 
Clone Three

Book One: The Clone Chronicles

Patti Larsen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 by Patti Larsen

Find out more about Patti Larsen at

http://www.pattilarsen.com/

***

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Cover art (copyright) by Valerie Bellamy. All rights reserved.

http://www.dog-earbookdesign.com/

Edited by Annetta Ribken, freelance Goddess. You can find her at http://www.wordwebbing.com/

***

# Chapter One

I open my eyes. It's the first thing I think to do. The world is tilted sideways, the angles all wrong. I turn my head, feel hard, thin metal behind me, hear it bend and warble as I move. My whole body is limp, useless for the time being. Where am I? What is this place? The walls used to be blue, now coated in crusts of mold and running rust like an old disease left to fester.

On my left, what remains of a toilet bowl, the top smashed, jutting jaws of jagged porcelain teeth aimed at the ceiling. One single, flickering fluorescent bulb dangles overhead, swinging softly back and forth from the wires holding it suspended just past the dented frame.

A bathroom stall? The floor is icy cold under me, my fingers registering the stickiness of old traffic and a film of moisture left behind.

There, opposite where I half-lie, half-sit, my back propped against the wall of the stall, I see something waver at eye level, a hologram of some kind, projected onto the pitted and angry metal.

A man's face. Do I know it? I feel I should know him, from somewhere. I'm just not sure where.

"Clone Three." His voice is a softly echoing sound, volume and pitch altering as he speaks, as if over a great distance. "Pay attention, dear. Final instructions."

Is he talking to me? He must be. His eyes seem to be meeting mine, he looks at me with great expectation. And yet as I lie here and begin to regain sensation and control, I realize I not only have no idea where I am, I haven't a clue what I'm doing here.

Who am I? Clone Three. Is that me?

"Not again." His face isn't angry. Why did I fear he would be angry? Instead, even through the unclear and twitching image, I see his desperate concern.

"What's happening?" The view seems to widen as a woman's face joins him. I'm smiling suddenly. I know her, and very well. She's tied to my heart, isn't she?

Isn't she?

My smile fades as her own worry reaches me. "Clone Three," she says, her voice calling to me as much as her words. "Please, you must listen."

"It's useless." The man sags. "She was our final hope. There is no more."

She ignores him, focused on me. I'm happy she's still there. I'm worried myself. What if she leaves me? And why does the idea of that make me feel so afraid?

"It's going to be all right," she says, smiling. I smile back. Yes, this is better. This is right. "You just need to listen carefully to what I say."

I listen with every cell in my body, every single thread of my being, because she's asked it of me.

"This is so hard." She looks at the man. "We have no idea how much she remembers."

"We are lost. We've failed." He turns away from her, leaves the image. She sighs and meets my eyes again.

Distress makes my body shake. I want to reach for her, feel my fingers twitch in response. My body is coming (back?) to life.

"Don't listen to him," she says. "Just to me. You must find the others. Do you hear me? Clone Two and Clone One. It's imperative you find them. Do you understand?"

I nod. My head and neck seem to work just fine.

"You'll know them," she says. "Just trust me."

I do. With everything.

Her image begins to crackle, waver, breaking up. A soft grunting whine escapes me as my fingertips scrabble on the dirty floor, my mind reaching for her as my body tries to obey.

She is speaking, but her words are garbled, cut into bits and bites, and I cannot understand her. A film covers my vision, the blur disappearing as something wet runs down my cheek.

I'm crying.

She looks afraid, so afraid, and she is reaching for me too. She finally points at me, then at herself and her image fades. In her place is the vision of a statue, a tall woman, mottled green, holding a book and a torch, crowned in thorns.

It too fades, softly, shrinking until it flickers once like the flame of a candle and goes out.

***

# Chapter Two

The tears continue to flow as I lie there, struggling to understand. I'm alone again. The woman is gone. My heart has left me and I am lonely.

One of my knees jerks in protest to that understanding. My body is wakening faster now. I am able to lift my hands and look at them, if only for a moment. The muscles feel atrophied, as if I'd been lying here an eternity, like I've never known movement.

My fingers are long and thin, my skin pale. Veins run across the backs, bones and tendons as I flex them to watch them move. I'm fascinated by myself, though I know it's foolish. I've seen this before.

Why does it feel like the first time?

The stall wall makes a loud metallic protest as I lean forward. My fingers press against it as I use it to rise, wobbling and weak, to my feet. The boots I wear feel heavy, the soles an inch thick with sturdy treads. My jeans are also rugged, camo green jacket as well. Someone has dressed me carefully.

I'm sure I had nothing to do with it.

By the time I'm able to exit the stall, my body is much more stable. A few steps take me to the dilapidated counter. One end has detached from the wall, the sinks hanging from their pipes. A quarter of a mirror remains in the frame, if not completely intact, and I pause, drawn in by the reflection. The edges of the glass are spider-webbed with cracks, throwing back odd images of my hands and the shoulders of my jacket. I tilt my head to the side, enough to fit my face into the one small square of unbroken mirror.

I have dark brown eyes. And dark brown hair. It's long, in a ponytail. Everything else about me is unremarkable. Who am I? I know my face. But I don't know who I am.

It isn't until I drop my eyes, head tilting back that I feel a thrill of recognition. I look back again, eyes searching for the flicker of memory as my face, now cut apart in the broken glass, stares back at me.

I understand in a moment. My face. I know it. But it's not just my face.

It's her face. The woman from the image, my heart. I have her face, if a much younger version of it.

Is she my mother?

I shudder all over, muscles protesting, aching for a moment before full control returns. I'm suddenly strong, feeling recovered. A deep breath expands my lungs, exits in a rush.

Now what? She told me to find them. Clone Two. Clone One. And I am Clone Three. What does that mean, clone? Are they my friends? My sisters? She said I would know them.

But how to find them? Indecision holds me tight. I stand in place, surrounded by old destruction, trying to decide what to do. My eyes fix on the door. It's mostly off its hinges, hanging to one side. A dark space beyond. I feel safe here, uncertain but unwilling to move.

Except she expects it of me. And I can't let her down.

Stumbling at first, from nervousness this time, I make my way to the door and peer out into what seems to be a hallway. Left, more black. Right, what looks like a glimmer of light. My hand rests on the door jam, fingers locking on the rusting metal. I brush it away, watching the flakes fall to the floor, feeling the sting as one scratches me. A tiny pink line on my palm. No blood.

I think that's probably a good thing.

It's easy to step over the corner of the door, at least physically. I clasp my shaking hands together as I pause in the darkness on the other side. The light from the bathroom calls me back, but I resist. I have a job to do. Maybe the two I seek are only down this hallway. The idea of seeing the woman again is enough to drive me forward.

I choose the direction offering some light. It's faint, a gray, cold tinted brightness, but grows stronger the further I progress. A patch of it shines across the hallway and, as I draw closer, I realize it's coming through a small, square window.

A heavy door, much like the one to the bathroom, guards the way. Only this time it's intact. Something catches my eye. I turn and look across the hallway, to the opposite wall. There hangs a sheet of paper. It used to be red, I think, but now is faded pink in spots. Someone drew on it with a marker. I come closer to it, fingers brushing over the turned up edges.

Stick figures. A girl maybe, what looks like a dog. Two taller people, one with long hair. Mom and Dad? And a box with a triangle on top. Swirling lines out of what has to be a chimney.

The words, so faint, but I can read them still.

Home Sweet Home.

I back away, feeling my throat tighten. Why? I don't know. Only that this makes me horribly sad and want to collapse to the floor, hug my knees and sob. Confusion wars with frustration. I tear my gaze from the image and go back to the door with the window. It's crusted with dust, I can't see through it, but the light is enough of a temptation. My fingers find the flat handle and I push down.

The door swings inward. I follow it, letting go as I drift into the room. It's so quiet. At least the bulb in the bathroom buzzed softly. Here there is nothing, just dead air stinking of mold and age and the absolute silence of being alone.

The room is full of debris, but I ignore it for now. Three large plate windows look outside. I rush toward them, craving the view, to see the outdoors. Other people. Other places. To know I'm not alone.

The glass is cold when I press against it and I have to use the cuff of my jacket to clear away some of the dust. I'm expecting a certain view, though I have no idea why or from where my expectation feeds. But what I see sends a shock through me so powerful I almost crumple again.

This can't be right. The emptiness. The burned out and rusted cars in the cracked and buckling parking lot. Grass and weeds grow through, a huge patch in the center tipped over where a tree has grown. The sky is heavy, gray, darkening by the moment, the glow of it fading. Night time? Perhaps.

The street beyond is just as horrible. It seems packed with debris in places, the surrounding buildings crumbling. I'm amazed as I look out how these three windows I peer from remain intact. Others I observe across the street and, as I lean closer, glancing right and left, in this very building are mostly broken, glass gone completely.

For a moment my mind leaves me, wandering elsewhere. To a sunny street, a green park, laughing people, the chime of an ice cream truck—what is ice cream?—and the warmth of the sun. The gray wins, the falling night crushing my memory and leaving me shaking, breath fogging the dirty glass, looking out over a world I know nothing about.

I back away from the window, heart speeding up, hands clenching into fists as I struggle to control my breathing. I stumble over a desk. Yes, it's a desk. With a heart carved in the top of it, old and fragile, bits of wood and Formica splintering away. A + M. How sweet. How charming.

It makes me want to throw up.

My gaze lifts, settles on the far wall. A sheet of black covers it, a silver shelf beneath now tarnished, though untouched by whatever disaster has fallen here. A blackboard. So this is a school.

A school has kids in it. Children come to school to learn, don't they? I shake my head, clutching it in my hands. I know so many things, much here is familiar. And yet the most important details are gone, lost to me.

The frustration is incredible. Anger rises behind it. I lash out with one boot, kicking the dying heart from the crumbling table and watch in horror as it spins off to crash into a pile of others.

I sob once, but still it quickly. There is no time to feel sorry for myself. She has pinned her hopes on me. Her needs. And if the rest of the world looks like this now, so very wrong, I must be here to make it right.

The hall is darker than before. The sun is almost down behind the bank of gray. My sight is failing in the dark. I must get outside before I'm trapped in here. That thought makes me twitch.

Someone screams. It's a distant sound, echoing and impossibly far away. But it's a sound. Was it a scream for help or merely a shout of some kind? Irrelevant. This is the first offer of contact I've had. I'm not alone. And that makes me feel immensely better.

Perhaps whoever it is will know what she wants me to do. And I won't be alone anymore.

I turn and follow the sound, deeper into the darkness.

***

# Chapter Three

I find stairs and descend one floor. It's a slow descent. They are slippery with fungus and covered in debris, but I manage at last, reaching the bottom and the faint light of a far-off bulb. It beckons me onward and I oblige.

More voices, talking, laughing. My heart lifts. Who could it be? I don't care, nor do I feel a need for caution. I am so grateful there are others here. Maybe they can tell me what is going on.

I enter another classroom, the door gaping wide already, my mind observing even as I stride forward to greet the others. Four of them, three taller and stronger, all above the smallest, crouched in a corner while they shout and laugh at him.

A boot draws back. My footfalls stutter. The boot surges forward into the small boy's thigh. My forward motion halts. He cries out in pain. I stare, overwhelmed with anger and fear.

His eyes meet mine. I want to help him, to protect him, but he has no desire for either. He points at me, lip curling in a snarl.

"A girl!"

The boys turn. All boys, these lumbering bullies. Dirty, disheveled, but achingly young. Like I know I am young. Teenagers, no more. Each of them looks at me like I'm a prize, some present they'd forgotten to open. The youngest, smallest joins them as they start to move toward me. The door is behind me, I can walk away easily, but can't bring myself to leave.

They must have answers.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I try to watch them all as they grin at me, one circling slowly behind, now between myself and the door. "Can you tell me where everyone is?"

One of them sucks back, nose vibrating from the pressure before spitting a large, shining wad on the filthy tile. "Ain't no one here but us, sweets."

I'm surrounded now. What are they doing? My first real fear for my own safety surfaces. The moment I realize I am at risk, I become suddenly aware of their breathing, the feel of the floor under my boots, time softly slowing as I observe them. I draw a breath and hold it for a long moment as my body relaxes.

"You're going to be so fun," another says, voice high for his size. One of his eyes squints almost shut, the pupil looking off in its own direction.

"Shut up," the first says. "I saw her first. She's mine."

The little one sneaks forward, dodging a fist thrown his way as he does. "I saw her first," he says. "So she's mine."

"Cade will be really mad." The third seems nervous even through his eagerness. As they talk, my mind turns over and over images of what they intend to do to me. I remember enough, it seems.

And I'm unwilling to allow them to harm me.

I feel the lurker behind me move, in the way his breathing changes, in how his body stills just before he pounces. High Voice lunges forward, far too slow for his own good.

Far too slow to catch me.

I slide sideways, catch one of his grasping hands and pull with all my strength. He is off balance already from his aggressive lunge, the added momentum of my full body weight propelling him forward. He cries out as he crashes into the others, taking out the small one and the nervous one on his way by, tumbling painfully into a pile of ruined desks and chairs.

I see the fury in the first one's eyes and know I could stay, fight, win. But the others are already rising and the doorway behind me is empty.

Running feels foreign at first, all feet and knees and tangling legs, until I catch my stride and I'm flying. I leap and bound over obstacles, the rush of air passing my face, the pounding of my feet solid and powerful. I hear them chasing me, falling behind, yelling and panting and desperate. Pathetic. They are lucky I chose to run.

The stairs force me to slow until I find the handrail and use it to slide, my hip just fitting on the edge. I land hard on the bottom of the first flight, twisting my ankle. The sudden surge of pain is unexpected and makes me pause, but only a moment. They are not going to let me escape so easily.

Another flight of stairs, this one with a window. I'm still up one flight, so its gaping emptiness offers nothing in the way of escape. But my way is blocked now, the hallways on the lower floors stocked with junk, torn out banks of lockers and piled up furniture. I stop at the bottom of the stairs, looking left and right, knowing I'm running out of time. They know this place, they must, and they've stopped yelling. I know they're coming behind me with their own brand of stealth.

They think they've cornered me. Perhaps they are right. I must make my own exit.

It's a risk, the path I take, lunging forward to leap over a pile of debris with no knowledge of what lies on the other side. I land in a soft pile of papers and decaying books, coughing up the dust of their decomposition. It's darker here, the few bulbs that lit my way no longer in view and none ahead. I crouch and catch my breath, searching for a way out.

Someone enters the hallway from the stairs. I hear footfalls, soft but clear to my ears. They are coming. And while they might not know where I am, they will find me soon enough.

There, to the left. Is that light? I strain my eyes, looking away from the faint glow, an old trick that works. Yes. Not much. But enough so I risk it.

I creep forward, hands and feet searching for obstacles, heart now pounding again. Shuffling sounds behind me. A thud, a soft curse. They are over the barrier. Following me. My fear returns, but this time without the calm battle seems to bring me. Just pure panic. But I can't panic. I have to keep going.

Something brushes against my cheek and I cry out. A cobweb, foolish! Sudden movement behind me, while someone hums under his breath. I feel anticipation in the sound.

So close. But they are in the dark too, aren't they? And I'm almost to the light.

A door. I nearly run right into it. My hands scrabble over the surface, fingers exploring in haste and nerves. A bar crosses it, hinged, the surface harsh as my hands find it. I shove against it with all my strength and stumble out into fresh air.

***

# Chapter Four

I emerge in a narrow street, a sagging fence before me, the bulk of the school behind. Night has fallen, but it isn't dark, at least not completely. A single street light buzzes above, casting its cold white light over me. Sound crunches in the dark beyond the reach of the light, coming closer. I turn, prepared for more teen boys with evil intentions and feel a renewed surge of panic at what I see.

Creatures of some kind, are they? In a square vehicle rolling into the light. Strips and panels of beaten metal cover it, though beneath I see the grill of an ordinary minivan. The creatures hang from it, alighting as the machine comes to a halt just inside the pool of illumination. They watch me silently, their rounded heads shining, bodies as rigid and plated as their van.

People then, but in some kind of uniform. One approaches me, silent, though the boots he wears are as noisy and solid as mine. Here perhaps is an authority. My mind flickers, shows me images of police officers in uniform, soldiers, too. They may have answers.

I must have answers.

Before I can reach the soldier, the door behind me opens with a whoosh of air, slamming against the side of the building in an echoing clang. The four boys tumble out, panting and reaching for me. Only one notices we're not alone, recoils—the nervous one.

I turn to ask for help only to see I'm still in danger.

The approaching soldier holds a weapon and points it at me. The small black box shudders, a line of light jumping from one point to another. Some kind of taser. And his friends are no longer in the van, but coming toward me even as the first of the boys from the school reaches out to grab my leg.

I scramble backward, falling against the fence, feeling the chain link give beneath my weight. I fall further than I expect, off balance, but it saves me from being caught. One of the bullies collapses beside me with a grunt, on his knees, still reaching for me. Someone screams. The sound of the taser discharging making my ears hurt, the smell of ozone and singeing flesh flood my nostrils. Not a gentle charge then.

Life threatening.

I roll sideways, using the fence for support, spinning to face it, leaping up and forward. I grab the top, my weight tumbling it flat to the ground. My feet are under me, the fence snapping back as I let it go, turning to see two of the bullies fall against it, crying out in pain as it hits them. The uniformed ones are right behind and it seems, for the first time, the boys notice them. Turn. Scream. Leap for the fence.

My pounding heart tells me this has taken less than thirty seconds. I spin, looking for an escape route.

And hear a hiss. My eyes find the source of the sound. She is tiny, a blot against the ground, her upturned face peeking out from under a rusting car. She gestures quickly, motioning for me to follow and I do, without thought. I do not know her, but I trust her from the moment our eyes meet.

She slides out from under cover and runs down the street, dodging from one pile of debris to the next. I can barely see her to follow, but I can feel her ahead so I don't worry she'll escape me. Not that escaping is her plan. She pauses from time to time, waiting for me to catch up before darting off again.

I stumble and curse many times, my shins and thighs battered as I run into obstacles I cannot see in the dark. My guide sticks to the shadows, out of the light. Smart. I know I must do so myself from now on. Whatever has happened, it's clear I'm not safe here.

The sounds of the fight fade quickly behind us, though I pause once, certain I hear the thud of sneakers on pavement. But after a moment of listening and more hissing from the girl I move on.

I almost run right into her when she stops suddenly and ducks down under a sagging canopy. She is panting, but her eyes shine in the distant light of a street lamp and I can tell, my eyes adjusted to the very low light, she is smiling.

"Nice running." She pats my knee. "You're lucky I found you though. Those Crawlers would have had you for sure."

Crawlers? "Thank you."

She shrugs as if she's done nothing special. "Where you from?"

"I wish I knew." I sigh then, sagging a little. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Her little forehead comes together, a very grown up expression on a terribly young face. "What do you mean, here?"

Perhaps not the best question at the moment. "I'm trying to find out where I'm supposed to go."

Am I that odd? Probably. But she stays with me, so I know I don't frighten her. I'm glad. There is something about her I adore already.

"Well," she says, "if you don't know where you're from or where you're going, I guess it's really lucky I found you." She shakes her head and giggles, both little hands pressing to her mouth as if laughter is something to be hidden and protected. "I'm Poppy. What's your name?"

"Clone Three." It sounds odd to me, speaking my name like that. It feels wrong.

She agrees. Her little nose wrinkles, another giggle escaping. "What kind of name is that?" Poppy grips my face between her hands and stares into my eyes. "I'll call you Trio, okay?" She winks. "Three, trio. Get it?"

Trio. I like it.

"Now, Trio," Poppy says, climbing to her feet even as she looks out of our hiding place. "My brother is going to kill me if he finds out I'm out here by myself. So I have to get back. It was really nice to meet you."

I don't want her to go! The sudden need to keep her with me is overpowering. I reach for her, take her hand. She looks down, then up into my eyes. Poppy very gently pats my cheek. I suddenly feel like she's the older of the two of us.

"Want to come with me?" Poppy tugs on my hand. "It's okay. Beckett won't mind."

"Beckett." The name rolls around in my head.

"My brother." She heaves a little sigh, rolling her eyes. "You know what big brothers are like. But he's all right. And you shouldn't be out here alone, I guess, if you don't know anything."

I want to laugh. Going with her is the easy choice.

We walk together after she tells me the coast is clear in her whispering, secret voice. She almost skips, still holding my hand, her fingers hot in mine.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." Of course she shouldn't. If it's dangerous for me, how could it not be for her?

She shrugs again. "I like to explore," she said. "And Beckett won't let me. He thinks I'm still a baby." She stresses the word baby, makes a soft crying sound like an infant. I do laugh this time. "But I'm not," she grins. "I'm eight, last birthday. That's pretty old."

I nod in agreement even as my heart clenches. Eight. The need to protect her is powerful, overwhelming and almost freezes me in my tracks. I am seized by the compulsion to guard her with my life and have no idea why.

We cross a street, but only after Poppy checks and double checks the way is safe. I am happy to hold her hand and be with her, though I am also on alert to any threat. I can't help staring at the destruction around me, though. The entire city is in shambles, and the devastation isn't new. It's not war, clearly. Skyscrapers still stand above us in the distance, looking more sad and forlorn than destroyed. Some kind of natural disaster? Has to be. And at least twenty years ago from the state of everything.

"What happened, Poppy?" I whisper my question, more to myself really than her. "Who or what did this?"

She squeezes my hand, looking very confused. "You really don't know anything," she says.

I don't get a chance to ask her more. I hear her gasp, the sound of a footfall, soft and stealthy and know I've been more distracted than I thought.

Figures melt out of the dark and surround us.

***

# Chapter Five

The bullies have caught up with me. Us. How they escaped the oddly dressed soldiers I have no idea. They look somewhat the worse for wear, one staggering, the smallest with blood running down his face from a gash in his temple.

They are no longer smiling. Predators, they picked the perfect spot to pin us down. Poppy releases her grip on me, her face scrunched in fear, but her hands now holding a short length of pipe she's fished out of her heavy jacket.

They don't speak when they attack. I step out immediately, the calm returning. Poppy must be safe. The first dives for me and I lash out, fist impacting his jaw as I twist to the side and let him fall. The second is right behind him, rushing at me in a tackle. He is simple to sidestep, my elbow coming down on the back of his neck. I hear him grunt and the crack of bone even as I spin and lash out with my left foot, taking the smallest in the nose with the toe of my boot. He crumples where he stands, a heap of unconsciousness as I turn and duck the last of the bullies. The largest, the instigator. I can feel it, know it. He wants me that badly?

He can have me.

My fist drives upward into the soft flesh of his neck, lifting him backward as his windpipe collapses under my hand. I sweep one foot forward, dropping to a crouch, his knees buckling from the impact. He hits the ground, gargling as he clutches at his ruined throat, fighting for air.

I should feel guilty. Should I feel guilty? Instead I watch him die while his friends gather themselves together and run from me.

It feels good, the battle. My blood is on fire, my body wanting to chase them down and hurt them more. But the girl, Poppy, breaks through. I spin, eyes searching for her with near desperation.

She stands there, gaze sad, and she's not alone. I lurch forward to protect her from the people who hold her back. I will save her. I will.

Her eyes fly wide, mouth hanging open as she pulls against hands keeping her from me. "No!"

I feel movement behind, know I've allowed myself to be distracted and it means the end for both of us. Something impacts the back of my head and darkness closes in again.

***

# Chapter Six

I wake to light, soft and familiar. I'm even warm, the air still. I spot a far distant ceiling, my nose pinching from the odor of many bodies crowded together.

Sound is next, soft whispering voices, the odd laugh, cough, sneeze. I turn my head and see, to my great relief, Poppy sitting crossed-legged next to me. She smiles the moment I do.

"You're okay!" She clutches my hand, pressing the back of it to her cheek. "I was so mad at Beckett for what he did." Giant tears well in her dark brown eyes. From the tracks through the dirt on her pale cheeks these aren't her first.

I sit up, fingering the lump on the back of my head, wincing from the sharp zing of pain when I touch it. My stomach rebels for a moment as I try to stay upright, nausea from the injury drawing out a cold sweat all over my body. I close my eyes, head down, breathing through my mouth until the wave passes before looking up at Poppy. She strokes the back of my hand, clearly distressed.

"He didn't mean to hurt you," she whispers as if trying to convince herself. "He was just protecting me."

I nod and wish I hadn't. "I understand," I said. Sigh. "I do, really. That's what I want, too."

Her little smile makes me feel better.

I look around then, see the small group of others crowded into the space where I sit. It's hard to know the room's original purpose. It's been emptied of all but ratty, threadbare blankets and crates, small tent-like arrangements I can only assume are the homes of these kids. And they are kids, teens all like me, though none as young as Poppy.

"Where are all the adults?" I've yet to see one. Unless the soldiers were older, behind their helmets.

Poppy crosses her arms over her chest, frowning at me. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

I shake my head. "I don't. I'm sorry."

"Maybe this isn't your first head injury then." I turn, far too quickly, have to close my eyes again before I can focus on the person who speaks. By the time I do open my eyes, he's standing over me. I feel a jolt as I look up at him. I know him. I'm sure of it. But there isn't a beat of recognition in his eyes so I force myself to focus on his words, not his face.

"I suppose so." I glance at Poppy who scowls at him. "You're Beckett?"

He glares at his sister before nodding. "And you're Trio."

"Yes." My eyes settle on the tall girl next to him. She glares like I've offended her, dark skin a contrast to the whites of her eyes. "Poppy told you."

"What she knows." Beckett looks me up and down, not hiding it. "Something about a clone."

The tall girl snorts, but I nod. "Clone Three."

"Meaning?" Beckett shushes Poppy who has opened her mouth to speak.

I shrug. "I wish I knew." It won't do to alienate him. They are the first people I've met willing to talk and not hurt me. At least beyond a rap on the head. "I have so many questions."

The tall girl hisses something in Beckett's ear, but he shakes his head. "Nico thinks I should toss you out on the street." He continues to glare at Poppy. "I have my own questions."

"I don't have much to tell you." I fill him in on everything that happened to me from the moment I opened my eyes in the bathroom stall until he found us. It is a sadly short and while active story, empty of many facts.

"Listen up," Poppy snaps. "Whether you like it or not, believe her or not, those Crawlers were there for a reason."

"Crawlers?" My mind goes to insects, spiders.

She sighs at me. "See? She really doesn't know." Poppy meets my eyes and speaks slowly, as though I were a child. "The creeps in the van. With the tasers. Crawlers."

I find myself smiling at her. "Yes. You mentioned them before. Thank you."

Beckett grunts softly. "You're right," he says. "They never go to that part of town. Cade's people are there. And they usually don't like to pick fights unless they have to." He scowls at Poppy then. "And how would you know the Crawlers don't go there?"

She is too clever for him, I can see it. Feel my lips curving up even as she speaks. "I'm not positive," she says, "but I'm thinking they were looking for something. I followed them three blocks, all the way to the school. They didn't make any side trips, nothing."

Beckett appears to choke. "You did what?"

She winks at him, cherub cheeks pink. "They were acting funny," she says. "I had to know what they were up to." Poppy turns to me. "See, the Crawlers usually only show when they have something specific to do, you get me? A target, like."

I nod. "And you think I was the target."

She claps and laughs. "You're smarter than him, anyway," she says, jerking a thumb at Beckett.

I don't say anything. Now I'm worried, for several reasons. Why would these Crawlers be looking for me? Will that somehow attract their attention to Poppy? And will it influence Beckett's opinion of me? I need help and they seem the only ones willing to even talk to me.

Beckett's stare is no longer angry. Instead, he appears to be thinking. I take it as a good sign.

"Please," I say, "will you tell me what happened?" I gesture around me. "This is not what I remember."

"I thought you didn't remember anything." Nico laughs a little at her own joke, though it's a humorless laugh, full of anger and sarcasm.

"I do recall some things," I say, careful to be earnest and not react to her attitude. "The only things I don't know are who I am and why I'm here." I feel the hopelessness of my admission weigh on me. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more."

Beckett's face softens while Poppy pats my hand. But Nico looks about ready to murder me in my sleep. "She's trouble," the tall girl hisses to Beckett. "I can smell it on her. She'll bring us nothing but problems. Time to get rid of her."

For a moment I fear she's reached him. His expression tightens, mouth a thin line. But when he unleashes his anger, it's not at me.

"Back off." He turns and snaps at Nico. "Right now. I'm the leader here. You all chose me. And I'll make the final decision."

She grumbles and tries to protest, but he glares her down. Nico does as he says, retreating a step at a time, eyes locked on me before she ducks out the door. Everyone else in the room is watching, I've only noticed now. The moment Nico is gone, they all return to their own private conversations and ignore us.

Beckett crouches, hands clasped before him. His deep blue eyes are full of questions, but the anger is gone. A lock of thick, dark hair falls over his forehead and I want to shove the unruly curls back from his face. It feels intensely familiar, as though I've done it many times before. Instead I hold myself still and wait for him to decide.

He gains his feet again with a huge exhale of breath. "Fine then," he says, turning away. "Come on."

Poppy helps me stand. I sway a moment, already feeling better, and follow him out.

***

# Chapter Seven

I exit with Poppy at my side, emerging into a dank and dingy corridor. It's relatively clean at least, if uncomfortable because of the state of its decay. Moldering drywall crumbles, exposing steel beams and old wiring, nests of insulation stained nearly black with fungus.

It makes me want to sneeze, cover my mouth, just looking at it. No one else seems to notice so I hurry on. I'm not sure if it's the concussion I'm certainly suffering from or some other affliction, but I'm finding it very difficult to focus on what I'm seeing. The world I remember superimposes itself in my sight. It's as though I walk down two hallways—one is bright, industrial, but at least clean, thin carpet cushioning my feet while panels of fluorescent light guide my way. The other is this horror, this damaged and surreal place filled with dirty kids and garbage, the very building rotting around us.

My throat tightens as emotion wells. I need answers to more questions, it seems. Fulfilling my purpose is secondary now to finding out what happened to this city.

Someone walks behind me, anger almost tangible. Before she speaks I know it's Nico. "If you bring trouble here," she hisses at my back, "I'll make sure you pay for it."

Poppy looks back over her shoulder at the girl and sticks out her small pink tongue.

"Beckett told you to buzz off." Poppy's fingers squeeze mine.

"You're putting us all at risk," Nico says in a harsh whisper, ignoring the girl beside me. "Why don't you just leave?"

Poppy rolls her eyes at me. I'm guessing it's her favorite expression of exasperation. She seems to do it a lot.

"If the Crawlers want you that bad," Nico says, "they'll come after us to get to you."

Poppy stops, turns, releases my hand. "Shut up, Nico."

Beckett stops, still scowling. It's clear he's heard every word despite Nico's attempt to keep it between us. "If the Crawlers do want her that badly," he says, "I'll do everything in my power to protect her."

Nico begins to protest, but Beckett just shakes his head. "Not to save her," he says, voice tired, but full of determination. "Just to piss them off."

He walks through an open door, vanishing from view. Poppy grips my hand and pulls me forward, going after him. I glance back as I pass through the doorway, gaze finding Nico.

She looks unhappy.

This new room has more light in it, scavenged from all over it appears. Old lamps with torn shades, bare bulbs dangling from hanging wires. It looks cobbled together and completely unsafe, but again I'm the only one who notices or seems to care.

I choose to ignore the obvious safety issue in favor of the aromas in the room. Someone is cooking and I realize only then I'm starving.

Beckett hands me a small bowl, chipped on one side, and a crooked spoon. I sniff the contents, recognize some sort of stew with beans and vegetables. A large communal pot bubbles on a rickety hot plate, the source of this meal. Beckett fills two more bowls, handing Poppy the fullest, before crossing to a small table and four battered chairs. I join him and his sister, cautious as I sit. It's a balancing act to not wreck the chair I perch on, so I don't even risk adding my weight to the table.

Beckett trusts it, obviously. He sets his bowl on the dirty surface with a clunk and hovers over the rising steam, shoveling large spoonfuls into his mouth. Poppy holds hers under her chin and scoops, hardly chewing.

I refuse to look too closely. I'm far too hungry to allow my concerns about hygiene stop me from eating, though I'm positive the bowl hasn't been washed recently.

