

### SURVIVED

### by Jodie Kobe

(c) 2015 by Jodie Kobe
CHAPTER 1

V I V I A N

I'm staring at white.

It's the white that's keeping me here. The white that feels like it's closing in on me. Why am I inside this...capsule? This container?

There has to be a way out of this. If they put me in here, I can get out.

I just hope this door doesn't lock from the outside.

The layer of dirt and frost on the container's small window in front of me is thin, so it's not too hard to wipe it. I can't reach the other side of the glass to get the remaining dirt, so my view of where I am is still blocked.

My hands turn cold from running them over the frost, and the only thing I can do to keep them warm is to rub them against my clothes, which disappointingly, are not my regular white jeans and tank top.

It appears that someone has dressed me in thin, white material shaped into a t-shirt and a short skirt. The two fabrics are not enough to cover my body fully.

The environment is cold, but not cold enough for my breath to be visible. I peek through the dirt and frost on the window, hoping I can get a glimpse of anything past the filth. There's something gray.

Am I still in the underground building? Is this the color of their basement?

I hope so.

I place the palm of my hand against the wall in front of me, pushing on it and hoping it will give out. It doesn't budge, and I'm not surprised.

I notice something then. A dry, dark red shape just above my right elbow.

I crane my neck to examine it and see it's a wound. A wound turning into a scar. I have no idea where it came from. To me, it appears like someone attempted to dig something out of my skin, and succeeded.

I shudder and turn back to the door. My lungs aren't working properly, and every breath that I try to take is painful. How long will I last? Oxygen has to run out sometime, especially in a tight place like this one, where all four walls of the container are touching me.

I push at the wall to my left. It doesn't budge. I try the wall to my right, and am surprised when it bends at the force. Maybe this is the door? The wall is weak on this side, which means I might be able to break it open. I lean into it as much as I can, yelling, "Hey!"

No one answers, and I continue pushing at the wall. There's a faint crack.

I freeze, realizing what's happening. The wall is breaking.

With new determination, I use as much force as I can to try to break the thin wall down. A few more bashes and there's a loud snap.

I tumble out of the container, hands outstretched in front of me to break my fall, my eyes shut.

I land on a hard but sandy surface and gasp, my eyes flying open.

My gut twists.

Piles of black bags and large, white containers are scattered around me across the dirt. Strange thing is, all of these objects are big enough to hold a human being. Many are piled on top of one another, laying still. I try not to think about the contents inside the bags, but it just won't leave my head.

The container I had just fallen out of lays on top of several black bags and I shudder, scrambling to my feet. And for a few seconds, I take my eyes away from the bags to see what else surrounds me.

I can see the sky.

The environment around me is clearer than I remember it. I've been outside already, but I had been wearing a heavy suit. Thick, black dust had coated the air that time. This time, everything is almost clear. I can see what lies past me. I can see land. But it's gray. But it's here.

There is nothing keeping me from touching the air. There is no barrier, no mask, no suit.

And I'm not dead.

Why is the air like this, clean and cold? How long have I been here, buried around these bags and containers to miss what has happened?

I look around me and spot something very familiar not too far away from where I stand.

A glass hallway practically in the middle of a large, gray field. I've been in there before, locked out once.

The glass hallway is connected to a small building just large enough to fit about three or four people. And attached to that small portion of the building is an even larger building. But it's underground; not visible at all right this second.

I've lived inside there for what, a week, and what's happened to me now? Did they throw me out? Why aren't they out here with me? Isn't the air breathable again? I am able to breathe it? Can the people underground?

I bend down in front of one of the human-sized black bags and tear it open slowly, curious to know what's inside.

Not a great sight to see for someone like me.

There is a human body inside. Not someone I know. It's a dead woman, her face pale and dry, her lips blue. The skin around her closed eyes is a dull, black color.

The shriek I try to hold back comes out as a whimper. I push myself away from the corpse, only to bump into another bag behind me. I yelp and jump to my feet, trying hard to look elsewhere. My eyes concentrate on my bare toes instead. I take steady breaths, my hands over my head.

What is this? I'm surrounded by possibly dead human bodies right outside the underground complex.

Shakily, I hop over a bag and walk over to the container I had fallen out of. It's white and completely smooth, just like that machine I had to help Fox and Rian with. Fox and Rian. Where are they now? Are they buried underneath all of this too?

Small, black text catches my eye on the outside surface of the container. I bring my face closer to it and squint.

The word I see confuses me and makes my head spin: DISPOSE.

Dispose of whom? Me?

I check another container similar to the one I had been in. It's not too far away but I still have to step over bags to get there. The same word is in the same place on this container too. Surely the word doesn't mean that I need to be disposed of, right? They must mean the containers. The containers must be made of some sort of material that can't be recycled.

I let out a breath and look up at the sky. No matter how hard I think about the opposite of what could actually be possible, it keeps coming back, making my stomach twist. There is no avoiding the truth.

They threw me away. They threw all of these people away.

I break into a sprint, toward the glass hallway I see. If I can make enough noise to attract attention toward myself, I might be let back in.

My breaths are raspy and struggled when I finally reach the glass. It's self-healing, I learned back at the building. Jack Welds, the so-called leader of the facility, told me so. He had said this glass is weaker than his new and improved one. I had tried to break through this one when I had been locked out, but I hadn't gotten anywhere. It was Janelle who had showed up to let me back inside the building. Rob had locked me out. He's a crazy man, wanting to avenge his father's death. And apparently, I am his father's murderer. But where is he now? Where is everyone else now?

I peek through the glass walls, spotting the door the glass surrounds. That door leads back underground and into the large building. I just have to find a way to get to it.

I retreat a step and pull my leg back, about to swing at the glass with as much force as I can. I take a deep breath...and kick at the glass.

Nothing happens, and I'm not surprised. The only thing I get is a shot of pain through my foot. I pound on the glass with my fist, calling, "Hey! I'm here! Let me in!"

There has to be at least one camera here, watching what's going on outside. They have to see me.

I don't want to be stuck here forever.

Tears have started in my eyes, but I wipe them away with a finger.

A soft breeze blows my tangled, frizzy hair in my face. I swat at it, trying to get the strands out of my mouth.

I slide down to the ground, my back against the glass walls of the odd dome structure. My legs pull up to my chest, and I shiver. The temperature's dropping. Is it possible for me to freeze to death like I did last time—?

Last time?

Oh, no. Maybe that's why they threw me away. They think I'm dead.

No, no, no. I'm not dead, I'm not dead. I'm right here. I'm alive!

After shaking my hands around to get my adrenaline going, I jump to my feet, voicing my thoughts aloud. "I'm not dead!" I rap against the glass several more times. Someone has to hear me.

I continue to pound and kick it. Even though I get no results, I still try. I need to get some kind of signal to them, and this is the only idea I have.

A frustrated groan escapes from the back of my throat. I spin around, my back to the glass again. There is another entrance somewhere. I had used it with Rian and Fox for that "saving the earth's air" mission I had to completely. I know I failed, but have they? How long ago has that been?

I search the large, empty field for any sign of another portion of a building.

There's nothing to see for miles. The whole field is flat and endless. What exactly could be out there? More humans? Homes? Another underground facility?

A few seconds pass as I think over my options. I take a hesitant step forward, toward whatever empty land lies ahead of me.

Will it hurt to find out what's out there?

CHAPTER 2

V I V I A N

My feet strike the rocks and dry weeds.

I run, fumbling to keep my thin skirt down. It flies after me, and it doesn't help that it's so short. At least I'm not naked.

Somewhere along my run, my feet start to throb from the sharp rocks. I decrease my speed to a walk, grimacing as rocks and sand still dig into my toes. I've been running for a while, but nothing has come up on the horizon yet. There is no sun visible, so I can't be sure what time of day it is. The sky looks like it's getting darker, so maybe it's late in the afternoon?

I look around at the empty space around me. It feels like mankind has vanished. Earth looks dead. Has the machine we planted done its job? Has it actually cleared the air? It couldn't possibly have been one or two years already.

I stop to stretch, then sit down. My rest will only be a few minutes, I tell myself.

