwingaverybigrockwoulddefeatthepurpose.”

“Andwhatisthepurpose?”

“Forsometolive.”

“Thatbegsthequestion.You’rebetterthanthat.”

“Youcouldhavekilledallofus.Butyoudidn’t.You’reburningthevillageinordertosaveit.”

“Asavior.IsthatwhatIam?”Heturnstofaceme.“Refineyouranswer.Mustitbeallornothing?Ifthegoalistosavethevillagefromthevillagers,asmallerrockwouldhaveachievedthesameresult.

Whyaseriesofattacks?Whytherusesanddeceit?Whyengineer-enhanced,delusionalpuppetslikeEvanWalker?Arockissomuchmoresimpleanddirect.”

“I’mnotsure,”Iconfess.“ButIthinkithassomethingtodowithluck.”

Hestaresatmeforalongmoment.Thenhenods.Heseemspleased.“Whathappensnow,Marika?”

“You’retakingmetohislastknownlocation,”Ianswer.“You’redroppingmeintotrackhimdown.

Heisananomaly,aflawinthesystemthatcan’tbetolerated.”

“Really?Andhowcouldonepoorhumanpawnposeanydangerwhatsoever?”

“Hefellinlove,andloveistheonlyweakness.”

“Why?”

Besideme,Razor’sbreath.Beforeme,Teacup’supliftedface.

“Becauseloveisirrational,”ItellVosch.“Itdoesn’tfollowrules.Notevenitsownrules.Loveisthe

onethingintheuniversethat’sunpredictable.”

“Iwouldhavetorespectfullydisagreewithyouonthatpoint,”Voschsays.HelooksatTeacup.

“Love’strajectoryisentirelypredictable.”

Hestepsclose,loomingoverme,acolossuscutfromfleshandbonewitheyesclearasamountainlakeboringallthewaydowntothebottomofmysoul.

“WhywouldIneedyoutotrackhimoranyonedown?”

“Youlostthedronesthatmonitorhimandalltheotherslikehim.He’soffthegrid.Hedoesn’tknowthetruth,butheknowsenoughtocauseseriousdamageifheisn’tstopped.”

Voschraiseshishand.Iflinch,buthishandcomesdownonmyshoulder,whichhesqueezeshard,hisfaceglowingwithsatisfaction.“Verygood,Marika.Very,verygood.”

Andbesideme,Razorwhispers,“Run.”

Hissidearmexplodesbesidemyear.Voschbackpedalstowardthewindow,butheisn’thit.Thebigrecruitgoesdowntohisknees,rammingtherecoilpadofhisrifleagainsthisshoulder,butheisn’thit,either.

Razor’stargetwasthesmallestthingthatisthesumofallthings,hisbullettheswordthatseversthechainthatboundme.

TheimpacthurlsTeacupbackward.Herheadsmacksintothecounterbehindher;herstick-thinarmsflyintotheair.Iwhiptomyright,towardRazor,intimetoseehischestblownapartbythekneelingrecruit’sround.

Hepitchesforwardandmyarmscomeupinstinctively,buthefallstoofast.Ican’tcatchhim.

Andhissoft,soulfuleyesliftuptomine,attheendofatrajectorythatevenVoschfailedtopredict.

“You’refree,”Alexwhispers.“Run.”

Therecruitswingstherifletowardme.Voschstepsbetweenuswithanenraged,gutturalcry.

ThehublightsupthemusculararrayasIsprintstraightforthewindowsoverlookingthelandingfield,leapingfromsixfeetawayandrotatingmyrightshouldertowardtheglass.

AndthenI’mintheopenair,falling,falling,falling.

You’refree.

Falling.

84

COVEREDINASHanddust,fivegrayghostsoccupyingthewoodsatdawn.

MeganandSamfinallydriftingofftosleep,thoughmoreofapassingoutthanadriftingoff.ShewasclutchingBeartoherchest.Whereverthereissomeoneinneed,Bearsaidtome,Iwillgo.

Benwatchingthesunrisewithhisrifleacrosshislap,silent,wrappedtightwithangerandgrief,butmostlygrief.Dumbo,thepracticalone,digginginhisrucksackforsomethingtoeat.Andme,wrappedtight,too,withangerandgrief,butmostlyanger.Hello,good-bye.Hello,good-bye.HowmanytimesdoIhavetorelivethiscycle?Whathappenedwasn’thardtofigureout;itwasjustimpossibletounderstand.EvanfoundthebaggiethatSamdroppedandblew(literally)bothGraceandhimselftolime-greenoblivion.WhichhadbeenEvan’splanfromthebeginning,theself-sacrificing,idealistic,alien-humanhybridasshole.

DumbocameoverandaskedifIwantedhimtotakealookatmynose.Iaskedhimhowhecouldmissit.Helaughed.“TakecareofBen,”Itoldhim.

“Hewon’tletme,”hesaid.

“Well,”Isaid,“therealwoundyourmedicalmojocan’ttouch,Dumbo.”

Hehearditfirst(thebigearsmaybe?),headcomingup,lookingovermyshoulderintothetrees:thesnapandcrackleofthefrozengroundbreakinganddeadleavescrunching.Istoodupandswungmyrifletowardthesound.Inthedeepshadows,alightershadowmoved.Asurvivorofthecrashwhofollowedushere?AnotherEvanorGrace,aSilencerfindingusinhisterritory?No.Couldn’tbe.NoSilencerwouldbecaughtdeadtrampingthroughthewoodswithallthestealthofabullinachinashop—ortheywouldbecaughtdeaddoingit.