The first mouthful is salty, the vegetables soggy, but the heat of it warms my insides and I grow quickly accustomed to the taste. By the time Beckett tosses his spoon into his bowl with a rattle, Poppy is already done, still watching me. I set mine aside, stomach full, one need met at least.

I don't have the chance to ask my first question again. Beckett gathers our bowls, taking them back to the table where the pot bubbles, returning with three dented camp mugs full of water. I sip mine, happy it is clean and clear.

"You want to know what happened." Beckett's blue eyes are sad and angry and display a whole lot of other emotions I can't process. "The world ended. That's what happened."

Poppy makes a soft sound, a pleading noise. Beckett sighs and sits back.

"The Sick." Beckett gazes into his cup of water. "About twenty years ago or so. The Sick came along and everyone died."

"Not everyone." Poppy thumps her dirty sneakers against the legs of her chair.

He nods then. "You're right, sorry. Just everyone who knew how to keep things going."

"The adults." Poppy's brown eyes are wide, moisture rising in them. "Everybody who was, you know. Middle aged. Kinda. Us kids caught it, but most of us survived it, and old people, older than sixty or so. For some reason it didn't kill them off. But everyone else..."

"The Sick killed them all." Beckett drains his water and sets the mug down with a loud bang. "I remember my dad saying something about how certain ages had the wrong hormone levels. Back when they were studying it." Beckett's tone doesn't change as he continues. "But they didn't get to finish, not before the Sick got them too." He shrugs, no big deal, even though it is, it really is a big deal. "Then the world fell apart. Because no one knew how to do stuff. The old people, they remembered some, but they died off. Left us with some knowledge, but it was too late." He meets my eyes again. "Electricity failed. Food production failed. Oil refinement." He shakes his head. "I barely know what I'm talking about. We've forgotten more than we ever knew."

"We caught the Sick too," Poppy says, voice barely above a whisper. "But it didn't kill us. Only a few. The rest... just got different."

"Different?" I look at Beckett, but he's staring at the cup in front of him like it's the source of all his troubles.

Poppy is nodding. "It affects different kids different ways," she says.

"Affects." I shudder. "You mean, it's still around?"

Her brown eyes blink quickly as she keeps bobbing her head. "Yup. Still. Not all the time, just every once in a while, it shows up and hits us again." Poppy shudders and hugs herself. "If you caught it before and were okay, you might be again. But if you never had the Sick..." She looks at her brother. "Who knows what you'll end up like."

"What do you mean?" End up like? As in what, damaged, crippled, what?

But Beckett is on another train of thought. "We've been able to pass some knowledge along," he says. "Enough we know how to rig some wiring and such. Find food. The Crawlers, they've got it all going on, tons of power, even hear they have greenhouses for fresh food." He pushes his cup with one finger, the sound grating in my ears. "We tap into their electric as much as we can."

"And food?" I look over at the bubbling pot, remember the crates in the other room.

"Canned stuff, mostly," Poppy says. "Sometimes we'll find some wild greens growing around, but if you don't know what you're pulling, you can get one wicked tummy ache."

How have they been reduced to this? I have no memory of the illness they describe. But how is that possible?

"Things are getting tougher," Beckett says. "Food sources scarce. Even though there aren't so many of us anymore, it's been over twenty years and the canned stuff is running out."

"Children?" My mind goes to babies, infants being raised in a world such as this while my heart aches at the thought.

Beckett shrugs. "Not many of those," he says. I can tell it upsets him, though he's good at hiding it. "Not anymore."

My entire body clenches in tension. This can't be. No babies means—

"It'll all be over eventually," Poppy says with such calm surety it's almost worse knowing even one as young as she is aware her race is dying out.

Will die out if things continue as they are.

I can't go there, can't consider it. The ramifications are too massive for me on top of what I'm learning, the tightness in my body building until I can barely stand it.

"Why don't you start growing food?" Yes. Better. Shy away from the loss of everything and focus on survival. It's what they must be doing, I can only imagine. And food production at least seems a logical course of action.

"Can't," Beckett says. "We have to move pretty regular. Either the Crawlers show up, or a rival group looking to steal from us. Or the Sick comes through and we lose half of our people."

I feel my emotions rise again, a thick and desperate sadness. I want to reach out to Beckett, to offer some comfort, but I have none to give. This may not be the world of the memories I'm recovering, but it's the one I'm living in now.

Beckett looks up and over and I glance back to where his attention rests. Nico is gesturing to him. He goes to her immediately, leaving me with Poppy.

"It's not so bad," she says with a small smile.

I wish I could bring myself to smile back.

***

# Chapter Eight

Beckett returns after only a moment, face tight and angry. It's clear he's been fighting with Nico again. I wonder at the tall girl's dislike for me.

Beckett doesn't sit, so I rise to face him, Poppy coming to my side. I've grown accustomed to the feeling of her hand in mine and welcome it.

"I'm going to help you," he says, "the only way I know how. I'm not sure if you're trustworthy, but you did your best to save Poppy so I owe you one." He glares at Nico who hovers, glaring right back. "There's someone you need to talk to. She might be able to fill in some holes, if the stories about her are true."

"The seer." Poppy quivers beside me, a happy puppy full of excitement. "You're taking her to the seer!"

Beckett ignores her. "There's another group, not far from here. They claim they have someone who survived the Sick, lost her vision, but came out of it with a different kind of sight." He shrugs, telling me he's not sure if he believes or not. "She's supposed to be able to find stuff. Maybe she can tell you where you need to go."

Poppy clings to me, suddenly nervous. "Maybe we can send Nico to fetch her," she says. "What if Trio gets out there and the Crawlers take her?" She presses close, free arm around my waist. "You said you'd protect her."

Beckett looks down at his sister, face the calmest I've seen it. "We'll be right back, Popsicle."

She shakes her head, dark ponytail swinging. "You're not taking her."

Nico steps forward, grabs Poppy by the jacket and pulls her away. "They're leaving."

I'm moving before she can finish speaking, my free hand shoving her back and away from the little girl. I lift Poppy into my arms, feel hers wind around my neck as I scowl at Nico.

"Don't touch her." Even Beckett seems surprised, but Nico backs off.

Smart choice.

I meet Poppy's eyes and finally find my smile again. "I'm going," I say, "but Beckett's right. We'll be back. I promise."

Poppy snuffles, arms releasing me, fingers playing with my hair. She brings it to her nose and sniffs it. "You smell like flowers."

"You don't." We laugh together, an instant of peace in middle of disaster.

Poppy sighs. "You're sure?"

"I need to know what to do next," I tell her, setting her down. "Maybe this seer can help me. Either way, I have to try."

Poppy nods then, a firm little motion before turning to Beckett. "I'm coming with you."

He's obviously prepared for her. "No," he says. "You're not." He gestures at Nico who takes hold of Poppy again. She squalls a protest, reaching for me. I meet Beckett's eyes. He's raised one eyebrow as though wondering what I'll do. I'm surprised myself at the surge of protectiveness I feel for Poppy, but this time I know it's necessary for Nico to hold her.

"Trio!" Poppy calls after me, the aching sadness in her voice almost enough for me to turn back. But I follow Beckett, steeling my heart against her. Better to face the danger of outside without having to worry.

Though I know she's better equipped to survive than I am.

It's still dark outside when Beckett leads me into the street.

"Stay close," he says. "We're out at the worst time for some, but the best for others. Just follow my lead and don't wander off, no matter what you see or hear. Got me?"

I nod, but stay quiet, knowing it's part of the deal. He turns away from me and doesn't look back again. I'm not sure if I should be gratified by his trust or annoyed he seems as if he couldn't care less.

He pauses at a corner and points down an alley. Beckett holds a finger to his lips while I turn and look at the source of his concern. A small group of kids walk in the other direction, their backs to us. They must be carrying flashlights of some kind or some source of illumination because they seem to glow.

Beckett waits until they've passed around the corner at the end of the block before relaxing a little.

"One of the afflictions," he whispers in my ear, breath hot and tickling me. "The Brights. Photosensitive, only out at night."

"That glow..." I can hardly process what he's said.

"Come on." He leads me away, this time with a tug on my jacket sleeve as if knowing I'm too confused to pay attention.

But I need to pay attention. The streets are dark in places, but not completely. There are enough intact bulbs here and there we are able to at least see where we are going. Not that I worry about Beckett. He moves through the darkness like he owns it and I do my best to mimic him. It becomes easy quickly, the calm I feel when challenged seeming to take over again. Not for the first time I wonder who I am and why I'm able to fight so well.

Beckett pauses again, this time under the shadow of an overturned bus. He seems content with my conduct so far. "Almost there," he whispers, again directly in my ear. "This last part is tricky. Focus."

His eyes flicker to one side, the whites catching a glint of distant light. I freeze. I've heard it too, the sound that's caught his attention. A soft noise, something perhaps I would have ignored at another time. But Beckett takes no chances and I'm in tune enough with him to understand every sound out here is a potential threat.

He leaves me, sliding into the black and I stay where I am, not knowing what else to do. There is a long silence while I wonder if I should go after him. I jump when someone grunts, the ring of a body hitting metal. The calm flickers in and out, as though uncertain if I am in need of it.

No Beckett. I shiver, hugging myself. Was he hurt, out there in the darkness somewhere, needing my help? Am I surrounded then, being watched even now? Fear tries to claw its way inside me, but I resist it. I'll be of no use to him if I fall apart. I call up the calm, feel it answer, grateful for the steadiness, now knowing it is mine to command.

Draw a breath. Hold it. Listen. There to the right, where he vanished. Movement, light but present. Coming closer. I turn slowly to face the danger, ready for anything.

Or so I think. Until Beckett emerges into my dim view with Poppy clutched by the back of her coat. He gives her a little shove, sending her forward toward me. I hold out my hands, only to steady her, but she runs to me and hugs me as if I can save her from something.

"What were you thinking?" Beckett's anger makes him louder than necessary. Even he winces at the volume of his voice.

Poppy turns to him, makes the most defiant face. I grin. It looks familiar to me. But why?

He throws his hands up in the air. "Fine," he hisses. "It's too far to take you back. But stay close and don't say anything."

She grasps my hand, still silent, but seeming happier than before.

My guess is she wins most of their arguments. For some reason, I can barely contain my laughter.

We cross the street on a sharp angle, Beckett still leading the way. One more alley and we're approaching what looks like fortifications around a door. Burlap bags filled with something, presumably sand my mind tells me, are stacked like bricks on either side of a blue metal door. I look up and up, the building towering over us, a kind of warehouse.

Two teens with club-like weapons stand guard under a glowing bulb. Beckett nods to them as we approach. They don't seem nervous or worried, a good sign.

"I'm Beckett," he tells them, voice soft. "Here to see Genki."

They exchange a look before the smaller of the two turns and goes inside. The door is well oiled, the hinges silent. We wait in the quiet, the second guard ignoring us, or attempting to, his false nonchalance making me smile.

Before long, the door opens again, the smaller boy returning.

"He'll see you," he says. "Go on in."

Beckett nods shortly once before walking between the two guards, as calm and casual as though he were with his own people.

But the pressure of Poppy's fingers tells me to be cautious still. I draw a breath and follow Beckett inside.

***

# Chapter Nine

It's dark in the hallway I find myself in, but only for a moment. As soon as the door behind me closes, lights switch on. We're not alone. Three kids, guards as well I can only guess, wait for us at the top of a short flight of stairs.

Beckett moves on without hesitation and I keep pace, Poppy hurrying along beside me. At the top of the stairs is another door, this one gaping. I can feel a draft coming toward me through it, tinged with the scent of more unwashed bodies and dust.

We enter a huge space, wide open aside from pillars supporting the vast ceiling. I am right, a warehouse. Stacked piles of crates and boxes are everywhere, an obstacle course of supplies and, from the labels I can read, canned food. The building echoes with conversation though I can't make out any individual words and the sounds fall silent as we pass the last stack and enter a large, open space in the center.

Large lights hang on thick chains overhead, bulbs the brightest I've seen so far. A large crowd of people watches us as we approach. My calm returns. They don't threaten or even speak, their attention locked. More unnerving than anything. I feel the skin between my shoulder blades start to twitch as they close in around us.

Beckett remains relaxed, at least in appearance, so I hold my calm and watch him. He stops near a heap of boxes, arranged into a kind of chair. A skinny young man sits on it, wispy carrot-red hair waving around him. I still feel air movement. This place is so large it almost has its own weather system, its own wind patterns.

Beckett nods. "Genki."

"Beckett." The redhead stays seated, a sour look on his overly freckled face. His pale green eyes flicker to me, over Poppy then back to Beckett. "What do you want?"

Beckett shrugs. "Just here to trade."

Genki snorts, spits at his feet. "You're not," he says. His gaze falls on me again. "Who's she?"

Beckett's shoulders tense. It's a slight motion, but I notice it immediately. If we have to fight, I fear we'll not make it. My hand tightens on Poppy's.

"Just one of my people." Beckett has far more poise than I thought he would. I'm impressed. Maybe Genki is too, though his anger is apparent.

"That's the girl the Crawlers were after." He sits back, fingers tapping on the surface of the rough wood of the arms of his chair. "She ran into Cade's crew then the Crawlers showed up."

"If you knew that already," Beckett says, tone mild, "why did you ask?"

"I don't like being lied to." Genki leans forward again, eyes slightly bulging.

"I didn't lie." Beckett turns and looks at me. "She's one of my people. And I'm here to trade."

Genki grunts. A kid leans toward him, whispers in his ear. He waves the girl away before glaring at Beckett.

"What do you want?" Same question, new attitude.

"Dauphine." It sounds like a name. Is that the seer? The crowd gasps, whispers for a moment, stills. "Trio needs to talk to her."

Genki shakes his head. "She's not available." There is a feeling to him suddenly, territorial and grasping, jealous almost, of what he has. He reminds me of a rat, perched on a garbage pile, fighting off those who would steal his useless treasures. "Anything else?"

Beckett's shoulders are still tight, but now they slump a little. "Nope."

Genki gestures and the guards who led us in turn, forcing us to retreat.

"Come back when you have a real trade." Genki is grinning now.

I don't like him. Not even a little bit.

"That's it?" I turn as Beckett walks past me. It can't be over this quickly. I have to talk to this girl if I can.

"He said no." Beckett's shrug is only noticeable because I'm watching him. "That's it."

I stop and turn, not thinking, only acting. I face Genki myself, see a flicker of fear in his face, how his people close around him.

"Please," I say. "I need to talk to Dauphine."

Beckett hisses at me, voice low and angry, but I ignore him and the tugging on my hand as Poppy tries to lead me away. Genki's scowl returns.

"Didn't you hear me?" He stands up, all gangly legs and spindly arms, not in the least threatening though he tries very hard. "This is my domain." He spreads his hands, gestures around him. "These are my people. And I say what happens here. And what doesn't."

Defeat. And while I have no idea if this girl could be of help to me, this seer as they call her, I feel despair rise and know hopelessness for the first time. He is nothing, this Genki, weak and pathetic, but he has numbers on his side and I am alone.

No, not alone. But I should be. I can't draw Beckett and Poppy into this. I decide then, standing there, staring up at Genki, I will send them back and return on my own to find Dauphine.

Does he see it in my face? That I've run the gamut of emotion and returned to resolve he can't control? It's hard to say. But he is clearly unhappy with my defiance and, when he gestures, one of his people grabs me.

I allow it. Even permit him to turn me around. I'm willing to leave.

For now.

Until a beautiful girl with jet black skin and pure white eyes forces her way through the crowd, both hands planting on my shoulders to stop my forward motion.

"Trio," she says softly. She turns from me, face lifting to where Genki sits. She is completely blind, I can tell, but somehow she finds him with her gaze. Her expression is hard and furious.

"What is the meaning of this?" She stalks toward him, jaw tight. "How dare you, Genki!"

He grumbles something under his breath, sinking back into his chair.

"Speak up then," she snaps.

"Nothing." Sullen, childish. The crowd shifts, uncomfortable with his weakness.

"You do not own me," she says, voice ringing in the vastness of the space. "I remain of my own free will. Do not ever assume again, Genki. Ever. This gift is mine to share with whomever I decide."

He won't look at her.

"Do you hear me?" She marches to him, stands at the bottom of the stairs of boxes, hands on hips, whole being vibrating with indignation. She is more powerful than anyone I've ever met, just in her presence. I'm grinning and can't stop myself.

"I hear you." He sighs. "I'm sorry."

"You'd best be." She turns away from him. "The next time is the last time, Genki. There are lots of folks who will take me in. Don't think I won't leave you."

I watch desperation cross his face before his eyes meet mine. He knows I've seen his weakness. And everything about him tells me he hates me for it.

Dauphine pauses before me, fingers finding my jacket. Her voice is soft when she leans close and speaks.

"Clone Three. Come with me."

***

# Chapter Ten

I almost protest when Beckett and Poppy are held back.

"They'll be fine," Dauphine says. "I swear it to you. And we need to talk alone."

I hesitate another moment before she smiles at me, a lovely expression making me trust her immediately.

A glance over my shoulder, the view of brother and sister waiting, surrounded by guards but untouched, unharmed, is enough to finish the job. I follow Dauphine into the darkness, deeper into the building, all the way to the far wall. There we ascend a set of thin steel stairs, my boots ringing on the rungs, up to the top and a glass door.

Inside I find she's made a boudoir of sorts for herself. And instead of the tang of body odor, I smell flowers, herbs, scents I remember in flashes of memory. Cinnamon on toast with lots of sugar in a sun-filled kitchen. Picking daisies and lilacs in a garden. The cold and pleasure of vanilla ice cream on my tongue. All of these swirl around in my head while she turns and settles cross-legged in the center of what must be her bed. It's draped in lovely fabrics, old and dusty, but still intact, reminding me of a Bedouin tent or Arabian décor. I settle before her, fascinated by her eyes and the ripples of memory and emotion I'm experiencing.

"Welcome." Her voice is rich and deep and full of her smile. "I've been waiting for you."

Her words make me shudder, but I'm not afraid. More of a delightful shiver, as if I'd found a slice of something I'd been missing.

"How did you know my name?" Clone Three. Trio. Both.

Rather than answer, she leans forward and takes my hands in hers. "You're not afraid."

"Should I be?" There is nothing to fear from her. Is there?

She laughs and lets me go. "No. You don't have the memories of the others. You're from a place where fear isn't a daily weight." Dauphine sighs. "I just wish I knew where that was."

"So do I." I reach for her again and she allows me to hold her hands. Again I have the sense I've met her before, as I did with Poppy and Beckett. But the memory is elusive, not nearly as forthcoming as the sensory visions I'm having.

Dauphine grips me harder and closes her eyes. "Hold on," she says. "It's coming."

I'm about to ask her what she means when the room flickers and disappears.

***

I'm in a lab. The man's face hovers before me. I look around, at the monitors, the odd equipment. The glass cases full of fluid. It's darkish, but I'm not afraid. Then the woman's face, so beloved to me, I cry and reach for her, but she is gone, replaced with another. I know her, too. She is me. Only not me. Covered in scars, plated in metal parts, one eye glowing green. I want to hold her, to protect her, but she vanishes and it's me again. Only it's not. Or it is? Dressed in a Crawler's uniform, a smile on her/my face. Is this my future? Will I betray the others?

She/I am gone in a flash. I'm suddenly enveloped in white light and the hum of sound, as the image of the statue looms over me, the tall, green tinted woman with the crown of spikes, her torch aloft. I try to reach out, to touch the image, but it's all tumbling forward and around and sideways and I'm falling—

***

I gasp as Dauphine pulls free, my hands aching from clinging to her so tightly. She is panting herself, a slight sheen of sweat on her upper lip and brow. She dabs at her face with the corner of her canopy while I struggle to comprehend what I've seen.

"Did you see too?" I squeeze my hands together even as I grasp for each image.

"I did." She shudders delicately before nodding. "You know these people, these places?"

"Yes," I say, "and no. I recognize them, feel like I should understand."

"But your memory remains lost." Dauphine sighs. "I had hoped the connection would shake you free of whatever holds you back. But there is damage I cannot repair." She pauses, head tilting to the side. "Whatever's been done, whoever you are, the mess in your head was created on purpose."

Someone's done this to me. My anger rises. "Do you know who?"

"That I cannot see." She rises from her bed and I stand to join her. "Sometimes this gift of mine is so specific. I knew your name the moment you arrived here last night."

"Arrived?" I stepped aside as she moved past me, crossing the room. She had an old dresser, the mirror oddly intact.

"Yes," she says. "I felt you, as though you weren't here one moment, but were the next." She pauses then shakes her head, fingers searching for something. Dauphine makes a small sound of happiness before turning and holding out her hand. Something shines in her outstretched fingers and I automatically reach for it.

"One thing is clear to me," she says. "You must continue on. There is a great feeling of urgency to this, Trio. A pressure on me I can't explain. On you. As though we all hang in the balance of your success."

I examine the coin she's given me. A silver dollar. "What is this for?"

"The next step in your journey." She comes to stand next to me, hands folding my fingers over the coin. "You must go to the library. It's far, but not so far you can't reach it. You'll find another group there, run by a boy named Socrates. He owes me a favor, he does." She pats my hands. "Show him the token as a reminder of that debt. He will help you."

"Thank you." I'm humbled by her kindness, the first, aside from Poppy's open heart, I've experienced. The coin slides into the front pocket of my pants, the weight of it giving me hope.

"Clone Three," she whispers, her voice vibrating, overlaid ever so softly with the voice of the man. "Pay attention, dear. Final instructions."

"Do you know what they are?" She looks so far away, but I don't want to draw her back, just in case.

"No," she says. "But the fate of everyone lies with you. I'm sure of it."

***

# Chapter Eleven

Poppy runs to me as I return, Dauphine at my side. She hugs me around the waist before smiling up at the seer.

"Thank you," she says.

Dauphine laughs in delight and bends, kissing Poppy's forehead. "Take care of Trio now, won't you?"

Poppy's head bobs. "I will. I promise."

I squeeze Dauphine's hand in farewell, my gaze falling on Beckett. He nods once before turning to leave. We are escorted to the exit in more silence. It's best, I think. I have so much to try to understand, I welcome the quiet.

I'm surprised to find Genki himself waiting for us at the door. He glares at me like I've done him personal damage before he turns on Beckett.

"Next time you come to trade," he snarls, "bring payment."

The heavy metal door slams behind us.

Beckett grins at me. "Friendly, right?" It's the first expression of happiness I've seen in him and I can't help but smile back.

"Very." Poppy giggles at my dry tone.

Beckett heads off into the night. "I hope you got what you came for."

I shrug. "More questions, honestly," I say, "but a new direction to search."

Poppy skips once and smiles.

I'm so drawn into my memories I almost stumble into Beckett's back before I realize he's stopped. He hisses softly at me in anger, Poppy pulling me down to hunker behind what remains of a car. I look around, confused and a little disoriented, hearing a soft growling now I'm paying attention, and the shuffling of feet.

I spot them a moment later, down a narrow alley, blocked at the end by debris and a fence. Four of the Brights, their exposed skin glowing softly as though they've ingested phosphorescence. Three boys and a girl. They have something pinned in a corner and are approaching slowly.

Poppy buries her face in my sleeve. Beckett is grim, leans in and whispers. "Cannibals."

Horror creeps over my skin, raising goose bumps. I'm on my feet, moving before either of them can stop me, heading for the Brights and their meal. I can't allow them to kill another kid.

I can't.

I realize my mistake only when I enter the alley and the Brights turn to look at me. Not a child at all, the bundle hunched in the corner, but a dog. His growling is deep, teeth bared, fur standing on end in his fear. He is dirty and thin, but he is a living being and I continue on despite the fact he is only a dog.

There is no only when it comes to life.

They turn on me, ignoring their original target. I put the cringing animal out of my mind and let the calm engulf me. Glowing faces, any exposed skin, gives off a sickly white light. They are fast, faster than I'm prepared for, but not fast enough. Time stretches outward again, my body answering my demands more rapidly than they can attack.

The fight is short and angry, the four of them silent when they pounce at once. Legs twist and crumble under the soles of my thrashing boots, noses and cheekbones give way to my fists. I come face to face with the girl, her lips snarling at me as though she were some animal like the dog they hunt. I grasp her shoulders in my hands and jerk her toward me, ramming her with my forehead so hard she crumples at my feet.

They run then, from me and my strength, leaving the girl behind. I step over her, adrenaline rushing through my veins, still deep in my calm, as I approach the dog. He lies there panting, eyes locked on me, but doesn't snarl or make an attempt to run when I crouch at his side.

He is a lovely golden shade under the dirt. My fingers slide through the fur on his shoulder. I feel him shudder, seem to tremble at my touch. His deep brown eyes lock on mine, staring into my heart, my soul. I see intelligence in him, is that possible? Far beyond anything I've experienced or would expect from a dog.

He's much larger than I first thought as he stands and shakes himself. I was sure he was thin, bony even. But he stands quite tall, wide in the shoulders, forehead broad, and while he's not fat, he certainly has some weight on him.

The golden lab remains, watching me. It isn't until I hear hesitant feet approach that he snarls and backs away. Not at me. He eases off, teeth bared, wiggling his way through a small hole in the fence, pausing, tail swinging once as he meets my eyes again before he runs into the darkness.

Hands grasp me, spin me around, drag me off. I'm forced to run while Beckett holds my jacket in his strong grip, stumbling after him. Poppy joins us the moment we exit the alley, sliding back into shadow, still running, though more quietly now.

When we finally stop for a moment, I'm breathing hard and my shoulder aches from Beckett's grip and the awkward angle in which I'd been forced to run. He spins on me, fury on his face while Poppy trembles against me.

"Are you out of your mind?" Fine drops of spit hit my cheeks, his face is so close. "That was the stupidest damned thing I've ever seen in my entire damned life!"

"They were going to kill him." Never mind I thought it was a child at first.

"For a damned dog." Beckett backs off, shaking his head, anger still hot. His eyes flash with it. "You could have been killed. And taken us with you."

"You weren't in danger." I know I'm right. Poppy makes a soft sound. She's hugging herself.

"That little scuffle could have brought more Brights." Beckett turns away from me. "You're crazy."

Maybe I am. Or maybe they are. Damaged by this life they live, this fight for constant survival, they have no pity, no sympathy, no empathy to spare.

Beckett turns away from me, grasping for Poppy. She dodges him.

"I thought she was wonderful," she says, "and brave." Tears run down her dirty cheeks. "You were, Trio."

Beckett reaches for her again, but Poppy eludes him, running off in the dark alone.

"Damn it, Poppy." He sighs deeply, body sagging forward and, for a moment, I understand the pressure he is under, the constant strain. When he meets my eyes, his anger is gone.

"Come on then," he says. "She's home by now."

***

# Chapter Twelve

I cannot sleep. My mind is too busy, my need for more answers too powerful. I toss and turn on the pile of old blankets and burlap Poppy guided me to. She's been quiet and reserved since we returned from the hoarder's warehouse. I suppose I can't blame her.

When I do doze off at last, I'm plagued by nightmares, snippets of memories, the ache of longing tinged with the terror of the unknown. I am back in the lab, I know it is the place I'm from. But it is damaged, broken, aged as the world I've found myself is aged, left to rot and fall apart. I search halls along endless corridors for those I love, only to find them dead—Poppy, the strange version of me in colorful ink and metal, the man, even the dog. But the worst is the woman, she who has my heart, my soul. Is she my mother? I do not know. My nightmares have her dying under my hands as they glow with faint phosphorescence.

When I rise, I'm more tired than I was when I laid down, though I find the food Poppy hands over helps revive me. More stew. I can imagine I'll grow tired of it soon.

Except I won't be here much longer. I woke with a decision made, the images of these people dead and dying around me fresh from my dreams. I must go on. And I must do it alone.

I dread saying goodbye to Poppy so I instead look for Beckett. He finds me first, drawing me aside.

"You didn't tell me what the seer said."

He must be psychic. I fill him in on everything Dauphine said while he nods and frowns.

"The library," he says. "I know where it is. I can draw you a map."

He won't meet my eyes. Beckett understands, or has chosen to send me on alone. I pat his shoulder, wanting him to know the choice is mutual.

Somehow I don't think he feels better.

"Watch for the Brights, but only at night." He leads me along the corridor to another room where he rummages for a sheet of paper. It is old, yellowed around the edges and obviously precious. A stub of a pencil appears out of one of his pockets and he begins to draw the streets for me. "But they aren't the only ones to avoid. You know about Cade's people. They are here." He draws a 'C' in a section of the map he sketches. "The Crawlers are everywhere and nowhere." He scowls. "Just stay close to buildings and try not to go out into the open if you can help it."

I nod, watching his fingers draw lines and arrows.

"The Howls." He looks up from his art. "They are the most violent. Also cannibals. Crazy, you get it? Will attack a parked car for no reason."

My heart pounds once.

"The Shambles." He sighs, straightens up, runs one hand over his face. The pain in his expression tells me he's reconsidering sending me alone.

I don't give him the chance. "The Shambles?"

He bites his lip then nods. "Empty," he says. "No heart, no soul. Stupid as hell, but will eat you raw." Beckett shudders. "They travel in packs, mostly in buildings though, so be careful. They stink, too. Like rot." He bends and marks a large 'X' on a section of street. "See this? That's the library."

It's a long way according to his map. Many streets. Maybe miles.

"You'll have to stop for the night." He hands me the sheet which I fold carefully and slide into my jacket pocket. "Don't trust anyone. Anyone. Got me?"

I continue to nod. There is nothing else to do.

Nico appears. She clutches an old backpack. It's bulging, full of something. She grins as she hands it to me, though not with friendliness.

"Time you were going," she says.

I glance inside the bag. Cans of food. A water bottle, dented and old, but full to the stained white cover. A thin blanket. I glance at Beckett.

"Thank you."

He hands me a small device I recognize at once. It's a knife of sorts, with all kinds of arms hidden inside, different blades and files and even a pair of scissors. He shows me the most worn tool, a can opener.

Nico scowls as I take it, but keeps her peace. I suppose losing this treasure is worth it to her if it means I'm leaving.

"Say goodbye to Poppy for me." I'm a coward all of a sudden. I can't do it myself.

Beckett nods, eyes downcast. He guides me to the outside, kids watching me go. I am almost to the door when I hear her coming.

"Trio!"

Too slow. Too late. I turn and catch Poppy as she runs into my arms, hugging me so hard I can barely breathe. She is sobbing, clinging to me.

"Don't go." Poppy pulls back, face crumpled in grief as she hiccups through her tears. "P-p-p-lease, don't leave me!"

I almost give in to her. How easy it would be. She needs me, and I...

I love her already.

It is the hardest thing in the world to put her down, make her let go, step back from her, see the understanding in her face.

Watch her run away from me, sobbing, until I can't stand it anymore.

I turn, brushing past Beckett, emerging into the sunlight. The gray is gone, the sky blue. Can it only have been one night since I woke to this insanity?

"Trio." I turn back to see Beckett holding the door. "Be careful."

He closes it behind him, leaving me outside.

Alone again.

***

# Chapter Thirteen

It's immediately clear I'm being followed. I worry at first it's Poppy, as she'd escaped and come after Beckett and I the night before. But when I carefully check behind me to catch a glimpse of my pursuer, I'm surprised.

The dog. He pads along from hiding place to hiding place, though he doesn't seem to want to hide from me. His tail wags once as our eyes meet, but he keeps his distance.

A companion, no matter the species, is welcome right now.

The sun shines bright and I wish I could stand in it, absorbing its warmth. But if Beckett is to be believed, such an act would be folly. And I feel I'm not completely alone. Others slink about on their own business. I catch the odd glimpse of movement ahead or out of the corner of my eye and do my best to keep my calm around me. No one has made threats or even tried to approach so I offer the same courtesy and stay out of their way.

I'm so used to a noisy city, I realize, the eerie quiet makes me uncomfortable. Again and again my memory plays tricks with my mind. I'm sure I hear a car horn, the rumble of engines as an image of a boisterous and energetic street overlies the truth. The false sounds and sights startle me, make me jumpier than the souls who creep past me, around me.

The map is a great help, though I find myself stopping after only an hour or so. The dog comes closer, nervous of me yet, but something is important enough he feels the need to approach. I pause and give him time, space. I reach into my pocket and take out the foil-wrapped energy bar I have been saving for lunch. The covering crinkles in my hands, sounding unnaturally loud, making me wince. But the smell of sugar and nuts is delicious. I break the bar in half, leaving a chunk of it on the ground before backing away to crouch and eat my piece.