After several of unknown seconds, I declare myself ready to go again. When I'm on my feet, I run a quick hand through my t-shirt and skirt. I take one more look around, then let my feet take me forward.

~~~

The temperature drops.

I wrap my arms around myself, teeth chattering. I know a run will do me good, but I am too numb to speed up.

Keep moving, I tell myself. There aren't any warm places to hide myself in so another rest is going to have to wait.

Far in the distance, something dark and flat appears. I keep moving as I rub my hands together, squinting at the flat thing.

Is that...is that a road?

If my chin and mouth weren't frozen, I would smile. Even though this cold stings a lot, this is nothing compared to the one I felt when Fox, Rian, and I had stepped outside for that mission. That cold was much worse. I had collapsed and fell unconscious. I can live through this cold, hopefully.

Cracks line the backs of my hands. My skin has turned purple. I curl my fingers into fists and gradually start jogging, hoping the road I see leads somewhere. I'm not expecting it to guide me to people, but maybe there is an abandoned city somewhere out there. Maybe I can find a place to camp.

I pull in a few sharp breaths and run, doing my best to dodge as many rocks and sharp objects in my way. But I don't do a very good job of it.

My feet start feeling numb, and the spinning of my head follows. A faint, white color appears in my vision, but I don't know what it means exactly.

I'm thinking too much about what my next meal is going to be. I'm thinking too much about how I'm going to die from the cold. The thin material is not very protective.

My feet hit the surface of the black road. I continue to follow its path at a run until finally, I give up and start walking again. That's when I notice something.

Grass and plants have started appearing in large clumps all around me. And they're green. They actually have a color!

I crouch down and brush my fingers over the leaves of a small plant. These plants are growing out here, but not in the field with the underground complex. This environment is obviously more habitable. What if there are humans here?

My heart leaps with hope. I jump to my feet, snapping my head around to look at my surroundings. I could be right. The road must lead to something. A town? A city?

The large field around me is no longer as flat as before. It curves several times into hills. If I can get over those hills, I might be able to see what's on the other side of them. Human life, perhaps?

I touch a few flowers and continue moving toward the green hills. The amount of grass increases, and I find myself walking on softer, greener earth. It has been a long time ago since I last walked on something like this. How long, I don't know specifically.

I stumble up the rest of the large hill on all fours, standing up and brushing dirt off my hands and knees when I reach my destination. The sight around me makes my breath catch in my throat.

A field of green plants stand there, half my height. Across the tall grass, a gray brick tower hangs out. Right behind the tower is a small town. Light smoke rises from the rooftops of buildings, disappearing into the air. I can't believe. People live here? Who is welcome, though?

A metal fence winds around the whole town. I spot the entrance to the gate. Even though I'm far from all of this, I can see about half a dozen figures standing watch right outside the town, gathered by the gate doors.

There is no way they're letting me in.

But how is this town here? How are all these people here?

My nose is running from the cold. I sniffle, wiping it using the inside of my shirt. I brush my clothes off one last time and move forward, hoping I don't look too dead. The better I look, the greater chance I have of the figures letting me in. I don't think they want a sick human being living in their town.

My graceful entrance doesn't go as planned. As I near the gate, the guards catch sight of me. I startle them and they startle me. But I'm the only person who looses her footing and collapses to the ground, teeth chattering.

My eyes close. Every part of me is too numb to respond, to attack. Or even to move.

I hear one of the guards' voices. "Hey!"

A crunch of footsteps follows, and the voices get louder.

"Is she dead?"

Another voice, a low, male one answers with, "I don't think so."

"Ma'am?" This voice startles me because it's so close to my ear. It's a female voice. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

"Don't come too close. She doesn't look so good," another guard says.

A long cylinder-like object pokes me in the back. I tense but keep my eyes closed, knowing what it is. A gun.

I don't want to make any sudden movements. If I startle them, they might shoot. I start with a whisper, struggling with forming words because of my numb mouth. "P-p-please h-help m-me." I open my eyes and find myself staring up into six soldier's faces. They are wearing black vests over dark blue uniforms.

A long, silver gun is pointed at my head.

They take a step back simultaneously while one of them says, "She just said something."

I slowly raise my hand to my mouth, trying to massage it so it doesn't feel as frozen. The guards stay where they are, and I try again. "Please...help me."

One of them raises another gun at me, and I hold my breath. Two weapons are pointed at my body, but I don't know if the triggers are ever going to be pulled.

"Help you?" one of the male guards who's pointing a rifle at me says. "Help you with what?"

I rub my hands over my arms as a cold blast of wind hits my skin. "I'm c-cold. Please."

"She looks purple," a female guard says, glancing at the five guards around her. She looks to be the youngest out of all of the six. She glances at me. "Where'd you come from?" Then her gaze shifts to the field behind me. "Have you lived here before?"

Teeth still chattering, I shake my head.

The end of a rifle jams into my right hand, where a black tattoo winds around my fingers. It's the tattoo that's supposed to mark me as one of the projects. The projects who have synthetic hearts.

I breathe in and pull my hand to my chest, glaring at the man who has just poked me.

"What's that?" he spits.

"Looks to be some sort of tattoo," another says, crouching low to examine my tattooed hand cradled against my chest. He snatches my arm and yanks me painfully to my feet. "Up. Now." He spins me around to face the gate and jams his rifle into my back. I nearly fall over again. "Move it."

Two of the guards push half of the gate doors open, and I'm shoved toward them. One of the female guard's voices whispers, "What if she's a spy?"

A low laugh follows. "In the condition she's in, I don't think so. Besides, if she tries anything, I'll shoot her."

Two guards accompany me through the gates while the rest stay behind. The youngest one, and the guy who rammed a rifle into my hand. He pushes me forward, and I nearly gasp as I see what's in front of me.

I'm through the fence and in the town.

Short, beaten up buildings surround me, roads winding past and around them. The town is alive. Vehicles on wheels pass me, and the smell of exhaust reaches my nostrils. I cough and wave a hand in front of my face, aware that I am not used to this sort of stuff.

The temperature has risen here, but I'm still shivering. Pedestrians turn their heads my way as they see me, a stranger, being accompanied by two guards.

People actually live here. That's incredible. How long have they been living—?

I'm ripped out of my amazed state with a poke to my spine by the end of a rifle. I grimace but keep walking. If only I could snatch that gun out of the guard's hand. But then I'd get shot down by someone else, and it won't be a good ending for me.

"Walk," the male guard commands.

I don't know why I'm out here. I don't know what's happening. I don't know anything.

"W-where are you taking me?" My voice comes out as a squeak.

The question is partly answered when the guard spins me in the direction of a small building. A tall man dressed in a dark blue uniform blocks the entrance door. As we get closer, I spot white letters stitched on the front of his suit: OFFICER.

The two guards accompanying me stop walking, halting me in place with a hand on each of my shoulders. The officer in front of us holds his hand out, saying, "You're here for what business?"

The male guard gestures to me with a flick of his head. "Stray," he says.

The officer looks me up and down. "Homeless, I'm guessing," he says.

The male guard nods his head. "Yes, but we found her outside the gate."

The officer's eyes narrow as he takes another look at me. His head tilts to the side. "An outsider?" he whispers. "Where did she come from?"

The young female guard by my side snatches my hand, holding it up for the officer to see. I want to pull it back, but I hold still as he examines the black tattoo.

"This could mean something," the young guard says.

The officer's eyes open wider, and his gaze flicks from me to the two guards by my side. He looks back down at my inked hand, taking a small breath of air. He rubs his eyes with his fingers and says, "This is..." He trails off, eyes drilling into mine. "Where did you come from?" he demands firmly.

I shrug. "It's far..." I hesitate. "Underground." But it sounds more like a question.

The officer frowns and addresses the next words to the two guards. "Show her to the commander. He has to see this."

"Where is he?" the female guard says quickly.

"The quarters," the officer answers. He points to the door he's blocking. "Lock her up. I'll send someone to fetch him."

My feet refuse to move as the two guards head to the door the officer is no longer blocking. They want to lock me up?

The male guard yanks me to the door. "Move, lady," he says.

While the door is being opened, I pull on the arm the guard has a hard grip on and say, "Why are you locking me up?" I hope it's temporary.

A small smile forms on the female guard's face, but I don't know if it's supposed to calm me or frighten me. She says, "It'll be fine. The commander will see you soon."

I'm shoved into the small building. It's lined with brick walls and rusty cell bars. It stinks of decay and metal inside. Boxes and large bags are scattered across the floors of the cells. The cold cement stings my feet.

I'm overcome with a feeling of déjà vu as I look at these cells. But I'm not visiting anyone this time. I'm being locked up.

The male guard throws me into the first open cell and slides the doors shut after I've stumbled through the doorway. The two guards linger in the room for a moment longer, giving me a chance to ask them a question. "Who's your commander?" My voice sounds too loud for my liking.

The male guard grins through the bars. "It's a surprise."

That is all they have left to say to me. When they turn to leave, I look down at my hands and listen to the clicking of their footsteps as they head out of the room.

"Well...welcome." The raspy voice startles me. I turn my head around, trying to locate the source. But I can't find it. All I see are people that I did not bother to notice before. They sit behind the boxes and bags in the cells. Their figures are not bone thin like I expect them to be. Some of the clothes they wear are rags, while others look new.

Someone smirks. "Nice outfit."

I don't reply to the voice. I only take a breath and try to fix the position of my short skirt before sitting down in a corner of my cell. It's chilly in here, but not as it is outside.

How long will I be staying here? And how long have these people been here?

Instead of giving the prisoners the attention they want from me, I look down at the cracks in the cement.

A few voices echo around the room in whispers, but I can't hear what they are talking about. I keep my head down even when I hear the door at the end of the room swing open. Loud voices let themselves in. Footsteps follow.

Then they stop, and the whole room goes silent. It feels as if someone is standing right outside my cell.

I lift my head.

The male guard who had accompanied me here has returned. Standing by his side is a tall, dark-skinned man. His black hair is cut short, matching the style of a freshly cut lawn. He stands straight with his eyes cast on me. Two badges are clipped to the chest of his dark uniform. One says: CDR.

The other says: CARNEZ.

The male guard gestures to me, his head turned toward the tall man."This is the girl," he says.

The man nods. "I am aware."

The male guard's attention turns to me. "Your hand. Show him."

Slowly, I lift my right hand, showing the black tattoo to the man.

He goes still for a moment, but steps back and puts his hands behind him.

The male guard clears his throat. "Do the tattoos mean anything?"

The man's eyes narrow slightly. "No."

I press myself deeper into the wall and say, "Who are you?"

The tall man shakes his head. "No, miss. Who are you?"

CHAPTER 3

V I V I A N

I don't introduce myself.

The dark-skinned man sighs. "Very well," he says. "I'll tell you who I am first, then you'll share something about yourself. Will that work?"

I shrug.

He nods. "I'm known as Commander Denham Carnez. My job here is to keep this town in order, but there's someone else who's in charge of this society. If you ever need him, you'd have to look for Marcus Kent." Denham wraps his left hand around a cell bar and leans forward. His right hand is behind his back. "So, where are you from?

He's asking me what place I have just come from, but I don't answer the question. Instead, I say, "I don't know where I was born."

A small smile forms on his lips. It's not clear if he's annoyed or amused. "Not where you were born, but where you had been living prior to your arrival here." He leans away from the cell and straightens his posture. "You've never lived here before. It's shows. A lot." He gestures to me, probably indicating my outfit. "Stands out too much."

I tug on my skirt subconsciously and cross my arms. My back is still against the wall. "Will you ever let me out?"

A voice shouts out from one of the cells unexpectedly. "Why should he?" Soft laughter echo around the room. I glance down at my feet, feeling my face reddening.

Denham waves a hand at the male guard next to him. The commander's hand shoots out and he waits until the guard drops a key into his palm.

I watch as the key is inserted into my cell's lock. There's a faint click and the door is slid open.

Denham steps back to clear the doorway, keeping his right hand behind his back. I look down at his hidden arm, wondering if there's anything wrong with it, or he's just doing that out of habit. Quickly, I look away; only because I feel if I stare too long, I might come off as weird. If I don't already, that is.

Denham gestures for me to stand up, but I hesitate before doing so. Once I'm on my feet, I move slowly toward the open doorway of the cell. Maybe this is some sort of trick. What if they change their minds at the last minute and shut the door right in my face?

Everyone's eyes are on me, even the prisoners'. Denham waves again and sighs. "Well? We don't have all day."

I hurry out of the cell, and the door is shut behind me. A few groans echo throughout the room.

"Oh come on," one prisoner calls out. "Let me out too."

Without a reply, Denham guides me out the exit door with the male guard trailing behind us.

I'm standing outside again, inhaling the air. Denham snaps his fingers, and without hesitation, the guard with us steps forward until he's right beside the commander.

Denham tells him, "Fetch me some gloves. We will be in the meeting quarters."

The guard presents him with a salute and a "Yes, sir" before walking off.

Soon it's only Denham and me, heading toward a black jeep. One of its wheels look deflated, but I barely give any attention to that. My worry is not knowing where Denham's taking me.

I want to walk backwards, away from Denham. But he'll catch me. I'll be shot, so there's really no point in running.

Why am I so important all of a sudden? Unless I'm not, and Denham's only leading me someplace where I can be quietly executed.

I pull myself up onto the back of the jeep without waiting for Denham's invitation. When I catch a glance back at him, I see him shrugging, then grabbing a seat at the front of the jeep in the passenger's side. A driver, wearing a dark blue uniform, sits behind the steering wheel.

The jeep pulls forward. We're driving away from the curb, accelerating as we head deeper into the town.

The car careens to the left, and I grab on to the car seat in front of me. My head whips left and right, but I don't know what I'm looking for. Something else to grab on to in this dangerous ride?

I don't trust the driver, as I've only met him a couple of seconds ago. He shouldn't be going this fast, especially in a small town like this.

Buildings and pedestrians zip by. Every sharp turn makes my stomach twist, but neither the driver nor Denham seem to be bothered by any of this. They make small talk, completely ignoring me.

The car finally comes to a halt, and I nearly let out a loud sigh of relief. I practically jump out of the vehicle even before Denham exits. The driver remains in the car.

Once Denham's out, the car pulls out of parking and disappears down the road. I turn my attention to what catches my eye behind me. A tower.

This tower must be the meeting quarters Denham mentioned earlier.

I realize my assumptions are wrong as soon as Denham says, "That is the watchtower." He points to a small brick building right next to the tower. "We're heading there."

I give him a few nods to tell him I understand, but my feet don't stride after him.

It's not too late to run, I tell myself. Just run. He's got his back turned.

As I'm about to spin around to face the road (my exit) another jeep pulls up next to the curb.

The male guard from earlier hops out, carrying a small paper box. Denham turns to face him and my chances of escape disappear.

"You requested gloves, sir," the guard says. pulling two blue material pieces of latex from the box. As the blue material is pulled over Denham's hands, I see that it's just gloves. Now his right hand is no longer behind his back. It's relaxed by his side, which makes my stomach tug with suspicion. Is he hiding something?

With gentle but cold fingers, he grabs my shoulder and steers me in the direction of the small brick building.

The guard follows, holding the paper box out to the commander. "Would you like to take this, sir?"

Denham starts dismissing the offer but takes the box of gloves anyway. "Thank you. I'll take this to the meeting quarters." He motions for me to continue following him.

I do, but with the guard right behind me violating my personal space. It's as if he's afraid I'll make a run for it.

We reach the door to the brick building and Denham lets me enter first.