TheshadowraiseditsarmshighintheairandIknew—knewbeforeIheardmyname—thathe’dfoundmeagain,keeperofthepromisehecouldn’tmake,theoneIhadmarkedwithmybloodandwhohadmarkedmewithhistears,aSilencerallright,mySilencer,stumblingtowardmeintheimpossiblypurelightofalatewinter’ssunrisepromisingspring.

IhandedmyrifletoDumbo.Ilefthim.Thegoldenlightandthedarktreesglisteningwithiceandthewaytheairsmellsoncoldmornings.Thethingsweleavebehindandthethingsthatneverleaveus.Theworldendedonce.Itwillendagain.Theworldends,thentheworldcomesback.Theworldalwayscomesback.

Istoppedafewstepsfromhim.Hestopped,too,andweregardedeachotheracrossanexpansewiderthantheuniverse,withinaspacethinnerthanarazor’sedge.

“Mynoseisbroken,”Isaid.DamnthatDumbo.Mademeself-conscious.

“Myankle’sbroken,”hesaid.

“ThenI’llcometoyou.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Goingin,Ididn’tfullyappreciatethetollthisprojectmighttake.Oneofmyflawsasawriter(oneofmany,Godknows)isthatItendtodivetoodeeplyintotheinnerlivesofmycharacters.Iignorethesageadvicetoremainabovethefray,tobeasindifferentasthegodstothesufferingwithinmycreation.

Whenyou’rewritingalongstoryspanningthreevolumesabouttheendoftheworldasweknowit,you’reprobablybetteroffnottakingittooseriously.Otherwise,you’reinforsomedarknightsofthesoul,aswellasfatigue,malaise,untowardmoodswings,hypochondria,cryingjags,andpuerilehissyfits.Youtellyourself(andthepeoplearoundyou)thatactinglikeafour-year-oldwhocriesbecausehedidn’tgetwhathewantedforChristmasisaperfectlynormalwaytobehave,butdeepdownyouknowyou’rebeingdisingenuous.Deepdownyouknowthat,whentheclockhaswounddownandthetimeisup,therewillbemorethanacknowledgmentsowed;therewillbeapologies,too.

TothegoodpeopleatPutnam,particularlyDonWeisberg,JenniferBesser,andAriLewin:Forgivemeforgettinglostinthethickets,fortakingmyselfandmybookstooseriously,forblamingothersformyownshortcomings,forgettingboggeddowninthemuddytrenchesoftheimpossibledilemmasofmyownmaking.Youhavebeengenerousandpatientandincrediblysupportive.

Tomyagent,BrianDeFiore:Tenyearsago,youhadnoideawhatyouweregettinginto.Tobefair,neitherdidI,butthanksforhanginginthere.It’snicetoknowthatthere’ssomeoneIcancallanytimeandyellatfornoreasonatall.

Tomyson,Jake:ThankyouforalwaysansweringmytextsandnotfreakingoutwhenIwas.Thanksforreadingmymoodsandforgivingthemevenwhenyoudidn’tunderstandthem.Thanksforinspiringmeandpushingmeandalwaysdefendingmeagainstmeanpeople.Andthanksfornotmindingtoomuchyourfather’sannoyinghabitofpepperinghisspeechwithobscurequotesfrombooksyouhaven’treadandmoviesyouhaven’tseen.

Finally,toSandy,mywifeofnearlytwentyyears,whorecognizedinherhusbandadreamunfulfilledandwhounderstoodbetterthanhedidhowtomakethatdreamreal:Mydarling,youtaughtmecourageinthefaceofoverwhelmingoddsandincalculableloss.Youshowedmefaithinthefaceofdespair,courageinthehoursoflightlessconfusion,patienceintheshadowofloomingpanicoverlosttimeandwastedeffort.Forgivemeforthehoursofsilenceyouendured,theinarticulateangerandhopelessness,theinexplicableswingsfromeuphoria(“I’magenius!”)toangst(“Isuck!”).TheonlyfoolI’veeverseenyousuffergladlyisme.Ruinedholidays,forgottenobligations,unheardquestions.Nothingismorepainfulthanthelonelinessofbeingwithsomeonewhoisnevercompletelythere.I’veincurredadebtthatishopelessformetorepay,thoughIpromisetotry.Because,intheend,withoutlovealloureffortiswasted,allwedoisinvain.

Vincitquipatitur.

DocumentOutlineTitlePageCopyrightDedicationEpigraphTHEWHEATBOOKONEI:THEPROBLEMOFRATSChapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10II:THERIPPINGChapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14III:THELASTSTARChapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29IV:MILLIONSChapter30V:THEPRICEChapter31

Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34Chapter35Chapter36Chapter37Chapter38Chapter39Chapter40Chapter41Chapter42Chapter43Chapter44Chapter45Chapter46Chapter47Chapter48VI:THETRIGGERChapter49BOOKTWOVII:THESUMOFALLTHINGSChapter50Chapter51Chapter52Chapter53Chapter54Chapter55Chapter56Chapter57Chapter58Chapter59Chapter60Chapter61Chapter62Chapter63Chapter64Chapter65Chapter66Chapter67Chapter68Chapter69Chapter70Chapter71Chapter72Chapter73Chapter74Chapter75

Chapter76Chapter77Chapter78Chapter79Chapter80Chapter81Chapter82Chapter83VIII:DUBUQUEChapter84ACKNOWLEDGMENTS