The dog sits and observes me before pacing forward a few steps only to sit again. He whines softly, drool hanging from his jaws, tongue swiping out over and over. His soft ears are raised, heavy with fur, front paws jittering up and down as he stares at the food.

I laugh softly when he finally gives in to temptation, lunging forward to grab the chunk in his mouth. Two chews and it's gone. And, I think, so will he be. But he surprises me. He stays in the shadows of the debris pile I hide behind, paws making little sound as he comes closer. He sits, golden fur ruffling in the soft wind blowing down the street, dark eyes locked on mine.

Again I feel a sense of intelligence from him and wonder what it means. He hums softly under his breath, one huge paw scratching at the ground. He looks back over his shoulder before fixing me with those eyes again. Whines. Looks back again.

He's trying to tell me something. "Okay," I whisper. "Show me."

His thick pink tongue sweeps out one last time before he turns and trots off. Has he understood? There is only one way to find out.

I follow him, trusting his instincts. When he pauses, so do I. When he moves on, I follow without fear. Our travels take us slightly from my course, returning a bit the way I've come, but I don't mind. Wherever he leads me, it has to be important.

The dog enters an alley and disappears. I pause, looking around for him. There is a huge pile of debris, a chunk of a wall and lumped up garbage off to the right. It isn't until he pokes his nose out I see where he's gone. The gap isn't big, but I manage, finding myself inside the back cabin of a ruined four-wheel drive. Tipped on its roof, the shattered window is a perfect doorway in and out.

The scent of decay is strong and it takes me a moment in the darkness to find the source. She would have been lovely, I think, black hide sunken from malnourishment and in death. She hasn't been gone long, though, thin belly barely begun to bloat. But it's not his fallen mate the dog is anxious about, no.

It's the two squirming puppies. He noses them both and they cry, the most piteous sound I've ever heard. Tears flood my eyes as I scoop them up, one at a time, for a quick examination.

Their eyes are open, bodies thin but healthy and whole. A little boy, pale like his father and a sweet-faced little girl, as black as night. I can only hope they are old enough for solid food, because I have nothing else to offer.

We are fortunate, this family and I. The can of compressed ham I offer them is gone so quickly I worry they might choke. The dog watches, drooling, but does nothing to try to take their meal from them. I open a second can, watch them eat that too, their little bellies swelling. The third can goes to their daddy and he gulps it with a soft yip I'm sure is gratitude.

I can't leave them here. My heart won't let me. Even more in this desperate, horrible existence life is precious. But I can't take them with me, either. I think of Beckett, of Poppy. What will they do with the puppies if I bring them back?

I have no choice. I won't abandon them. It seems the meal has exhausted the babies. They curl up in my lap, so sweet and trusting while the dog watches me. Is he wondering what now?

My bag is still too full to accommodate them. I unzip the top part of my jacket and set the pair inside. They just fit, two warm spots pressed to me, little hearts beating with mine.

The dog leans forward and licks my cheek.

"You're welcome." I risk scratching his ear. He groans softly, eyes closing over a little. His fur is thick and soft. Our connection only lasts a moment before he pulls away.

"You're right," I say. "We'd better keep moving."

I feel terrible leaving the mother's body behind, but have no choice. And the dog doesn't seem concerned so I simply offer her a farewell in my mind as we leave the hideout and enter the alley.

The journey back seems quicker than the hour trek of the morning before I found the puppies. Perhaps having two innocent souls so close to me is a distraction I can't afford, but I welcome them, find myself smiling and even humming a little, constantly checking on them under the flap of my coat.

I'm so distracted I almost miss the danger ahead. The dog saves me, grasping my jacket sleeve and pulling me back. I immediately crouch behind a rubbled wall and peer out at the building Beckett and Poppy call home.

A pack of teenagers approach the doorway. Am I being paranoid? Perhaps these are Beckett's people. I'm about to rise when the dog growls softly, ears flat. I take another look, my arm draping around him, feeling him vibrate beside me.

Not Beckett's people. I recognize two of them. The boys from the school. Cade's followers, isn't that right? Whoever Cade is.

I hover, indecision at war inside me. I need to warn Beckett, but it's too late. The group reaches the door and crash through. I can hear the shouting, screams. And I can only think of Poppy.

Heart pounding, I remove my coat, easing the puppies onto it before draping it over them. They are exposed, too exposed for my liking, but I have no options. The dog sniffs them and barks at me.

I have to go. When I do, he is beside me.

***

# Chapter Fourteen

The corridor is empty but for the fallen. I don't look down, don't have time to worry about those who won't rise again. I hurtle down the passageway, searching for my calm, but only finding rage.

It will do.

Two boys emerge from the dining room. I don't hesitate or pause, attacking them both. They go down in sprays of blood, my feet and hands reducing them to broken and unconscious masses on the floor. Three more erupt from another doorway up ahead and spot me. One of them knows me, as I know him. The skinny little kid, the one I saved from a beating. He points.

"There she is!" He shoves the one next to him. "Get her!"

This is my fault then. This invasion of Beckett's space, the destruction of his home, and Poppy's. My rage is replaced by despair, but it doesn't seem to matter. My body fights automatically, breaking bones, shattering teeth, bruising flesh and muscle. I tear through the two larger as if they don't exist and go after the smaller even as he runs from me, his terror clear.

I hear her voice before I enter the sleeping room. Poppy is screaming, but not in fear. I see her the moment I enter, perched on a window ledge, clinging to an exposed pipe while she swings a shorter piece at the two boys attacking her.

Beckett shouts her name. I turn in the same instant and spot him being held, beaten, while the rest of his people, Nico included, huddle in fear behind him.

I dive for Poppy as the dog leaves my side. I hear him growling, snarling, the shouts of the boys he attacks, the sound of battle. But I'm focused on her, only on her. I can only imagine how I appear to those two boys as they turn to see me coming for them, their expressions open 'O's of shock. They are slow, so slow. I almost pity them. Would, perhaps, if Poppy wasn't at risk.

They go down as I attack, first right then left in rapid succession, the sides of my hands striking their noses. The crunch of shattering bone is loud in my ears, vibrating up my arms. They fall together, clutching the ruins of their faces while I open my arms and Poppy leaps into them.

Shouting down the corridor. One glance and I know reinforcements have arrived to back up the attackers. Beckett is free, herding his people out a door only now exposed. The dog pants, blood on his jaws, but he is unharmed. I carry Poppy, the dog at my side, through the door and away.

Another corridor, this one dark and empty, quiet as the grave. Our running footfalls raise dust to tickle my throat and make my eyes sting. Twice we turn into empty rooms, Beckett far ahead in the lead, and twice we exit doorways through silent, gaping holes into more passageways.

When we emerge on the street, I'm almost stunned by the brightness of the sun, the clarity of the air. Beckett whispers hissing commands to his people who slink off into a nearby alley and hide.

His eyes meet mine as I stop and set Poppy down. She clings to me while her brother's gaze judges me.

"Thanks," he says.

"Don't thank me," I answer. "They were here for me."

He nods. "I know. But you came back, fought to help us. That counts."

I wish I could accept his gratitude. I look down at Poppy, feel my heart tighten before I remember what I've left behind.

"Where are we?" I shouldn't feel so frantic, I suppose. But I do. I have to go back for the puppies.

"Not far." Beckett is looking at me as if I've lost my mind. "Just the other side of the building.

I look at the dog. "Show me."

He turns and runs off and I go after him.

My fear grows, my terror increasing so much I can't find calm anywhere. What if they were found? Hurt? Woke and wandered? It will be my fault too, all my fault. Why I care so much I can't say, but if anything has happened to the puppies I will never forgive myself.

I fall to my knees where the dog comes to a halt, sobbing softly in relief. I lift the corner of my coat, see them sleeping as peacefully as I left them, my bag their shield. My eyes go to the doorway where I see Cade's people coming and going. I wait there until they finally leave, before scooping the puppies into my arms, still wrapped in my coat. The dog grasps my bag in his teeth and drags it along with us as we return to Beckett.

Poppy rushes forward to greet us, face full of curiosity as she eyes my folded jacket. I crouch and let her pull back the edge, smile as she gasps and claps her hands softly in delight.

"Can we keep them?" She reaches in, pauses. Looks at the dog. He just watches her, tongue lolling, my bag at his side. Poppy very gently strokes first one, then the other of the soft, warm babies.

Beckett stands over me, his shadow falling across them. "No," he says. "We can't." But his voice is sad and I wonder if she'll be able to convince him. Regardless, they are safe. I will take care of them after all.

I don't have time to say anything to that effect, to reassure Poppy. A second shadow joins Beckett's as Nico storms over. She lashes out at me, one hand striking my face. I'm so surprised by the blow I fall back, landing hard on the ground. The puppies whimper softly in protest as the dog surges forward, snarling, stiff legged, to stand beside me.

"This is your fault." Nico's face is a mask of hate. "You brought them here. You ruined everything." She turns to Beckett. "I told you. I told you! And now look at us." She gestures at the small group of kids who watch, desperate and afraid. "We're homeless, we have nothing. All because of her." She spits at me while the dog continues to growl.

Beckett shakes his head. "This happens all the time." His voice is low and angry. "All. The. Time." He turns to his people who watch him carefully, as if he is their only lifeline. "You know it. If it's not Cade's people it's the Crawlers. Or the Brights. Or the Shambles. The Howls." He turns on Nico. "We've gotten soft, stayed in one place too long. It's time we moved on anyway."

She is shaking, hugging herself, unrepentant. "She's not coming with us."

"Nope." Poppy hugs my arm. "We're going with her."

Nico just stares at her while Beckett sighs.

"The library." He meets my gaze.

"No!" Nico grabs his arm. "We should go to Genki. He has food, water. We can join his group. The library is too far."

Beckett hesitates. He's thinking the same thing, I can tell. "We'll talk to him," he says at last. "At least see if he'll trade for supplies."

Someone hisses and we all look. Two of Cade's people approach. They haven't seen us yet. Beckett's mind is visibly made up.

"Let's go." He turns his back on me while Poppy helps me up. I pick up my bag, awkward as it is, and follow her as she goes after her brother.

***

# Chapter Fifteen

It is a far different journey to Genki's warehouse in the daytime. And much harder to coordinate with so many people to keep together. Beckett looks exhausted by the time the guarded door to the building comes into view. He's spent the entire time running back and forth from small pocket to little group. I understand his reasoning. Keeping everyone together would be foolish. There are only perhaps a dozen not counting Poppy, who stays with me, but such a large number is almost impossible to hide as one.

He doesn't look at me when he approaches the two guards. I don't like his pinched look and I'm sure he hates it more. The guards observe him with reduced respect, and I'm sure it's because of his obvious and visible loss of status.

"We're here to talk to Genki about joining you." The words sound choked, squeezed from Beckett's lips. He's made his choice on the trip over, I can only assume. One of the guards sneers as he looks past Beckett's shoulder at the rest of us.

"We'll see," he says. "But you have to get past us first." They laugh together. It's the same two, I know it is. And yet their attitude is totally different. Beckett's shoulders sink as his hands dip in his pockets. He pulls out a few small items, holds them out. The two guards pretend to peruse them, but I can tell they are excited. A bribe. It makes my blood boil. I hand the puppies off to Poppy, stepping forward just as one of the boys reaches for a coil of metal in Beckett's hand. I knock the guard's grasping fingers away and scowl at him.

"Genki," I say. "Now."

Neither moves, but they are less condescending.

"Says who?" The greedy one leans forward, in my face.

He shouldn't come any closer. He just doesn't know it yet. I put the truth of his imminent beating in my eyes, in my stance, feeling my anger surge and wondering if it serves me better than the calm.

The boy backs off. Smart. He turns, runs inside. The door bangs shut behind him. The second guard takes a small step in retreat, but I don't allow him space. My hand reaches out, touches Beckett's. He slides his over mine, squeezes, then releases, but the message has been passed. And when the door opens and the first guard appears again, I pull back to see Beckett's more familiar expression of total control has returned.

I'd hate to think I'd made him lose that too.

I'm surprised when we enter to find Dauphine waiting for us. She reaches out, grasps for my hands and I take hers.

"Be careful," she whispers. "I can only protect you for so long."

I glance at Beckett who nods, grim. Warning received. And understood

We won't find sanctuary here. Though I've known that all along. Genki already hates me. I can't see him accepting the others just out of spite and pettiness.

Beckett nods once to me before following Dauphine and her guards. I glance behind, see the others of our group remain at the door under guard. Poppy walks next to me, the puppies in her arms while the dog stays at my left.

I know what Genki will say before we even come to stand before him, before Beckett opens his mouth.

"No," Genki says when Beckett asks for acceptance into his group. "I've too many mouths to feed as it is."

"They are strong," Dauphine argues, "and only a few. They could be of value."

"They bring nothing with them." Genki scowls at me. "Nothing but trouble." He likes his little throne, it seems. He squirms sideways on it, crossing his spindly legs. "I don't want trouble."

I see Beckett glance at his sister before looking around. I can almost feel his will breaking, his strength draining out of him. He will sacrifice himself for her security, I know it.

Before he has the chance to say anything, one of the puppies whimpers. Poppy strokes it to help it settle, but Genki's attention is caught. Not just his. Suddenly, everyone stares at Poppy.

"What does she have there?" Genki gestures for one of his guards, but the moment the boy tries to approach I block him.

"None of your business." Fury ripples into calm. They can feed each other, these two emotions. Perfect.

"It's my business. You've brought it here."

I shrug. "You don't want us. We owe you nothing."

I see Dauphine shake her head slightly and know it's foolish to challenge Genki, but I can't stand the idea of him even seeing the puppies. Poppy slowly pulls back the jacket, exposing the waking babies.

Genki leaps to his feet and surges toward us. "You have something to offer," he says with a sick grin. "You've brought dinner."

The dog barks once, leaping in front of me and Poppy, teeth glistening in the light, puffed out, appearing to increase in size. Genki stops, fear crossing his face before he scowls and points at the big golden lab.

"Kill it."

They don't get the chance. I lash out, left and right, bringing his guards to the ground. It's over so quickly Genki can only gape. Yes, there are more surrounding us, but none seem eager to attack. Have I acted wrongly, put us in more danger? Perhaps. But it's worth it to see the absolute fear I've instilled in the hideous redhead.

"How dare you?" Dauphine surges forward. "You reject these people then propose to attack them and steal from them?" She seems to look around her, words ringing from the rafters. Everyone shifts, uncomfortable, their shock and growing outrage diffused by guilt. She's incredible and I owe her my life, I know it.

Genki slinks back a pace. "I might reconsider," he said.

She snorts, magnificent in her power. "You are weak, Genki," she says. "And you grow weaker by the day, obsessed with hoarding your treasures while your people suffer and starve."

A murmur of unhappiness. They agree with her.

"I take care of you!" Genki shouts back. "You would have nothing without me."

"No," Dauphine says with a powerful shake of her head, long black hair whipping to the side. "You would be nothing without us." Again the whisper of agreement. "We do your bidding, scrounge for you. And you sit here and hand out the leftovers while you hoard the best of what we bring."

They are angry now, his people. Very angry. She has an ability, would make an incredible orator. She owns them. And from the look on Genki's face, he knows it.

"Dauphine." It's a whine, a weak sound, reminds me of one of the puppies. "I'm trying to protect what we have."

"You are trying to protect what you have, Genki." She turns away. "And I'm tired of it." She grasps for me, pulls me along with her. "I'm tired of you and your selfish ways."

I glance back over my shoulder. He is staring, shocked. "You can't!"

"I am!" She keeps me walking. "Goodbye, Genki."

"Stop her, hold them, do something!" He shouts behind us. The crowd is sluggish to obey, swaying, eyes locked on their seer. She is leaving them. I can feel their fear rise in a wave, crash toward us. She is the real leader here and they won't let her go.

We are almost to the exit. I see the doorway. But the crowd gathers behind us, coming toward us. They want their seer back.

"We may not make it." Dauphine's whisper is full of fear. "I'm sorry."

It's not her fault. I feel my anger burning, the wick of it raging suddenly with fire. I pull free of her, let the others pass, turn to face the approaching crowd. Beckett tugs at my arm, frantic, but I refuse to be afraid.

Genki surges through the group, bursts through, comes face to face with me. I see him flinch, watch as he grabs one of the boys beside him, shoves him toward me. My rage builds to a bonfire, threaded through with the calm. As the boy stumbles into me, a knife outstretched, time stops completely.

Three.

Two.

One.

Time inhales as the fire reaches the surface of my skin. I grasp the boy by the face, blocking his weak blow with the knife and shove him backwards. My skin tingles where our flesh meets. He staggers away, blade falling to the floor from suddenly nerveless fingers. I stare, the calm enveloping me as he reaches up with shaking hands and touches his face.

What's left of his face. He melts, crumbles, skin breaking out in giant welts joining together, bursting suddenly forth, pus and blood spewing outward like poison rain drops. He collapses to his knees, the skin peeling from his flesh, eyeballs swelling until they too explode in a shower of viscous fluid. I can't bring myself to care or register anything.

The calm goes on.

He dies with a final gurgle, clear liquid flowing out of his mouth to coat his shirtfront before he falls forward on his face, dead. I hear screaming, watch the crowd behind the boy spin and run, meet Genki's eyes as he stares at me in absolute horror.

I turn away. We're safe now. The calm fades, leaves me unbalanced for a moment, but not as much as the fear I see in Poppy's eyes. Before I can reach for her she turns and runs out the door into the street.

***

# Chapter Sixteen

They avoid me, all of them. I'm left to follow behind, wondering what I've done. At least the dog hasn't abandoned me. But even Beckett gives me a wide berth.

It's Dauphine who finally speaks to me. She has joined us, as she threatened Genki she would, guided by one of Beckett's people. When she slows to walk with me the other leaves her. I reach for her, take her hand and feel her shudder as I do.

"What happened, Trio?" She links her arm in mine. "No one will say anything. It was something terrible."

"It was." I'm disgusted now, afraid myself for what I've done. "One of the guards. He attacked me. I touched him and... he dissolved." There's no other way to describe it.

Dauphine gasps, stopping abruptly, pulling her hand free from my arm. "Tell me exactly what happened."

I describe it as best I can. When I'm finished she is pale under her dark skin, giving it a gray tint that worries me. "The Sick."

"He had the illness?" It makes my skin crawl, thinking I'd touched him.

"No," she says. "He didn't have it. None of our people did. There hasn't been an outbreak in at least six months." She stands there, hugging herself. "You gave him the Sick, Trio. How?"

I did? And yet I know it's true the moment she says it. I did. "I don't know." I'm so confused, now with more guilt weighing on my heart. "It can't be."

"It is." She visibly makes a decision, face softening as she reaches out for me. I loop my arm through hers again and she sighs. "You're obviously not going to infect me?"

"Of course not." I start walking again, her beside me. "Dauphine, I don't understand."

She pats my hand. "Nor me, girl. Nor me. But there are answers out there, somewhere."

"Socrates." The library. She nods.

"Maybe."

I look ahead, see the others gathered in a knot, watching us. Waiting for Dauphine to die, I can only assume. "They hate me now."

"Fear you," she whispers. "That's worse. It makes resentment grow, it does."

"Even Poppy." I want to cry. "It's not fair. I saved them."

"I know," she says. "You did, too. That Genki can be a vindictive bastard. We're lucky he let us leave." She sighs. "What I don't know is how that boy died so fast."

"The Sick is slow?" Maybe she was wrong. Whatever I did just looked like the virus they all dreaded.

"It is," she says. "Takes at least a day to do that much damage. But that's exactly what happens to those who die from it, exactly."

We've reached the others now. No one will look at me except Beckett and he even he seems freaked out.

"We need to talk." He gestures to me and I release Dauphine. Though I see no one will touch her now. Are they that afraid?

"Poppy," I say. "Help Dauphine."

She goes to the blind girl automatically, holds her hand. But those brown eyes are locked on the ground, her arms full of wiggling puppies.

I follow Beckett a short distance and face him.

"We need to find a place," he says. "Night will fall soon."

I nod. "I'll help you look."

He gazes off into the distance. "They want you to leave."

I knew this was coming. "I saved you all." It makes my anger rise again, but I shove it down. I don't want the fire to come out again. Never again.

"I know." He sighs softly. Pauses. Looks like he's about to say something. Finally, he shrugs. "We already have a place picked. Come on."

I can tell the others are upset with his choice to let me join them, Nico the most. I ignore them, freeing the golden puppy from Poppy's arms. A soft little tongue assaults my cheek, sharp teeth nipping my ears and pulling my hair. It lightens my mood, makes me smile, giggle even, though I make sure to be as quiet as I can. I feel the weight of the bag over my shoulder and wonder about food. I know the others will want to share it, and I'm okay with that. But the puppies will also need to eat again soon.

For a moment I wonder if I'm mad, if my mind is gone, even going on another step. The sheer desperate despair of it all slams into me, making me gasp, until the wriggling bundle in my hands licks me again and I feel tears trickle down my face as my laughter returns.

We'll be all right. We will. I'll make sure of it.

The building where we hide stinks of mold, worse than any I've smelled before, but it is empty and the dirty windows intact. Beckett sets up a watch as the rest of the group settles. The moment they are at rest, the whispering begins, the stares and points. Nico leads the unrest, but I'm hardly surprised. Instead, I open two cans of food and give one to the dog while Poppy and I feed the other to the puppies.

"That's our food." Nico stands before me where I sit with my back to the wall.

"No," I say, "you gave it to me. It's my food." I give the golden puppy another chunk of pressed meat.

Nico reaches for my bag, but before I can do anything Beckett grabs her and shoves her away. I see the regret on his face, know how much this is costing him.

"Leave her alone."

"You're defending her again?" Nico is almost beside herself in anger, face flushed from it. "She's a freaking carrier of the Sick, Beckett. She's feeding what remains of our food to a dog." Her contempt is so thick I want to beat it out of her. If only she knew I hold these two wriggling babies in much higher regard than I do her.

"No one is doing anything stupid." He faces off against her. "We'll find more food, a new place to bunk. Just like we always have."

"Except we've cut ourselves off from our supplier." Nico shakes her head, whole body vibrating with rage. "You've chosen her life over our survival." She stares at me over his shoulder. "You know as well as I do, we should kill her."

The dog growls softly from where he lies next to me, chin on paws. How much does he understand or is he simply reacting to her attitude? I don't know, but I'm grateful he's standing up for me.

"Think about it," Nico says, not just to Beckett, but to all of them. "No one knows where the new strains come from. Why they just show up out of nowhere. Maybe now we know why. Maybe people like her," she jabs one finger in my direction, "are the cause."

"You don't know that for sure," Beckett says.

"No," Dauphine says softly, "but I do." Everyone falls silent, even Nico who stares at the seer. "I can assure you that's not the case."

Nico blows out a lung full of air, throwing up her hands in disgust, but everyone else seems to calm down. Hopefully Dauphine is right, though I know in my heart serving as a carrier of the Sick is not my purpose.

I just wished I knew what was.

Beckett crouches next to me, eyes locked on the puppy. It wriggles free of my hands and stumbles to him. Is that a smile on his face? He picks it up, lets it lick him before accepting the food I offer and holding it for the baby to eat.

"Okay, Trio," he says, voice soft and tired. "We'll keep them."

I smile and hand him the bag of food. "Sucker."

He grins. It reaches his blue eyes and he lights up. "Damn it." He sits next to me, Dauphine on his other side, sighing as he relaxes for a moment. "The library?"

It seems our only option. "Dauphine?"

The seer shrugs. "Socrates is a funny duck," she says, "but he's honorable. He may take you in." She's still talking about "you" and "us". I wonder at her commitment to leave her old group.

"That's it, then," Beckett says. "We go to the library, pitch joining to the leader. He says yes, we get the info you need, Trio, and you're on your way. He says no... we find another place. Either way, you have what you need."

The idea of going on alone again makes me sad. I look down at the puppy in his arms then to the dog. His eyes are locked on mine. Will he leave his little ones to join me? I can't ask it of him.

I doubt he'll give me a choice in the matter either way.

The dog sighs, closes his eyes. Conversation over.

Fair enough.

***

# Chapter Seventeen

Again my sleep is uncomfortable and uneasy. I know I've caught a few bits of rest here and there. Part of it comes from being segregated from the others. Not that I'm completely surprised. They all found a place far from me when they'd finished eating what Beckett fed them from the sack. He retrieved the golden puppy Poppy has named Shine and brought it to me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's not your fault. But they've been through so much."

He won't meet my eyes. I try not to be hurt. But it's hard.

Now that they've settled, I catch myself starting at every noise, every breath of air, even when Shine and his sister, now called Shade, murmur in their puppy sleep. I wish I had someone to watch my back. It isn't until I groan at last and roll over on my side I remember I'm not alone after all.

Deep, dark eyes watch me, a wet nose wiggling slightly as the dog sniffs. Poppy hasn't named him yet, I think waiting for me to do it. For some reason it doesn't feel right to put a name on him, when he has no say in the matter. I'm not sure why I'm surprised he's so close to me, but I am. He's practically right up against me, body stretched out full. The two puppies sigh and squirm against his side and I soothe them with a soft touch, settling them to rest.

The dog allows me to scratch his ears, even stroke the soft fur of his muzzle. I lie there for a long time, looking into his eyes and he into mine, wondering how much he really understands. When I finally close my eyes again, it's with greater ease.

He's there to watch over us all.

It seems I've just closed my eyes when I'm opening them to the dog's teeth closing on my throat. I pull back, terrified, striking out at him even as he growls low in his chest, eyes not on me. He tries to grab me again, but this time I understand—he's reaching for my collar, tugging at me. The puppies are already gone.

What is he doing?

Someone moans. I glance over my shoulder, wondering what disturbed whoever made the sound. And freeze.

Dark shapes shuffle through the room. Two hunch over one of the kids. A scream builds inside me, my heart beating impossibly fast as one of the shuffling forms rises from the ground and turns toward the window and the light. The girl's face is slack and vacant, her eyes empty shells, seeing past me, skin as pale as death.

There is blood around her mouth. Running down her throat and chest. She is chewing. Something.

"Beckett!" The scream escapes at last. I'm on my feet, the snarling, snapping dog at my side, while the invaders turn on me as if I've triggered some instinct. They are already moving my way, groaning and moaning in horrible voices, arms reaching out for me, grasping fingers and gnashing teeth.

I see the others rise, some of them running, escaping, leaving me to face the Shambles. That's who they must be, the zombie-like remnants of the Sick. I see Beckett's stricken expression, hear him shouting, but I can't hear him past my terror and the moans of the Shambles.

It's not just them, their slow-motion movements, the horror of their existence, keeping me locked into place. It's the sight of the kid they'd killed, the source of the blood, body wrenched open by greedy hands, steaming entrails exposed, lungs, heart, half a cheek missing to eager mouths, blood and more blood pooling and pooling.

I feel as if I will go mad.

Teeth clamp on my sleeve, pulling me backward, breaking my freeze. I scramble away, just in time, feeling the softest of scrapes as a fingernail grazes my cheek. I follow the dog, weaving through the pack of grasping creatures. He whines once and I understand completely when he stops. The puppies are scooped from the hiding place he secreted them, tucked inside my coat again as I run on.

The whole place is filled with Shambles, it seems. I hear my name, turn to see Beckett calling for me, one arm around Dauphine as they run, Nico ahead of them. She forces her way past me, abandoning everyone, even trips one kid by accident on her way. She doesn't stop to help the girl to her feet. Not just any kid, I realize as I grasp her hand and jerk her back out of the reach of a Shamble, but Poppy.

Poppy sobs once, but keeps her head. I can't carry her and the puppies and we have to hurry. The two wriggling babies are dumped in her arms before I swing her up in mine and run.

A Shamble boy reaches for us as we dart past, but Poppy shrieks and lashes out with her sneakers. I can hear Beckett calling for us, but my terror is too strong, my calm nowhere to be found.

The building goes on and on and I run deeper into it.

***

# Chapter Eighteen

The building is infested, that much is apparent. And I'm so turned around by the time I manage to get a hold of myself we're deep inside, not a window visible. I slow for a moment, at the top of a set of stairs, knowing going down is the worst thing I can do. But when I turn back to retreat they are coming for us, from the left and the right, a mass of groaning Shambles who stink of death.

Poppy screams, the dog barks and I'm filled with fresh panic while the puppies whine over and over again. I run down the stairs, praying there will be an exit, another staircase, something, anything. More long halls, more windowless rooms, more Shambles.

Finally, an empty corridor. I pant, unable to catch my breath, forced to set Poppy down for a moment while she sobs and strokes the puppies. She's having a hard time holding them. Food and love has done wonders for their strength.

"Here." I whip off my jacket, tie the arms together to make a sling, slide it around her neck. Shine and Shade fit inside, and she's able to button the front up to keep them from escaping. The dog stares up at me like he assumes I know what I'm doing.

I hope he's right. Because I really think I've killed us all.

Poppy grasps my hand as we move on. My heart has quieted some, my calm returning. There is something about these Shambles triggering absolute terror and I just hope I can keep control of my fear long enough to find an exit. The dog sniffs ahead, leading us on. I trust his judgment far more than mine.

I hear something behind us just as we turn a corner and see Beckett running toward us, calling for Poppy. She spins, sees him, her relief apparent. So is mine. He almost reaches us when I hear the dog bark once, sharply and turn too late.

A Shamble emerges from a dark doorway, heading right for me. I shove Poppy backward without thinking, toward Beckett, and charge toward the creature. It falls back, hands scrabbling at my chest and throat, hideous, stinking breath breathing into my face. A girl this time, though I have a hard time thinking of her as female. She stumbles, I lose my balance and we go down together.

I feel the floor give way beneath us, hear the cracking, splintering sound of old, decayed wood and barely catch a breath before we're in free fall. The Shamble dies beneath me as we land, gasping her final rattle into my mouth, thick, black blood spurting out of her nose. I pull free, lurching to me feet, wiping at the droplets on my cheeks, panic giving way to relief.

Until I hear them. All around me. Stirring, coming closer. In the dark, I'm surrounded.

I have to fight. The calm is impossible so I reach for rage. It helps some, fear and anger being not far from each other. But I feel slow, despite being faster than the Shambles, as if the leftover terror has weighted my limbs.

Their bodies are soft under my lashing feet, my striking hands, and I can only imagine they are slowly dying, decaying from the inside out. The stench is overwhelming and I'm finding it harder and harder to breathe.

I'm aware of peripheral sounds, of the dog barking above me, Poppy screaming my name, but I can't spare a moment for them. I can only fight and fight and fight while my soul shudders and a part of me shrieks in absolute madness.

The sounds above fall silent. Have they been attacked? Or have they left me? I have no way of knowing. Something hisses past my cheek, I feel it more than see it. I've adjusted as well as I can to the minimal light in the pit where I fight, just enough to see the outlines of Shamble bodies as they surge toward me.

Another hiss and a grunt from a mindless boy who goes down with a thud, taking two more with him. The soft sounds of projectiles, over and over again, all coming from above me. Again I can't spare a moment to see who's defending me, but the surge of hope and gratitude is enough to keep me fighting, harder, faster, more angry until I stand alone, a ring of fallen Shambles at my feet.

Now I can stop, thank my savior. Only to look up into the muzzle of a gun.

One last hiss. Something red and fuzzy sticks out of my shoulder. I grasp for it, feel my fingers go numb as the world slides sideways, multiplies into two, four and then blackness.

***

Motion. My body registers it before my brain fully understands I'm moving. My head bobs on my neck, uncomfortable, but I'm unable to do anything about it just yet. I hear myself groan and feel a shudder run the full length of me, fed by the memory of the Shambles.

I'm alive. They didn't eat me. I could sob my gratitude, but instead settle for the soft warmth of tears trickling slowly free, escaping to drip from the end of my nose.

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is a floor passing by, concrete, dirty, with a blue painted line, faded with age. Whoever holds me gives me a little toss. I must be heavy. The thought makes me want to giggle. I know my giddiness comes from the drug they've given me and shake it off as best I can.

Down a set of stairs. Another. All concrete. I'm able to see to my left. Long lines of blue chairs, plastic with fold down seats and neat little numbers attached to the backs run on and on forever. Thin metal handrails offer support at each staircase though my carrier ignores them. Orange seats take the place of blue, then yellow.