I am surprised.

The building looks small from the outside, but it's even smaller on the inside. About a dozen people hang around. They look up at all three of us as we enter. I feel as if their gaze stays on me the longest. I'm the stranger, I guess.

I cross my arms and try to look somewhere else. Maybe the floor. My thin clothes aren't making me feel better either. I wish someone would give me something else to change into.

But my clothes aren't better than this room. The walls are stained black and scratched. A lit fireplace is in the far corner of the room, but the fire is about to die out. No one pays attention to it, even as the last of it's wood yells out for help. Carpet has been laid out across floor. It's worn-out and thin, letting in whatever chill is outside invite itself in. Two battered couches sit in the middle of the room, occupied by a couple of people. The rest of the people in the room sit in chairs.

A woman speaks up, voice high-pitched. "Who's she?"

Denham puts a hand on my shoulder but I take a step to the side to avoid him. He points a finger at me instead and says, "She hasn't told me her name yet."

A man sitting in one of the chairs in the room coughs into his hand. His fingers wipe his nose as he says, "So what is your name?" He turns to look at me, one eye squinted.

"Uh." I rub my wrist and look up at the ceiling, trying to pretend like I'm the only one here. However, everyone's figure still appears in my peripheral vision. I breathe out once, then finally decide to tell them my real name. It comes out slow and reluctant. "Vivian."

The man who asked me my name scoffs and leans back in his chair. "Your name's Vivian?" He says it like he doesn't believe me.

I nod. "It's Vivian."

"And where did you come from, Vivian?" he asks, almost spitting my name out.

Instead of answering, I turn to Denham and say, "Is there an extra change of clothes I could get?"

He looks me up and down, pauses, then snaps his fingers twice. A man on one of the couches rises. "Yes, commander?"

Denham points his thumb in my direction. "Find her something else to wear."

The man nods and disappears through a narrow door I have not seen before. Denham moves his thumb to a chair in the room, telling me, "Sit down."

I clutch at the hem of my shirt and clear my throat uncomfortably. "I'll stand until I have something else to wear."

Denham shrugs and takes a careful seat in the couch behind him. He folds his arms over his chest. "So Vivian, how did you find this town?"

I give a casual shrug. "Oh, you know...I was walking...and then I..." I don't continue. Should I tell them about the underground building? Do they really need to know the truth of where I actually came from? I decide they do not.

Denham is still waiting for my response. "Then you what?"

I shake my head and decide to take Denham's offer by lowering myself in a chair. I scoot to the edge and keep my shirt flat against my thighs.

Denham watches me for a moment. "You...don't want to talk about it?" he asks.

I shrug.

The only thing I can hear in the room is the crackling of the flames. Someone coughs.

The silence is interrupted from the returning man. In his hands he carries clothes. One is a worn-out dark blue sweatshirt, while the other material is a pair of dark pants. Not jeans, but pants. Too large to fit me.

"I scavenged around the storage closet and found these," the man carrying the clothing says.

Denham pushes himself to his feet. "That'll do," he says, taking the clothes from the man's hands. He tosses me the outfit, but I only manage to catch the sweatshirt. As I examine it, I spot a few stains and holes here and there.

The pants have no pockets, and no pleasant smell either. It's odor carries a wet carpet smell. What appears to be white dog hairs cling to the fabric, but really, I have no idea what that could be.

I feel a cringe form on my face. Well, something is better than nothing, so I'm fine with this. The smell will disappear soon anyway.

I mutter a thanks for the clothes. No one suggests a changing room so I pull the black pants on over my skirt, right where I'm standing. I shake the sweatshirt out once before pulling that over my head. After I'm finished, I sit back down onto the chair and try to ignore the stares.

"Finished?" Denham asks as he sits back down onto the couch. He doesn't wait for my reply but asks the next question. "Did someone send you?"

I stuff my hands into my pockets, then pull them out quickly. "Nope," I say.

Denham waits for additional information, but that's all I have for him. He leans forward on the couch and props his elbows on his knees. "Did you come here alone?"

"Yes."

"How did you get here?" Denham asks slowly.

I chuckle but attempt to keep a straight face as I say, "I walked."

Denham nods. "You said that before. How long were you walking for? Days? Hours? Minutes? Weeks? Aren't you hungry?"

I might have felt hungry when I was out walking in the cold, but I feel better sitting here.

"A couple of hours" is my answer.

Nobody in the room says anything then, and I count one, two, three, four...to hear the seconds pass. Maybe Denham has run out of questions to ask me.

...thirteen, fourteen, fifteen—

"You must be hungry," Denham cuts in.

I'm about to object but don't. What can I say anyway?

Denham stands up and tells me to do so too. I do without objection.

Two people shoot salutes at the commander as he leads me out. He closes the door and we start walking through the street and toward a building with the letters cafe written across its door. A bell jingles as both of us enter the bar. The inside is almost deserted except for one lonely customer in the corner of the room, an employee looking like he's about to doze off, and an elderly janitor scrubbing vigorously at a stain on the floor.

The place looks better than the meeting quarters, but it's not far from becoming a pigsty. It's definitely not a place a commander would enjoy hanging out in.

The worker spots us as we near the counter he's at. He flashes me a quick grin and turns to Denham. "Sir?"

Denham points a finger at me. "Get her something."

Just as I had anticipated, the worker asks me what I would like. Unfortunately, I am not too familiar with what they make here, so all I say is "Could I see a menu?"

Both of them let out a laugh as if they think this is amusing. The worker reaches from underneath the counter and slaps a piece of paper down on the table. Letters at the top of the paper say: MENU.

So it exists. Their laughs made me think there is no menu.

I choose a grilled-cheese sandwich. Before walking off, the worker tells me it'll be ready in a minute.

I plop down onto a chair and wait. Denham sits down across from me and folds his hands on the table between us. Since I hate silence, I say, "Why here?"

Denham's voice is a whisper when he says, "I know where you came from."

I stare at him. "Um...what do you mean?" I look down at my hands in my lap, specifically at the tattoo.

"I mean," he starts, "I know where you lived before you found us."

"Where...?" I pause. "Where did I live, then, if you're so smart?"

He doesn't react to my last sentence. His answer is calm. "A large facility underground. You were frozen before, and they brought you back to life."

He says it like he's positive about this. He says it like he's lived through it himself.

I stay silent as I hold his gaze, my hands still clasped together on my lap.

Our staring contest is interrupted when an object wrapped in brown paper is dropped down onto our table. I look up to see the same employee we had talked to standing there, an innocent smile on his face.

"Your lunch, madam," he says. He turns on his heels and heads back to his place behind the counter.

I mutter a late "Thanks" and scoop the object up, peeling the brown paper off. What greets me is an almost soggy grilled-cheese sandwich.

When I tear it in half, I almost offer one of the pieces to Denham. Then I remember he's probably already eaten and there is no way he eats food like this. I imagine luxurious food.

"It's true, isn't it?" Denham asks, referring to our interrupted conversation. He's expecting me to cover it up, to tell him I've never been to an underground building.

To avoid answering, I stuff half of my sandwich into my mouth, suddenly remembering no one had paid for this. The sandwich disappears down my throat faster than I want it to so I'm faced with saying something to Denham.

"How exactly do you know this?" I ask. "Have you been there too?"

That's the only explanation. He had been in the underground building once. How did he get to this town?

Denham doesn't answer for a few seconds. He leans back in his chair.

It's highly likely that he's been there.

His answer is "No."

I scoff. "Yeah right."

Denham crosses his arms. "No, it's true. I've never been there. Have you maybe thought that there could be someone else who found us and told me everything about it?"

I take another bite of my sandwich. He has a good point actually. I guess I'm wrong. It's not highly likely that he lived in that underground building once. "Who is it?"

Denham shakes his head. "I can't tell you that."

"Why?" My mouth is filled with bread and cheese so the word comes out as a mumble. "I won't do anything to him...or her. I promise," I add. Promises coming from me probably mean nothing to him. He doesn't know me, and he might think I'm a spy, just like those guards outside the town think I am.

Denham flicks something off of his uniform's sleeve but doesn't look back up at me. He stares at his gloved hands. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

I'm expecting that answer. "How long ago was it?" If Denham is telling the truth, and there is someone who found this town the same way I had, then there might be a chance I know them. Maybe.

Denham scratches his chin, his gaze locked on the spot in middle of the table. "Uh...I believe it was five years ago." He stops and seems to be thinking something over. Then he says, "He's dead now. You can't see him."

I freeze. Dead? How did he die? And how exactly had he been able to walk in poisonous air? Fox, Rian, and I had to wear protective suits to be able to even set foot outside. I had fallen unconscious during the mission, of course. But how come I'm alive now?

"What year is this?" I ask. In my head, I'm repeating, Please let it be 2075, please let it be 2075, please let it be 2075. Because it was 2075 when I had stayed in that underground complex. There was no dust coating the air in that gray field like there was when I first set foot outside with Fox and Rian. Maybe years have passed since the last time I was alive.

Denham laughs. "Shouldn't you know? It's 2076."

My mouth is partly open, so I shut it, smashing the brown paper wrapper into a ball. How far into 2076 are we?

"What's the current date?" I say, shaking a little now. I have to know the date. I have to know how much time has passed.

"June 10th, 2076."

I let out a weak laugh a few seconds after he says that. He's joking, right? That can't be. I couldn't have been dead for half a year. How many times have I died in my lifetime? Twice? No. That's too much. I think my head's starting to spin. Goddammit, why is this so hard to grasp?

Just calm down, Vivian, I try to comfort myself. It doesn't work. My head drops onto the table and I stay there, hands over my head.

Nobody talks for a while, not even the worker. He doesn't come over here to see if I'm okay.

I continue to breathe in and breathe out, hating myself for freaking out like this.

Finally, someone speaks. "Do you need any water?" It's Denham.

I shake my head to answer his question.

He asks another one. "Do you want anything else to eat?"

I shake my head again.

"Do you need anything else?"

I'm about to shake my head for the third time when I remember I do need something else. I need a place to stay.

My head feels heavy as I lift it up to look at Denham. He's not sitting in the chair anymore. He's on his feet. I didn't hear him stand up.

"Do you have an extra house around here somewhere?" I ask.

He fixes his coat collar as he says, "We do, but I'm not about to give it to you. You'd have to be a resident of this town in order to be able to have your own house...or your own job. But you're not, so no. What we do have is a cell. The same cell you were placed in when you were found." He moves on to fix his sleeves.

I slide lower in my chair, not sure how much freedom I'll be given if I do accept his offer. But what if this isn't even an offer?

Denham smiles like he has just won a prize. "Back to the cell then." He pulls me to my feet and walks me straight out of the restaurant.

"W-wait, wait," I stutter out. "Are you going to leave my cell door open, or am I going to be a prisoner there?"

Denham laughs. "Let's see. You've never lived here, you don't have an ID, and you're a complete stranger." His voice turns sarcastic. "I wonder if we should let you go."

I tug on the arm he's holding. "You can't—I'm not a criminal!" My voice comes out fast and high-pitched. "Please...I'll get an ID. I'll become a citizen. Just give me time—"

Denham cuts me off. "Rules are rules. You're here illegally."

I stop fighting him and let him drag me outside the restaurant. There's already a jeep waiting.

"Why did you even get me out of the cell in the first place?"

Denham pushes me into the jeep. The driver of the vehicle is the same one as last time. Denham says, "I wanted to see who this new girl with the strange mark on her hand is. I wanted to see if she is a threat or not. She's not." He doesn't get into the vehicle. He throws me a salute as the driver pulls the car forward. I can't yell anything back at Denham because the car pulls around a corner and we're on the road again.

I'll be stuck in a cell. But for how long?

CHAPTER 4

V I V I A N

My knees are pulled up to my chest.

I'm in the corner of a cell. The clothes that have been given to me keep me warm. However, I still can't help but shiver. It's either because of the environment I'm surrounded by, or the thought that I'm never getting out of here.

Some of the prisoners' whispers fill the cells, but their voices don't drown out the faint drip, drip, drip in the room. I don't go around searching for the source of the sound because I know I won't be able to locate it.

There's a kid, somewhere around the age of ten, in the cell adjacent to mine. He's rearranging the bags in his cell silently, and I find myself watching him.

He realizes my eyes are on him, but he continues working without pausing. I decide to leave him alone and crawl over to the two bags in my own cell. My attempt at flipping one over doesn't go so well, but now I know they're heavy. It's likely that they are filled with sand.

I struggle to drag the large bag of sand to my desired corner of the cell. But when I finally reach the spot, I sit down, the bag right underneath me.

"How long have you been in here?" I ask the kid still rearranging his bags.

The boy shrugs. "One week."

He came here a week ago, and what had I been doing? Too busy being dead?

"How often do you get fed?" I ask, waving my hand around to indicate to everyone in the room.

The boy waves his own hand around. "Look around. What do you see?"

I turn my head, eyes settling on as many people that are in my view. They look full and healthy, despite the dirt caked around their clothes and skin.

I want to ask the boy the reason why he's here, but I figure that question is too personal. I wouldn't even be comfortable sharing my own reason.

I leave the kid be and start picking absently at the worn-out sleeve of my sweatshirt. My eyes skim over the cracks on my cell's concrete floor. Sitting here with my mind filled with fear causes my thoughts to drift to Rian. What might he be doing? Painfully, I start wondering if he is responsible for throwing me out. Does he know I'm alive? Is he alive?

I turn my head back to the kid, wanting to ask him if anyone ever broke out of these cells. But before I even get the first word out, the door to the large room is thrown open. Three guards walk in, pulling a woman behind them by her arm. Everyone has their eyes on her now. She tries tugging her arm out of their grasp, grimacing. One of the guards pushes her forward, and she gasps with surprise as she falls to her knees. She picks herself up the second after she falls.

The guards pause in front of my cell, exchange a glance with each other, and decide I'll be sharing my cell with the woman. In a few seconds, she's tossed into my cell. As soon as the guards leave the large room, the silence that has been hanging in the air ends.

"Two prisoners in one day," a voice calls out. "You two know each other?"

I take a look at the woman, which now I see looks closer to being a teenage girl than an adult. She finds her own corner of the cell and pulls her knees up to her chest. Her black hair has been cut short to her shoulders, and she wears mostly gray. She does not look familiar, so I shake my head. "I don't know her."

"And I don't know you," the girl says. Her voice is deeper than normal but not by much. It's steady and loud enough to be heard. There is no fear on her face either.

"Then why are you here?" the same voice in the room asks.

A smirk appears on the girl's face, but only briefly. She keeps quiet and stands up to walk over to the far wall of the cell. She presses her palms against the concrete and pauses.

A few snickers echo around the room. "What are you doing now?" an annoyed voice asks. "Escaping?"

The girl smiles a little and taps the wall. "No, of course not." She lets out a sigh and slumps back down onto the floor, her back against the wall. The smile doesn't leave her face, and some lady in tight clothing in the cell next to ours notices. She crawls over to the bars separating both of our cells. "What are you smiling about?" she asks the girl.

No answer comes out of her. She looks down at her shoes and her smile drops.

The lady moves back to her usual position and the room is silent for a while until...

Tap, tap, tap.

My gaze shifts to the girl and her face lights up at the sudden sound. It's coming from the other side of the wall, outside.

The girl jumps to her feet, turning to the wall to tap on it. She doesn't call anything out, only taps. If she's trying to send someone a signal, I don't think it's loud enough to be heard.

The prisoners in the room are interested in what's happening. They start turning toward the girl, wondering aloud "What the hell she's doing."

The three taps repeat from the outside, louder this time. The girl looks almost excited. She focuses on tapping the wall with her hands, and when three more taps sound from the outside, she sits back down, the excitement gone as fast as it had appeared.

"What was that about?" someone asks.

"Nothing" is all the girl says.