We're not alone, either. I see other pairs of feet following behind.

Where are we? And who has taken me captive?

One last set of stairs and we're crossing through a small but heavy wooden door and onto grass. Grass? The real kind, I think. Recently mowed, but how? My mind tries to fit all of the images together, but I'm out of time. There's no way to save myself, my body still unresponsive as I'm dumped on the ground and left to fend for myself.

Three people bend over me. I know them. I know them all. Met them in the school that first horrible night. They grin at me like it's funny I'm here, but with terrible intent behind their smiles.

"Is she awake?" A voice I don't know, coming closer. One of them looks up and nods.

"She's coming around." He backs off, they all do. Someone grabs me from behind, hauls me upright by my arms. My shoulders protest while my head wobbles. I'm able to support it a little, resting my cheek on my shoulder, as my eyes climb up the jeans-clad legs before me, noting the thick spiked black leather belt, the matching leather jacket. A t-shirt, actually clean. Amazing. And another smile, this on a face I don't know, with an equally evil undertone.

He's attractive. I'm surprised. Shouldn't bad people be ugly? Kidnappers shouldn't have hair as blonde as new honey or green eyes making you want to trust them. Chiseled features, a model's face. Perfect teeth. Not fair, I say.

"At last," he says, hands on hips. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

***

# Chapter Nineteen

This must be Cade. I try to speak, but my throat is tight and I only end up gurgling. He glares suddenly at one of the boys who watches, smirking.

"How much did you give her?"

The grinning one stills, suddenly fearful. "Just the usual," he says, his anxiety clear in his voice. It makes me want to laugh. "I swear."

Cade's scowl is as handsome as his smile. "If you've damaged her, I'll kill you myself."

The kid backs off, head dropping. Somehow the threat doesn't sound empty.

I take the opportunity to look around, eyes wandering from corner to corner. We're inside some kind of stadium and my memory flickers to the past. I can hear the roar of a crowd, see masses of people, flashes from cameras going off, hear the crack of a ball on a bat, see fireworks overhead. I've been to a place like this before. With the woman. She sat beside me the whole time. Shared her popcorn.

So much for that happy memory.

Whoever is holding me suddenly lets go and I fall to the ground. But I'm happy to find I can support myself when my hands automatically reach out and catch myself. The grass is soft under my touch, almost wet. I feel it dampening my jeans, the cold of the dirt beneath it sinking into my right hip. I manage to look up again, see the crowd of people surrounding me.

I'd thought Genki had a large group. Cade has an army, it seems.

Cade comes to stand before me, crouching, eyes at my level. "Trio," he says. "Right? That's what they're calling you?"

I blink, bob a nod that threatens my balance. "Cade." I'm able to speak. It's a phlegmy whisper. I clear my throat, speak again. "You're Cade."

He grins, winks. "You've heard of me."

If I had the strength to roll my eyes, I would have. "Yes," I say instead. "I'm Trio."

"So tell me, Trio," he says, "what exactly do the Crawlers want with you?"

His curiosity is a front. I can feel him vibrating in the small distance between us. For some reason he thinks I'm important. And for all I know, I am.

But I only have the truth to tell him and I'm certain it's not going to be enough. "I don't know," I say. "I don't remember anything."

His expression tightens, but his good nature remains. "So I've been told." He stands abruptly, hands going in his pockets, a smile on his lips. "But I've also been told you're figuring out some things." Cade snaps his fingers and a boy scuttles forward. I know this kid. He's one of Genki's people. Seems he's changed sides.

"Tell me again," Cade says to the kid, "what you saw."

The boy is a mess, shaking, hugging himself like I'm a demon here to devour his soul. "She killed Menzel," he says. "Touched him, just pushed him back. And Menzel died of the Sick. Just like that." He snaps his fingers as he repeats the phrase. "Just like that."

I want to throw up at the memory, can still see the boy dissolving. I did it. But I have no idea how. And that's not going to satisfy Cade. I can see it in his face, in his crystal green eyes which never leave mine as the boy talks, tells them all what a monster I am. I can't look away. Cade needs to know I've told him everything.

"How?" He gently nudges me with one boot, smile small and tight, eyes glittering with need. "Tell me how you did it."

"I don't know." I watch his patience wearing out, the false smile sliding further and further. "Honestly. It just happened."

Cade stares at me, silent. The toe of his right foot taps softly against the ground, the crowd so quiet I hear the sound of the grass whispering under his boots.

When he shrugs, I think he's accepted my answer and allow myself a brief glimmer of hope. That hope dies when he grabs the kid beside him, the very one who has just told him everything, and shoves the boy toward me. Terror shines in the kid's eyes, mouth gaping. He struggles against Cade's grasp, but the boy is small and skinny. His feet slide out from under him, shirt up under his chin as the larger guy heaves him forward and drops him in front of me. The kid sobs, scrambles back, but Cade is there holding him in place.

"Show me." Cade cocks his head to the side, gaze still on me, ignoring the panicked whimpers of the kid at his feet.

I am able to shrug. It's an ineffectual gesture at the best of times and does little for my case now. I reach out, take the boy's hand. He stiffens, the front of his already dirty cargo pants darkening at the crotch. The stain spreads, runs down his legs to pool at both knees. The scent of urine is strong, strong enough Cade backs off with a muttered curse, finally letting the boy go.

My hand falls away as the kid collapses in a heap, choking on his tears. I feel terrible for him, but there's nothing I can do. I look up at Cade again. "Like I said, I don't know how I did it. It happened once, when I was threatened." When we were all threatened. I was so angry. I remember. But I'm not telling Cade . Not when I'm sure he's capable of anything.

"Cade." I glance to the side, see a tall, dark haired and dark eyed boy standing just to the left. Cade meets his eyes. He's spoken up, so he must be important.

"Brick." Cade's perfect eyebrow arches. "Suggestion?"

Brick's empty brown eyes meet mine. "Threaten her."

Cade grins. "Just what I was thinking. Only better. Threaten someone she cares about." He turns to me again and laughs like he just said something funny. My blood runs cold, whole body sheathed in goosebumps. If I had the strength I'd be on my feet and I'd kill him where he stands.

Then he'd know how it works, wouldn't he?

But I'm still weak, it's hard to focus my thoughts.

"First one," Cade says softly, almost to himself, "then the other, I think." He pulls out a knife, handing it to one of the boys from the school. "Kill her."

The kid shakes his head, backing off a half step, but Brick is right there behind him. I see the fear in the boy's face, watching as he calculates his chances and can only assume he chooses with his fear of Cade being the greater of the two because he squares himself and comes toward me.

I stumble to my feet, swaying. My limbs are heavy, still full of the drug. The moment I rise, the boy looks like he may have changed his mind, but I don't allow him time to act. I have to trust my abilities despite my weakness. Before he can lunge at me I strike, hand coming down on his wrist, the knife falling from his grip and to the turf with a snick as it embeds in the ground by the tip.

Cade's eyes light up, but he just gestures to Brick without a word. Brick hands the boy a new knife.

I'm not sure I can do it again. But I'll have to. And again. And again, it seems, until Cade gets what he wants. Or he kills me.

If I don't kill him first.

The boy seems more afraid, hand trembling as he comes at me, but he puts his whole weight behind his attack and I'm caught off guard, stumbling backward to avoid him even as my elbow comes down between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling. I meet Cade's eyes.

"It didn't happen this way," I say. "I wasn't afraid." So much for keeping it to myself. But my anger is rising and, as it does, the drug seems to burn away faster. Perfect. Anger it is then. And the calm. Is that the key?

"Well then," Cade says with a grin, "we try the other."

It's only then I remember Brick's suggestion led Cade to a different idea. My heart thuds in my chest as I wonder who they have captive. Beckett? Poppy? If it's Nico, I won't lift a finger to save her. At least I tell myself this.

But it's none of those. Snarling, snapping and barking, the dog is dragged out of a bunker deep in the stadium and led toward us. Immediately my fury flares, the calm threading through it and I'm free of the drug at last.

They've harmed him. I can see blood on his golden coat, the pain in how he moves, but he is defiant and furious and I will kill anyone who harms him further before hunting down those who delivered the first blows and kill them too. Cade looks excited as he strides off, closing the distance between him and the dog. He stops. Draws back a boot as the dog approaches.

Swings his foot forward.

Catches the dog in the ribs.

The crunching sound of splintered bone drives a spike of incoherency through my brain and I'm moving without thinking, striding toward Cade. There are those who try to stop me, but I'm striking out, left and right, terrified faces falling away as I take one last leap, almost there, on top of Cade, who thrusts a kid before him. My eyes fall to the dog as my hands grasp the kid he's using as a shield and I see my friend there, dying, lying in his own blood.

I've never known such fury. I'm blank from it. Everything is gray. Silent. My hands tingle, my body surges with it. The boy in my grip dissolves, melting before me and I

Don't.

Feel.

Anything.

***

# Chapter Twenty

I'm on my knees, hands touching the dog, still tingling, running my fingers through his fur. I was wrong, so wrong. He's fine, rising to greet me, tongue sweeping over my cheek as he stands and shakes himself.

Not his blood, I guess.

Sound returns, someone is screaming, a bunch of someones, hoarse shouts and whimpering cries and outright sobbing. I turn, the dog at my side, to see Cade watching me.

He's smiling again. Brick hovers behind him, swallowing over and over, eyes locked on the puddle that is the remains of the boy I've killed. There is no doubt this time. It's not a fluke, an accident. I'm the cause.

And while I feel for the kid who died, I'm stronger for the knowledge. And facing Cade down, I know I can kill him, too. Like I want to.

But he's moving forward, clapping me on the shoulder, side-stepping the lunge and bite from the dog. There's not many of us left in the middle of the stadium. Most of the kids have run off, hiding in the stands. I'm the Boogeyman come to get them. But one of the few who remains tries to grab the dog.

Cade knocks his hand away. "Leave the mutt," he says. "She's earned her pet." He laughs. "She can have any damned thing she wants." He leads me forward, suddenly congenial, even kind, helping me sit on a bench in the middle of the grass. Cade snaps his fingers and food is brought, water, even for the dog.

What's going on? Why hasn't he killed me yet? I feel sure I'd be fighting for my life right now, not filling my empty stomach with hot beef and potato stew. It's delicious. No one will come near me, so Cade ends up serving me. He doesn't seem all that upset about it. In fact, he's vibrating with excitement.

I settle when I'm done eating, the dog curled at my feet. I've spent the last few minutes trying to figure out what to do, how to escape and just what Cade is so excited about. I'm sure it's not good for me or the rest of the survivors of the Sick. But at least I now know I can fight my way out if I have to.

Cade settles beside me while Brick frowns as if he's jealous. "No wonder the Crawlers are after you," he says. He has no problem touching me, being near me. Cade isn't afraid of me at all. He's clearly insane.

"I don't understand." I don't, not really.

"Isn't it obvious?" He offers me half of an apple. The juice runs from it, crisp flesh delicious in my mouth. The scent is intoxicating. "You're a weapon, something they've lost control of, must be. And now you're here with us."

I let that sink in while I devour the sweet fruit. I don't tell him it doesn't feel right. The two people from the hologram didn't say anything about any of this.

"I want you to work for me." He hands me a bottle of water. It's as crisp and clean as I've ever tasted. "We've always been at a disadvantage when it comes to the Crawlers." It looks like he hates to admit any weakness. "No matter what I do, they have better weapons, armor, more numbers..." He glares off into the distance. "If I could just get my hands on their vehicles, turn the tide." He grins at me then. "And with your help, I can."

"Why?" I cup my hand and offer the dog some of my water. He laps it noisily while Cade goes on.

"The only other group bigger than ours is the Crawlers. They have control of the electricity, most of the food production, equipment." Cade is practically drooling over the possibilities. "We have an opportunity here. To crush them and take over as the ruling force in the city."

I nod, but only to buy time while I try to decide how to play this. "Who are they?"

He's scowling suddenly, angry. "No one knows." He spits on the ground, uncouth act at odds with his stunning good looks. "They steal kids out from under us, take our food, invade our territory like they own the place." Cade slams one fist down on the bench so hard wood cracks. "They need to learn who the real master of this city is." His smile is back. One hand lifts, brushes at a stray lock of hair that's escaped my matted ponytail. "For the first time ever, that's possible. Because of you."

I glance at Brick. He's glaring at me. I've obviously taken his place as his boss's favorite. And while the very idea of working for or cooperating with Cade is abhorrent to me, I decide to bide my time and plan my escape. Cade's suddenly my friend, though I doubt it will last past my escape. I'd rather not fight my way through every kid in his army, even though I know most of them will run from me first. But the darts they possess are able to take me down from a distance—a real possibility. Better to play Cade's game while I can and plot my escape when the trank darts won't be usable.

The question is, when it comes down to it, who will they be more afraid of? And will I be able to use that fear to my advantage?

***

# Chapter Twenty One

I'm led inside the bunkers where athletes once retreated after a game. There are showers, with hot running water. Cade, smirking and winking, leaves me to clean up, guarded by two trembling girls.

At least he has that much decency.

The dog remains with me, stretched out full length at the entrance to the open tiled room, his eyes locked on my watchers though they don't seem to notice him at all. I do my best to ignore them, inhaling the scent of flowers from the hard cake of soap. It's been only a few days since I was clean but it feels like forever.

Globs of matted hair run down the drain as I struggle with the knots. I have a flash of memory, my long, dark hair being brushed while a woman's voice hums low, a sweet song of love and longing. I blink away water mingling with my tears at the memory before jerking the valve off.

The tall, skinny girl points at a low bench. A towel and what looks like folded clothing waits for me. Neither guard is willing to come near me. I'm just as glad. Their fear is a near tangible thing and giving me a headache.

I'm amazed to find clean clothing, fresh underwear, even. The T-shirt has a logo on it, the tag still attached. Something called the Dodgers. I try to recall where such a team played baseball, but can't remember. The jeans are a little big, but very comfortable and they've been kind enough to supply a belt. I keep my old boots, ignoring the thin sneakers laid out on the grungy tiled floor. Nothing practical about them and I need practical.

I transfer the coin Dauphine gave me, thankfully still in my possession, to my new front pocket and pat it once to reassure myself it's there.

My jacket is gone, hopefully still with Poppy, so I accept the windbreaker hanging from a peg next to the bench. A brush lies on a fresh towel, toothpaste and a toothbrush next to it. After sawing on my teeth for a full two minutes, happy to have the grunge removed, I tackle my hair. I'm merciless, grunting as I jerk through the knots, scraping it back out of my face when it's finally tamed, securing it with a thick, black elastic at the base of my neck.

I look better. Feel better. But I'm still a prisoner.

One thing at a time.

I'm fed again, this time in what used to be a restaurant inside the stadium. Cade is there, waiting for me, even stands and gestures at an empty seat. I feel the others at the table shift sideways, away from me, but I ignore them.

In a parody of memory, we're served by a few of the kids, as though everything is back to normal after all. I feed the dog from my plate, my appetite low as my stomach rolls over. This is horrible, painful to watch, to live. How these kids clink their glasses together, pretend the world is sane while their mad leader smiles at them all like some benevolent king.

"You look refreshed." Cade refills my water glass himself which I instantly share with the dog. Cade snaps his fingers and one of the servants rushes forward. "You've forgotten our furred guest." His tone is light, but there is a menace to him that stills all conversation. I catch Brick glaring at me from the other side of Cade and stare back, expression flat.

The dog is served his own plate of food, a bowl full of water. He devours it all before lying down at my feet with a soft groan. I'm happy he's full, at least, and comfortable. And with me. I'm not sure I could tolerate this charade alone.

By the time I'm served some plastic-wrapped chocolate confection for dessert, I want to throw up. Cade continues to chat with me, irrelevant, pathetic small talk sending the sensation of my skin crawling across my body in waves. All the while the mood at the table is mercurial, following his closely. If he is smiling, the others are cheerful. If something troubles him, they fall instantly silent. All but Brick, who continues to glare and chew and swallow, eyes never leaving me.

I'll have to do something about him eventually, it seems.

Dinner concludes when Cade stands up and gestures for me to follow. I go with him, though I ignore the hand he offers me. I walk beside him, with the dog between us, his furred shoulder pressed against my knee. Does he know I welcome the comfort? My fingers find his ears and scratch.

"Time to earn your keep." Cade grins at me like I'm here voluntarily. "We're off to see the wizard." He giggles a little, out of place in his smooth persona. I don't get the reference, but I smile back.

Brick joins us, a handful of others. We walk the long, narrow concrete halls of the stadium, finally emerging into fading sunlight. The pitted, double steel doors swing shut behind us, the expanse of the huge parking lot stretching out before us. It's a careful walk through twisted masses of abandoned cars, over humps of asphalt upheaved by vegetation, but it takes us far shorter a time than I anticipated. The street beyond is as I remember the rest of the city.

"This way." Brick tries to grab my arm, but I elude him while the dog growls.

Cade laughs. "Leave her." He winks at me. "She's doing just fine."

I wonder at his approval, though I know I need it as long as possible. If I'm to escape, he needs to trust me, at least as far as someone like Cade trusts.

We wind through a side street and into another. As I set foot on the pavement, I realize immediately I'm alone. A glance over my shoulder proves I'm right. Cade, Brick and the others wait in the deep shadows, watching me. Cade points out into the street and flicks his finger.

"Better watch out," he says softly. "You've been spotted, I think."

I turn back, see two kids running toward me, panting, passing me, leaving me there to face the rumbling, threatening Crawler van that's clearly been chasing them.

A set up. Is he turning me over to them after all? But no, as he said, I'm here to earn my keep.

Cade wants me to kill the Crawlers. This could be my perfect opportunity to escape.

I reach for the calm, let it wrap around me. The dog settles next to me, body trembling, but clearly resolved to protect me if he can. I want to hug him for his loyalty.

The vehicle stops, a different one this time, the body beneath more likely an SUV. Four Crawler soldiers emerge in their odd metal plated uniforms, reminding me of beetles coming out of their hive.

The first one extends a taser. "You will come with us." His voice is hollow, echoing from behind his helmet. At least he sounds human. "Clone Three, we have orders to bring you in."

They know who I am. How? It doesn't matter, not at the moment, but if they have answers, I need to question them.

The first lunges toward me, his three companions circling around. I dodge, but just barely. These Crawlers move as quickly as the Brights, but with more deadly tools at their disposal. Still, I'm certain they have no desire to kill me. Which puts me at a distinct advantage.

I don't care if I kill them.

As fast as they are, they hesitate to use lethal force, all the opening I need. Do they have orders not to harm me? Whoever is pulling their strings has done them a disservice. I twist at the last moment as one of the Crawlers aims a gun at me, hearing a soft ping as the dart bounces off of something metallic behind me.

The dog tackles the front man with the taser, knocking the weapon from his hand before bounding back. There is little he can do to help me, his teeth unable to penetrate the metal sheeting they wear. But his actions are enough of a distraction I find it simple to use what he began to finish the first Crawler.

It's suddenly as though we were designed to work together. The dog is an expert at misdirection, as if he reads my mind. Where he creates an opening, I am able to finish the job. Within short order, the four Crawlers lie groaning on the ground and Cade's people are cheering.

They rush past me, led by Brick, swarming the Crawler car, scooping up weapons. Cade is at my side, hand squeezing my shoulder, laughing as the kids under his command use the Crawler's tasers on their former owners. The stench of singeing flesh is powerful, stirs my nausea, but it just seems to brighten Cade's mood even further.

I turn my face away, unable to watch any longer, the vision of the steel-clad Crawler's body dancing and twitching under the jolt of electricity too much for me to bear.

It's time. I have to break free, escape while they celebrate. I take a half step back, away from Cade, the dog following my lead. Pale green eyes meet mine, handsome face stiff, smile shark-like as his hand grasps my upper arm.

"Well done," he whispers. "Ding dong, the witch is dead." There is such madness in him, I wonder how he can function, pretend to be normal. The insanity is so crystal clear to me, there in his gaze, humming through him and into me.

I finally remember, understand the reference. The Wizard of Oz. "There's no place like home." The words escape me before I can stop them.

Cade laughs, clearly delighted. "Too bad Kansas isn't what you hoped."

He's right. There's probably no going back for me. But unless I can break free of him, I'll never know for sure.

As I pull my arm free, open my mouth to answer, the screaming starts.

***

# Chapter Twenty Two

I spin, searching for the source of the painful sound, spot one of Cade's people going down with blood spurting from his neck. Chaos erupts, Cade is shouting, hand falling free, the others yelling to be heard, as they tumble over each other in an attempt to escape.

Cade's dream is a fallacy. I know it now. The kids are trained to run, not to fight. The shouting all blends together in my head, white noise I ignore as I look around me, searching for the source of the attack.

Poppy appears from behind the back corner of the Crawler car and flicks a wave. She's gone as quickly as she appeared, just as two more of Cade's kids fall, one with his eyes rolling back, the second looking down at the arrow shaft protruding from his still-pulsing heart.

Brick runs, I see him go, a thin stream of kids chasing after him while Cade shrieks and pulls his blonde hair, handsome face twisted by crazy. Another arrow flies past, narrowly missing him, taking out the thin kid who pelts by at a dead run. Cade shrieks at the dark sky before spinning on me.

When he reaches for me, I reach back. Smiling, threatening, I extend my hands to him. It's enough. Fear penetrates his madness.

"I own you!" Cade turns and runs. "You're mine, Trio!"

I don't wait to see if he's gone. The dog at my side, I turn and run, making it to the back of the Crawler car before I'm grabbed and pulled down another side street, Beckett's fist holding a death grip on my jacket.

We pause at last, panting, five blocks away. Poppy immediately embraces me, sobbing softly into my stomach. I hug her back, lift her into my arms where she weeps in my hair.

"We have to keep going." Beckett pats my shoulder, a little awkward, but his heart is in the right place because he is smiling. "It's nice to see you're okay."

Someone grunts behind me. I turn, see Nico glaring. "Thanks for rescuing me." I say it directly to her, with spite behind my grin, knowing she'll hate me all the more for it.

I'm instantly remorseful, not because of her reaction, the one I expect as she scowls at me and turns away, but at the emotion itself. I'm not a vindictive person. This place, this situation is changing me and I don't like it at all.

Poppy wiggles at last and I let her down. "Beckett's right," she says. "Cade will get his people and come back for us. We have to run."

"Where?" Nico's words spit out of her. "We have no allies, no food, no water, no shelter. We've cut ourselves off from the two most powerful groups in the city. We're on our own, all because of her."

I hate to admit Nico is right. This is all my fault. "The library?"

Beckett makes a face. "It's even further away now," he says softly. "And with all the extra Crawler patrols..." he looks away. "I don't know if we'll make it."

"Genki." Nico shoves her way between us, facing Beckett. "We have to beg him to take us in. Do whatever it takes. We have to have allies, Beckett."

He makes a face. I can feel how abhorrent the idea is to him.

"We'll talk about it later," he says, cutting her off when she tries to protest. "We have to get to the meeting point first."

That's when I realize there are only a few of them. The rest, the others, must be somewhere safe. Or safer. I don't see Dauphine and kick myself. Of course they wouldn't bring the blind girl.

We run on for another half hour or so. It's slow going. Twice we have to pause, to wait while a group of Brights finish their hunt and devour their meal. The dog hums a growl beside me while my heart aches at the screams of the kids being eaten before their voices finally fall silent. I want to act, to do something, but one glare from Beckett is enough for me to keep still.

He's right, but I hate it. Those screams will haunt me for the rest of my life.

It's also not long before we spot Cade's people out on the hunt. Once they even stand and fight against a group of Crawlers. Thankfully we are able to avoid their confrontation, use it to slide past while they are focused on each other.

By the time we ease through a gap in an old fence and inside what looks like a junk yard, I'm exhausted from the stress. I'm not the only one, though my companions are much more accustomed to this life than I am.

Dauphine emerges from hiding, gliding forward to embrace me. I hug her back.

"You're all right." She smiles up at me. "But of course you are. You have a destiny, Trio."

I squeeze her hand before turning to Beckett. "You have to get away from me."

Poppy grabs me around the legs. "We're not going anywhere."

Beckett's eyes are locked on mine. "She's right," he says. "No matter what, we're tied up in this with you now. They won't stop hunting us just because you leave, Trio. They'll just keep coming until they kill us all."

I want to say I'm sorry, but the words won't come out. Instead, I reach for his hand. He accepts my fingers squeezing his. "How far to the library from here?"

"A couple of miles," Beckett says softly. "But the main streets were blocked off by the Crawlers long ago. Which means we will have to go around. Might take days. We just don't have enough food."

"But Genki does." Dauphine's voice is low, soft, as though she just spoke blasphemy.

"Genki isn't exactly our best friend right now." Beckett's amusement is tired, but clear.

"No," she says. "But he doesn't have to be." She touches her temples with the index fingers of both hands. "Only his hoard."

Nico snorts. "He has all of that in the warehouse."

"No," Dauphine says, "he doesn't." She stills for a moment then turns and points. "There is a cache that way."

"You're sure?" Beckett's expression tightens, calculating.

"Positive." Dauphine beams a smile. "He would never keep all of his treasures in one place. I know for a fact he has three warehouses all around his territory. I saw them once, in his mind, though I don't think he knows I'm aware. I can find all three, but the closest is there." She points again.

"Guards?" Beckett's frowning, deep in thought. "Will there be many?"

Dauphine shrugs. "Not sure," she says. "He's a wily one, that Genki. Most likely there will be traps, pitfalls, protections. We'll need to be careful."

Beckett nods once, quickly, with conviction. "Perfect," he says. "Thank you, Dauphine."

Nico grabs Beckett's arm. "You're not seriously considering this." She is shaking. "If Genki catches us stealing from him, he'll kill us."

Beckett laughs out loud, not loudly, but with real humor. "Nico," he says at last, "do you realize what you just said?"

She backs off as Beckett laughs again. "I'm just saying." She turns away.

Beckett meets my eyes. "Up for a little burglary?"

***

# Chapter Twenty Three

I settle onto a car bench seat, torn out of the vehicle it was made for and dumped on the hard ground. It's comfortable still, no springs emerging, the upholstery actually intact. My body isn't tired, I realize, just my heart. So when Poppy appears, the sling around her neck once again, two wiggling puppies poking their heads out, I slide down and make room for her to join me.

I help her feed Shine and Shade, so happy to see them, smiling as their little tongues sweep over my fingers after each morsel offered, cleaning up every last scrap. Poppy hands the rest of the can to the dog who licks it out with relish before settling at our feet. The puppies wriggle down inside the jacket and are asleep in moments, Shine upside down so Poppy can rub his round little belly.

It's enough for me to heal, bring me back, at least enough I don't feel that soul-deep weariness anymore. I hug her around her shoulders, the puppies between us, resting my cheek on her hair.

Beckett comes to us, crouching as he meets my eyes, hands reaching out to stroke the dog. I wonder if he's aware of what he's doing as he speaks.

"We'll wait until just before dawn," Beckett says. "The guards will be at their most tired then, hopefully. As long as shift change is morning, that is." He stands then, hands deep in his pockets. "Get some rest, yeah?"

I nod, Poppy sliding closer. The puppies are growing rapidly, but still don't take up too much space. As Beckett leaves us, I gently lift the jacket full of twitching babies and set them in Poppy's lap before pulling her closer. She hugs me hard, face pushed against my shoulder.

When she speaks, her words emerge muffled and almost unintelligible. "I'm sorry."

I allow her a moment, wait for her to lift her gaze and look at me. I'm smiling, it's all right, I understand why she was afraid of me, but she shakes her head, as if my easy acceptance isn't enough for her.

"We were wrong." She lifts the end of my ponytail and plays with it. "You're our friend. You did what you did to save us. It's not your fault, Trio. And I'm sorry I was mean to you."

"You weren't," I say.

"I was," she whispers. "In my head."

I stroke her hair, the ragged pieces falling back from her dirty, sad face. "I was kind of mean to myself, too," I say. "In my head."

She looks up at me again, eyes huge. "How did you do it?"

"I don't know." I sigh, looking away, across the piles of wrecked cars, the junkyard oddly attractive in the dim moonlight. "But it happened again, when I was with Cade's people. So it's not an accident."

Poppy is quiet for a long time. Our peace is only punctured by the soft hiss of the wind and the odd whimper from the twitching puppies. Her little voice startles me when she finally speaks.

"My mom died." She settles against me, and I wonder at the revelation. "From it. The Sick. I never knew who she was."

Tears threaten to choke me they rise so swiftly. My throat burns with them, tight from the pressure of keeping my sadness inside.

Unaware, Poppy goes on. "Beckett says I look just like her." She sighs deeply, loudly, her little body collapsing inward as she settles. "I wish I knew for sure."

I have nothing to offer her, no comfort. Nor do I have any to offer myself. The image of the woman returns, and I wonder about her. Is she my mother? But thinking about it only makes things worse. I quickly swipe at the tears finally escaping.

Poppy's body relaxes, her head bobbing forward. I gently ease her sideways, letting her lie down on my lap. The puppies snuggle closer, protected in the curl of her arms. I stroke her hair over and over, unable to stop, wanting so much to protect her.

It's easier to focus on her than the questions in my mind. I'm a killer, it's obvious. I have the tools to destroy life. Is that my purpose? It feels wrong, but there is nothing else inside me telling me the purpose of this power I possess.

I'm not sure I can live with myself, if killing is my purpose. My head falls back, I struggle for calm, sleep. Beckett's right. I need to rest. But it's hard to sleep with my mind churning so wildly.

I finally do drift off, to the sound of Poppy coughing.

***

# Chapter Twenty Four

I'm suddenly wide awake, my hand reaching out to grab Beckett as he bends over me.

"It's time." He backs off, pulling free and I let him go. I gently shake Poppy's shoulder to wake her, but it takes some doing. She looks up at me, bleary eyed, scrubbing at her face with her little hands.

The others are stirring, even the puppies. Poppy feeds them the last can of food from the bag while Nico glares. I don't care even a little for my empty stomach. There will be more to eat soon. I block Nico's view of Poppy and the babies with my own body, staring down the angry girl. She turns away at last, and I know in my heart her cowardice will hurt us if we're not careful.

There is a short argument when Beckett tries to leave Poppy and Dauphine.

"You need me," Dauphine snaps at him. "I can make it quite nicely, thank you."

"Me too." Poppy coughs softly, clinging to my hand, the puppies wriggling in the sling around her neck.

Beckett throws up his hands. "Fine," he says. "I'm tired of fighting about this. We all go, from now on. Okay?"

Poppy nods, looking happy. I don't like the tiredness in her face, however, or the way she wobbles a little, listless. We're all running on empty. I have to watch her and make sure she's all right.

The storehouse isn't far, it turns out, only a few streets away. Dauphine pauses at a corner, pointing. The building is dark and quiet, but as we stand there watching I catch a small movement. I gesture to Beckett who nods as someone's foot snakes out from behind a dumpster only to disappear again. We've found the guards.

Beckett is moving, me beside him, Nico and a few others following. I round the dumpster and act without thinking, striking out with my booted foot into the startled face of the giveaway guard. There are only three kids watching over the storehouse. As Beckett predicted, they are tired, slow and easy to overwhelm. I turn from my attack to see the other two are already unconscious.

The door is locked, but a quick search of the kids uncovers a key. Dauphine and Poppy join us as we ease our way inside.

"Wait." Dauphine pushes her way to Beckett in the lead. "Careful here." She side-steps as though she can see. The faint light of dawn coming in the door reveals a rope pulled tight across the entry. "Knife?"

Beckett pulls out a short blade and hands it to her. She feels along the rope, delicately. It does not move under her touch. She reaches the wall, hand sliding over a knot which she attacks with vigor. It only takes her a moment to cut the line. Something groans, air gasps and a large, sharpened piece of steel falls from the ceiling to embed itself in the far wall. Her hands press against it, silencing the vibration of the metal.

"First trap," she whispers. "Stay behind me."

Beckett is on her heels as she moves forward. I shudder as I pass the chunk of metal, dipping my shoulder to avoid it. Poppy's hand grips mine firmly as we move deeper inside the storehouse, the dog at my side, snuffling the ground as he goes.

"We don't have much time." Nico's hiss is loud in the darkness. "The new guards could be here any time."

"There's no rushing this." Dauphine pauses. "Here." She gestures at the floor. "Is there a plank, a board, something nearby?"

Beckett's hands close on a plank resting awkwardly against one wall. He guides it into her hands. She turns, lets it fall over the section of tile. As she does, the pressure of its impact sends a dull thud through the floor, triggering something. We hear the snick of collapse, see the gaping black beneath the narrow bridge.

"Trap two." Dauphine is trembling. "One more to go."

"You're certain there are only three?" Beckett motions for us to follow Dauphine even as he turns and takes the bridge himself.

"That's Genki's pattern," Dauphine says. "But be cautious, no matter what."

We emerge from the dark hallway into a large room. It's full of boxes, bags, supplies. Large windows line the top of the walls, enough light from the morning sun to show us we've found exactly what we are looking for.

Nico rushes forward, a couple of the other kids with her, but Dauphine immediately shouts, "Stop!" Nico does, turning toward the blind girl, though she looks impatient enough not to listen for much longer.

"The boxes will be trapped as well." Dauphine eases forward, hands trembling as she focuses on her task. "This one, there is razor wire. If you tried to open it, you would lose your fingers, if not more of yourself."

Nico pales, backs off. Dauphine continues her rounds, feeling box after box. Even Beckett is looking impatient by now. The dog hums a soft growl at me, but I ignore him. He's as anxious as the rest of us.

Dauphine finally pauses, shaking her head. "We'll have to risk it," she says. "There are traps on all of these, but I can help you get past them."

Beckett makes short work of the first with simple brute force. I watch him lift a discarded metal rod and drive it forcefully into one of the boxes. The wood gives way, the razor wire trap springing upward and outward. He dodges it easily, the wire bouncing with almost musical precision on the concrete floor.

Everyone rushes forward to examine the contents. Food, cans of meat and beans, it looks like. It's a scramble as hands dip in, filling bags and jackets and pockets with as much as can possibly fit and then more. Beckett is already moving on to the next box, the sound of razor wire springing free punctuating the liberation of more supplies.

We're groaning under the weight of what we've stolen when Beckett orders us out.

"There's more to take!" Nico turns, her hands over flowing with food. "We can't just leave it here."

"Then what?" Beckett spins on her, pockets bulging. "What do you want to do, Nico?"

She looks desperate and, for the first time since we've met, I feel sorry for her. "We could defend it, keep it for ourselves."

Beckett is shaking his head even as a few of the other kids look hopeful. "Genki has an army," he says. "And he'll never let us keep this place." Beckett looks around to all the others. The dog grabs my hand in his teeth, but I pull free, focused on Beckett. I'm so proud of him all of a sudden I want to hug him. He's a true leader, making sure they all understand. "We have more than enough," he says. "It's time to go."

Nico still hesitates, hangs back. Beckett shrugs at her, turns away.

The dog growls louder, paws at me. I look down at him and know then it doesn't matter one way or another. He howls, long and loud, as a pack of angry kids rush us and we're surrounded.

***

# Chapter Twenty Five

Genki grins as he approaches, but I notice he doesn't come too close to me. Cowardice is going around, it seems. Dauphine scowls, but it's not like any of us have an excuse or argument. We've been caught stealing, fair and square.

"I've been expecting you to try something like this." Genki sounds so smug I want to scare him, just a little, enough to erase the confidence from his voice, but I hold still and wait. "Dauphine, did you really think I'd let you lead them to my cache without doing something about it?"

She shrugs, arms crossing over her chest. Her trembling is long gone, temper returned. "You didn't leave me much choice, did you?"

He snarls at her, an animal sound, lunging forward. Beckett is in front of her before I can reach her, blocking Genki. The red haired hoarder spots me close and backs off.

"I'm in my rights to kill you all right now." Spoken as if there is some law in this lawless culture. But I see the group he's brought nodding. They have a sense of fair play. Can it be used as an advantage?

"You are." I speak up, one hand extended to Dauphine. She reaches for me, her other sight stronger than my vision, it seems. "But this isn't their fault. The idea was mine. I'm the guilty one. So if you're going to punish anyone, I am the one to punish."

Beckett hisses at me, but I ignore him, walking forward with Dauphine at my side. Genki's group immediately falls back. I can feel it's not just from fear of me, but out of respect for her. Genki is left stranded, alone. It's clear he wants to retreat, from the nervous bob of his prominent Adam's apple, the way he licks his lips over and over, eyes darting around searching for support.

"You accept responsibility?" He finally takes a half step in retreat as we stop in front of him.

"I do," I say. "And I'm leaving." I let Dauphine go. She looks at me, though her eyes are empty and white, I know she sees me more clearly than any of them. "That's what you really want, isn't it? Along with the return of Dauphine." I smile at her, gently. "She comes back to you, I leave and you let the others go."

Genki hesitates.

"She's right." Nico slides forward. "It's all her fault. It's always been her fault."

I hear Beckett growling under his breath behind me. It doesn't matter if he protests or not. I can see the brief shine of relief in Genki's eyes. A way out. One that will help him retain his honor in the eyes of his people. I know he'd rather just kill me, but it's clear in the way he glances first at Dauphine then back to me he knows doing so will mean he loses her forever.

"Very well." He grips her arm, pulls her back two steps until he is among his people. "I will even welcome the others into my family." The power and volume of his voice grows as his confidence returns. I want to laugh at him, show him what a pathetic loser he really is, but I hold my peace. My friends need shelter, a place that's safe when I move on. I've caused them so much disruption, it's the least I can do. And if they are hiding with Genki's people, there's a good chance Cade and the Crawlers won't find them.

Especially if I broadcast my exit and make it obvious I'm on my own.

"I'll even supply you with some food," Genki says to me, as if he's being generous. I suppose he his, despite the fact he has more than enough. He turns to Beckett. "You'll follow my rules from now on, I'm the leader here."

Beckett doesn't speak, just glares at me. I've done what I can for him and Poppy.

Time to go.

I turn to leave, but Genki calls after me. "You're forgetting your gift." I spin back, accept a full backpack brimming with food, water bottles. It's enough to last me weeks, a very generous offering. I look down at it, wondering what the cost. Beckett stands there, staring after me, arm around Poppy. I'm sad she doesn't try to stop me, but she looks so tired, leaning against her brother, a cough wracking her little body.

I salute Genki, slide the strap of the backpack over my shoulder, head for the door.

"Good riddance." Nico's snarl reaches me, but I ignore the arrow of it which feels as if it's punctured my back, it's filled with such venom.

The dog is at my side. I want to send him back, but he has his own ideas and I'm happy for the company. I'm almost to the door when I hear the scuffle. Turn to look, see Dauphine slapping Genki. Watch as she turns toward me, while Beckett scoops Poppy into his arms, a look of panic on his face.

"Trio!" Dauphine strains against Genki as she tries to run to me, his arms holding her back. "It's a trap!"

The dog woofs a breath, growls. I feel the air in the storehouse change, fill with more bodies, further tension. We're not alone here any longer—Genki has betrayed us.

Cade's laughter fills me with dread as he shoves his way past the redhead and smiles at me, fists on hips.

"Hello, Trio," he says. "Looking for the ruby slippers?"

***

# Chapter Twenty Six

It's suddenly clear why Genki was so generous, why he didn't insist on my death. He's not running things anymore, though I doubt he understands it completely just yet. Cade isn't the type to share power. If I wasn't so angry, I'd almost feel sorry for Genki.

Almost.

Dauphine is shaking again, but this time with rage. I watch Brick grab her, pull her against his chest. I want to lash out at him for daring to touch her, but she doesn't need my help. Her right foot comes down hard on his instep even as her elbow flies, taking him hard in the ribs. Brick shakes her, but Beckett is already pulling her free, backing away before Brick can punish her.

Cade ignores it all, eyes locked on me. "Did you really think you could escape me?"

I fight to remain casual, rolling my shoulders in a shrug, tone bored. "Worth a try."

It makes him laugh. I'm not sure it's a good thing. His madness hides in his laughter.

Dauphine spits on the ground, whole body screaming defiance at Genki. "We're through," she snarls. "I'm never finding anything for you ever again." The group groans, his people at least. Even Genki looks hurt.

"You won't have to," Cade turns aside briefly, beaming his charm at her, "because you're working for me now."

Genki's shock is clear. So he's finally understanding what he's done, at last. The troubled expression he settles into is satisfying, even if expected.

"Bring her. And the others." Cade gestures at Beckett, Poppy, Nico. "We'll move them to the stadium after we've cleared this place out." Cade reaches inside one of the open boxes, cracks open a can of peaches. The juice runs down his hand, dripping from his wrist as he sucks a slice of the sugary fruit into his mouth.

"That's not what we agreed." I'm not expecting this at all. I never believed Genki had it in him to stand up to Cade. But here he is, now face-to-face with his new master, holding his ground.

Cade grins, plants one boot against Genki's knee and pushes. The redhead goes down with a cry, grasping at his injured leg.

There are no further protests.

I acquiesce with the guards who come for me, though I long to fight. Cade winks at me, points at Beckett and the others before drawing his finger across his neck. I've been warned. It's not just the dog at stake any longer. I have much more to lose if I don't cooperate.

I stare at the door as it closes behind us, the snick of the lock triggering my anger. I turn, look around, realize we're in what used to be a kind of office, packed with junk and garbage. Poppy huddles on the floor, arms around the puppies, eyes falling closed as she coughs once, softly. It's the first time I fully realize she's not just tired.

Poppy is sick.

Beckett looks as concerned as I feel. My heart thuds heavily in my chest, panic rising, tears threatening as I stare at him, my voice not wanting to work, but needing to ask.

"Is it?" I can't ask it fully, can't bring myself to finish the question.

Beckett comes closer, shakes his head, whispers in my ear. "It's not the Sick," he says. "It's something else."

Why that causes me such relief, I'm not sure until I realize I've been blaming myself for her illness. I nod to him. We'll have to deal with it. Once we escape.

"Nice going." Nico's sullenness hasn't improved. If anything, she's worse. "We could have had a secure place here, if it wasn't for you."

Beckett answers before I can. "We've talked about joining Genki's people before," he snaps at her. "You agreed then it was a bad idea. Until lately."

"That was before she came along." Nico will kill me if she gets the chance. The truth is so clear in her eyes I accept it and know it for fact.

"Whining about it won't get us anywhere," Beckett says. "We need to find a way out."

"Send her out there," Nico snaps. "Let her deal with the mess she's made. I'm tired of it." She turns her back on us, crouches in a corner, arms wrapped around her. The handful of others, all who remain of Beckett's group, join her.

I see the tension in him, the sadness. I've done this to him, to them. Nico is right. I have to fix it.

I just need to figure out how.

Time passes, how much I'm not certain, but the natural light coming in the frosted window dims as night falls. I sit with Beckett, holding Poppy and the puppies, the dog curled up at our feet on the opposite side of the room to the others. Most of them are asleep, though Nico sits and rocks herself, and I wonder what plot she's hatching.

Poppy's coughing is growing worse. When I feel her forehead, her temperature is elevated slightly. I can only hope it's a cold or some mild ailment. Until I realize there are no mild ailments here and now. No antibiotics for a bacterial infection, no medication to ease her symptoms, no drugs to bring down a fever. Only her natural immune system.

Malnourished and often dehydrated, will her internal defenses be enough?

I turn to Beckett, to tell him what I fear, when the lock softly opens and the door eases just wide enough for someone to enter. I'm on my feet, hands grasping the intruder, turning him toward me. Genki glares at me, his features just visible from the faint electric light coming through the partly open door.

"You want out, right?" His words snap forth, whispered whips. He's clearly doubting what he's doing here with us. "Come on, then."

"Another trick, Genki?" Beckett appears beside me, Poppy in his arms. I feel Nico and the others crowd close.

"Genki." Dauphine's words hiss out of the darkness behind the door. "What's the hold up?"

Her I trust. I'm out in the open, grasping her hands, looking around. Two guards lie unconscious on the ground. The sound of talking, laughter comes from the main part of the storehouse. Genki pushes past me, takes Dauphine's hand, pulling her free of me.

"You've ruined me." Genki's bitterness is clear even at a whisper. "Cade is raiding all of my caches. All of them. I work for him now and it's all because you brought your troubles to my door."

"Then why are you helping us?" Beckett's eyes wander over our surroundings, body tense, as if he's expecting a surprise attack.

"Because," Dauphine says, "I told him to."

"She's all I have left." Genki's head drops. "And I won't lose her too. So if I have to help you to keep her, I'll do it."

"Won't Cade find out?" Beckett shifts his grip on his sister.

"We'll be long gone by then," Genki says, while Dauphine nods. "Have a cache no one knows about, filled it myself. Other side of the city. Just me and Dauphine. We'll gather some new kids, make a fresh start." He glances back over his shoulder as someone shouts in laughter. "Now, if we're done talking, we all need to get out of here."

We follow the pair through the darkness, our little group of a dozen kids, out the back of the building. There are two more guards, but they are complacent, bored and easy to overwhelm. Genki clubs one while I dispatch the other with a firm grip around his throat, cutting off his air until he passes out.

The night air is welcome, fresh and crisp. It feels like rain. We run, dodge from heap to wreckage to fallen wall. It's a long and silent flight through an empty feeling world. When we finally stop, Genki leads us inside a tall, thin building, exposing a wide entry hidden under a sheet of moldering plywood.

We all catch our breath. I see Beckett looking down at Poppy's face, notice how pale she is in the faint moonlight coming through the dirty windows, catch Nico looking at her too.

"She's got the Sick." Nico backs away while Beckett snorts at her.

"You've seen the Sick," he says. "This isn't it." Beckett meets Dauphine's blind gaze. "Will she be okay?"

Dauphine reaches for Poppy. Her face twists for a moment before she backs away. "I can't help you," she says while she stares directly at me with those empty eyes.

Beckett nods, turns away. I'm roughly assaulted, breaking my attention, but it's only Genki trying to slide a pack strap over my shoulder. It's the same one he offered earlier. He has more, one for each of us. Even Nico looks happy at the offering.

Genki and Dauphine have their own supplies. I watch her shift the load across her shoulders as Genki glares at me.

"We part ways here," he says. "I'm happy to be rid of you."

"The library," Dauphine says. "Don't forget Socrates."

I nod despite knowing she can't see it, fingers finding the coin in my pocket. And then she and Genki are gone, out through the plywood door and into the quiet darkness.

***

# Chapter Twenty Seven

Beckett leads us away shortly after Genki and Dauphine leave. He walks with great confidence, which lifts my spirits some. It's my turn to carry Poppy, something he resists, but finally agrees to when I simply take her from his arms.

The night is eerie, the moon tracing across the sky until it disappears behind the towering buildings. I feel as though we've been wrapped up in a cocoon of quiet, barely a whisper of wind stirring. Twice Beckett pauses and we with him, a single unit focused on his actions. Both times a Crawler car trundles by. I realize then the cause of the now silent streets.

No one wants to be out and about when the Crawlers are around. Which is perfect for us.

My burden is heavy, but not because Poppy weighs so much. Despite knowing she isn't tainted by the Sick, in my heart I fear she is ill because of something I've done. The others give us wide berth, though the dog remains at my side, steadfast. The puppies wake near dawn, forcing us to stop long enough to feed them and let them do their business. We're close enough, it turns out, Beckett is able to point out the top of the library where it juts up from the skyline.

Not far now.

Our last two blocks pass slowly. The city is waking, the Crawler patrols long gone, blocked streets making us turn around, go sideways when we mean to go forward. It takes us at least as much time to cover the last bit of distance as we traveled getting here in the first place. The sun is high in the sky when we finally crouch, a pack of Howls loping past, to check out the front entry of the large stone building.

It's set back from the street, a broad staircase leading up to an open plaza. An empty fountain divides the path, cracked and full of old dead leaves. The building itself is all white, or used to be, looking more like some modern castle than a depository of knowledge. Two large statues stand above the front door, embedded in alcoves, as though standing guard. I'm filled with a sense of wonder though I know the world which created this place is long gone.

Beckett eases open the door while everyone else looks around. This feels simple, easy and if I've learned nothing during my time in this dystopia, nothing is as it seems. Cool air washes forward from the opening. Only then do I realize the sun's heat is weighing on me too.

I enter behind the others, the gloom a sharp contrast to the brightness of the outdoors. This area feels like a hub to the rest of the building. There is a little light shining in from the open door and coming down hallways from various exits. I feel the ceiling pressing down on me, an illusion caused by the mosaic painted on it.

The door swings shut behind me, the last of the sunlight gone from behind us.

Poppy begins to moan, a soft sound punctuated by coughs, wet and heavy. I feel the heat of her body through her clothing, am unable to prevent the puppies from climbing to lick her face in distress. Beckett turns, sees my struggle, comes to my aid. He takes Poppy from me while I lift each puppy free, setting them on their overlarge paws. Shine and Shade yap in excitement, bouncing in happy circles until the dog growls softly at them.

They listen to their father. It shocks me. They are animals, not humans. Am I right about his intelligence and, if so, has he passed it down to his progeny?

No time to think about him now. Beckett carries Poppy to a small alcove, tucked in behind what used to be a large sign, now worn and broken. He lays her down on the tiled floor, spreading his jacket over her. I join him, crouching close to her, holding her hand. Her skin burns with fever. The rest of the group simply hovers and stares, eyes glazed over as though their minds are lost forever.

"I don't like this." Beckett looks at me, gestures around the empty lobby. He's not referring to Poppy's illness, then. "If Dauphine is right, there should be defenses, locks, guards. But there's nothing." He shakes his head, forehead pinched and angry. "I don't think much of this Socrates if he allows his people to be so exposed."

I have nothing to say. Instead, I focus on our immediate problem. "We have to find Poppy some medicine." Surely anything of use is, if not long gone, at least long expired. But there should be a first aid station somewhere in here, so it's worth looking.

Beckett just stares at his sister. "We're so used to the Sick," he whispers at last. "We have no idea how to treat anything else. What's wrong with her?"

I shake my head, wishing I knew. "She may just need rest." I know I'm lying to him. She needs help none of us can give her—most likely a stay in hospital hooked up to an IV. "Make sure she gets plenty of water, all right?"

Beckett finally meets my eyes. "You're off to find your statue."

I reach out, squeeze his hand. "I might be able to find medicine."

He swallows hard, nods once. "Water, got it."

I move to stand, hesitate. The coin, Dauphine's silver dollar. I fish it out of my pocket, slide it free. It shines in my palm like a promise.

When I turn to go, the coin tucked once more in my jeans, I find Nico in my space. "This is your fault." She's taken to repeating herself. How original. "You made her sick and now you're just going to leave."

In my mind, I plant both hands on her chest and shove her so hard she impacts the far wall on the other side of the wide lobby. In reality, I sidestep her, gather up the puppies and deposit them next to Poppy and Beckett.

"I'll be back," I say. "Stay here."

The dog doesn't listen to me as well as his babies listen to him.

I'm hardly surprised.

The console in the middle of the lobby is meant as some kind of guide, I'm guessing. It looks like there used to be computers here, even signs with "you are here" stars. But someone has destroyed it so only the base of the directory remains.

The signs over each corridor are also either illegible or missing so I'm forced to rely on instinct. The first is an open space, and from the remaining racks on the walls I can only guess it had been a store at some point. I hope for a staff room, find a door half off its hinges, even locate a white box with a red cross on it, but it's been smashed open and hangs empty.

Eyes watch me as I exit the first doorway and move on. A bank of elevators, bronzed doors greening in places from age and neglect, gape like black mouths, useless to me. The stairs, on the other hand, lead me up in the near dark to the second floor.

I stop as I enter, amazed. Light pours in through the tall windows at the tops of the soaring walls, lighting the gorgeous murals painted everywhere. A huge globe hangs from the center of the ceiling, catching the sunlight. It's been so long since I've seen something of beauty, I catch myself with my mouth hanging open as I walk further inside, turning slowly, looking up. The dog woofs softly, getting my attention, but even he is wagging his tail, ears perked.

I feel a sudden surge of sadness mingled with hope. In that moment, all things are possible.

If only I could show Poppy what the world should be like.

As the dog and I explore further, I have glimpses of the world I remember. I'd thought I'd left those flashbacks behind, but being in this quiet, peaceful place brings it all back again. I feel the presence of those who once used this library, the ghosts of their passing as we move deeper into the space.

Many of the shelves are empty, tables overturned, chairs broken. But, oddly, some stacks remain and, when I look closer, are filled with books filed using the traditional system. Someone's been caring for the place, it seems.

I'm tired suddenly of wandering around. The still air is oppressive all at once and I just need to find the answers I've come for. I turn, scan the large room, the empty stacks.

"Socrates." The first time I say it, my voice barely works. The dog quirks one ear at me, snorts, rubs his nose with one paw. Is he laughing at me? The thought makes me giggle.

"Socrates." Louder this time. The dog barks, a short, insistent sound, as though he's lending his voice to mine.

Still nothing. I step away from the rack of ordered books and cup my hands around my mouth. "Socrates!" My voice echoes through the place, bouncing from stone walls and back again. I'm rather satisfied with the sound.

"Don't you know?" I turn at those words, face a short, skinny boy with ebony skin and very white teeth. Mismatched clothing hangs from him, covered by a long blue lab coat dragging on the floor behind him. "You need to be quiet." He holds one finger up to his lips, makes a shushing sound. "This is a library."

His intensity and earnestness is simply too much for me. I laugh out loud. It's gratifying to see him grin.

"I'm looking for someone." I take a step toward him. He doesn't back away, nor does he appear afraid of me.

"So I gathered," he says. "You shouted it loud enough." The shushing finger waggles at me. "Tsk, tsk."

"Do you know him?" The dog chuffs a breath, tail thumping against the heel of my boot as it swishes over the floor, back and forth. What's got him so excited and happy?

The boy shrugs. "Maybe. But I have a more important question for you."

"You do?" I cross my arms over my chest, exchange a wink with the dog whose tongue lolls out. "What would that be?"

"Do you know them?" The boy gestures. It's only then I hear them coming up behind me, the soft shuffle of feet on tile, a single grunt. I turn, watch as Beckett sags to his knees behind me, doubled over someone's fist. The rest of the group huddles there with him, Poppy softly moaning at Beckett's feet.

I turn back to the boy, all amusement gone. "You didn't have to hurt him."

He shrugs. "You didn't have to invade my territory."

Our eyes lock. His are almost black now, flat and empty of amusement.

"You're Socrates," I say.

He nods. "That's right," he tells me. "Now, I'd like to know why exactly you're here. But more importantly," he eases forward, closing the distance between us, a threat in his voice, "I'd like to know who told you about me."

***

# Chapter Twenty Eight

I should be nervous. I've been through so much since this started, know better than to stir up more trouble for us. But in this instant, staring into those flat, dark eyes of a boy who has to look up to meet my gaze, I can't bring myself to feel intimidated.

"You can thank Dauphine," I snap back, sliding out the coin and throwing it at him. "She's the one who sent me here. Thinking you would be able to help me. She told me you were different." She hadn't, but I figure he doesn't know that.

I expect the ego stroke to affect him. No luck. He studies the silver dollar carefully, eyebrows pulling into a frown, more thoughtful than angry.

"She's calling in her favor, I see." Socrates meets my gaze again. "Did she tell you the original promise was never fulfilled? She supplied the information I needed, but not the final product." He tosses the coin back to me. "Without the merchandise she was hired to find, the deal is null and void."

I am certain he is swindling me, but without Dauphine to prove otherwise, I don't have anything to bargain. Aside from the obvious.

"What if I retrieve it for you?" I lob the coin in return. This makes him smile, beam really, teeth practically glowing.

"Why then, you and I would be the best of friends." He pockets the silver dollar at last, as though his acceptance seals our deal. "And naturally, with the promise fulfilled, you would be on the receiving end of my deal with Dauphine, instead of her."

Socrates gestures at his people. I turn to see them back off from Beckett and the others, even coming to their aid. Our host frowns at Poppy's condition, points. "She's ill."

"It's not the Sick." Beckett's comeback seems reflexive.

Socrates snorts. "Of course it's not," he says. "She has some kind of infection. Possibly viral."

"How do you know?" I watch him carefully. There is much more to this pint-sized boy than I'd first believed.

"I read," he shrugs. "A lot."

The doors to the library close, lock. My nervousness eases as Socrates turns and strides away, still talking.

"Knowledge is power now," he says, winding his way through the empty stacks to the back of the room and beyond. I follow him, Beckett and the others behind me. "Those who understand the world will rule it." Socrates pauses, points in through an open door. "I'm the master of knowledge."

Beyond his gesture, inside the room, are books. More books than I've ever seen. Stacks and stacks and piles and mounds of books.

"It must be preserved," he says. "Those at the gateway are simply lures, to draw in the foolish and the weak." He swings a door open, allowing me pass through with a gentlemanly wave of his hand. Inside is a large office, complete with a huge wooden desk and wide windows overlooking some kind of courtyard. "Welcome to my sanctum."

This room is also full of books, though all appear carefully sorted and cataloged.

Socrates takes a seat in the cracked leather chair behind the desk, steeples his fingers under his nose and observes me. It's all I can do not to laugh again.

"This place." Beckett looks around as he speaks. "It's all one big trap."

Socrates grins, dropping his hands. "You're clever," he says. "I like you already. Yes, of course. You can come in, but good luck getting out." His eyes tighten, the skin around them wrinkling, making him look suddenly older. "Especially if you have evil intent toward the books."

I can't underestimate him. Though I have a feeling if I play fair with this boy leader, he'll become a true friend. But not yet. Not until I fulfill my end of the bargain.

I wonder then what I've agreed to.

Socrates is a gracious host. Within moments we're led out of his office and into a large area with tables and bench seats where we're served a hot and filling meal. Beckett has to be convinced to let Poppy go, and only does when Socrates comes for a closer look.

"My people will care for her," he says in a soft and caring voice, surprising me, but confirming my estimate of him. "We may even have something to ease her fever. But you have to let us try."

They whisk her off to another room, leaving Beckett to handle the puppies. I think he's grateful for their presence as wrangling them gives him something to do. I join him, even as Socrates's people ooh and aah over the black and golden labs.

It's not long before three girls are taking turns with Shine and Shade in their laps, feeding them until they groan with distended bellies. The dog stays at my side, kindly accepting tidbits offered to him, but his focus, as ever, is on me.

"My second, Emile." The tall girl sits beside him, buzzed short hair giving her an edge her soft features almost ruin. She bobs her head, eyes as dark as his, face just as closed. Socrates looks back and forth between me and Beckett before speaking again. "You're the leader here." Socrates is looking at me, eyebrow arched. I hear Nico choke on her meal, see the jerk in Beckett's shoulders.

"No," I say. "Beckett is." I gesture to him. "I'm only passing through."

Socrates's eyes narrow, but he nods once. "You all look like you're passing through."

Beckett's head comes up, eyes flashing. "We're in transition."

"I see." Socrates drinks the last of his water in one swallow, the glass thudding back to the tabletop. "I'm always looking for good people. Just so you know."

Emile smiles for the first time. It's a nice smile. She offers Beckett her hand and he shakes it.

I could kiss that boy. He's approached it perfectly. How did he know how to handle Beckett's ego best? However Socrates figured it out, Beckett responds to it.

"I'm always looking for good places," he says. "Maybe we can come to an agreement."

I hadn't been aware of the tension in Beckett, in his people, until those words are met with a smile from Socrates. It's a real smile, open and inviting. I feel the collective sigh rise from the others, understand how important this is for them. Safety. A home. Security. What small comfort they get from the illusion shatters the weight of their anxiety and it disappears.

The table is suddenly noisy, filled with laughing, chattering kids getting to know each other better. A family is growing right before my eyes and even Beckett smiles a little.

My heart eases. I've done right by them at last.

The meal over, most of Beckett's people linger, including Nico who sits with a pair of boys who seem quite interested in what she has to say. I follow Beckett to where Poppy rests. She looks a little better, but the boy who tends her seems sad. He shakes his head at Socrates before leaving us to her.

"I'm sorry," Emile says softly as she crouches next to Poppy, her voice surprisingly deep and low for a girl. I didn't know she followed us until she spoke. "There's nothing we can do. The medicine we have is just too old." She picks up a small bottle, the red label smeared long ago, name illegible. Tiny white pills bounce around inside it as she shakes it. "And we don't have the resources to make more."

"You've tried?" I'm impressed by her and by her leader.

"Maybe Socrates could," Emile says as she straightens and hands me the bottle for examination.

"I'd need access to a lab," Socrates says from the doorway. He joins us, looking down at Poppy but not seeing her, his thoughts carrying him away. "But everything I come across has been destroyed. There are a few herbs which might help, but good luck finding them in this mess." He's suddenly glum. "At least it's not the Sick."

Beckett nods slowly. "I'd rather she died," he says softly.

"You don't mean that." I want to hit him for being so callous, but Socrates is nodding. Emile too.

"It's a crap shoot," Socrates says. "Not like we can avoid it or anything. At least some of us stay normal. But she could turn into anything. A Bright, a Howl, a Shamble. I even hear there's more kinds out there, ones we just haven't seen yet." He hugs himself, skinny arms wrapping around almost all the way.

"At least if she dies of this," Beckett says as he strokes her hair from her bright red cheek, "she won't have to worry about any of this anymore."

I turn away, tears stinging my eyes. "I won't give up on her."

"Why not?" Nico appears behind me, her hissing hatred driving deep. "Chances are you'll just freak out and give us all the Sick at some point anyway. She might as well die now and get it over with."

Socrates frowns at Nico as I turn on her, just resisting the urge to hurt her. Just.

"Shut up," I snarl, but the damage is done. Socrates is on his feet, looking back and forth between us while Emile stands to her full height behind him. She's much taller than I first thought, broader. Not threatening, not yet, but ready to defend her leader at any moment.

"I think I need to know what she's talking about," Socrates says.

***

# Chapter Twenty Nine

There is a long silence, while I try to decide what to tell him. As I look in his dark eyes, I realize only the truth will do. Turning my back on Nico, I tell Socrates everything.

Much to my surprise and her disgust, he isn't angry or afraid. Instead, as I unfold my story to him, he becomes more and more enraptured, folding to the floor with his elbows on his knees, fists supporting his chin, listening to me like a kid wrapped up in his favorite bedtime story. Emile takes her lead from him, joining him on the floor, stretched out with her eyes locked on me. I find myself telling them not only what I experienced, but things I remember from the world as I knew it. Socrates nods at those moments, those recollections, as if he's unsurprised, but lets me continue until I finally run down, out of words, feeling drained and a little vulnerable.

Socrates sits back as I finish, letting out a great gust of air as if he's been holding his breath the entire time. He grins at me like all of this is funny and I can't help but grin back, even though I don't get the joke at all.

"There's a reason you're here." He pats my knee, points at me then back at himself with one skinny index finger.

"Oh yeah?" I'm startled to hear Nico's voice. I'd forgotten she was there. "What's that?"

Socrates ignores her, eyes drifting to Poppy who moans at that moment, twitching a little. I reach out for her, see Beckett's frown of worry before turning back.

Socrates nods once, quickly as if he's been debating with himself inside his head and only now won the argument. "Tell me about when you woke up again. The image on the wall."

"It was wavering," I said, trying to recall all the details. "Almost ghostly. But full color."

"A hologram, maybe." Socrates sighs in what looks like pleasure, if the expression on his face is to be believed. "Incredible. I've read about the possibility of such technology, but to know it actually exists..." He trails off, stares at me hard. "But no. That's not it, is it?" Fingers tap on the floor beneath him as his brilliant mind continues to churn. "Unless there's some Nirvana we're unaware of, how could someone possibly have such powerful tech at their disposal? And why is it you remember the world as it was before? Unless you're not from this one at all."

Nico snorts, but the suggestion catches Beckett's attention. "What do you mean, not from this world? That's crazy talking."

Socrates shrugs. "I can't explain it. We know the Sick has spread over the entire world."

"How?" Beckett holds Poppy's hand, though his attention has been attracted finally by this new puzzle.

"Newspapers." Beckett stares at Emile blankly when she speaks up.

Socrates meets my eyes, rolls his. I try not to smile. "Back before everyone died, there were these things called newspapers. And television, you know that, right?"

Beckett nods slowly. "We had a TV when I was a kid."