~~~

The day is tedious and long. I barely talk to the girl and she barely talks to me. However, a few people attempt to get a word or two out of her about what she had been doing. As expected, she doesn't budge.

Two officers in dark blue uniforms come, pushing a cart in front of them. When they stop at my cell, I see they're carrying food. Two one-inch thick cardboard boxes slide through the bars of each cell. The girl snatches hers before I can get to mine. She tears through the box and pauses, forehead creasing as she examines the inside of her box.

Curious what's inside my own box, I pull it toward me and open it slowly. The girl is already eating something, but I don't get to see what it is. I reach into the box at my feet and pull out a spherical object wrapped in silver paper. A little too late, I realize steam wafts from the object. A hot stinging sensation travels up my hand and I drop the thing, giving a startled yelp.

The girl laughs. "It's a potato, if you didn't know."

Carefully pulling the silver paper away from the object the girl calls a potato, I nod. "I know it's a potato." That's a complete lie.

Once the paper is peeled off, I see that it is, in fact, a small potato. I'm about to use my hands to split it in half when I notice a white plastic knife inside the open box. It'll be a good weapon, I think, glancing over at the girl. She eyes the plastic knife in my hand. I'm not sure if she's thinking the same thing, or she just thinks I'm going to stab her. The thought of stabbing triggers a memory, but I push it away and focus running the knife through the food instead.

"You want to share that?" the girl suddenly asks.

I look up at her and narrow my eyes. Doesn't she have her own food?

She moves closer. "Please? I'm starving."

An image of her pouncing on me flashes through my mind. "You have your own food," I point out, continuing to search through my box. There's an apple, a plastic fork, a sheet of blank paper, and a red, plastic cylindrical container.

I watch the girl out of the corner of my eye. "Don't you have your own potato?"

She shakes her head and tips her box sideways so I can see everything in it. She's right. Inside, there is the same plastic cube I have, a banana, and something wrapped in clear, plastic packaging. She uses her index finger and thumb to grab the corner of the plastic, raising it from the box so I can see it better. "Peanut butter and jelly sandwich," she says. "I'm allergic."

I don't know what to say to that, so the only sound that comes out of my mouth is "Uh."

"Trade you?" she asks, waving the sandwich at me. "You're not allergic either, are you?"

I shake my head. At least I don't think I am. The memory of my past life is vague. Only a fuzzy memory of my family hangs around.

"What would happen if you ate it?" I ask. I'm mostly asking for the sake of my safety. If I eat it and I am allergic, what would happen to me?

The girl looks at me like I'm crazy. "Uh...I'll suffocate. Maybe die." She emphasizes the last word with a wave of her hand. Swinging the sandwich at me again, she repeats, "Trade you?"

She can trade with anybody in this room. Maybe the kid next to my cell; maybe the lady on the other side of my cell. But no, she chooses to trade with me.

A frustrated sigh comes from the back of my throat. Very reluctantly, I use a finger to push the steaming potato her way. Her face brightens and she tosses the sandwich into my face. Then, holding her hand out, she says, "Knife, please."

I scoff. I'm generous enough to give her my potato, but there is no way I'm going to give her the knife.

She scoffs back mockingly, and I curl my fingers into fists and grit my teeth. She gives me one finally glance before moving over to the farthest corner of the cell. She eats it with her fingers, not at all bothered by the hot food.

I decide to leave her alone and focus on tearing open the sandwich bag. A heavy soggy sandwich slides out and I'm reminded of the grilled cheese one I ate several hours ago. I tear a piece off to see what's instead. It appears to have some sort of a sticky, light brown and purple substance inside. I take a reluctant bite and chew, surprised by the taste but also watching out for any signs of allergies. Nothing.

The girl is still eating her potato, but she's looking at me.

"You like it?" she asks as if I'm a child that has just been handed a lollipop.

I nod once and drop the plastic knife into my sweatshirt pockets. "What else do you do here?" I ask, directing the question to anyone in the room. Nobody wants to answer it except that kid next to my cell. He's buried himself in the heavy sandbags but pops his head out to answer me.

"I've only been here for a week so I don't know everything we do," he says. "But I heard they bring us outside three times a week."

I nod absently and look down at the rest of the contents in the box by my side. The apple and the red can are left. I point to the girl's box. "Want to trade something else?" I ask her.

She finishes her potato and lifts her banana in the air. "This thing for what?"

I show her the apple.

She shrugs and tosses me the banana. I hand her the apple.

A voice from the room calls out, "Oh, you're trading now, eh?"

Nobody comments.

After a few minutes, the only thing I have left in my box is the red can. I ask the kid buried in the sandbags what's inside, but he just says, "Find out for yourself."

"How do I open it?" I ask.