"Right." Socrates spreads his hands wide, connecting his fingers together, forming his hands into a ball. "The world was all connected because of these things called satellites floating out in space." He let his hands fall. "Probably still do and will until their orbits decay."

I understand everything he's saying, but it's clear Beckett and Nico are both lost.

"Never mind," Socrates says. "All you need to know is that we used to be able to talk to whoever we wanted, wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted, day or night, all over the world. Because of that, and the records here in the library and elsewhere I've uncovered, no population was left unaffected. When communication finally started to break down, the entire world was suffering from the Sick."

"Which means?" Beckett turns back to Poppy. "We're screwed. No help from anywhere because everyone is in the same position."

Socrates watches me, eyes half lidded, chewing a fingernail. "Except, it seems that's not the case. Someone, somewhere, has the technology to not only create someone like Trio here, but to give her memories of what the world used to be like and the power of the Sick. Which, I'm assuming, makes you immune to it."

I shrug. "Not a clue."

"I still think she's a carrier on purpose." Nico shoves her way forward. "Think about it. What if there are kids like her that pop up now and then, with a new strain for all of us."

"It's possible." Even though Emile sides with Nico, she doesn't look angry, just speculative.

Socrates is already shaking his head. "That makes no sense. The virus is mutating on its own. It doesn't need our help."

Nico looks at him like he's just spoken in a different language and, in effect, he has.

He closes his eyes, rubs them with one thumb and index finger, then opens them again. "Okay, think about it this way. The virus causing the Sick is really tiny. Like a machine which can get in anywhere." He gestures around him. "In the air, mostly, so you breathe it in."

Beckett is nodding slowly while Nico just glares at him.

"So, once it's inside you, a nice juicy new host, it starts to make more friends just like it, using bits and pieces it takes from you."

Nico shudders, hugs herself. "Is that really how it happens?"

Socrates wobbles his hands back and forth. "It's a simplified answer, but you get the idea. Thing is, one day, one of the friends decides he wants to be a rebel, see? He changes to suit his own agenda. A few of his closest buddies decide he's right and switch with him. Then they go looking for a new host."

"Mutation." I hold very still though my skin crawls from his description.

Socrates taps me on the end of the nose. "You got it. That mutation can take a few weeks, a few months, but eventually the new strain makes its rounds. Some kids catch it, some don't, depending on their immune system. Every time it changes, it hits new breeding grounds because it's adapted. And sometimes, it forms separate strains, like those that make the Brights or the Howls."

"So Trio's version," Beckett says, "could just be a mutation too. Like she's a new kind of recovery."

Socrates frowns as he thinks about it. "Maybe," he says, drawing out the word like he's looking for a reason to question Beckett's suggestion. "Dunno."

Everything felt right until Beckett spoke up. I know I'm not a mutation. I have another purpose. And I need to return to it.

"I'm looking for the statue." I try to keep the eagerness out of my voice. "I know that's where I need to be. To figure all of this out. That's why Dauphine sent me to you. She said you'd be able to help me find it, to know where to go."

Socrates sits back suddenly, the openness in his face shuttering tight like a window against a storm. "She's right," he says. "I might be able. But there's a price to be paid, remember?"

Beckett lunges forward, his anger a tangible thing between them. Emile moves just as quickly, expressionless but ready to defend her leader. Beckett doesn't touch the boy, but the threat is there nonetheless, he and Emile facing off over Socrates.

"After everything she told you. After the offer you made to take us in. You're still holding out." Beckett sways, as if considering striking out after all while a slow smile spreads over Emile's face. A challenge. Even I recognize it.

Socrates remains cold and unaffected by Beckett's sudden attention. "I need to look out for my people first," he says. "You are a part of that, if you choose. But she's already claimed to be on her own. Which means, if she wants something, she earns it."

Beckett tries to argue, but I physically shove him back. "It's fine," I say. "He's right. Fair trade. I give him what he needs, he gives me what I need and you and Poppy have a home."

Poppy chooses that moment to mutter something under her breath, immediately drawing Beckett's attention. When he turns back to me, he nods once, defeated.

"What are you looking for?" I'm eager all of a sudden. It feels like my goal is getting close enough to taste. One task and I'm on my way.

Socrates smiles suddenly and rises, gesturing for me to follow, for Emile to leave us be. She shrugs and stays with Beckett while I rise and follow, shaking my head when Beckett tries to come with me, now toe-to-toe with the tall second. He backs off as I hurry after Socrates. "A book," he says over his shoulder, hurrying out and down the stacks. "I know where it is, Dauphine told me that much." He leads me back into his office and to his desk. A small lamp flickers on as he bends over a large leather tome. He shows it to me, points at a particular line. "Here, you see? It was borrowed by Edward Whiteman on January 3rd, 1992, the same year the Sick broke out. But the address... it's smudged, you see? This was the information Dauphine gave me. The right address."

I stare at the date, ignoring him as he goes on. No, it's wrong. It's too early, far too early. What does it mean? I have no idea. But I know for certain I've come from a time far later than 1992.

I keep it to myself as Socrates falls silent, watching me. "What kind of book?"

His eyes suddenly light up, pink tongue sweeping out to lick his lips. His cheeks turn slightly red under his polished dusky skin, excitement making his pulse pop in the veins of his throat. "I have the entire collection," he whispers, "all of them. All but this one. I have to have it, Trio. If you get it back for me, whatever you want, whatever you need, it's yours."

"And if I don't?" I need to make sure Beckett and Poppy are protected. "Will you still honor your offer to the others?"

Socrates appears hurt by the suggestion. "Of course," he says. "I meant it when I asked them to stay."

His earnestness makes me smile. Clearly brilliant and aged beyond his years, there is enough innocence left in Socrates I see a glimmer at last of the boy he could have been, given the chance.

"All right then," I say. "I'll go get your book."

***

# Chapter Thirty

Socrates guides me to a separate entrance, supplying me with a hand-drawn map and a word of caution.

"There's a reason I haven't fetched it myself." He looks almost guilty now, as he stands there with one hand on the thick metal and windowless door, as if changing his mind about the whole thing.

"I assumed as much." I look off down the alley. I say it kindly though. These are his terms. I'm willing to fulfill them.

"It won't be easy." Socrates shuffles his feet. "Just so you know. The building has residents."

I shudder briefly, remembering the Shambles. Can I do it if the place is full of them?

"Howls," he whispers. "Just be careful. I want that book."

His wink makes me laugh, the relief of knowing I'm not walking into a trap of the near-dead enough to turn my mood, despite the fact I'm willingly going into danger. How odd, this adaptation, my willingness to battle, how normal this abnormal is becoming. I turn from him, head down the narrow way, my mind already on the task at hand. The directions are clear, the location close by. Just a few blocks really. In a high-rise apartment building, once home to families, parents, moms and dads. And little kids who liked to borrow books.

The title of the book is all I have. It seems familiar to me. Sky Sabotage. Have I read it? Possibly. Irrelevant now. I'm on retrieval, not education.

The door sighs open behind me. I hear it clearly, though I'm almost to the end of the alley. I turn, see Beckett approaching, the dog close on his heels. He pauses next to me, squinting out into what remains of the setting sun. Its path is a clear shot to the horizon, down a main street where we see the sunset perfectly. The red tint to its light makes Beckett look angry and the dog like someone's painted him.

I don't argue with either of them for joining me. I'm happy for the company.

It feels good to have them both with me, to be honest. I'm not looking forward to parting ways when this is over. But the draw of the mysterious woman's statue, of finding the answers to even more questions raised by Socrates, calls me more strongly than the need to be with others.

The building we seek is dark for the most part, the odd window intact and reflecting some light. We pause to watch, not the building itself, but the group of Crawlers currently throwing themselves at the pack of Howls who seem to have laid claim to the first floor.

"He wasn't kidding," Beckett whispers. "Now what?"

I shrug. Not much to do but wait it out, or at least for full dark and see if we can slip past. I should be afraid, anxious, nervous, but I'm not, even a little bit. I settle under cover, the dog's head on my lap, Beckett's shoulder pressed to mine and find myself the most content I can ever remember.

The Crawlers make short work of the attacking Howls, but it's hours, or seems that way, before they finally climb back into their armored cars and drive away. We wait a little longer, neither of us having to say it.

Just in case.

When I finally stir, Beckett moves as if he knew I was going to at exactly that moment. The three of us slip across the street and to the alley on the back side of the building. A few dead Howls lie scattered about, but it feels quiet. Beckett finds the rear door before I spot it and we enter.

A red light flickers over the door as Beckett lets it ease closed. We have to hop over two dead Howls to make it to the staircase. I double-check the address number 1237. I can only assume it means the twelfth floor. I take the steps two at a time, climbing quietly but quickly, knowing we could be spotted at any moment.

The staircase is surprisingly vacant, even of debris, though I pause occasionally to look out the small glass windows looking out into each floor when we reach the landings. There's more than enough garbage in the hallways to make up for the cleanliness of the staircase.

More red lights glow in the stairwell, the only illumination. When we reach twelve, I point at the number painted in fading red on the wall and Beckett nods. It's the first time I wonder if he knows how to read or write. Not really a skill he'd need in this world. I go to the metal door, check the knob. It's half broken off, the door itself coming free of its hinges. It takes both Beckett and I to ease it open without making too much noise and we just leave it rather than putting it back.

A bronze colored plaque is mounted on the peeling wallpaper of the hallway. One of the screws has come loose, so it hangs down, one arrow pointing at the floor the other at the ceiling. But when Beckett straightens it and holds it in one hand, the directions are clear.

1201-1228 to the left. 1229-1257 to the right. Right it is then.

The garbage and debris is not so thick here and I wonder if the Howls who occupied this building were perhaps too lazy to climb this far. I can hope. The door to 1237 is difficult to find, only because part way down the hall someone has removed most of the numbers. Beckett backtracks, counting as he goes, answering my earlier question.

Reading, yes. Writing, still not sure. Arithmetic, check.

The dog has been silent all along, simply following. I know to trust his instincts and see it as a very good thing. Beckett finally returns down the hall at a jog, coming to a stop next to me. He points at the very next door, or what remains of it, the gaping blackness behind it our destination.

I step over the lower half of the door, unable to move it aside. Beckett follows, lifting the dog over. Inside, we look around at what used to be someone's home, now just the wreckage of a dying society. The place has been torn apart, one corner of what was the kitchen at some time utilized as a washroom. The dog sniffs and investigates, naturally. I turn aside, down the hallway deeper into the apartment. I know the odds of finding the book have now diminished considerably.

I check each room as I go, Beckett behind me. Bathroom once, disgusting now. I'm grateful it's mostly dark so I don't have to see what smells so horrible. The next was someone's office, once upon a time. There's enough light through the broken window to see the room is reasonably intact, for whatever reason. I conduct a quick but thorough search, certain I'll find the book here, but come up empty.

The next door hangs from one hinge. Beckett tries to shove it aside only to have it come off in his grip. He shrugs and sets it against the wall. Master bedroom, from the size of it. But full of junk and random debris. It makes me wonder the purpose, the reasoning for such destruction and dumping. Why one room and not another?

There are no answers in the chaos. It's simply that, I must admit. Chaos.

The final door is to a child's room. The wallpaper shows what remains of airplanes and tanks. A boy's room, then. It's also reasonably intact, though all of the drawers have been pulled out, dumped on the filthy carpet. This is the final room to check, that's reasonable to check.

A search turns up nothing. I feel the pressure of the dog's shoulder against my leg as he wanders in to have a look with us, turn at last to Beckett, toss up my hands. He nods slowly, a sad look on his face.

We've failed. Which means no help from Socrates. Then again, maybe he'll have pity on me, since I risked so much to try to find this book for him.

I turn to go, wracking my brain for another way to find the statue. There must be other libraries. Maybe I can find what I need in one of them. I'm just stepping over the threshold, Beckett behind me, when I hear the dog's soft woof.

We both look back, see him crouching under the bed. The front half of it has collapsed, leans dangerously left, but the foot of it is intact, holding the end up. The dog wriggles his way under the bed, snuffling and snorting. I worry he's found some rodent or something else less appealing until he emerges, tail wagging, with a white book in his jaws.

I fall to my knees and hug him, tears standing in my eyes. He deposits it in my hands, clearly smiling, eyes shining. He knows, he knew, he is smart, much smarter than any other dog and he's saved me again.

I glance at the cover to be sure of the title and see a logo I remember. I have seen this book before, but not read it. Seen it because it's from a famous series, though well before my time. There's time again, I think as I run my fingers over the two boys holding flashlights.

"The Hardy Boys." I suddenly want to strangle Socrates. He put us in all this danger for the Hardy Boys?

He is in so much trouble when we get back.

I turn to Beckett, not sure if I should laugh or be angry, when the dog growls deep and low in the back of his throat. We hear it then, the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. We're not alone up here.

We probably never were.

Before I can think or act, Beckett has a hold of me and is dragging me toward the broken window and the empty night air.

***

# Chapter Thirty One

I balk, want to shout at him we can't fly, only to find myself heaved over the side to land with a clatter on a rusting fire escape. The dog comes at me as if he too has been thrown, landing hard on my chest. I grasp for him, hold him tight to keep him safe. The railing behind me is missing, fallen away, a large gap below me. Beckett lands beside me as the metal groans under our weight.

It's a very long way down.

"Go," he snaps, grabbing the dog from my arms. I secure the book inside my jacket before drawing a breath and leaping down the distance to the next step. Its unhappy protest is an empty threat, at least so far. I reach up, accept the dog from Beckett and retreat down three steps so he can join me.

We both shout out a warning, mine in words, the dog's an anxious bark as someone lunges out the window at Beckett, but the Howl is too slow, too late. Beckett lands hard on the step which finally lets go, but not before he skips down to the next.

I look up again, see our stalker easing out onto the platform we've just vacated. There is an animal nature about the boy, his teeth longer, sharper than normal, body covered in shaggy hair bristling as he snarls at us.

Beckett is already shoving at me and I'm clattering down the steps as fast as I can while the dog whines and complains in my arms. He's incredibly heavy, much more so than Poppy, but I have enough adrenaline to keep my grip.

Hands lunge out of a broken window, claws hooking my jacket. The dog's jaws snap, someone cries out in animal pain, all while we still descend. I hear Beckett curse once, the snapping of what sounds like bone, all to the counter point of our feet rattling on old metal and the groaning and squealing of the bolts holding the fire escape together.

I can see the ground, we're almost there, the last flight a ladder I kick as hard as I can to release it. It moans its metal anguish, stuttering its way to full extension. Ten feet, but too far to with the dog in my arms. I spin, handing him to Beckett, practically sliding down to the ground, flakes of rust burning the palms of my hands. I hear a thud, see figures on the stairs above, heading down toward us. Beckett tosses the dog who whines as I catch him, though he licks my hand when I set him down.

Metal screams from above as the bolts finally let go. I watch in horrified slow motion as Beckett tumbles from the ladder, landing hard on his back, while the entire fire escape shears away from the side of the building, leaning hard left toward the next one. It thuds with shaking impact into the neighboring high rise, shaking free five forms who fall silently to impact with horrible finality into the dirty pavement.

Show over, I shake free of my stunned state and bend over Beckett. He's groaning softly, but already pulling himself upright. I help him to his feet, feel him over, a tiny thrill of electricity passing between us as I touch the back of his head. I see blood on my fingers, but when he touches it, he frowns and shows me his are clean.

"Not mine I guess," he says. "Let's go."

The trip back to the library is quiet, considering what we've just lived through. I find myself distracted over and over by the last vision of the falling fire escape, the five forms plummeting to their deaths. How silently they fell. I shudder, goosebumps rising every time the memory replays.

The back door of the library is locked, but when my hand falls from trying to open it, the bolt spins and it jerks open. Socrates stares at me from the other side, mouth comically wide.

"You're back." He swallows hard. "Did you...?"

I slide the book out of my jacket and slap it against his chest. "You better have a very good reason for sending us into that much danger for a kid's book."

He's too much in rapture to even care about the threat in my voice. He turns, runs off, leaving us to follow him. I'm tired, like I've been working harder than I actually have. Beckett and the dog seem fine though, so I shrug it off. At least they are okay.

We find Socrates in his office where he very gently unfolds what looks like a book jacket. I watch him with absolute amazement as he eases open first the front cover, slides in the flap, then the back cover. He opens a small wooden box on the desktop and retrieves, with great care, a thin cream-colored card which he stamps before sliding it into the pocket in the back of the book.

Socrates hugs it to his chest then, tears trickling down his face. "Thank you," he says. He turns away from us, walking to a shelf where he runs one finger in to make a space and fills it with the book. I stand next to him, eyes flickering over the titles.

All Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew. Trixie Belden.

"Finally," Socrates says. "The collection is complete." Before I can become angry again, because I feel my rage rising, he turns to me and hugs me like a little kid hugging his big sister after she gave him the best present ever. "Anything you want. Anything." He pulls away, grasps my hand, tugs on me.

I find myself laughing because there's nothing else I can do. He drags me away, out of his office, down the hall, into one of the book hoarding rooms. In the middle is a podium, a large volume already out and open on it. It's a huge book, the plastic cover glinting in the low light, crinkling as Socrates smooths his hands over it, disturbing the spine.

"I found what you're looking for," he says. He points to a photo on the page, full color glossy. "Is this your statue?"

It's the one. The very one. The woman is tall, elegant, holding a book in one hand, a torch in the other, her crown of spikes exactly the same. She glows a soft green in the picture, against a very blue sky.

"That's her," I say. "Where is she?"

Socrates's smile fades a little, but the gleam in his eye remains. "The Statue of Liberty," he says. "You want to go to New York City."

Yes, that sounds right, at last it sounds right! I grin back at him, feeling my excitement rise.

"Are we in New York now?" I need to get to the statue. The compulsion is almost enough to make me run out of the room right then at that second.

Socrates's face falls, even the happy gleam gone now. "No," he says softly. "I'm sorry, Trio, we're not." He flips the page again. "I hate to tell you this, but you're nowhere near New York." He stops on a map, points. "You see? This is where you want to go." I do see, I know this map, I've seen one like it. "The United States of America" is written across the top.

"Yes, I understand," I say. "So where are we?"

Beckett leans over my shoulder, watching with me as Socrates's finger lifts slowly, travels left, across the page, all the way from the Atlantic coast to the Pacific Ocean.

"Los Angeles," he says softly.

My breath catches. "How far?" I should know. My heart knows. Despair creeps in.

Socrates lets out a soft sigh. "2,462 miles," he says.

***

# Chapter Thirty Two

As we retreat from the room, returning to the others, my heart sinks low in my chest, as though a great weight presses down on it, smothering me. It's so far to go to reach my destination! My memory of the size of the country is refreshed by Socrates's map. I recall flying once, in a large, private airplane, for hours and hours that felt like forever. The trek my new friend has told me I must undertake seems impossibly daunting.

Beckett's hand finds mine, his fingers squeezing gently. I see the grim determination in his face and feel a little better.

"We'll get you there," he says softly. "Somehow."

I shake my head immediately. "You're not coming with me," I say. "Remember? You need to stay here, protect Poppy." A sudden surge of concern for her drives my steps faster. "You've done so much for me, Beckett. The least I can do is leave you here, in peace."

He makes sound like the dog's growl. "Some peace."

Very true, I have to admit. There is no real peace in this damaged world. But it's the best I can offer and hopefully leaves them in a stronger position than the one I destroyed.

"How about stealing a Crawler truck?" Socrates glances back at me. He's clearly been working on the problem in his head.

But Beckett dismisses the suggestion with the wave of one hand. "Where is she going to get enough fuel to keep her going that far?"

Socrates makes a face, nose scrunching up. "You're right. We need something more powerful, capable of traveling thousands of miles relatively quickly." He meets my gaze. "I'm assuming there's some kind of time limit on your quest?"

I've not spoken it, but I can feel it, the growing urgency, and nod in answer.

Socrates's eyes suddenly narrow. "Let me see what I can do." He turns away suddenly, pace picking up until he's left us behind. It's fine, I don't mind. We've just reached the room where Poppy rests anyway and I'm tired still from going after the book.

Two girls sit with Poppy, leaving us immediately, as though happy we're taking over. Beckett sits next to her, frowning over the heat of her skin. I stroke the nose of one of the puppies, curled up between Poppy's legs. The little tail thumps a few times before Shine's eyes close and he huffs a sigh back into sleep. The dog sits next to me, a soft whine coming from his chest. One large paw settles on my leg and he looks at me like I'm missing something.

I'm too tired to figure out what he wants. And Poppy's distressed coughing is a distraction, pulling at my heart and my attention.

"She's getting worse." Beckett sighs, resting his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

I hug the dog and nod, golden fur tickling my eyelashes. "She's tough," I say, knowing how lame my words are, that such an offering of comfort is a waste of breath, but Beckett drops his chin to meet my eyes with gratitude.

"She is," he says.

I lean forward to take her hand when someone rushes toward me. The dog growls, snaps at Nico who slaps my hand away.

"Do you want to make her worse?" The girl crouches between me and Beckett, her hate as strong as ever, if not stronger. I worry it will eat her up someday, consume her like the Sick. I'm sure she'll blame me when it happens.

Before I can respond, Beckett grasps Nico's arm and pulls her away. "Leave her alone."

Nico jerks free. "Don't you see?" There is a hint of madness around her eyes, a lack of lucidity I'd missed before. It's nothing like Cade's confident insanity, but a wild and unforgiving thing consuming her. "She's killing Poppy." Her gaze meets mine, sends chills through me. "She's killing all of us, slowly. One at a time." She turns back to Beckett, clutching at his shirt front. "You have to make her go away. Before it's too late."

Beckett's disgust is clearly written on his face. I wish he could find more compassion, but understand how limited empathy is in this existence. "Trio is my friend," he says with great coldness, "just like I thought you were. But I was wrong, Nico. You're just a hateful, spiteful, bitter girl with no sense."

She shakes, hands whitened claws where they wind into the fabric of his T-shirt. "She's poisoned your mind."

He pushes her, not gently, sending her back to land on her butt on the floor. "You're the poisoned one," he says. "It's time for you to go."

Nico's throat works, her jaw grinding. "You don't mean that." So much pleading in those four simple words.

"I do." He turns away from her. "You've done nothing but cause trouble and create conflict since Trio arrived. If you can't get along with her, you're not welcome here anymore."

Nico stumbles to her feet, voiceless, powerless, face ashen. I want to reach out for her despite knowing it's the last thing I should do. I hate to see her suffer. She finally staggers away, out the door. Beckett's deep sigh tells me rejecting her was much harder to do than he showed.

"We don't have real family," he whispers without provocation, fingers tracing down Poppy's cheek. "Which means we have to make family. She was mine, once."

"I'm sorry." I truly am.

Beckett's smile is soft, kind. "I know. But it's not your fault, no matter what she says. And now you're family."

I hug the dog to me, wishing it was Beckett. "At least you have Poppy," I say. "It must be nice to have a sister." I wonder about my sisters. The other clones. Would I call them sisters? Family? We share DNA, supposedly with perfect replication. Does that make them me, or not me?

"Poppy's not my real sister." Beckett's speaking and I'm not really hearing him until I stop and process what he just said.

"She's not?" I glance back and forth between them, only then realizing, aside from their dark hair, they really look nothing alike.

He shakes his head, hands trembling now. "Our parents were friends, back before the Sick showed up in 1992. I was born four years after, 1996." Again I feel a thrill of wrongness at the date. Why does 2026 feel like the right date? He hesitates, then goes on. "As soon as people starting catching the disease, my family moved. I grew up in a big compound, all concrete and barbed wire fences. Lots of military types, you know the kind I mean?"

I nod, the image of what he's sharing clear in my mind, building as he speaks.

"I was eight when Poppy was born. By then, everyone in the compound was really scared. The adults anyway. We'd avoided the Sick for twelve years, but the research into finding a cure was going nowhere. Then one of the scientists found out it had become airborne." His fingers never cease, touching her cheek over and over again. "Which meant it was everywhere. There was talk of moving underground." His hand falls still, rests on Poppy's shoulder. "But it was too late. Poppy was born a few days later. Then the Sick came."

Airborne. Perhaps its first mutation. But why after so long? Twelve years? Why didn't the Sick simply die out? My imagination, overactive and wound up, shows me flashes of people dying, screaming, begging for life.

Beckett continues to stare at Poppy. "I remember," he says, "because it was my eighth birthday. The first of the adults started showing symptoms at my party. Everyone freaked out. Broke the quarantine, left the compound, but it wasn't going to save them. Within three weeks, all of the adults were dead, and most of the kids had turned into one of the evolutions. Only Poppy and I survived intact."

Tears brim in my eyes for the small boy and tiny baby, alone in the world, death all around them. I hear the dog groan softly, feel his sympathy too.

"I'm so sorry, Beckett," I say around the lump in my throat. "How did you survive?"

"We had enough food and water for a few years," he says. "But we finally had to leave the compound. It was only a few miles from here, outside the city. By then we were used to being on our own. Found some people to stay with. We were lucky, really, we didn't stumble on any of the groups who would have hurt us. Instead, we found Nico's group. Her older brother was the leader then. She and I became best friends in a heartbeat. But she's changed," he finally looks at me again, blue eyes sad, "and so have I."

Again the thought of where this is going crosses my mind as we sit in silence. "And the children." His shoulders jerk as if I've struck him. "When we reach a certain age, the Sick is usually deadly. So babies don't normally make it."

The soul-crushing part of what he's telling me isn't the fact I now know our race is dying, we both know it, but how accepting he is of the fate of mankind. I want to shake him, to convince him there has to be a way to fix all of this, but I have no idea how or even if it's possible.

Despair hangs over me as Poppy stirs and finally opens her eyes.

Beckett leans over her, smiling down at her, despite the fact I can tell it's forced.

"Popsicle," he says. "Hiya."

She doesn't answer, her breathing coming in jerking gasps. I see her hands scrabble on the blanket she lies on, her little chest rising and collapsing like a crushed cardboard box. Beckett's face is suddenly wet, large, hot tears dropping to touch her face.

The view of them swims in my vision until I'm forced to blink my own tears away so I can see. I find myself sobbing into the dog's neck while he whines and tries to lick my face.

Beckett hums softly, a tune I almost recognize. Some kind of lullaby. Poppy's breathing slows, each straining gasp drawn further out and farther between. Beckett continues to sing as her brown eyes glaze, one last exhalation carrying her soul away.

She is gone. I can feel the emptiness of her, though the spirit of her hovers for a moment near us. I lean forward, pressing my lips to her forehead as Beckett cries silently.

"Oh Poppy," I whisper with a hitch in my voice, her little hands grasped in mine, the heat of her burning me but I am unwilling to let her go even as my heart breaks, shatters, falls to dust inside me. "Don't leave me."

My lips tingle, my breath bathing her soft skin. The dog barks once, sharply, startling me and Beckett both, drawing whimpers of fear from the puppies.

Everything is still and quiet.

Poppy opens her eyes.

Draws a breath.

Smiles at me.

"Trio," she whispers, voice hoarse and low. "Why are you crying?"

***

# Chapter Thirty Three

I sit and stare at Poppy as she plays with the puppies, smiling, happy, completely healthy with no indication she had been dead only a short time ago. The others have come to see her, though only Beckett knows the truth. Socrates suspects something has happened, eyeing me carefully as he smiles at the girl's antics. But he says nothing, shows no concern, so I know, whatever I've done to her, he won't use it against me.

I've healed her. There is no other explanation. Poppy was dead, her last breath exhaled. The tingle I felt when I touched her, it was the same tingle when I made the two boys Sick. I look down at my hands, find them shaking, bury one in the soft golden fur of the dog lying quietly beside me while I clench the other into a fist to still its quiver.

Memory surfaces, of the dog in the alley when I first found him, of his emaciated body, how he seemed to be in such horrible condition until I touched him. The sound of his ribs breaking under Cade's foot, only to find him healthy and whole when my hands ran over his coat.

Beckett's wounded head from the fall. Not my imagination, it was his blood.

What am I?

Beckett avoids me though I catch him watching me often, his attention split between Poppy and myself. I would think he'd be grateful, but he's said nothing to me since he pushed me aside the moment Poppy woke, gathering her into his arms and hugging her, rocking her slowly, tears of his own wetting her dark hair. She seemed confused and more than a little annoyed with his attention, going right back to herself and her favorite distraction, Shine and Shade.

My weariness is increased and I find even the thought of rising too much effort. I want to sleep, to forget this day, but every time I close my eyes I see Poppy die just before she opens her eyes and asks me why I'm crying.

It's not until most everyone else is down for the night Socrates comes to sit next to me. He watches Poppy, now curled up, eyelashes brushing her soft cheeks, the two puppies cuddled up next to her as she sleeps a peaceful and innocent sleep.

"It would appear," he says ever so softly, for my ears alone, "that the depth of your abilities has yet to be plumbed."

I want to laugh, loving the way he speaks. Like an old man, polished and a little arrogant, coming from a youthful face.

"I don't know how I did it." It's hard to admit, especially to him, but I'm not sure why. Maybe because he seems so very brilliant. Or because he's the only one so far who hasn't judged me. I feel as though I should have answers to offer him for his generosity of spirit.

"I have no doubt," he winks at me, "you will figure it out at some point. The beauty of it all, Trio, is you're not just a weapon, a killer. You understand that now, don't you?" His black eyes hold mine, the ancient feel of his soul a comfort. "There's a greater purpose to your existence. You take life, yes. But you can also give it back." He looks away at last with a happy smile on his thick lips. "I can't wait to find out what else you're capable of."

I wish I share his sentiment, but it's hard to grasp the joy in what I am. Especially when I have no idea what my true task is.

"Your fellow clones." Socrates turns back again, brow furrowing just slightly as he frowns in thought. "Do you think they have the same power?" He shakes his head before I can comment, my answer unsatisfactory to me. I get the impression he's not really talking to me anymore, simply using my presence as an excuse to muse aloud. "It would seem logical they do, considering the fact you share the same DNA. But, there is also the chance they are different as well. Just because you were born identical doesn't mean new skills and attributes weren't added later in life."

I really don't know what he's talking about, but I nod, hoping it helps, and watch in fascination, almost able to see his mind churning.

"I suppose there is only one way to find out." He beams a smile at me, white teeth flashing against his dusky skin. "We have to find them."

I wonder at the "we" reference, but he doesn't give me the chance to ask him about it. Instead, he springs to his feet and marches off, muttering further to himself. I miss him immediately. Having him near, someone to focus on, distracted me from my memories. Now I'm alone again, I return to the endless cycle of Poppy's death and revival.

Nico is with Beckett. I hadn't noticed her enter. She glares at me, holding Beckett's hand. He doesn't seem to notice her at all, fingers of his free hand stroking Poppy's hair in her sleep. I look away, without the energy to even stare back at the angry girl.

I fall asleep sitting up, but wake on my side, my cheek pillowed on the dog's stomach. He groans softly as I shift away from him, deep brown eyes meeting mine. I am suddenly full of gratitude for him, leaning forward, softly kissing the side of his face. His tongue sweeps out, catches my chin.

I look up from him, startled to see Beckett hovering over me. He reaches out, pulls me into his arms, hugs me against his chest. I feel the beating of his heart through the thin fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his breath on my neck as he sighs over my skin. It's unfamiliar and yet the most natural thing in the world to hug him back, and the feeling of it brings tears to my eyes.

"Thank you." His whisper is almost inaudible. I experience more than hear it.

I swipe at a heavy drop of moisture escaping one eye and nod into his shoulder. When he pulls back, he's smiling and his deep blue eyes are full of warmth.

"I'm sorry it took so long." He wipes at my tears with his fingers, gentle, tentative. "I just didn't know what to say."

I gulp around the lump in my throat. "You didn't have to say anything." I glance over his shoulder, see Poppy stirring. "She doesn't need to know."

Beckett follows my gaze, watches with me as the girl stretches and yawns. "If you want."

"She doesn't." I repeat it, knowing I'm right. I don't want Poppy to remember dying. She's safe and healthy and that's all that matters.

Nico wakes where she lies curled up on the floor near Poppy. She looks up, around, finds Beckett beside me. The absolute hurt and loss in her eyes is rapidly replaced with jealousy and hate. She rises, leaves without a word. I hear Beckett sigh softly, but know there is nothing I can do.