He repeats the same thing.

~~~

The cell room grows dark after a few hours and I realize there is a window by the building's exit. The girl and I barely exchange any words. I sit in my corner and stare at the ground.

I can't think of a plan to get out of here. I can't talk to anybody because they would rather talk to themselves. The only thing I can do is close my eyes and sleep.

The ground is hard and cold, and the sandbag I'm using isn't exactly comfortable either. Everyone else has fallen asleep, even the girl. She's spread out on the cold floor, her hands over her face.

The constant sound of dripping water echoes throughout the room. I've been staring at a spot on the floor for a while now, my mind completely blank.

Someone mumbles, but I don't move. The girl stirs, but remains asleep.

I let out a breath and stretch my legs out, leaning farther into the corner I'm at. I should try to sleep.

My eyelids fall shut, and I wait, placing my cold hands over my eyes. An itch starts along my back, but I ignore it, turning over on my side.

The sound of dripping water and the snoring puts me to sleep.

I'm walking in the middle of nothingness...but then, a strange sound starts. A scratching. More like a concrete object against another concrete object. I spin around, trying to locate the source of the sound. All I see is an endless field. Then, soft whispering, almost inaudible. I catch a quick word. "...leave..."

What's going on?

A crunch of footsteps wakes me.

I pry my eyes wide open and notice that it's still nighttime. But the room has brightened.

I turn my head to the source of the small light and nearly freeze.

The girl is gone.

And right in the wall I'm leaning against, is a hole, big enough for a girl—the girl—to fit through.

She escaped with someone.

And I can escape right along with her.

My heart rate picks up as I pull myself to my feet. My eye is on the hole in wall the entire time.

The wall is made of bricks. They've been pulled out, but how? But happened to the person the girl had been trying to signal? Are they part of this?

I pat my pockets, trying to find the plastic knife from earlier. It's not there, and I can't be sure if the girl took it. I look around the room, trying to locate any white objects in the cell. There's nothing.

I need to forget about the knife and leave. How much damage would I be able to do with it anyway?

I peek through the hole in the wall, relieved to see it leads outside. There are no guards, no dogs, no alarms.

I glance behind me, at all the sleeping people.

They should be able to get out too, but I can't wake them up right now. They'll just make too much noise. And I have no way to free them.

I bring one of my legs out, still bracing myself for a shout from a guard. But it's silent.

This is my chance to get out, and I'm taking that chance.

CHAPTER 5

R I A N

"Careful with that box, Callum," Dr. Dara Janelle says as soon as I step into the room. She has her back to me, so I'm not sure how she knows I'm the one standing at the doorway.

My hands fumble to fix the position of the metal box I'm holding. "I am careful," I mumble.

Her head turns to me, and in a sing-songy voice (a tone I've never heard her use before), she says, "Oh I don't think so." With her head, she gestures to the only desk in the room. Her voice is back to normal as she adds, "Set it there."

A grunt of understanding will do from me. The walk to the table is quick, and I use it to get a good stretch on my legs. As gingerly as I can, I lower the heavy box onto the desk, grimacing.

Janelle's still searching through the cabinet in front of her instead of giving her attention to the new box in the room. She takes her time, unlike most people living in this underground complex.

I'm still confused on what Janelle thinks of me. Her first impression wasn't at all that good, and I admit, mine was not either. The first day I met her, she ignored me, even when I attempted to ask her simple questions.

"What's inside?" I ask her.

She pulls out a file from the cabinet. "Paper," she says. Her heels click with every step she takes toward me. She halts in front of me. The heels she's wearing don't increase her height enough to tower over me. I look down at her as she hands me the file. I open it, only to see it's empty.

"I thought we didn't have paper—" I start.

"It's special paper," she interrupts. "And yes, we had paper. A large amount of it. Most of it was used up, but there are leftovers." Her shoes clatter against the tile as she heads back to the cabinet to continue with her work.

"You didn't exactly tell me what I'm supposed to be doing," I say, turning to the metal box. There is no lid screaming at me to pop it open. I knock on the cube, surprised by the hollow sound. Isn't something supposed to be in there?

"Lose the unnecessary items" is all she says, examining the cabinet.

I'm not sure what sort of things she calls necessary, but I don't say anything. My goal to find the box's lid is more important.

"Are you sure this is the right box?" I ask.

She doesn't look up from her work as she says, "Of course it's the right box. What's the matter, Callum, can't open it?" A smirk is visible on her face.

"Of course I can't open it," I say loudly, hand slapping the top of the metal box.

Before Janelle can respond, she's interrupted by one loud beep, followed by a female voice above us. "Dr. Janelle?"

Janelle's head snaps to the ceiling and she calls out, "Yes?"

The female voice continues. "There's something quite vital you need to view."

Janelle casts me a look and I start wondering if I'm invited to wherever she's being called to.

"Where exactly is this vital thing located?" Janelle keeps her gaze on the ceiling.

The voice from the speaker answers with "Computer Records."

Janelle clicks her tongue. "Is this so important that we need to postpone packing?"

I'm leaning more toward finding out what's happened rather than struggling with a box that has no lid. We have time to pack this room later. In fact, we have months.

We're supposed to be gathering the important items because the plan to head outside has been made. When we're going to launch it, I don't know, and I don't want to take a guess.

The machine Fox and I...and Vivian...set up half a year ago worked, surprisingly. It fulfilled its purpose of pulling toxins out of the natural air quicker than expected.

But as much as I hate to say it, I'm reluctant to head outside. Sure I was excited a couple of months ago, but we have adapted to the air down here. How different is the air out there?

"It's quite important, Dr. Janelle," the female voice from the ceiling says.

Janelle casts a glance at me, her mouth a thin line on her face. She rubs her chin, then asks, "Is Callum allowed to accompany me?"

"Mr. Callum is permitted to come," the voice says.

Janelle is practically running, but I don't have a hard time catching up. What surprises me is that she has not yet broken her ankle from those heels of hers.

The intercom told us to go to the Computer Records room. I've heard of it but was never allowed to access it.

I follow Janelle down the vast, white hallway. The bright lights still make my eyes sting. I always squint.

Hundreds of white doors line the walls of the large hallway. White is the dominate color in this building, but I have never been told why that is.

Our life takes place underground. There are no windows here to know what time of day it is. We always trust the clocks, but I'm not sure how accurate they are to the original ones years ago.

I've always been fascinated with the history of the building. There used to be only one room, or so I've heard. As time progressed, the building grew, winding deeper underground. The building's original purpose is unknown, but the society here call this home.

We've lived down here for years, and the shelter has been protecting us from the radiation and toxic air outside.

Janelle and I come to a stop at a door. Right before Janelle can lift her hand to knock, the door slides open. A man dressed in a white lab coat welcomes us inside.

The Computer Records room is large. It's filled with machines and bright screens. I immediately notice a large crowd gathered together in a corner.

Janelle pushes past the crowd of people with me behind her. As I get toward the middle, I see that they're all huddled around a computer screen. A few numbers flash in and out on a black screen, but I don't understand what they mean. I try to move closer but the people Janelle has pushed out of the way merge together again before I can reach the deepest part of the crowd.

I squeeze my way through, earning a couple of confused looks from some. Then I'm standing right behind the main man at the computer screen.

What I think are numbers appear to be stationary green dots. About fifteen of them. They're all huddled in the top corner of the screen. Strangely, there's another green dot, isolated from the ones in the group. It has positioned itself on the other side of the computer screen.

I narrow my eyes. "What do they mean?" I ask, referring to the dots.

The man sitting at the computer taps the lonely green dot on the screen. "That's one of our people," he says. "Dead people. The ones who die have no use for us, so they're tossed using an elevator that we use to bring them outside." The man continues tapping the screen, faster now. "There are hundreds of people laying dead over here." He uses his finger to circle the area around the fifteen green dots. Then he gestures to the lonely green dot again. "This one moved even though it was pronounced dead." The man turns his chair to face me. "Rian, do you remember how you, Fox, and Vivian received trackers right before that mission several months ago?"

I nod, trying to get Vivian out of my head.

The man continues. "We gave them to you so we would be able to track you while you were outside."

I nod again.

"Well, Mr. Callum. We kept Vivian's mission tracker on, but the one that helps us track her inside this building was removed. Right now, this computer is telling us she moved from where we tossed her."

My mouth nearly drops open. I point to the lonely dot on the screen. "That's Vivian?"

The man nods. "The dead can't just stand up and walk by themselves. Someone moved her."

CHAPTER 6

V I V I A N

My source of light is the moon and the stars.

The cold of the night messes up my thoughts, blurring everything together until I can't figure out where I want to go. There's still the choice of returning to the cell, but by now I'm not even looking back at it.

There's barely anyone here. It's like the town shuts down completely at night. The people are holed up in their houses, probably sleeping more soundly than I can ever sleep. No one's keeping watch. Aren't they afraid of enemies.

Maybe there are no enemies. But who exactly is the enemy? Am I? Are the prisoners?

I peek around the corner of a building, still trying to be on the lookout for anybody. It doesn't matter how deserted this place looks right now, I won't try to be reckless. Try to.

The girl and whomever she escape with should have gotten far by now. So what do I expect to find?

I move through the grass carefully, looking around. Nobody's on the ground or the roof. If someone is watching me through their window, I will never know.

I pass through an alley and jog across a street. There's a circular shape glowing in the sky. If I remember correctly, it's called a moon. A piece of it is missing, almost as if some enormous monster has bitten it in half perfectly. The moon's surface is covered in dark spots, but I can't really tell what they are supposed to be. The strange thing is, this moon is bigger than I remember it being, almost like it's closer to us.

Sudden red smoke catches my eye. I turn my head in its direction, tracing it behind several buildings. It's not too far away. Is it sending some kind of signal?

The smoke started just a second ago. Someone's there, standing and waiting. But for what?

What if it's that girl? I break into a slow jog, not actually wanting to get close to the smoke, but maybe only stand a safe distance away from it.

The night is still quiet. Maybe the smoke is not a threat. The whole town would have woken up, that is if the citizens get informed of anything that goes on here. It's not coming from a fire, because it would have been gray, not red.

I make my steps as light as possible when I continue toward the smoke. I get closer, listening to my heart hammering in my chest. I don't know who's waiting.

Then I start hearing voices, not coming from the location of the red smoke, but from somewhere behind me.

I hurry into the closest alley and press myself against the cold brick wall. My face forms a cringe when I feel that my hiding spot is wet. I like to believe it's just rain.

The voices get louder but the owners are nowhere in sight. I pick up a few words.

"Can't wait to see who started this," one of the voices says. It sounds male.

The man with him replies. "Yeah, whatever. Let's just get going." The voice is very familiar. It sounds exactly like that male guard's from before, the one who accompanied Denham when I first met him.

The voices stop suddenly and I freeze, afraid I might have been spotted. No longer are there any footsteps.

I sidle farther into the alley, still pressing myself against the wall. They're not going to come this way, I tell myself. They're heading for the smoke.

I wait, but no one comes this way. There are no more voices or footsteps. It's as if the guards left.

Very slowly, I head toward the exit of the alley. turning my head to look around. Nobody's here. It's silent. So they did leave. But how did they do it so quietly—?

There's a flash of black out of my peripheral vision and something strikes my shoulder, hard. My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the ground, my hand clutching the shoulder that was hit. I groan and turn over onto my back, looking at whoever is behind me. There are two men.

One is the male guard that had accompanied Denham, while the other is unknown.

"She's still conscious, Sorv," the unfamiliar one says, pulling something black out of his holster. A gun. He aims it at me. All I can do is stare at it.

The guard who I catch is named Sorv slaps the gun down. "We don't need to shoot her. Put your weapon away." He turns to me and yanks me to my feet. "On your feet, runaway," he spits at me. "How'd you get out?" He pushes me forward, but I don't answer.

No, no, no. I'm not going back to my cell.

I try to tug my arm away, but he doesn't let go. The other man raises his gun again but doesn't fully point it at me.

I stop struggling. It won't do me any good. A bullet could be put into my head any second.

We cross a street and I take one last glance at the red smoke before we head into another alley. The smoke disappears from my view, but I have other things to worry about. There are puddles of water ahead of us. The guards stomp through it without difficulty, pulling me along, while I cringe with every step. The water's freezing, stinging my feet.

Two shots ring through the air, and I snap my head around, trying to find the source. The shots didn't come from the guards' weapons.

They came from the roof.

Sorv spins around, loosening his grip on my arms for a few seconds. I know I can take this chance to run, but I know I won't make it anywhere.

"Where did that come from?" Sorv calls out, looking up at the building's roof.

Two more gunshots ring out, this time somewhere behind us. I gasp and twist around. A man blocks one way out of the alley. I turn my head to look behind me just in time to see another man jump down from the roof and block our last exit. Sorv lets go of my arm completely and pulls a pistol from his holster. The other guard raises his gun but doesn't get a chance to shoot. A single shot rings out and he's on the ground in a second. I gasp and shrink back into the wall. There's another shot and Sorv collapses onto his back. He doesn't move, and I don't know if he's dead.

I whimper and snatch his gun off the floor, aiming for one of the men blocking my exit. Fear takes over me as I realize I don't know how to shoot. Is the safety on?

The gun is knocked from my hand as soon as a shadow passes over my face. Both of my arms are grabbed and pulled back, but not too hard to hurt.

"Don't shoot," a low voice says. "We're not here to hurt you." He waves at the building's roof, and I hold my breath as I see someone swiftly climb down using the window sills. They land on the ground in front of me.

It's the girl. The same one who shared the cell with me.

The man holding me loosens his grip on my arms, but not enough for me to wiggle out. He nods at the girl, who nods back with a smile on her face. She turns to me.

"Hello there," she starts, almost snorting. "So glad you chose to join us."

CHAPTER 7

V I V I A N

"Are you the one who set up the smoke?" I ask.

The guy who's holding me back tightens his grip on my arms and pulls me away from her.

The girl shakes her head to answer my question. "It was someone else."

"Were they trying to signal someone?" I tug on my arms again, wishing the guy holding them back would let go. If I tell him I won't run or hurt anyone, I doubt he would believe me. But what are they going to do to me?

The girl's eyes move to the guy behind me. With a nod from her, my arms are let go. My feet increase the distance between the three strangers, but I don't wander far. I rub my wrists, mostly because I need to occupy my hands somehow. Are there any more people watching from the rooftops?

"Who are you?" I ask, studying all three of them. Their outfits are identical, gray pants along with a gray shirt. The outfits fit perfectly over their bodies, not at all appearing to be baggy and worn-out.

All three of them exchange glances with each other, and the girl answers with, "We're nobody you're familiar with. But...if you need names..." She glances at both of the guys next to her and pauses mid-sentence, thinking something over. She puts one of her hands on her hip, tilting her head to the side. "If you want names, we need to hear yours first."

I shake my head. "I wasn't talking about names. I meant how were you able to take a wall apart...and escape?" I suddenly remember the guards. My gaze shifts over to them. They're laying on the floor, limp. I try not to think about what might actually have happened to them.

The girl decides to tell me. "Don't worry," she says, pointing to both of the guards' bodies. "They're not dead. Just stunned. And to answer your question, we're just trying to survive out here. Just like you. We try to stay away from trouble...but it's not always avoidable."

I'm surprised on the title she gives me. Someone trying to survive. She's wrong. I don't know this place and I don't know what it takes to survive. "Surviving? I'm not—"

She crosses her arms and interrupts me. "Ah, I see. So...you stayed in that prison for how long?"

I shake my head again. "Not lo..." I stop for a second, debating whether I should tell her I'm new to this town. I can tell her I came from somewhere underground, where everything is all white.

"How long?" she prompts. The two guys with her haven't said anything for a while.

I keep shaking my head, finally settling on what I should tell her. "I only arrived here today. This place is new to me." I give her an innocent shrug even though she's narrowing her eyes at me, her expression covered with doubt.

She scoffs and points at me. "You're new?"

I nod and take a small step back. The alley is suddenly claustrophobic with these three strangers. Five, counting the unconscious guards.

The girl opens her mouth, but shuts it and throws her hands up in the air, turning to the two guys with her. "Should we bring her back home with us?"

One of the guys tries to answer, but I beat him to it. "Your house? No, it's fine. I'm not interested in seeing your house."

The girl turns to me and gestures to herself and the two guys. "It's not just our house. It's home to all kinds of people. Orphans, homeless, escapees. You're a stray, aren't you?"

I look up at the dark sky and take a breath. There's life out here. I could live here. Then there's my old home, the white underground building. I can return back there, can't I? But will I be let back in?

I was thrown out. No one's expecting me.

The three strangers watch me, waiting for an answer.

I finally nod. "Yeah. I don't have a home."

The girl scratches her chin. "So...do you want to come with us?"

"Where exactly?"

A small smile appears on the girl's face. "Underground."

Everything seems to stop for a few seconds as she says that one word. For those few seconds, I think she's talking about that white complex. But that's not possible is it? "Where underground?"

She vaguely points over her shoulder, but there's only a brick wall behind her. "Not too far from here. Close to the sewers."

I'm half disappointed. The other half of me is relieved. A part of me doesn't want to go back to that white building, but a part of me misses it. It was my home. But they threw me a—

Damn it. I have to stop thinking about that.

The two boys and the girl don't throw a bag over my head like I'm expecting them. They only stand by my side as they lead me to their "secret" hideout. I find it strange how they trust me not to be some sort of spy. But I guess if I had been one, I wouldn't have looked as weak as I did back in the alley. A trained spy wouldn't have screamed at the sound of a gunshot.

The three of them guide me around the corner of a street. A house comes into view. This house looks different from all the other ones I've seen in this town. This one looks abandoned. We're heading toward it and I immediately assume that's their house. I don't understand why they would use it as a shelter. It's a typical and predictable place to hide out in if they're being hunted. Its walls are made with brick, but small parts are already falling apart. Stains have been plastered on, but I can't tell if it's paint or blood.

"Is this where you live?" I ask in a whisper, pointing a finger at the brick building.

Dark surrounds us, and I can't help but jump at every movement that catches my eyes. It's nothing; only my eyes creating whatever they want to.

But someone could be lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack us.

The girl laughs quietly. She shakes her head and whispers back, "No. That's not where we live. I told you it's underground. Somewhere around this area." She makes a circular motion with her hand, indicating the space ahead of us.

"Oh." I turn my head from side to side, expecting an officer to appear next to me. I will be sent back to the cells if I'm spotted. I'd rather be free.

However, I am not sure how free I will become once I start living underground with runaways. I might never be able to come out.

All three of them stop abruptly. The girl brings her hand out, signaling for me to stop too. Did they hear someone coming? I take another quick look around me to check my surroundings. Just streets, parked cars, and buildings. No people in sight. Even if there isn't anyone following us, I still have the feeling of being watched. The hairs on my neck are standing straight up, and my hands are clenched into fists, refusing to uncurl.

"Is anything wrong?" I ask quietly.

The girl shakes her head. "Nothing's wrong. This is what we usually do with newcomers. We tell them to wait here while one of us fetches Caleb."

She doesn't explain who Caleb. She only disappears behind the building without another word.

The two guys stay behind. One of them pulls out his gun. I flinch involuntarily and back away casually.

"Who's Caleb?" I ask the guy without the gun in his hand. The moon's light is brighter in this area so I can finally see how both of the guys look like. Both of them are taller than me, and I realize they look like emotionless body guards.