The puppies are rambunctious, barking and growling as they mock play. Poppy's giggles blend with the sound as they tug on her hair. Her eyes meet mine, as innocent as a new morning and I find myself smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. She rises, comes to me, falls into my arms and I hold her without a word while she snuggles her sleep-warmed body against me.

We all exit the room, head for the aroma of food. The dog pads next to me, herding puppies with Poppy's help. I've almost reached the door when Socrates runs up and grasps my hand. I let Poppy and Beckett go ahead, unsurprised the dog remains, sitting down next to me, eyes locked on the boy.

"I have an idea how to get to New York." He seems hesitant but excited at the same time, so I try not to get my hopes up as he gestures for me to follow. My growling stomach protests, but there will be time to eat later. The dog sighs as if thinking the same thing and pads after me.

In Socrates's office, he shows me a map spread out on his desk. It takes me a moment to realize what I'm looking at.

"The railway?" I trace my fingers from one side of the country to the other, following the crosshatch path of the rail lines.

"I know some people," he says. "They've adapted a steam engine. They use it to run cargo around the city."

My hopes rise, despite my intentions. "A train. It's brilliant."

He shrugs before making a maybe face. "They aren't the friendliest bunch." Socrates sounds like he hates to admit it. "But I know the leader, Chime. She's an okay sort. I think she'd risk it for the right price."

I nod. "You're asking a lot," I say, mind tracing the route. "Do we even know if the rail lines still exist?"

Socrates goes back to studying the map. "There's no way of knowing," he admits. "But also no reason to think it doesn't. We don't have a lot of options, Trio. Flight is out. None of us has one sweet clue how to pilot an airplane, let alone get one into shape so we don't all die in the attempt. Besides, finding jet fuel would be nearly impossible." His face scrunches up, making him look like a little kid. "This is the best I can come up with."

I want to hug him, but worry he might be offended. "It's perfect," I say. "Really. So all we need to do is convince this Chime to take us across the country, through unfamiliar territory, in a train that may or may not be an antique, over tracks that may or may not still exist."

Socrates grins at me. "Exactly."

I laugh, hear the dog chuff softly. The boy reaches out as if without thinking and rubs the dog's ears. "I'm hearing a lot of 'we's' in this plan."

He bounces once on his toes. "I've decided to come with you."

My heart is suddenly happy though I know I need to try to talk him out of it at least. "What about your people?"

"Emile has agreed to lead them already." He's thought this out, it seems.

"It's going to be very dangerous." My last attempt. A weak one. I want him with me, want to face this uncertainty with the brilliant boy at my side. I'm feeling suddenly fearless.

Socrates's eyes sparkle. "Exactly. I've been reading about adventures my whole life. It's time I lived my own."

Am I selfish to want him with me? I'm leaving so many people behind. It's nice to know I won't be alone after all. "When do we go?"

"I've already sent word ahead," he says. "I wanted to warn Chime, just in case."

I'm not sure that's a great idea, but what's done is done. "Breakfast first," I say as my stomach complains yet again. This time I can't help myself. I lean close and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for this, Socrates."

His skin is so dark, I'm not positive if I'm right, but I'm sure he's blushing.

***

# Chapter Thirty Four

My stomach full, I lean back from my plate and gulp the last of the water in my glass. I'm feeling a sense of urgency, as though things are finally moving ahead the way they are supposed to.

I turn to Beckett who watches Poppy feed the puppies scraps from the meal. "Socrates and I are going to go out," I say. "He thinks he has a way for me to get to New York."

Beckett's body jerks as if I've hit him. "I'll come with you."

"You don't have to," I say. "You're staying here with his people. Your part is done in this." I touch his arm gently. "I'm very grateful, Beckett, for everything. I wouldn't be here without you. But you've lost so many friends, had so much taken from you, you deserve the security of a new family." I look around at the laughing, happy group Socrates leads, catch the slow and kind nod from Emile and wonder at her calm. "This seems like the right place to take care of Poppy, too."

He nods once. "I'm still coming with you."

"It's just a meeting." I pull away. "But you're welcome."

His eyes meet mine. "To New York, Trio." Beckett doesn't look away.

"What about Poppy?" I want to glance at her, to add weight to my argument, but I can't seem to draw my gaze from his. "She needs this stability."

Beckett grasps my hand. "There is no stability," he whispers. "I've had that proven to me over and over again. Sooner or later, this place, this group, will fall apart and we'll be running again." I hate to think he's right. The idea what Socrates has built won't last hurts me more than it should. "I'd rather choose where I'm running, rather than being forced into it without a plan."

I have to admit it does make a lot of sense.

"We have no idea if this is going to work out or not." I wish I had more to offer him, but he doesn't seem too concerned.

"Then we'll find another way." He releases my hand and right away I miss the warmth of his touch, the connection between us.

Socrates is beside me suddenly. He's traded his long blue lab coat for what looks like an army surplus jacket, pockets bulging oddly. A pair of ancient goggles sit on top of his head. He looks like a kid playing dress up, the image reinforced by the excited grin on his face.

"Ready?"

"Beckett's coming with us."

Socrates nods. "Anyone else?" Emile joins us, hovering over her leader though without a moment of hesitation in her face. She'll make a good leader herself, I'm guessing.

"No." Beckett glances sideways at Poppy. "We'll go check it out then come back for anyone who wants to join us."

We leave quietly, the dog at my side, Emile returning to the others as if nothing untoward were going on, as if I weren't taking her leader away. I glance over my shoulder at Poppy, giving myself the gift of one last moment. She is laughing in peals, the puppies leaping at her while two girls sit with her, their giggles joining hers. It's so beautiful, so perfect, I'm glad I stop to look.

Socrates leads us out. The alley way is as I remember, though he takes us in the opposite direction. The city all looks the same to me, so I trust his sense of direction.

It's early morning, though a bank of heavy clouds hides the sun. The air feels moist, rain threatening, and a distant rumble makes me look, though the surrounding buildings block the possibility of seeing very far.

We've crossed the street when I hear the rumble again. I search the sky for lightning, wait for the strike, but see nothing. The third time the rumble sounds, I feel it under my feet. With the sensation comes understanding and I only have a heartbeat to hiss at my companions before a Crawler vehicle comes around the corner.

We're in time, but just. I watch with growing fear from our hiding place as the car moves on, joined by a second, a third, all heading back the way we came. Toward the library.

Toward Poppy.

I'm running before I know I'm moving, dodging piles of refuse and totaled cars, my heart screaming for the girl even as Beckett and Socrates keep pace with me. The dog rushes forward, leaving us behind, as we forget everything, forget to be cautious, our fear driving us forward.

I'm certain it is only sheer luck we encounter no one and nothing in the mad sprint back to the library, though I'm in no condition mentally to even think about it. The alley seems impossibly long as I put on more speed. The dog stands at the door, quivering, circling, pacing, waiting for us. I jerk the door open just as the first Crawler car roars up the alley.

We escape inside the building, though I know we've simply trapped ourselves. Socrates is shouting, something about defenses, Emile is running toward us, face grim as she answers him, but I can't make out her words through the buzzing of my own panic. Poppy emerges from the cafeteria, looking terrified. Beckett reaches her first, scooping her into his arms, turning to me as he does.

"We have to get out of here now." He turns to run again, but the dog is barking at me and I know I can't abandon the place yet. The puppies sit at the doorway, whining, knowing something is wrong. I wrap them quickly in my jacket and carry them with me as we run for it.

The building vibrates suddenly, a low, deep boom shaking dust from the ceiling. Poppy cries out in fear, burying her face in Beckett's shoulder. I keep my eyes locked on his back as we race our way through the building, following Socrates's people. He has a plan, he must. The small genius would never leave his people defenseless. At least, it's what I tell myself as we race after his retreating family.

I'm pounding down a set of stairs, the puppies squirming and whining in my arms, when I hear a familiar voice.

"There they are!"

I don't have time to turn back, to stare with shock and growing fury at Nico. To find the moment I need, the heartbeat it would take to kill her for betraying us. Because she's led them here, I know that in my soul, hear the thudding of boots coming up behind us, know the armored soldiers are on our heels because Nico, out of jealousy or hurt or whatever excuse she tells herself she can live with, has given us to the Crawlers.

I catch a whiff of smoke, just a hint, as I make it to the bottom of the stairs and out the big metal door. We're back in the entry. I almost run right into Beckett, now stock still in a small crowd of Socrates's people. Socrates stands on the center console, Emile at his side. He holds his hands up as I turn and slam the door shut behind me, knowing it won't hold back the Crawlers now only moments away from pouring through and onto us.

"Now!" Socrates lets his hands drop. Three kids, waiting and ready, strike out, smashing glass in small red boxes. I realize it's the fire alarm system, wonder what he's up to, as the entire world falls totally silent. I gasp for air, feel all the oxygen leave the room in a rush before it whooshes back toward us.

"Run!" Socrates points toward the front door. The kids move, Emile herding them, their fear clinging to me, but their determination stronger. I hear an enormous rumble, followed by multiple explosions. The ceiling above us cracks, bits of mosaic falling. The door behind me shudders, gapes open, a handful of Crawlers with Nico among them tumbling outward. I'm forced to duck as a wall of superheated air rushes over them, followed by a tongue of orange flame.

We have seconds. I run for the door, one of the last to make it out. I turn back as I cross the threshold, see Nico reaching for me, her face distorted by her hate.

I leave her there. Even if I wanted to save her, there is nothing I can do. The library is imploding behind me as I race forward, over the cracked, heaved walkway, around the dead fountain and to the street.

Beckett waits for me, Poppy in his arms. His expression is so grim I'm sure he knows about Nico. Without a word, he turns and runs, following the trail of now homeless kids who somehow still seem to know where they are going.

***

# Chapter Thirty Five

I worry the Crawlers will catch us. Surely they didn't commit all of their people to the attack. But as we run and the explosions continue without a pursuit in sight, I realize that's exactly the truth. Whoever commands them has little grasp of military structure. Not that I'm an expert by any means, but I know a few things at least.

Not that I'm complaining. It's a great relief to run and know we've made it out safely. There are other threats in the city, further dangers, but Socrates clearly has a goal in mind and so do his people. He has as yet to lead me astray and proven several times to be more clever than anyone else I know, so I trust him and keep running.

I find myself dodging at last inside a large building, through a door well protected by stacked debris. I glance down, see the pile of garbage is on wheels. Yes, clever. Brilliant. I'm happy to have Socrates on my side.

If he still is. The look on his face when I spot him again, panting, cursing, pacing is enough to make me fear he's had enough of me.

I needn't have been concerned. He spins on me and fixes me with his anger, but it's not aimed at me. "My books!" He throws his arms up in the air. "Those bastards made me destroy all of my books." Tears pour suddenly down his face as he sobs once, a child who has lost his favorite toy. Emile embraces him, his face pressed to her wide shoulder, patting his hair gently though the faithful and calm expression she wears never falters.

His breakdown is met with silence, with expectant waiting. They trust him still, his people. He's taught them this, no matter what. So empathy hasn't left this world entirely.

There's nothing I can say. I instead soothe the puppies who want out of the confinement of my jacket so they can explore. A sharp bark from their father makes them still, though I can feel their energy building again almost immediately.

"I'm sorry," Beckett says, arms still clutching Poppy to him. "This is our fault. One of mine brought the Crawlers to you."

Socrates jerks free of Emile, swiping at his face with his sleeve, anger returning to mask his grief. "Is she among us?"

"No," I say. "She died in the explosion." I shake off the memory of the look on her face. She made her choice.

Socrates nods sharply, once, face crumpling again as he sags a moment. "As it should be," he says. This time when he straightens, he is grim, but recovered. "Now, we need to supply up and get moving."

Emile goes to work immediately, kids rushing to her aid. Crates are pulled out of the shadows, hidden by more artfully place debris. Within a short time, everyone is carrying a pre-filled backpack filled with food, water bottles, other supplies. My admiration for Socrates rises again and I can see from the expression on Beckett's face he's thinking the same thing I am.

Poppy shifts under the weight of her bag, but when her brother tries to take it she moves away. "I can do it," she says, grasping the straps in both hands. She looks up at me. "Can you keep the puppies?"

I shift my own bag into place and consider. Having them in my jacket isn't the most convenient. I'm about to shrug and say yes when Emile approaches with an extra backpack.

"Maybe they'll fit in here?" She hands it to me, almost shy about it, her smile crooked as she gazes at Shine and Shade. When I take the bag from her with a smile she flashes me her own.

The puppies are much happier in their new home, able to stand up, heads and paws out the top. I worry they might try to leap out so I wear them on my front. This way I can keep an eye on them. The dog chuffs at me, tongue hanging out and I can't shake the fact he's laughing.

Socrates approaches, weighed down with his own supplies. "We need to move."

"The train?" I wonder what Chime will think of a huge pack of kids coming at her and know it's not a good idea.

"Not now." Socrates looks over his friends. "We need another place to hole up. Should wait for dark to go to the train." He turns back to me again. "I know a place, might be safe. But it's a hike."

"Then we'd better get moving."

His teeth flash. "I need to be careful what I wish for," he says. "Adventure it is."

It's slow going, but with enough kids to act as scouts, we make better time than I expect. And with such a large group of Crawlers out of the way, the streets are quiet of their presence at least. A short scuffle is over quickly before I can interfere, two Howls sniffing around and taken out by a handful of Socrates's people.

It's nearing dark when we reach the edge of the city. Socrates comes to a stop, the group spreading out a little, taking advantage of the break to sit and grab a drink, a quick, cold bite to keep them going. I join him where he stands, map in hand.

"I've been holding this in reserve," he says the moment I reach his side as though we've been talking all along. "I wanted to explore it, but never got the chance." He points at a diagram, a house, it appears, though massive. "Built by some doomsday nut. Guess he had it right, didn't he?" Socrates looks up at me. "Has a biodome, gardens, all of it. If it's still there. And hasn't been found and occupied already." He glances down at the map again as Beckett joins us. "Geothermal heat, solar panels, private water source, the whole package."

"Which means it's probably someone's home by now," I say.

Socrates looks momentarily glum before perking up. "Unlikely, considering the location. But there's only one way to find out."

He points up the hill. What remains of a white sign half hangs over the edge, the "w" and one "o" still upright, but the rest crumbled or purposely destroyed. "It's mostly underground," he says, "just over that ridge."

We move off again, in the growing darkness, trudging through tall weeds. It's the most exposed I've ever felt and I welcome the night as it descends over us, keeping us sheltered from prying eyes.

Socrates stops again as we make the top of the cliff. The swelling moon casts enough light I can see just enough. Most of the kids collapse, exhausted from the climb. I crouch and pant, catching my breath, two little tongues dancing over my face as the puppies take advantage of my lowered head to wash my face.

"Over here." Socrates amazes me. He seems so tireless, so focused. I join him, Beckett and Emile with me, Poppy dragging her pack by the straps behind her. All I see in the dark is weeds, matted grass, but when Socrates probes the ground with a stick, the thudding of the end sounds metallic and hollow. He grins. "Found it, first try." He fist pumps the air. "Okay, almost done. Let's clear this away."

This is why Socrates feels no one would have found it. The entrance is buried and clearly hasn't been used in quite some time. We tear through the pile of accumulated vegetation, exposing a huge black manhole. Socrates hands Beckett the stick, Emile finding another in the long grass. Beckett rolls his eyes at the tall girl before the two of them dig the ends of their branches into the cutouts around the rim and heave. It groans at first, as Beckett's face twists in strain, Emile's cheeks flushing red. Something lets go at last with a metallic ring and the lid springs up as if weightless.

Beckett staggers backward, grasping for the big girl beside him, dropping the stick as he falls on his backside, face wide open in shock. I press my hand to my mouth to keep from giggling and hear Poppy's laughter chime softly.

Beckett fixes her with a scowl before accepting Emile's silent hand, pulling him to his feet, while Socrates looks down the hole. A light switches on and I find my eyes drawn to the thin, dull beam emerging from the flashlight in the boy's hand.

"We don't have much juice in this thing," he says. "We need to hurry."

Beckett and Emile's efforts exposed a ladder. We take turns, Emile going first, Socrates second, body after body following. I find myself counting, ten, eighteen, twenty-three kids go down the hole before Beckett helps Poppy find the rungs with her toes. He meets my eyes, glances at the dog.

My arms are already full. Beckett sighs, turns and lifts the dog around his shoulders. It looks horribly awkward and I know from experience how heavy the dog is after carrying him down a fire escape. But despite the nervousness of his position, the dog holds very still as Beckett begins to descend.

I'm last, grasping the cover as I go, pulling gently on the bar on the inside of it. It eases down toward me, silent and light as a feather. It's obviously on some kind of hydraulic system, sighing closed over my head as I carefully climb down.

The moment the lid seals, it hisses softly, pressure building in my ears. I pause until they pop. A second later a soft illumination wakes, bulbs embedded in the sides of the tube coming to life. I keep moving down, welcoming the light and the promise of safety at last.

Beckett waits for me at the bottom. He's actually grinning. "You've got to see this."

I follow him through the now open door and into a science fiction movie.

***

# Chapter Thirty Six

The door leads into a giant dome full of plants, the air moist and very warm, smelling of life and flowers. The same soft light shines down on us from embedded bulbs far above. I know we're underground, but I don't feel the oppression of the earth above me at all.

Socrates runs here and there, examining different rows of growing things, his excitement contagious. I finger the soft leaves of a plant, find myself smiling at the sensation.

Everyone breathes deeply, taking in the scent of the air as though we hadn't just come from outdoors. There is a flavor to it, a freshness and promise driving my spirits upward and I can see I'm not the only one.

It's Poppy who breaks our happy bubble, though her question is innocent. "I wonder who takes care of the flowers?"

Socrates meets my eyes instantly, smile falling away. "Good question," he says. "Let's find out."

I join him, Beckett beside me, letting my backpack slide to the floor, leaving the puppies with Poppy. She's happy to let them run around, though I wonder if it's smart to release them when we have no idea what we're facing in this place. Still there is such peace and calm here I can't imagine how we could be in any danger.

The three of us walk the length of the greenhouse. I jump a little as a sprinkler head hisses to life, a mist of water falling over me, the drops as fine and silky as a butterfly's feet. The door isn't far, but is nicely designed to blend into the rest of the surroundings, a rough wooden portal heavy with ivy. I wonder about the person who built this place and if it's he who we are about to encounter.

More lights, these brighter on the other side. We're in a short corridor, the walls lined with glass tanks, full of fish. Not decorative fish, but what look like trout. A food source, then. Beautiful and practical.

Socrates stares, open mouthed, fingers running down the glass, but Beckett is already moving ahead, toward the next door and I'm right behind him. I hear Socrates sigh happily as Beckett's hand reaches for the knob.

Only to have the door open for him. It swings inward, to a room lit not by bulbs but the soft glow of phosphorescence.

The young man on the other side of the door is the source of that glow. Beckett freezes, faced by the Bright, and I find myself grasping him by the jacket and pulling him back before taking his place, body tingling, the calm slowing down everything.

"Welcome," the Bright says, ignoring the fact I'm ready to kill him at the least provocation. "It's nice to see some new faces. As long as they are friendly."

Unexpected. I falter, the tingle fleeing, my calm retreating. "You're a Bright." The words fumble from my mouth, obvious and clunky.

He smiles at me. "I am. But you have nothing to fear." He gestures inside. "We've been alone for a long time."

I drop out of defensive stance though Beckett is hissing at me, telling me to kill it. "Thank you, but there are a lot of us."

He nods. "I've been watching you on the monitors. You're all welcome." He holds out one hand to me. "I'm Vander and this is my home."

My hesitation vanishes as I shake his hand. "Trio," I say. "Beckett and Socrates." I look down, realize the dog has followed me, as usual. "Dog."

Vander's smile widens. "A dog! I haven't seen one in years. Please, it's all right." He backs up a step, to let me pass. "There's so much to talk about."

"This is a very bad idea." Beckett hovers behind me, though not for protection I'm certain. "There could be a whole nest of them down here."

I know he's wrong. I can feel the continuing peace of this place. "Just trust me for once," I say. "Vander means what he says."

Socrates is inside the room before Beckett can speak, the lights coming up again, as if triggered by our presence. He looks up, glances at Vander. "You can't make the lights work?"

Vander shrugs, the white glow around him shimmering as he moves. "Something to do with the change," he says. "It's as if I'm invisible or something. Gault is able, but he doesn't get around much anymore." There is sadness in Vander's voice.

"You're a cannibal." Beckett's tone snarls past me, strikes at the Bright in accusation.

"I'm not," Vander says. "I'm able to get the iron I need from supplements and fish." He gestures behind us. "The tanks are precious, for obvious reasons."

I glance down at the dog. He seems totally relaxed, enough he sniffs around, wagging his tail when Vander strokes the top of his head. The last of my tension leaves me.

"Thank you, Vander," I say. "We could use a safe place to rest."

I ignore Beckett's further attempts to get my attention and look around the room. It feels like a living room/kitchen combo, but it's huge, the ceiling vaulted far out of view. Modern appliances, shining stainless steel, fill the white kitchen while large leather furniture of the deepest brown, puffy and comfortable looking, fill the rest of the space. There's even what appears to be a television on one end.

The door behind us is suddenly filled with curious faces. Before Socrates can say anything, the handful of kids spot Vander. There's enough light now his glow is almost gone. Their curiosity wins and before anyone can stop the flood, the pack of kids is inside the room and making themselves at home.

Poppy approaches Vander, hands him the golden boy puppy. "Thank you for letting us stay," she says.

Vander crouches next to her. I feel Beckett tense, but the Bright simply takes the puppy and laughs as the eager pink tongue finds his cheek.

"Are you a Bright?" Poppy touches his hand, her finger tracing what shows of the glow.

"I am. Are you afraid?" Vander offers her the puppy back, but she shakes her head and laughs.

"You feel right," she says. "So it's okay."

Even Beckett relaxes a bit after that.

As the kids finally realize what Vander is, waves of nervousness pass through them, but it never seems to last long. Probably because Socrates is so at ease. Even the remains of Beckett's group seem comfortable taking their lead from the boy. Vander slowly, gently makes his way among them, offering them food and drink. Whether it's their weariness or the fact they just want to feel safe for once, they accept him in short order and are soon snuggled down on various pieces of furniture and even the floor, asleep.

"There are bedrooms," Vander says to me.

"They'll be fine," I say. "They're used to this, after all."

Vander nods, grim. "I know," he says. "I've been out there a few times." He points at the ceiling. "It's terrible, Trio. I've tried to rescue some kids before, but they are too afraid of me, and the other Brights..." He shudders delicately, long blonde hair shimmering. "It's just been Gault and me for a long time."

That name again and the sadness behind it. "Where is your family? Were they the ones who built this place?"

He nods. "My father. But the Sick, it made it down here, too. There's no escaping it." Vander's pale blue eyes look almost transparent with the glow in them. His skin is as pale as any I've seen, probably from living underground, though I admit it's probably partly caused by his affliction.

"Do we get to meet Gault?" Beckett's still suspicious, his concern coming from him in waves as though he's not sure he's right, but can't bear to be wrong.

Vander sighs. "My brother," he says. "He's not well."

"Is he a Bright too?" Is Beckett right to be nervous? I feel Vander's hesitation and begin to wonder, but he shakes his head and smiles at me at last, a soft, sad expression dispelling my worry again.

"Come," he says, turning away. "He'll want to meet you."

I follow him, Beckett behind me, the dog staying with Poppy for once. We pass through another door, now in some kind of hub. The large empty space has a lobby-like feel, all carved stone and marble embedded with scenes from what look like fairy tales. It's fascinating, but I don't have time to look around. Vander is still moving. We walk through another door, this one painted deep green and into a large bedroom.

A giant four-poster rests against the far wall, the room larger than any bedroom I've ever been in. Here the stone is covered in carved wooden panels. A few screens line the walls and I instantly understand. I know if I turned one of them on, they would show outdoor scenes, like windows.

Vander's father thought of everything. If only he could have kept out the Sick, his family would have survived indefinitely.

"We were meant to bring others with us," Vander whispers. "There are many more rooms, apartments. But the Sick hit so fast Father said he didn't have time."

I glance at Beckett. They look about the same age. Vander wasn't even born when the illness took over the world.

He gently pulls back the canopy, whispers, "Gault, I have visitors for you," before meeting my gaze again. "I'm what you call a Bright," he says. "I'm stronger, faster, heal quicker than I ever did before the Sick. But my brother wasn't as lucky as me." Guilt hangs in the air.

"It's not your fault," a trembling voice says. "You didn't choose this, Vander. None of us did. Welcome, strangers. I'm happy to see new faces." I see someone lying propped up on pillows, as pale as Vander. "Come closer, please. My eyes aren't what they used to be."

I step up, sit on the edge of the bed. Feel my heart constrict in understanding.

"I'm Gault," the little old man says. "It's very nice to meet you."

***

# Chapter Thirty Seven

I find myself staring and wish I could tear my eyes away from him. He looks like Vander, vaguely, as though he were his wrinkled and aged grandfather. He is almost bald, wispy lengths of white hair waving in the air.

"Another of the afflictions of the Sick," Gault whispers to me in his quavering voice. "I doubt those like me last long up above, do they?"

"No," Beckett says softly. "I've heard of this, but never seen it with my own eyes."

Gault nods slowly. "I'm not surprised." He pauses to cough, a racking sound from deep inside his withered chest. I reach for him, but he waves me off with a quirk to his lips.

"You haven't told me who you are." His watering eyes drift from me to Beckett and back again. "Or what adventure has led you here to us."

"I'm Trio," I say, "and this is Beckett. And I wish I had more to tell you than I do."

"That can wait." Beckett rests one hand on my shoulder in warning, but I pull away.

"No," I say, "it can't. They need to understand what taking us in means."

Beckett sighs, but doesn't argue. Vander takes a seat next to me, facing me, half-reclining next to Gault while I tell them everything.

Neither seems particularly concerned when I tell them about my ability. "Another incarnation of the illness?" Gault reaches out, takes my hand. "Are you the next evolution?"

"Whatever Clone Three means," Vander says, "I don't think you're one of us."

"It's possible there are still those out there, working on a cure." Gault keeps my hand, his skin thin and cool. "Please go on."

When I tell them of the Crawlers and how Socrates was forced to destroy the library, they both laugh.

"I'm sorry," Vander says. "The story isn't funny, but your friend's ingenuity is amazing."

I grin in agreement. "So now we're looking for a safe place for Socrates's people so I can go to the train."

The brothers exchange a look. Gault nods before Vander turns back with a smile.

"You've found it," he says. "You're welcome here."

I feel a weight lift from me. "Thank you," I say. "That's a generous offer. We've brought food, water..."

"We have more than enough for everyone," Vander says. "Remember this place was designed for multiple families. This is perfect." He rises. "I'll go tell your friends."

"And if the Crawlers come?" Beckett faces Vander down, but the Bright doesn't flinch.

"Let them," he says. "If they can find us."

Beckett steps aside, lets Vander go. Starts to follow. I'm about to rise and leave too when Gault holds me back with the barest tension on my hand. I wave Beckett on and turn back.

"I have a question for you to ponder," he says. "Are you here as a cure, Trio?"

"I've been asking myself that." I shrug. "I won't know until I get to New York."

"You can heal," he says. "Brought your little friend back to life. Do you think it's possible you can also cure the Sick?"

I know what he's asking. "I can try." I look over his wasted body. "But Gault..."

He nods. "I know," he whispers. "You may heal the affliction, but my body might not survive it."

I slump forward, grateful he's spoken it. "We can try."

"Later," he says, letting me go. "For now, rest. I'll see you in the morning."

I leave him, go back to the others. Socrates is talking with great excitement to Vander. I pass them by, going back into the underground garden, needing to be alone. The dog watches me, but lets me go, stretched out beside sleeping Poppy.

The lights are dim, the air still heavy. I wander the rows of plants, letting my mind drift. I turn, head back out at last, with no answers and finally tired enough to sleep. I'm passing through to the aquarium when I bump into Beckett.

He catches me with both hands, supporting me as I grin. "Sorry," I say. "I'm miles away."

His hands fall slowly as he smiles back. "Here I thought you were just clumsy."

We both laugh at little at the joke, an easy feeling. I'm drawn to him, the way the wavering light from the water washes over his face, the intensity of his blue eyes. Without thinking, I lean toward him, feel his breath on my lips as he pulls me to him and kisses me.

Everything fades away as we share air, the warmth of his skin mingled with mine, a smoldering passion building inside me. I wrap my arms around his neck, feel his hands slide inside my jacket, up my back, stirring the fire within further. Everything about this moment is perfect, welcome, powerful. Something clicks inside my heart and I know him, better than anyone I've ever known.

I've met Beckett before, but I have no idea how or where.

I pull back, to tell him what I've felt, only to have him break free before I can speak. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand, cheeks flushing red.

"I'm sorry," he says. "This is the last thing either of us needs right now." He turns, leaves me, closing the door to the living area behind him before I can bring myself to move. I finally unstick my feet from the floor, forcing my body to follow only to catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye.

I turn toward the glass of the aquarium, see a face I know looking back at me.

"Clone Three," her voice is deeper than I remember, she looks older, much older, but it's her, another hologram, wavering like the first. My heart clenches as I press my hands against the glass.

"I'm here." I try to touch her, but there's nothing there, only the hologram of her face, flickering in the polished surface.

"You must hurry." Her voice fades in and out, her desperation clear. "Time is running out, you must fulfill your mission or all is lost."

"I can't remember!" Tears trickle unheeded down my face as I pound on the thick glass. "Please, you have to tell me more."

"The bubble is collapsing." The woman looks up as if at something threatens her. "You're our only hope."

Can she even hear me? "Tell me what to do!" Mother, my mind finishes for me.

"Clone Three—" The woman flickers bright and then is gone.

I wait, heart pounding, desperately hoping perhaps she'll return. Is it too late already? The bubble she was talking about, did it just kill her? Do I still have time? My whole body clenches, the drive and need to move on powerful inside me suddenly, though I know it's been there all along.

I have to go, I can't wait any longer. She needs me.

My mother needs me. And I can't let her down.

***

# Chapter Thirty Eight

I look for Beckett, to tell him what I've seen, only to find him hovering over Poppy. It's then I know I have to leave, but I can't tell him. He'll want to come with me and this is his only chance to be safe. Socrates too. The boy is finally asleep himself, an open book on his chest.

It's easy to sneak past them all, sleeping so deeply, even Beckett who has his back to me. I retrieve my pack, head for the hub corridor. I need to speak to Vander, find another way out. I don't want to use the entrance we came in, just in case we were somehow followed. I wish now we'd figured out a way to cover the manhole, but will mention it to Vander before I leave.

I catch him entering Gault's room and follow. My hand finds his shoulder, turns him around. Tears streak down Vander's face and my heart stops for a moment.

"Gault?" I glance at the four-poster bed.

"He's almost gone." Vander chokes on the words. "It's happening so fast, I was sure he had time left."

I let him go, head dropping. "This is our fault."

"It's no one's fault." Gault's hearing is clearly still working well. "Stop whispering, you two, and come here."

I join Vander as he sits next to his brother. I'm shocked at the deterioration I see. Wasn't I just in here? He looked terrible then. But his body seems to be shrinking in on itself.

"Will you try?" Vander is sobbing openly, hand holding his brother's. "I hate to ask you, Trio, but will you?"

"Of course." I reach for Gault immediately, taking his other hand in mine. I call for the calm first, wondering how to do what I've been unable to summon consciously. "But I have no idea what will happen."

Both brothers nod as Vander wipes his eyes. "Thank you."

"It's been coming for days," Gault whispers to me. "The end. I'm just glad I had the chance to meet you."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier it was this close?" If he had little chance then I fear he has none now.

I feel his body attempt to move, his arm to shrug. "It doesn't matter," he says. "You're here now."

The calm comes easily and with it, the tingle. I reach inside Gault's body with my mind and, through him, Vander's. While the one brother is so strong he's nearly immortal aside from being killed by an outside force, the other is fading so fast I barely catch the threads of life as they part and shatter under my touch. I pour my heart into that tingling in my skin, give all of it to Gault I can muster.

It's still not enough. His body is too old, too degraded. I feel him slipping from me, even as his form heals, fills out. The essence of him begins to let go even as the surface of his body returns to the young man he really is. I see the hope in Vander's eyes and hate to have to shatter it.

I'm not the one who does. Gault sighs softly, meets his brother's gaze, touches his face, before closing his eyes forever.

I grasp for Vander, take his free hand, as I feel Gault rise from his body.

Thank you, he says. I've been in pain for so long, you've given me a great gift. His spirit looks to Vander who is crying again. You need to go with her, Gault says. She can't be alone. And you can't remain here much longer.

Vander nods slowly, wipes at his running nose.

Trio, Gault says to me as he begins to rise, shining white and beautiful. There is so much you don't know. But you don't need to. It's all in you. Trust it. Go to New York. Everything you need is waiting for you there.

And then, he is gone and I'm holding Vander against me while he cries for the loss of his brother.

I'm a little worried Vander might be angry with me, but when he pulls away he's smiling sadly.

"He tried to hide how much pain he was in," he whispered. "Never admitted it. Thank you for giving him peace."

I didn't do anything, in my own mind. I stare at the useless body Gault used to wear, the perfection of it a veneer. Vander reaches out and touches his brother's face. The remains crumble at his touch, falling to dust, sheets collapsing as if his fingertips allowed the last of what Gault was to move on.

"Take me with you where you're going," Vander whispers, "and I'll follow you to the end."

I sigh. So much for going alone after all. "I need another way out." I show him the bag I've taken and his eyes briefly widen. "I don't want to risk the others," I say. "Or you for that matter. You're all safe here. It's best I go on alone."

Vander shakes his head, stands, offers me his hands. I rise beside him as he speaks. "Gault told me to go with you," he says. "He knows I've only stayed for him. This place isn't life, Trio." He looks around at the walls, but I know he refers to the underground house. "It's a tomb. We're not safe anywhere. But if getting you to New York means solving this, putting an end to the Sick once and for all, that's worth any risk."

He's gone before I have a chance to argue. I leave Gault's room, pause in the hub to wait for Vander. He emerges shortly from another room, a bag like mine over his shoulder.

"We need food," he says. "More supplies." He glances at the kitchen. "They are all in there."

We'll just have to risk it. I leave him at the door with my bag, slip inside. Two more rest against one wall. I scoop them up, slide out into the hub again, close the door.

Perfect, easy. I turn, handing one of the bags to Vander only to see Poppy standing there next to him, a puppy in her arms, staring up at me.

"I went looking for a bathroom," she says, an edge to her voice. "Good thing, too. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known you were abandoning us."

My teeth clench together. Her voice is very loud, on purpose? Clearly. As I try to hush her, the door behind me opens and Socrates emerges, yawning.

"What's going on?" He sees me, the bags. Understanding dawns. He looks as angry as Poppy. Beckett is close behind him, his anger also clear.

But it's the dog's expression that cuts the deepest. His brown eyes look me up and down before his face falls, neck drooping. He turns his back on me, pushing his head into Beckett's legs.

Could I feel like more of a coward?

"This is best for everyone." I look around at my little group of friends. "You're all safe here, don't you get that? And I need to go. But you can all stay and have a life and be free."

"But we're not," Beckett says. "You know that." He glances at Vander. "And he does, too. That's why he's going with you." His dark blue eyes find mine again. "Like it or not, Trio, you're in this with us. And we're not letting you go alone."

The dog turns, comes to my side. He presses his full weight against my legs, a soft whine emerging. I crouch and hug him, tears stinging my eyes.

"You pack of fools," I say. "Please, think about it." I look at Beckett. "You have a chance to keep Poppy safe." I turn to Socrates. "To study and learn and do all the things you want." I spin on Vander. "You have friends now, you're no longer alone." I find Poppy glaring. "You can have a real life, Poppy." I stoke the dog's fur. "A real life."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Socrates snaps. "And you're not thinking straight. You expect Chime to just listen to you?"

I pause. I hadn't thought of that.

"She'll kill you on sight," he says. "No questions asked. You need me."

I nod, defeated.

"We'll just go talk to her," Beckett says. "Then we'll decide what we're doing. Okay?"

I could hug them all at once. "Okay."

"Let's go." Poppy shoulders one of the bags while Beckett takes it from her.

"Someone has to stay and watch the puppies." It's clear who he thinks that should be.

I'm surprised she doesn't fight him on it, just smiles sweetly and goes back into the living room.

"We can leave these here," he says, taking mine from me. "We're not going far."

I take the hint. I don't have much choice.

***

# Chapter Thirty Nine

The sun is coming up by the time we emerge from underground. I glance at Vander, concerned. I know he, like other Brights, is photosensitive, but he smiles at me, pulling on a pair of gloves and jerking his ball cap down over his face. A scarf covers the lower half, wrapped around his neck while sunglasses shield his eyes.

"I'll be fine," he says. "I've done this before, remember?"

I have to trust he knows what he's doing.

I glance back over my shoulder at the exit. We are far from where we started, a long tunnel slowly leading upward releasing us through a well-hidden portal onto the side of a road. Emile stops at the exit, waves, forlorn. Someone had to stay behind and though I know Socrates plans to leave the others in her care, I now wonder how hard it will be for her to say goodbye.

Socrates squints into the dawn, looking around, finally points. "Perfect," he says. "Follow me."

We do, though again I feel terribly exposed. Being underground has augmented the weight of being cocooned in safety. Even the open sky above us feels threatening.

It's not long before we're following train tracks, a little overgrown with leaves, but clearly in use. A concrete hollow runs next to us, like a manmade river. Some sluggish water flows, gurgling around the vegetation invading the run.

We round a bend and enter the train yard. It looks more like a graveyard for ancient metal. Most of the cars are deep red with rust, some collapsing sideways on their wheels. The smell of the ocean is powerful here. The tracks run on and on forever it seems, not just the length, but the width. We cross rail after rail, weaving in around old flatbeds and container cars, stirring up the odd flock of birds as we disturb their roosting. I feel my stomach tightening as we continue, hating the dead, abandoned feeling about the place.

Vander strides beside me and I notice when he cocks his head to one side. He turns his face toward mine though I can't see his expression before he drops back with a quick gesture, dodging around a car. I whistle low, catch Beckett's attention. He grabs Socrates and pulls him aside. We wait in the shadow of a container, peeling white paint floating down as I bump the side with one shoulder.

Someone squeals. I know the sound and so I'm not surprised when Vander appears, Poppy firmly in his grip. Beckett's scowl is more frustration than anger.

I just shake my head, grin at her. She grins back before hugging me.

"Sneak." I kiss the top of her head.

"Queen of sneak." She winks before glaring at Beckett. "He should know better."

He turns his back on her and moves on. I pull Poppy close to my hip, one arm around her shoulders. "Stay close, okay?"

She nods, still smiling. "I will."

I look up from her happiness to see Beckett spun to face me. And he is definitely not happy. Nor are the handful of people with weapons pointed at him. More movement out of the corner of my eye draws my gaze in a circle.

We're surrounded. I should be angry, but I can't muster the emotion. What's one more betrayal in a long string of them?

"We're here to see Chime." Socrates is the only one who doesn't seem upset. "She knows we're coming."

One of the kids makes a soft whistling sound and is answered from a distance. He jerks his head, motions for us to pass. The guards surrounding us hold their ground, but don't make threatening gestures so I trust Socrates knows what he's doing.

We are led and followed between a pair of cars and to a set of iron steps. I watch Socrates ascend into what looks like a train engine, the locomotive resting, wheelless, on the gravel. This train isn't going anywhere, at least.

I blink into the gloom, eyes adjusting from the morning light as I enter last, the dog at my side. The interior has been gutted, though there still isn't much room. Socrates faces a tall girl dressed in old denim, her thick, curly black hair caught in a handkerchief. Her skin is dark, but much lighter than his, and her eyes are bright amber.

"Socrates." Her voice rasps deep and harsh.

"Chime." He bows his head a little. "Been a long time."

She shrugs one shoulder, gaze traveling over the rest of us. "Who are they?"

"The reason I contacted you." I suppress a smirk, thinking how much he sounds like a politician. "We're looking for passage."

None of her people move or speak, but there is a subtle shift in the air, a curiosity replacing their tension. I take it as a good sign.

"Your messenger said as much," Chime says. She leans back against the metal bulk head, arms crossed over the bib front of her overalls. "And I'm willing to listen. But your boy never said anything about the destination."

Socrates's smile remains, though I'm sure he's wound up tight inside.

"I wanted to be the one to offer the adventure." He winks at her.

Chime rolls her eyes though the group laughs and the tension finally breaks.

"Boy, you're unbelievable." Chime is smiling at last. "Fine, smart ass. Tell me, where do you want my train to take you?"

His teeth flash in the gloom. "Not far," he says. "Just to New York City."

Her smile disappears as she gapes at him like he's lost his wits. A few of her people choke out laughs, but those fall still quickly as they realize he's not joking.

"How far?" So Chime has some idea the city he means, but no concept of distance outside of the fact it's well beyond her present borders.

"Far." He nods his head as they mutter and whisper among themselves. "Very far."

Chime is scowling now, though the initial tension has yet to return so I feel we've crossed some hurdle of hers.

"You're mad," she says.

"Perhaps," Socrates winks. "But for me to even suggest such a journey, I'd have to have a huge payment to offer. Wouldn't I?"

Chime shifts, arms dropping, eagerness in her face. "You found more?"

He casually checks his fingernails, a slow shrug shaking his shoulders. "Could be," he says. "How much is it worth to you?"

No one breathes or moves. I have no idea what he has to offer, but Chime is clearly tempted. She licks her lips slowly before lunging forward, heading for the door.

"Come," she snaps.

I find myself being herded out into the sunlight again, rushed down the tracks. I feel my annoyance with our treatment rising, glance at Beckett whose temper looks about as wound up as mine. I'm about to spin and snap at the kid jabbing me relentlessly with the spear he holds when the column slows. I glance up as we clear the line of abandoned cars and catch my breath.

"If you have what I need," Chime says to Socrates, "if you've really found more, I'll take you wherever you want to go."

I'm staring, I can't help it. I've never seen anything so amazing in my life.

A black steam locomotive sits on the tracks, gleaming black, the front armored, polished chrome everywhere, red paint accenting the inner wheels, hubs, gauges.

Chime sees me staring, actually smiles.

"Welcome aboard," she says.

***

# Chapter Forty

I mount the engine in awe. This looks like some kind of museum piece, a slice of history brought to life. The interior is dark and smells of oil and something else I can't identify. A boy turns, red hair and freckles clear in the low light, light hazel eyes shining with excitement.

"S-s-socrates!" He grabs the other's hand and shakes it firmly. "G-g-good to s-s-see you."

"Ande." Socrates grins. "Nice train."

Ande practically bounces up and down on his toes. "Isn't s-s-she beau-t-t-tiful?" He seems unaware or doesn't care about his stutter. I find myself liking him immediately.

"Ande," Chime grasps his shoulder. "Socrates is here for a reason." She glances at him. "Want to tell him?"

Ande spins back to his friend. "You found some?"

Socrates grins. "I did. And it's yours." He gestures, a grand motion, as if he's doing it out of pure benevolence. I hide a laugh behind a cough, not wanting to ruin Socrates's show.

Ande hugs him impulsively. "We're getting low." He pats the huge boiler with one hand. "The improvements I've made help a lot, but there's still only so much I can do to stretch out the coal reserves we have."

That's the payment. It clicks in my head. "No fuel." I don't realize I've spoken aloud until Chime meets my eyes.

"You got it," she says. "No diesel, no trains. Only smarty pants Ande figured out how to use this steam engine, see?" She cuffs his ear gently which he rubs while he grins at her. "We dug this old girl out of the railway museum." She points up the tracks, supposedly toward where it once rested. "Ande even figured out ways to improve on the engine."

"But you still need fuel." Brilliant.

"C-c-coal," Ande says. "And water, to make s-s-steam. And lots of b-b-both."

Chime snaps her fingers, points over Ande's shoulder. One of her people hands her a tube which she slides open. She hands one end to Ande while she unfurls the rest.

A map, similar to the one Socrates showed me. "You're not going to believe it," she says to the small engineer. "Where he wants us to go."

She points while I try to keep myself from straining to look. I already know how far it is.

A couple of low whistles break the quiet. Ande pulls a scrap of fabric from his back pocket and mops at his upper lip.

"T-t-that'-s-s-s f-f-far." His stutter seems worse, I'm guessing from the stress of understanding. But when he looks up from the map, he's grinning like the little kid he is. "C-c-cool!"

Chime seems to be having second thoughts. I see her taking in the great distance, realizing what she's agreed to. "This is way outside our reach," she says.

"A deposit," Socrates says. "Full of coal."

Chime hesitates. I can see the greed on her face, watch as Ande jabs her in the side. She bats at him with irritation, struggling for composure.

"Show us the coal first," she says. "Then we'll talk."

Socrates frowns for the first time. "You know I'm trustworthy," he says. "But what's to keep you from just taking the coal when I show it to you?"

Chime shrugs. "Nothing," she says. "Absolutely nothing."

Ande rolls his eyes and spits into his hand before holding it out. "D-d-deal!"

Socrates grins at Ande, spits and shakes back. "Deal."

Chime doesn't look very happy, but it's clear now who the real boss is. And he appears to be on our side.

***

# Chapter Forty One

We are on our way back to the city when Beckett gestures to me. We're surrounded by Chime's people and while they don't seem aggressive I have no doubt they will turn on us or abandon us if circumstances change in any way.

"You're sure we can trust these people?" Beckett keeps his voice down, Socrates between us, Poppy and Vander just behind.

Socrates doesn't look up. "I trust Ande," he says. "I've known him a long time. And Chime is trustworthy, as long as you don't double cross her."

I worry his trust doesn't count for much, considering how many times we've been betrayed. Until I realize I have friends, real friends. Not everyone is out to get me. It's a comfort.

"Listen," Socrates says, "I've spent years researching this city, finding things I can use, trade, things that can make life easier. I found the coal reserve in old records."

"Which means there's no guarantee the coal is still there." Beckett hisses out a breath. "I think that would be considered double crossing Chime, wouldn't you?"

The boy finally looks up, a bit of fear in his eyes. "I've never had the chance to check this stuff for real," he says. "But I've been right so far."

I'm nervous again. Surely our luck will run out eventually.

The building Socrates leads us to isn't far. The sun is still climbing when he points at a large ship near the dock. "There," he says.

Chime looks suddenly disappointed and more than a little aggressive. "We've searched everywhere along the port."

"Trust me," he says. "You haven't searched where I'm taking you."

She grunts in annoyance. I can feel the group surrounding us tense, tighten, not acting so casual any longer. If it comes to a fight, which it might, I just hope we can save Ande.

We'll need him to drive the train.

The gangway to the ship is still sturdy, though we go one at a time just in case. I avoid touching anything, knowing I'll come away with handfuls of old paint and rust. It's easy to find the hold as we descend below. This is a cargo ship, huge and echoingly empty, shattered glass coating the metal floor. Chime looks around, angry now, as her people poke their spears in our direction.

"Where is it, Socrates?" She snaps her fingers and we're suddenly in a tight knot with our lives in danger. "Don't tell me you made me walk all this way for nothing."

He rolls his eyes at her, completely calm, at least on the outside. "If you'll step aside," he says. "I have some coal to uncover."

She grudgingly allows him to exit the circle of spears, but it closes up around the rest of us again as he steps out. He waves at us, a smile on his face. I know it's meant to reassure, but I don't feel all that confident. The place is empty.

Socrates goes to the far wall, opens a dark gray panel, pitted with rust. He looks inside, feels around. "Is there power here?"

Before he gets an answer, the floor shifts under our feet. I find myself sliding as it rises, all of us slipping backward.

"Why, it's right here," he says with such cheek I could laugh. "And has been all along."

I round the raised decking, the others beside me, no longer threatened with spears. There's no need. Not when tons of coal rest beneath us in the hold of the old ship, hidden all this time in a lower compartment.

Ande lets out a whoop of excitement while Chime laughs out loud. She claps Socrates on the shoulder when he comes to join us, making him stagger.

"Well done," she says before turning to the others. "Fetch the rest," she says. "Let's load up and take this to the train."

Socrates winks at me. "Is this worth passage then, do you think?"

Chime's good humor fades. "Only if I get the chance to burn it." She stands with fists on hips, staring down into the hold. "You'll get us killed, Socrates. We have no way of knowing what's out there."

"Don't you want to find out?" He sidles up to her, voice low and compelling.

She snorts. "The track could be wrecked. Blocked. The Crawlers could have done something to them."

Socrates shrugs. "Won't know until we try."

Chime sighs, but can't take her eyes from the coal. "Fine," she snaps at last. "Here's the deal. I'll take you as far as my train is able." Socrates opens his mouth to speak, but she raises one hand and silences him. "I won't promise more than that."

"And who decides if the train can go on?" Beckett is clearly upset by this turn of events.

"I d-d-do." Ande looks up at Chime. She shakes her head, but walks away. I'm much happier with him making the decisions.

"Done." He and Socrates shake again, this time without the spit, much to my relief.

"Looks like I found us a ride," Socrates grins at me. "You're welcome."

***

# Chapter Forty Two

I find myself full of hope as we cross the tracks on our way back to the underground entrance.

Ande stops at the edge of the train yard, his two guards halting with him. "W-w-we'll s-s-ee you t-t-tonight." He waves, clearly excited, bouncing on his toes again. "D-d-don't be l-l-late."

Socrates waves back before we continue on.

"Perfect." He rubs his hands together, excitement obvious. "Gives us enough time to get back, gather supplies and return by dusk." He offers me a high five which I accept while Beckett looks confused.

"Never mind," Socrates says. "Private joke."

Just an old one. I ruffle Socrates's hair and wink.

It's not a good time to be distracted, I know. But we are, the lot of us, now with our goal so close. We're lucky, when we're discovered, it's only Genki and Dauphine who've found us.

I spot them as they pop out from behind the final train car, into our path. Poppy lets out a cry of fear, Beckett lunging forward with Vander at his side before any of us realize who they are.

"Trio." Dauphine smiles, though she seems tired and weak. "We've found you."

Genki doesn't look all that happy to see us, but I ignore him, walking forward to hug her. "Are you all right?"

"Just worn out." She leans on me a moment. "Been walking forever it seems."

"All of my caches are gone." Genki's anger simmers under his words. "All of them. We have nothing."

"Not true," Socrates says. He holds out a hand to Dauphine.

"Socrates." She leans forward, blind eyes closing as she kisses his forehead. "Hello, sweet thing."

He swipes at the place her lips were. "Come with us," he says. His eyes meet mine and I nod. "It's okay."

Genki trails behind, muttering to himself, but Dauphine is happy to see us. The walk back is quiet, though I keep an eye on the former hoarder, not certain why his presence makes me uncomfortable. As we approach the entrance to the underground, I almost stop. Part of me doesn't want him in Vander's home, wants to leave him here despite the fact he saved us the last time we met. I can't seem to forget he also betrayed us.

I wait for Genki as the others pass through the doorway to the underground. He's looking around, as if he's trying to memorize the spot. "You're lucky you found us." I feel a rising anxiety as he meets my eyes. He still hates me. Fair enough. "Better make sure you stay on my good side."

He snarls something, pushes past me. I let him go, eyes sweeping the long grass, the empty landscape. The dog waits at my side, nose in the air, sniffing. But there is nothing, no one. We're alone. Safe.

I let the dog go ahead before pulling the door shut behind me.

When I reach the living area, Socrates is already filling in his people.

"You'll be fine here." He glances at Vander who nods while he sheds his outer coverings. "Lots of food and water. Safer than the open trail."

They huddle as a group, looking up at him like he's told them he's dying. But he's right to leave them here. It's better than dragging them across the continent to an unknown future.

Beckett turns to Poppy and I know already from the look on his face what he's about to say. So does she, because before he has a chance to say anything, she crosses her little arms over her chest, gives him her best scowl and shakes her head so hard her long hair swings.

"Don't even try to leave me behind." Her tone is a growl to rival the dog. "I swear I'll follow you and you'll have to take me anyway."

Beckett's frown is as dark as hers. I step forward, rest my hand on his arm. "I agree with her," I say. "She should come."

He stares at me in astonishment. "Have you lost your mind? She's staying here."

I laugh. "How do you plan to make her?"

Poppy sticks her tongue out at Beckett before grinning at me.

"But Poppy," I say, "you know what this means?"

Her face falls as my gaze flickers to the sleeping puppies. "I have to leave them behind."

I nod. "Can you do that?"

She runs forward and hugs Beckett. "Don't leave me." So plaintive, so desperate. He lifts her into his arms and hugs her, eyes meeting mine.

"I won't leave you, Popsicle," he says. "I'll never leave you."

I have to look away or I'll cry, I know it, and I've been crying enough.

We're almost done packing, the time ticking by. I sit with the dog as he tolerates puppy torment and the giggles of the girls who play with them. Poppy is nowhere to be seen and I wonder if she's distancing herself on purpose.

"I don't suppose asking you to stay will do any good?" I stroke the dog's muzzle. He fixes me with a look that tells me not to bother so clearly I laugh.

"Everybody!" Poppy is suddenly standing on the counter, a huge smile on her face. "I have an announcement."

I rise to see what she's up to, the dog at my side. I'm smiling because she is, grinning so wide I wonder her face doesn't split. Beckett comes to stand beside me, a little frown on his face.

"Everyone," Poppy says, "today is a very special day, I just found out. Not just because we met Vander and are here in his beautiful house," she nods to him and he graciously nods back, "not just because we finally found a way to get Trio to New York," she nods at me, too. "But because it's someone's birthday." She points to Vander who presses a button. A large calendar appears on the wall behind her, some kind of computer screen. The date, June 14th, is circled in red. Poppy produces a small, round object from behind her back, a single candle in the middle. It takes me a moment to recognize it as some kind of processed sweet before Poppy holds the cake out to Vander. He lights it with a long match, face solemn. Poppy turns to Beckett who groans next to me, cheeks red. "It's Beckett's birthday," she squeals before breaking out into the birthday song.

I find myself singing along, almost choking on the hilarity of it, though part of me is amazed this tradition has lasted past the Sick, wondering how she even remembers it's the right day. Somehow, it doesn't seem to matter. A few of the kids struggle with the words, but they know the tune and manage to butcher it quite badly.

Poppy presents the cake to Beckett. "I knew it was close so I had Vander look up the date for me," she whispers. "Remember we used to celebrate, every year? You said it was important, a little thing we could do to keep who we were." She sighs softly. "We haven't done it in so long, Beckett. I want you to have a happy birthday."

He meets her eyes, a slow smile spreading. "You are the biggest brat." The others have started chanting, "Make a wish! Make a wish!" while the flame flickers in front of his face.

Beckett holds up his hands and everyone falls quiet. He makes a big deal out of closing his eyes. The dog whuffs beside me, head turning toward the hub door. I glance down at him. There's a change in air pressure, we both feel it. I turn back to Beckett, heart constricting, even as he leans forward to blow out the candle.

I'm too slow, the dog is stiffening, rising, I'm reaching for Beckett, a shout on my lips as the door bursts open and we're no longer safe at all.

***

# Chapter Forty Three

I know it's Cade before I see him. It's the only scenario that makes sense. And the guilty look on Genki's face tells me everything I need to know. I start after the red haired traitor, but he's running already and I'm suddenly blocked by a few of Cade's people.

Chaos breaks out. Vander's fury seems to take over. He attacks the invaders, so strong he's tossing them like they weigh nothing while Beckett slides behind the counter and retrieves his back pack. His bow, the one he used to rescue me from Cade the first time, is unstrung and he has no time.

None of us do. I see Cade's people rounding up kids, hear Emile roaring like a demon, see her go down under a press of bodies who take her to the ground with sheer weight. The sound of sobbing tears at me as the kids are herded out and back down the tunnel. Poppy lunges forward, arms outstretched for the terrified puppies, yapping underfoot. I act without thinking, going for her, Beckett right beside me. I block out the screams of the others, the terrible sound coming from Vander as he kills Cade's seemingly endless line of soldiers.

Poppy cries out as one of the attackers grabs her. He dies twice, once from the incredible blow from Beckett's fist to his nose, driving breaking bone into his brain and once from me as I knife my pointed fingers into his throat, crushing his windpipe.

Becket swings Poppy onto his back while I scoop up the puppies. We're already heading for the garden and the back door. Beckett grabs Socrates, dragging him out.

"No!" He tries to pull away. "I'm responsible for them!" Tears track down his face as he struggles. "Emile!"

Vander appears, heaves the boy over his shoulder. "We have to go."

We're running then, through the aquarium and into the garden. The moisture hits me in the face, the sound of pursuit loud enough I know we have very little time.

Genki appears before us, a length of wood in his hands. He looks crazed, out of his mind. "This is your fault!" His voice is a shriek. "You ruined everything." There's no doubt who of our little group he blames. We don't have time for this.

Dauphine appears out of the darkness, from behind an overflowing flowerbed. Something silver glitters in her hand. My throat goes dry as I rush toward Genki, terrified she will miss and he will hurt her. But she beats me to him, her aim much better than I gave her credit for, his blood suddenly on her hands. He collapses backward, mouth gaping open as he falls on her, dragging her to the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?" Cade's men are right behind us, grabbing at Vander, Beckett. The dog snarls, leaps up, knocking one back, but we are out of time.

I bend as I pass Dauphine, arms full of puppies, try to tug her free, but she pushes me away.

"Run, Trio!" She still has the knife, is waving it before her. "Just run!"

Smoke. I smell smoke. I'm running again, almost to the end of the greenhouse when I hear her scream in defiance, that scream cut suddenly short. The door clangs shut behind me. Vander pauses, driving a metal wedge deep under the door before bringing a bar down over it with an echoing clang. My ears ring, the puppies whining from the sound.

Vander shoves at Socrates who climbs, face empty. Beckett sends Poppy with him, right behind her. Vander offers me one of the backpacks, dumping the clothing it held onto the floor. I fill it with the squirming puppies, turning to the dog. He's already across Vander's shoulders.

We climb. I hear the clang of assault beneath us as someone tries to break through the door. Again. It's so loud it makes me jump every time. But they don't win through and we're almost to the surface when they stop trying.

The hatch whispers open overhead. It's not quite dusk, still light outside. I fear Cade's people will find us easily until I remember the other entrance was the only one Genki knew about. How he passed on his information I have no idea, but I have no doubt he managed.

We crouch in the long grass as Vander and I do our best to hide the exit with grass. Socrates is so deep in shock Beckett finally has to slap him to break him out of it.

"It's not your fault," he tells the boy, shaking him a little. "There was nothing you could do."

Socrates's lower lip trembles, his eyes locked on Beckett. And then he sobs, a deep, wrenching sound as he clutches Beckett and weeps. Beckett holds him gently, face a mask, but I know he's hurting just as much. He's only better at hiding it after years of going through it over and over again.

Vander's face crumples, but he turns away from the hatch, his home, his brother and family who are buried there now forever. "We have to move."

"Genki didn't know about the train." Socrates pulls himself away from Beckett. "If we hurry, if we're careful, we might get away with this yet."

He's right. I just hope our bad turn in luck isn't a streak. But as we run, I glance back and look from where we came. I smell smoke, down there underground. Cade is burning everything he can find, it appears. A thin line of it is rising from the hatch, a beacon climbing toward the darkening sky.

***

# Chapter Forty Four

It's not quite dusk when we stumble over the tracks on our way to the train, but we don't have much of a choice in the matter. We're almost killed by Chime's people before they realize who we are and let us pass.

Socrates staggers the last few feet, meeting Chime as she descends from the steam locomotive. Five cars have been attached to the back of it, one of them overflowing with coal.

"We need to go now." He's panting, clearly desperate. This will not go well.

Chime tenses up, backing away from him. "What's happening?" She looks around as an alarm sounds, distant, but with some meaning for her. "What have you done?"

There's no time to answer, not with several Crawler vehicles coming toward us. Chime turns and shouts for Ande. "Get this train moving!"

She spins, strikes Socrates across the face. "You'll get us all killed, you idiot!"

I won't tolerate it. I lunge forward and slam her against the side of the train, see her wince as something presses hard into her back. "Don't ever touch him again. Now, do as you've been paid and get us out of here."

Her fury is clear, but her fear of either me or the Crawlers is stronger.

I leap up the steps, the dog beside me, to find Ande desperately monitoring pressure gages. "Good thing I had this girl fired up already," he says, no trace of his stutter in evidence. "Hold onto something."

I grasp the side of the wall where a narrow bar is bolted, probably for just this purpose. The train jerks forward as Vander and Beckett join me, Poppy and Socrates a short space behind.

Ande shakes his head. "You can't b-b-be here," he snaps. "Keep moving b-b-back."

I don't know what he means, but Socrates does. I follow him out a small side door down the length of the locomotive toward the coal car. The train is moving, but not fast enough. The Crawlers are gaining on us, catching up. I hear a shout and look down the way we came.

Cade and his people come from the other direction and we're heading right for them. I point, see Beckett nod, grim. Chime runs toward us down the walkway, her face a mask of rage.

"Out of the way." She shoves us aside, enters the locomotive. Her people jump on board, loading more things in the following cars as they jog alongside, pulled up at last when they are done. We're still going slowly, more slowly than the Crawlers, but we're picking up more speed. I can only hope we're moving too fast by the time we reach Cade for him to find his way on board.

The rest is like slow motion torture. My fists clench around the iron railing, my head whipping back and forth first to the Crawlers, still slightly gaining, then to Cade, running right for us, back to the Crawlers. We'll be caught, I'm sure of it, but the Crawler vehicles seem to be having troubles, their wheels finding no purchase on the metal rails.

One Crawler emerges from the top of the lead vehicle, waves at me. I find myself waving back, though I have no idea why. As I do, I feel a thrill of something run through me as we finally leave the Crawlers behind.

I turn back, see Cade running toward me, leaping forward. My foot lashes out, catches him in the chest, sending him flying. His people aren't giving up, hurtling themselves at the train. I watch as someone latches onto Poppy, see her fall backward into the coal car with the attacker on top of her.

Beckett is already there when I reach her. I know this attacker, see him spin with a knife in his hand, lash out before Beckett can, my fist taking Brick, Cade's second in command, full in the face. His eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the side, out cold.

Poppy shoves him away from her, climbing to her feet, face scrunched as she tries not to cry. Beckett hugs her to him, turning her away so she doesn't have to see Brick.

"Shove him overboard." Socrates's anger is uncharacteristic. Vander, though he's lost as much, is a cooler head.

"He may have information." He looks at me like I'm the deciding member. I glare at Brick's unconscious body while the dog growls at him.

"Fine," I say. "Tie him up. Stow him. But if he doesn't have anything to tell us, we pitch him."

Socrates looks like he's going to volunteer both for the interrogation and the pitching and I'm pretty sure I'll be okay with that.

***

# Chapter Forty Five

I find myself sitting at the side of the open car, legs swinging into empty air as the train chugs its way through the darkness.

Chime's anger was spent hours ago in a temper tantrum where she threw things and threatened us with death. "I've lost half my crew," she raged. "They were still out gathering supplies. You understand that? Supplies? We have fuel," she snorted. "But nothing to eat or drink, you idiots." She had paced herself into further frenzy. "You've brought ruin to us all," she finally choked out. "Ruin." Unable to speak further, she'd stormed off, presumably to decide what else to do with her anger.

Ande appeared shortly thereafter to confirm what she said, but in gentler voice.

"It's true," he told us after we filled him in on why we were in such a hurry. "Though there is a station just before we leave territory, so we can load up there." He patted Socrates's shoulder on the way back to the locomotive. "I'm sorry about your people."

My heart goes to Emile and I wonder if she survived. I can see from the look on Socrates's face he's contemplating the same thing.

Brick woke a little while ago, but refused to speak, and I can only assume that hasn't changed. I left Socrates and Beckett arguing over who gets to throw him from the back of the train to perch here and be alone. I know neither of them means it. Now their tempers have quieted, they both realize Brick is a valuable source of information we can't afford to let go before he's told us what he knows.

And he'll tell us. One way or another.

I hug myself, the dog leaning into me, puppies happily playing with Poppy in the next car, while the train rattles and chugs and squeals its way into the darkness and I find myself wondering if what I'm doing will all be worth it.

Better be. I have a great deal to answer for.

###

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About the Author

Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I've wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I'm doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I've tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you've never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I've even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

Now with over 100 titles in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you've heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and multitude of pets.

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