The one with the gun has curly, brown hair going just past his ears. The one I directed my question to has black hair sticking out in a few directions. He's taller than the other guy. When he turns to look at me, I notice his jaw is clenched. I suddenly don't feel very safe standing here with them.

"He's like the man in charge," the guy answers. His low voice makes him sound like he's whispering. "He takes a few looks at you and sees if you're worthy enough to stay here."

So the hideout has a leader. I should have known. I'm surprised by what the guy just said. Caleb, their leader, chooses who's decent enough to come. There's a chance I'm not "worthy." What would I do then? Take a risk to escape the town and return to the underground facility?

I stuff my hands into my oversized sweatshirt pockets and turn my head in the direction the girl was last seen. "So not everyone's accepted?" I ask.

The dark-haired boy shrugs.

Silence follows after. I notice the guy holding the weapon hasn't said a word yet. My eyes continue to stare into the dark and I start to get curious how this Caleb leader looks like. He seems to have a lot of experience choosing who is trustworthy enough to be accepted into their hideout. I'm picturing him gray-haired and short. Maybe having intelligent eyes and a kind face.

The girl doesn't return for what feels like a while. I'm starting to wonder if she'll ever come back at all.

Just when I'm thinking about taking a seat on the ground, two figures finally emerge from the shadows. The girl and..not the guy I pictured is walking right behind her.

The dark-haired guy I had been talking to several minutes ago whispers to me, "That's Caleb."

Caleb is not all at aged or short. He's young, somewhere in his mid-twenties or thirties. He's well-built, looking like he can take me down with a flick of his wrist. His dark hair has been styled into a buzz cut, matching his sleeveless shirt. A black tattoo is visible on his left arm. As he gets closer, I notice it's an image of a bear.

When he stops several feet in front of me, I have to tilt my head back in order to look into his eyes. There is a frown on his face, and I almost fear he's not going to accept me into the hideout.

But unexpectedly, a corner of his mouth lifts into a quick smile. I'm too frozen to smile back.

"What's your name?" he asks, voice clear and not as deep as I expected it to be.

A few seconds of silence hang in the air as I try to remember my name. "Vivian."

The man—Caleb—nods, using his thumb to point to the girl, who's standing silently behind him. He says, "Sabine told me she met you in a prison cell. Why were you there?"

The feeling in my stomach tells me I should answer every question truthfully. "They threw me in prison because they said I don't have an ID."

Caleb nods again and says, "Who said that?"

I continue to stare up at him. "Uh...the commander." I pause for a second, trying to think of the name. "Denham."

Caleb doesn't comment. He nods at the girl, Sabine, if I heard her name correctly. "She's fine," he says.

I nearly let out a sigh of relief as Caleb turns around and starts heading back toward the darkness he came from. Sabine motions me to follow and I see there's a small smile on her face. The two guys walk behind us.

We pass the old building and head into a darker area. A few trees crowd around a large boulder. I'm betting that's the entrance to their hideout.

And I'm right. There's a cellar door right behind the boulder. It's almost unnoticeable. Even if someone does see it, they'd think it's some sort of stone step covered in plants.

The stone cellar door reveals a set of stairs leading down underground. As soon as I set foot on them, the temperature immediately drops and my heart starts to pound. I think I run into a couple of webs.

Sabine shuts the door behind us, and I start wondering how this place hasn't been found by officers yet.

While we walk down the stairs, Sabine walks by my side. "You're lucky it's dark out," she whispers. "Some people have to wait for the sun to set before we can let them come in. It's better to enter when it's dark."

I nod, having nothing to say to her. The memory of the white complex comes into my mind, tugging at my heart. But I push it away, knowing I need to focus on current matters.

I'm waiting until we get to the end of the staircase. What is this hideout like?

CHAPTER 8

V I V I A N

Caleb is the first one to reach the wooden door.

Once we're all through, he closes it. We're in a small room only capable of holding five people. And we are the five people.

Concrete walls surround us, and that is all that is inside the room.

Caleb remains in the way of the door, but he doesn't look like he's trying to block it. He's just trying to give himself some space in this small room. This isn't a trap, right?

My head snaps left and right, looking for another way out. But I know there's absolutely nothing here.

I stand as far back as I can from them (it's not very far). As Caleb crouches down and pounds on the floor, we all watch.

Except everyone else seems to know what he's doing. I have absolutely no idea.

A small chunk of the floor pushes up from underneath.

A gasp catches in my throat and I slap a hand over my mouth to keep any other sound muffled. A man's head pokes out from the new hole in the floor. His gaze automatically goes to me, the newcomer.

"You got the kid," he says, eyes moving to Caleb.

I'm tempted to tell him the only reason I look like a kid is because of my five foot height. But I keep silent.

Caleb nods. "We did. Now let us in."

The man's head disappears back into the dark hole in the floor.

Caleb is the first to jump through it. But Sabine expects me to go next. She gestures for me to come closer, and I do, slowly.

What waits for me through that entrance?

Before jumping, I peek down. Dim, orange light illuminates the next room. Caleb and the man are just visible through the hole. They're looking up, waiting.

The ground is not far, which is a relief to me. I clear my throat and jump through, landing heavily on my feet. Pain runs across my foot from the jump, but I pick myself up and watch as Sabine and the rest of the company appear next to me.

But before we can't keep moving, I am patted down. They find nothing, not even the plastic knife I remember putting in my pocket.

Then Caleb tells me I'm allowed to carry weapons once I get settled in.

We continue walking, this time through a dimly-lit hallway. The man who opened the chunk of the floor for us stays behind. I can't imagine what he does all day.

Caleb breaks the silence hanging in the air as we march down the dark hallway. He's talking to me. "Sorry if this is taking so long. It's best if the hideout is protected with all of these hallways and doors."

"I'm not complaining," I say.

My hand accidentally brushes the too-close wall. I cringe as I feel a soft and wet surface make contact with my fingers. I pull my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands. It's too dark to see what I touched, and I'm not going to make any wild guesses.

We turn a corner somewhere along the way and end up by another wooden door. It looks old and scratched.

As Caleb reaches for the doorknob, I brace myself for what I'm going to see on the other side. People, maybe?

The door swings open.

Dozens of eyes greet me. Eventually, they move on, but I don't. My gaze is glued to the room I see in front of me. I swallow and slide my hands into my pockets. When Sabine urges me to step inside the room, I finally see how large it is.

The walls are made of concrete, and I can see people have attempted to paint them to add warmth to the place. There are blankets, tables, bags, food, boxes and all kinds of items scattered around the room. Most of the people here are asleep, wrapped around their blankets. I see a few children.

Closed doors line the walls and I am curious to know what lies behind them.

I blink as my eyes start to sting. These people are a family, and what do I have? Only myself, a poor loner.

I shake my head to get rid of the tug in my heart. I can't think about homes right now. I don't even know where I belong.

Sabine lets out a yawn, stretching. "Anyway," she says to me through the yawn. "Caleb will fill you in on a few things. I'm gonna crash."

She gives one final wave and heads toward one of the doors in the room. The two guys who had been with us go their separate ways. Caleb and I are left standing. Somewhere on the other side of the room, a light switches off, letting a portion of darkness take over.

Caleb whispers, "Make yourself at home. If you need anything, just ask. I'd let you roam around but people need to sleep." He turns toward a door closest to him and motions for me to follow. "Here," he adds. "I'll get you a blanket and find you a place to sleep."

The folded blanket Caleb provides comes from a supply closet. There are several of them stacked away.

I'm led through another door and into some other room with gray walls. This one is practically empty. There are only five people inside, asleep.

Caleb leaves, telling me to get settled. Finding a perfect spot too sleep isn't all that hard. I get an empty corner, right below an empty shelf. Boxes line the walls of the room. I can only guess the people's belongings are stored here. I have nothing to add to the collection, so all I do is prepare my bed. I spread my blanket across the floor and tangle myself in it, glad it wraps around me perfectly. For once, I'm glad for my short height. If my height matched my brother Piers', the blanket would be too small for me. Same would be with Rian's height.

The thought of my brother and Rian causes my eyes to burn. I rub them and try to get comfortable. I don't know anybody here, and nobody knows me.

The blanket heats me up quickly, turning my eyes heavy. I untangle myself from the sheet and use part of it as a pillow. My large sweatshirt and pants keeps me warm enough.

It takes me a while to fall asleep. I roll over on my side, having a staring contest with the wall. How long will I stay here? And what am I supposed to do?

I let out a breath of air and close my eyes. Eventually, sleep comes.

I'm aware of the voices before I even wake up. The words are gibberish at first, but slowly they clear up until they sound like they belong to two girls. When I open my eyes, the concrete wall greets me. I roll over to my other side.

There are two people inside the room, young girls. I'm too tired to listen to their conversation. So all I do is stand and bunch up my blanket.

The conversation stops, and I turn around, seeing that both of the girls are looking at me.

One says, "I haven't seen you here before. Are you new?"

I nod.

"Did you come here yesterday?"

I nod again, eyeing the door.

"Do you need help with anything?"

I shrug. I hate it when people ask me this because I really don't know what I'm supposed to be doing.

"No but thank you." I say, starting for the door. The girls have nothing else to offer, so I wave an almost unnoticeable goodbye to them and walk out. I'm back in the large room I first entered when I arrived at the hideout. People are strolling around, awake. It's still as messy as yesterday but I don't know why I'm expecting it to be clean all of a sudden, just because I'm here.

Windows are absent, just like inside that white complex.

Caleb stands at the far side of the room, surrounded a crowd. A full cart accompanies him, and he keeps reaching into it, handing the crowd whatever he pulls out. Food.

People are lining up to get breakfast...or lunch (I don't know how early it is).

I start toward him, but don't get far before he notices me. His hand lifts up in a wave, but there is no happy look on his face. Only a frown.

"Finally woke up, huh?" he asks me, placing a small can into someone's hand. "How long do you usually sleep?"

I shrug and look around. "What's the time?"

Caleb laughs. "It's morning. Here." He hands me a generic cardboard box labeled: CRACKERS.

I nod in a silent thank you and turn to leave. But Caleb has one more thing to say to me. "By the way," he starts. "Nice tattoo."

I lift my right hand to my face to get a look at the graffiti swirls around my fingers. My reply is "Thanks."

He doesn't ask where I got it, so I walk off.

The whole room is crowded with people. To ignore them, the best choice would be to head back to the room with my blanket. These crowds of people remind me of the cafeteria back at home, and I wonder when I'm going to stop thinking about that white building.

I'm alone in the room, but I suddenly feel cold. I don't leave, only sit down in my corner and eat the crackers.

After half the box is gone, I realize I desperately need water. I find Caleb quickly, but he doesn't let me go this time. He has something else to show me.

"I'm not sure how long you're planning on staying here," he tells me as we walk toward a door. "But I think you should try out the training room."

The door is pushed open, revealing yet another large room surrounded by concrete walls. Light bulbs hang from the ceiling, and I wonder what would happen if they sudden fell down.

There are more people inside room, but not many. Wooden targets have been propped up against a wall. The many times they were used shows. They're covered in holes and peeling wood.

Worn-out punching bags hang from the ceiling on the other side of the room. The different patches of cloth they're covered in show me that someone has crafted these by hand. And they've done a good job.

A girl has already called one. She's driving her fist into its hard body over and over again.

Caleb gestures around the room. "We've assembled this a while ago. You can use it whenever you'd like to. I'm not sure how good of a fight you are. Can you fight?"

I take a sip of my water and watch the girl attacking her punching bag. "Uh...sort of?"

Caleb throws a skeptical look my way. "We have plenty of trainers here. I'm sure one would be willing to help you out."

Learning how to defend myself will be more than helpful. "Okay. Who's available?"

Caleb points to the girl at the punching bag. Her blond hair, pulled back into a ponytail, swings back and forth with every hit she puts into the bag.

"There's Violet right there. She's helping someone else, but I'm sure she's free enough to help you." He pauses, thinking. Then says, "Then there's Tobin. He was one of the guys you met last night when Sabine showed up. Then there's Louis, but you've never seen him. There are quite a few other trainers. You have a lot to choose from."

The girl at the punching bag stops what she's doing. With a swift gesture, she slides her black gloves off her hands and makes her way toward me and Caleb. She looks well-built, just like many people around here.

When she reaches us, she nods at Caleb. "Sir." Her eyes move to me. "And you must be...?"

"Vivian," I say too quickly.

She brushes her shirt off. "Sir, I overheard your conversation. I'm sure I can help in some way."

"I would appreciate that," Caleb says.

Violet smiles and points to the door. "Great. I'm just waiting for my trainee."

Caleb returns the smile. "You can introduce Vivian to this. There are a couple things I need to finish." He leaves without another word and Violet leads me over the bag she had been punching earlier.

She taps on it. "While we wait for Grace, I suggest you show me the power of your punch. Don't worry about posture." Grace must be the girl she's training.

"Okay." I stare at the punching bag and try to figure out how I should stand. Which arm should I use to hit the bag? My right or left?

I shake out my right. Before I can get a good hit, Violet says, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

Violet tilts her head to the side. How old does she think I look? Fifteen?

"I'm five years older than you," she says. "Anyway, punch the bag already. Give it all you've got."

CHAPTER 9

V I V I A N

It's silent in the room as I take my first swing.

When my fist makes contact with the punching bag, I immediately know it was a pathetic hit. I back up and fold my arms over my chest.

"Well," Violet says slowly, rubbing her chin. "That was good."

I laugh. "No, it wasn't. I bet the girl you're training can knock me out in a second."

I can fight, but only by weak kicks and flapping my arms around. I've been attacked a couple of times back in the white underground building by Rob, the psycho who tried avenging his dead father—the one that I apparently murdered years ago. I fought Rob back when he had invaded my room in the middle of the night, but I admit, I had not put up a good fight.

Violet shakes her head back and forth. "Actually, Grace is new here too. She's only been here for a couple of weeks."

Violet is about to say something else when the door to the training room opens.

A tan-skinned girl walks through the doorway. Her dark and frizzy hair is tied back into a ponytail. When she reaches Violet and me, I notice both of our heights match. This must be Grace.

She barely pays attention to me. To Violet, she says, "Hey."

Violet puts a hand on Grace's shoulder and introduces both of us. "Grace, this is Vivian. She's twenty-one. Vivian, this is Grace. She's fifteen."

Grace smiles. "You're short for someone your age."

I mirror her. "And you're younger than I thought you'd be."

Violet motions to the bag and takes a few steps away from it. "Grace, I want you to hit this. I'm thinking Vivian wants to see how you hit."

Grace casts me a look I can't interpret and positions her hands in front of her face, fists clenched and facing the bag. They strike the bag, one by one. I try to study her movements but she stops too quickly.

"Do you want to hit the bag again?" Violet asks me. I would if it wouldn't make me look like an absolute moron. But no matter how reluctant I feel, I get ready anyway. Besides, I don't think Violet's giving me a choice.

I clench my fists and punch.

Violet has something to say. "You're standing too far away from the bag. Your arm stretches out too much when you attack, and we don't want that."

I try again.

The door to the training room opens and a few people stream in. They take their positions in the room.

"Not too bad," Violet finally tells me.

Grace and I take turns punching the bag. I try copying Grace's stance as she hits but it's harder than it looks. By the time we finish, the room is already crowded.

My knuckles are stiff and red, but I don't think I've improved my posture.

With my oversized sweatshirt hanging from my arm, I step out of the training room. I'm still wearing that white t-shirt I had on when I woke up in that white container.

It feels cooler in this room than the training one, and I'm glad I'm out of it.

Sabine passes me, clapping her hands and calling out to people in the room. "Okay, we're going on a supply scavenge. Anyone need anything?"

Two people are following behind her. One of them is the guy who was with Sabine when they found me yesterday. The other person is a girl I don't recognize.

I get an idea, but I don't know if it's a good one. "Hey, Sabine," I say, my voice hushed at first. I clear my throat and say louder, "Would you mind if I went outside with you guys?"

Sabine turns to me. The girl and guy with her follow. The guy speaks first. "Aren't you supposed to finish your training?" He's laughing at me even though he has no smile on his face.

Sabine nods, pointing to the guy. "Actually," she says, "Tobin's right. It'll be too easy for them to catch you. You should just stay here."

Tobin? Caleb mentioned a trainer named Tobin. That's the reply I prepared myself for.

Sabine continues. "I'm sorry but no."

The unfamiliar girl standing next to both of them speaks up for the first time. "I say let the girl have a chance. Maybe she'll be of use to us."

Sabine throws the girl a look. "No, we're not taking Vivian along. Sorry."

"That's fine." The words come out as barely a whisper as I watch them leave. I sigh. I came down into this hideout, so I might as well stay here.

It's my own fault. If I wanted to go outside so badly, I should have declined their invitation to this hideout. I rub my face and throw my sweatshirt back on, wondering how the hell I could be of use to these people here.

CHAPTER 10

R I A N

I've been sitting in this chair for quite a while.

The only thing I've been listening to are the murmurs from the crowd. But the one important thing that catches my attention is Jack Welds, the main leader of this underground complex. He stands in front of the large room, informing us of yet another problematic event. His hands go up in the air with every words he says, but I'm starting to just go with it and focus on his words instead.

But this new mission isn't anything that has been tried before. Jack is sending humans outside...to go after Vivian.

"We tracked her location," he's saying. "We see she's still on the move. Miss Clancy is showing us that, in fact, there is something out there, not just land and dust. This past month, we've been designing new safety suits. The time has come for us to test them out. For people have been chosen for the mission. We're not sending regular people, but ones with our mechanical hearts inside of them. Fox, Rian, Addison, and Laurey. You must be aware that this is a dangerous mission."

Jack's speech ends, and I realize it hasn't been going on long at all.

Fox, Laurey, Addison, and I find ourselves following a small crowd of people through a narrow hallway. This is the same hallway I walked through a few months ago. But instead of four people, there were only three. Me, Fox, and Vivian.

Laurey and Addison, the two girls with us, aren't regular human beings, just like me and Fox. And Vivian.

We all have a synthetic heart inside of us, beating like a normal one would. But we're not normal, and I refuse to think of myself as that way. These hearts are supposed to save our lives, power our human bodies as we head outside into the toxic air. We've done it once, and succeeded. But Vivian was the one that went down. And now she's gone.

My palms start to sweat from the idea of going outside again. Until now, I have not stopped to think about the mission and where I'm going, so I wasn't bothered.

Once Vivian's chip signal was tracked, Jack Welds already knew what he wants to do. It only took him a couple of hours to plan it all out. He must have had this planned out for a while, in case something like this ever happened. But who would have thought?

But no one's sure if Vivian is alive or not. There's still hope, at least in me. What happens if we do get where she is, and something?

I don't know what I'm supposed to be thinking right now, so I focus on Fox beside me, who has started talking in a whisper. "Funny how we're risking our lives just so we could find that little girl, isn't it?"

I frown and decide it's not such a good idea to focus on Fox. He's reminding me of Vivian and the mission. That's not what I want to hear about. I cross my arm to keep them steady, hoping no one sees them shaking.

Fox continues, his voice low. "It's pretty obvious the only reason we're being sent out is because Jack is interested in finding out what's out there, and how Vivian can walk all of a sudden. I'm sure he doesn't care much about her." Fox scratches his head. "He just cares about figuring out the reason why she's moving. But...if she's able to survive out there that means we can too. That machine must have worked..." He trails off and mutters a few things I can't understand. Then he continues speaking at a louder volume. "But what if we don't—?"

I point all of my fingers at him. "Fox, please just shut up," I say, struggling to keep myself as calm as I can. Every step I take toward the room we're heading toward makes my stomach tighten. I'd rather go the opposite way instead.

Fox raises both of his eyebrows but keeps his mouth shut. The group continues walking through the silence.

~~~

The suits we used several months ago were heavy, baggy, and brown. The updated version is less cumbersome, but not by much. And instead of a light coffee color, the material this time is gray and black.

Pulling the suit on is easier this time, requiring no one else but its wearer to zip it up. Once I'm done, I take a few steps in it. Flexible enough.

Fox stretches, while Laurey and Addison just stand. This is the first time going outside the building for both girls. I have pretty good idea for how they feel. This is my and Fox's second time.

I look down at the suit wrapped around me. The thick material hugging my torso and arms is gray. It wraps around my neck also. A black vest is attached to my chest, and I can't help but wonder if it's bulletproof. The black boots and pants I'm wearing are connected together. I'm used to boots and pants being separate. This almost feels like one-piece pajamas. There's a holster attached to one of my legs, just above my knee. If we're bring guns, then we should expect to run into trouble.

Seeing the end of the gun sticking out of the holster brings a shiver through me. Half a year ago, Jack Welds told me something about my previous life, long before I lived inside the underground complex.

My younger self had been trained to become a soldier, fighting in a war I don't remember. That time, I might have been good with gun, but now I don't know if I will be able to bring myself to pull the trigger. There are so many mysteries from my past life, but Jack refuses to tell me.

A woman in a white lab coat walks up to me, telling me to give her my hand. I stretch out my fingers and watch as she slips on black gloves. Once she's done with me, she moves on to the others.

All four of us stand there, waiting for the next instructions. With a clear of his throat, Jack Welds reviews the situation. He warns us about the guns. We're only supposed to use them when there's a threat around, not at each other. He says he trusts us to handle them carefully.

The group of four are given small devices. They're meant to tell us where Vivian is located. I stare at the green dot on the screen. It's not moving right now. She's too far away from us. I just hope she's alive, although it seems impossible. How can she be breathing when she was pronounced dead?

Fox is handed a rifle. I can't take my eyes off of it, and neither can Addison and Laurey.

Fox laughs as he looks around at us. "Don't worry, I was trained to use these."

I don't know when Fox had the time to train, but I don't say anything. Nobody says anything either. Fox only swings the gun behind his back to attach it to its own holster.

I'm handed a black helmet. Slowly, I pull it over my head, wondering when will be the next time I'll be able to take it off. Or will I ever be able to take it off after this? I don't know what's waiting for us outside.

A panel of glass is in front of my face, protecting me yet letting me see what's in front of me. Just like the last mission, we're able to communicate with each other through the built-in radio inside our helmets.

"You're ready?" Jack asks the four of us.

If I had a choice, I would turn around. But I nod and watch as the others follow my lead. My feet take me to the elevator that has revealed itself from behind the wall. Fox, Laurey, and Addison trail behind me.

Jack only has two words for us. "Good luck."

CHAPTER 11

V I V I A N

The week that passes is filled with hitting punching bags, sitting, cleaning, and eating. I constantly worry about the amount of oxygen that we use here, but everyone seems fine.

Violet continues to help me with my hits. She's starting to get less lenient with every day that passes with me. My punches have improved, but not by much.

I barely speak with anybody, but I feel like the longer I stay, the more comfortable people get around me. I'm no longer the short, new girl. I've moved up a level. I'm the short, gradually-adapting girl.

Despite my friendly surroundings, a thought continues to invade my mind every day. What if the guards topside find out about this hideout. What's going to happen? What sort of consequences will we have to endure? But maybe the people here have never had a problem, so why am I worrying?

I have received a different set of clothes, which I am grateful for. I feel more comfortable moving around and not worrying about the baggy outfit slipping. Instead of the oversized sweatshirt and pants, I've been given a brown t-shirt and regular jeans. They're not brand new, but they fit me perfectly. I'm even more grateful for the shoes that they've given me. They're solid black sneakers, a little worn from whoever had previously owned them.

The lack of fresh air makes me antsy. Everywhere I look, I see walls. A dead end.

I keep telling myself I'm overreacting; there's nothing to worry about.

~~~

Sabine appears inside the large room I'm in. It's filled with people, but no most of the population here. She announces that she's going to be heading topside to get a couple of items. Not many people are listening, which tells me they don't care too much about it.

Tobin is right behind her. He joins her for every supply hunt she goes on. I'm not sure if he feels the need to watch out for her, or they're just really good friends.

A young woman decides to join Sabine and Tobin in the supply hunt. I turn away, knowing there's no use to ask for permission to go with them. Sabine will just turn me down, just like last time. I'm tired from the day anyway. Some sleep with do me good.

But I've only started walking away when I hear Sabine call my name.

I turn at a tap on my shoulder. The face of a grinning Sabine greets me.

"You wanna come with us?" she asks.

I feel my eyes narrow. She wants me to follow them. Why now? Is there something I did that finally made her change her mind?

At my silence, she adds, "All you have to do is stay close to us, and you'll be fine." She doesn't mention anything about how the last time I had asked to go, she didn't let me; she's letting me now.

She gestures to the group of three she's gathered, including herself. "It's dark out," she starts, "so I doubt many patrols will be out. You wanna come?" she asks again. "If you don't feel like coming, that's fine. I understand if you're tired."

I'm awake now.

I shake my head. "No, not at all."

Here's the chance to go outside, so I'm going to take it. "I'll be happy to come."

I just hope I don't get in their way.

I follow Sabine, Tobin, and the one girl through the dark tunnels. My sweaty palms wipe themselves on my jeans, and I don't realize it until I feel my hands are dry again. We stop by a familiar place, where I remember I had to jump down through the floor to land into this hallway. Except this time we'll be crawling up through the space.

Tobin retrieves a ladder from the wall and we climb to the top. The flight of stairs are what we encounter next. Right before Sabine pushes open the stone trap door that leads outside, I tighten my ponytail and brush off my shirt. Then we step out onto the grass and I immediately look around.

The dark night covers most of my surroundings, only letting me see a few buildings. A couple of lights shine through windows, but I can't see what's inside because curtains block my view. But there are no people walking around, which I find odd. I'm almost expecting something to jump out at me as I look around through the dark. How late is it?

Sabine is the first to talk in the silence. Her whisper is so quiet I almost have to ask her to repeat herself. "Hey Vivian, how's your stealth?"

I let out a small laugh. "Not very good."

"Then you better work on it," Tobin's low voice whispers out from somewhere behind me. I turn my head to catch a look at him and see he has a frown on his face. "We don't need you blowing our cover."

Sabine scoffs. "Shut up, Tobin. I brought her here so she can learn. And we won't do anything risky so she'll be fine."

I don't know what to say to that.

Sabine starts moving and we follow her. I try to land with silent steps, but I don't know if I succeed. All three of them move quickly, but their strides are light.

"Keep close," Sabine whispers, walking near the walls of the buildings. The other two follow her in a line so I do the same thing.

"Where do you usually get the supplies?" I ask, throwing this question to any of the four people. Sabine is the one who replies.

"Various places," she says in a whisper. "Sometimes a house if it's empty, sometimes stuff lying on the ground, or the trash can. Sometimes we actually purchase things with money."

We stop at the end of a building's wall. Sabine holds up a hand, signaling for us to be quiet. She peeks around the corner, and waits.

"All clear," she says after a couple of seconds.

And I ask, "Where are we going now?"

Tobin's voice and expression are grim and cold as he says, "Wherever's the safest."

I fold my arms over my chest, trying to keep myself warm.

"Pick up your pace," Tobin says from behind me, annoyance visible in his voice.

I smirk to myself but jog a couple of steps closer to Sabine. Is this how Tobin always is? Sour and depressed? Or is it because my presence completely ruins his day?

"So you said you search through garbage cans. Is that what we'll be doing tonight?" I ask Sabine quietly. Tobin lets out an irritated breath behind us. The two girls with us have been quiet this whole trip.

Sabine shrugs but spots a garbage can at the same time I do. She jogs over to it and peeks in.

I shift my feet as I watch her pawing through the trash. This isn't what I do every day. She pulls out a flattened box but throws it back into the trash with a grunt.

"Come here," she mutters, gesturing for me to walk toward her. "Try it yourself." She makes digging through trash sound like it's the best thing in the world.

Hesitantly, I make my way over to the trash can. The smell of the garbage gets stronger with every step I take. My nose wrinkles.

Tobin and the one girl stand there, waiting for us.

As soon as I get enough strength in me to stick my hand into the scraps in the garbage can, Tobin clears his throat and says, "Can we split up? I'd rather be doing something else than watching the amateur dig through trash."

The girl with us runs her fingers through her black hair, agreeing with him. This is the first time I hear her speak, but that's all she says.

Sabine lifts a few objects out of the trash and inspects them, nodding. "Yeah, sure. Just be careful."

Tobin crosses his arms. In seconds, he's disappeared from our sight, telling us he won't wander too far.

The black-haired girl decides to help us instead of following Tobin.

Sabine clears her throat. "Sorry about my brother," she says to me, giving me a brief look.

"That's your brother?" I hiss, my voice just below a whisper. I glance in the direction I saw Tobin last.

Sabine nods. "Yeah. He's isn't usually like this, I promise."

I lift a rag up from the trash can, but hold it away from me at arms length. "I may be the one that's causing him to act this way," I say. "He doesn't seem like he likes me very much."

Sabine doesn't look hurt, but I'm not sure if telling her this is a good idea, He is her brother after all. I don't want to sound like I hate him, which I don't.

Sabine exhales through her nose. "Yeah," she says, dropping an object back into the trash can. "I noticed. Sorry about that. I might need to go talk to him."

"It's fine" is all I say as I take one more peek into the trash can. There's nothing significant I can find.

There's only paper and small strips of cloth. Maybe a few pieces of candy as well, but I'm not that desperate for candy.

By the time we finish picking through the trash, which I'm still not used to doing, the trash can's smell lingers.

Tobin, the one girl, Sabine, and I continue walking through the dark streets. Sabine is carrying a couple of items we found in the trash. Tobin found a newspaper.

The smell of garbage doesn't leave my hands. And I know rubbing them on my shirt won't get rid of it, but I still try.

We stay close to the walls of the building as we walk. It's quiet, right up until the point Sabine turns her head to us. "You want to get some food from one of the markets?"

I almost stop walking. "What? Really? How are you going to do that?"

Sabine disappears into an alley and we follow her.

"We've done that a few times just to get a couple of snacks. Bigger groups usually get sent out to get bigger portions of food. I just like to go on random supply scavenges just to get several things for myself or my friends." She holds up the pencil that she found in the trash can. "Like this pencil for instance. We like to draw."

I nod, not sure what else I can say.

The dark-haired girl speaks up. "So are we heading to a bakery? I'm craving a cupcake right now."

Sabine nods and turns to me. "Do you want anything?"

"What's available?" I ask.

Sabine shrugs. "I don't know. It's a bakery. What do you think is available?"

I shrug back. "Maybe a...bagel?"

Sabine nods.

Her brother is next to hear the question. His answers quickly. "I'm coming with you."

They're leaving us alone? What if someone sees us? I say my concerns aloud.

Sabine says, "Stay down here in the shadows. You should be fine."

I hope so.

"The bakery's just across the street," she whispers to me and the girl. "We should be back in a few minutes."

Tobin says one last thing to us, pointing a finger. "If you're spotted, you run."

I nod and he focuses his attention at the bakery. Before he and Sabine disappear, I hear her whisper to him, "We'll get in through the roof like we always do."

They're going to go through all this trouble just for some treats. I almost feel like I should complain to them, although I doubt they'd listen to me.

I crouch to the ground and lean against the alley's wall, my arms crossed over my chest. We might be here for a while.

The girl waiting with me remains standing. "I hadn't had a cupcake in forever," she whispers. "We usually eat crackers and fish and other stuff." Her words carry traces of annoyance. Maybe she doesn't like leaving there as much as I thought she does.

I ask her, "How long have you been living the hideout?"

"Half a month, maybe?"

"Do you like it there?"

She shrugs. "I mean, it's better than living on the streets. I admit, it gets a little boring there. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yes," I answer.

The girl laughs. "You appeared to have a little bit of trouble digging through the trash."

I reciprocate the laugh. "Yeah." I pause briefly to see if I can catch any sudden sound near us. I hear nothing. "It was kind of bad."

"It's not the last time you'll do it."

Then we wait in silence. I concentrate on the sounds around me. Nothing but crickets and the light wind.

The echo of footsteps startles me. I lift my head to look toward the exit of the alley. The footsteps aren't Tobin's or Sabine's. The sound is too careless and loud. Someone else is coming.

The dark-haired looks at me. "That's not them, is it?" So she hears it too.

I shake my head and put a finger to my lips. She nods.

The tap, tap, tap of the footsteps picks up speed, but stops unexpectedly. I hold my breath and try to relax. But my heart refuses to calm down. It hammers hard in my chest. A guard must be patrolling the street. Where are Tobin and Sabine?

Crash!

I jump and nearly tumble to the ground. An unfamiliar male voice only gets to form half a word before he gets cut of by something. "Secur—"

So that is a guard. But who's his enemy?

Both Tobin and Sabine skid into the alley, answering my last question. A box rests in each of their hands.

We run the opposite way, farther into the alley, as soon as Sabine motions for us to follow her.

Bang!

I nearly trip over my own feet at the sound. I don't dare look back, as it would slow me down. We slip into another alley as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest.

"What's going on?" I whisper. No one seems to have heard me.

Two more gunshots ring out. I cringe but keep running, trying to follow Sabine and Tobin to wherever they're taking us. I'm already panting hard. My legs are sore from the sudden sprint. I'm not sure if I'll be able to push myself for long.

Sabine looks over her shoulder and calls, "If it comes to it, we'll split up."

Split up? My first time coming with them topside and this happens?

A figure appears around a corner of a building in front of us, raising a long object.

Without a second thought, I dive to my left, where there's a narrow space created between two buildings. Whatever happens after that is something I don't care to know, and I don't. I only follow the narrow gap, where it appears to lead out onto another street.

Another boom rings out, and a female yelp follows. My blood goes cold and my mind immediately goes to Sabine and the girl. It can't be one of them, can it? What if it's a female guard?

Once I squeeze myself through the alley, I continue running across the new street.

A man dressed in an officer outfit jumps out from behind a large garbage can, raising a gun at me. There is no time to react. I only skid to a stop.

But he shows no mercy. His finger pulls the trigger, and I feel a sharp pinch in my shoulder. An electric shock runs throughout my entire body. My legs give out, and I crash to the cold ground.

~~~

My head pulses as I slowly come back into consciousness. For a few seconds, my eyes refuse to open. But once they do, my surroundings are a blur.

There's something tight around my wrist, digging into my skin. My arms are pulled behind the board that's supporting my back. I'm in a chair, tied up.

Now I remember blacking out. What happened? Have I been kidnapped?

CHAPTER 12

V I V I A N

The room I'm in is cold and empty.

I've been placed in the middle of it, seated in a wooden chair. Another chair stands in front of me, but it's empty. There's an air vent on the ceiling, so there must be another room above me.

I turn my neck to get a look at what's hiding behind me. Just an empty wall. To my right is a door.

My ragged breathing is the only thing I hear. I blink, trying to keep my eyes from stinging.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. Not now.

I grit my teeth. They can't see me like this, with my face red. I pull at my hands, trying to tear whatever is holding them together. Handcuffs or a chain, judging by the cold wrap around my wrists. My feet are tied to the chair's legs with what?...rope? I lean forward and strain my neck to check the material binding my legs. Not rope. Wire.

Footsteps coming from the other side of the only door in the room startle me. I lean back and keep my head turned forward, holding my breath and blinking a few more times.

The door opens and my head turns to see the visitor. It's a man wearing a black crisp suit. Even though he looks organized and clean, his hair is a mess. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he makes his way over to me, stopping right by the empty chair. Very slowly, he takes a seat in the unoccupied chair and watches me. I am the first one to say something.

"What am I doing here?"

He smiles, but it isn't a friendly smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Vivian, right?" he says.

I stare at him, wondering how he could possibly know my name. Probably because of that commander guy I'd met. Denham, I believe.

The man in front of me introduces himself but I'm not sure why I care what his name is. "I'm Marcus. Marcus Kent. I'm not sure if you've heard of me, but I'm in charge of running this town."

A brief memory of Denham mentioning the name Marcus Kent makes it's way into my mind. He had said Marcus was their leader. What's so important about me that this leader wants to come talk to me?

"You didn't answer my question," I say. "What am I doing here?"

Marcus gives a casual shrug and keeps his arms crossed. "I need some help. You came across so I figured you'd help us."

I want to laugh. What makes him think I'm going to help him? "Ask someone else."

"You're the only one we could get to. We've tried in the past, but the others got away," Marcus says.

I narrow my eyes. "What kind of others?" I say.

Sabine? The girl? Tobin? Where are they?

"The runaways," he says. Then his voice gets louder. "We know they exist. They're in hiding. And you've been there."

I shake my head and try to relax. My heart is going a million miles an hour. "I don't know any runaways or any hideouts. I've been living on my own for the past couple of days."

"You were seen with a couple of them topside. They looked like they were familiar with you. You aren't strangers. You've been staying with them. But the question is where? You're going to show us their hideout."

I glare at him. This man doesn't scare me, no matter if he thinks he does. He's a leader, I know. He has potential to murder me, but I don't know why I barely feel fear around him.

I slide lower in my chair and scoff, simply saying, "I don't know you."

"You have no choice, Vivian," he says, motionless in his chair with his arms crossed.

I turn my head around to look at the emptiness of the room, answering, "I actually do have a choice. I don't know where they live so I can't take you there."

Marcus rubs his temples. "How don't you know where they live?" His voice is slowly raising volume. "You were with them."

"I met a couple of people, but they never took me anywhere." I notice I'm tapping my feet against the floor. I go still and keep my gaze on Marcus.

Marcus grunts. "You're lying. It's easy to tell."

I say nothing.

Marcus leans forward and tilts his head. "They have a leader. What is his name?"

He knows there's a leader of the hideout. I have to tell Sabine and the others Marcus wants to find them.

"They took you inside of their hideout, and it's absolutely obvious you're part of it. Where is it? What is their leader's name?"

I notice he's not torturing me. He's only asking questions, gritting his teeth to try to intimidate me. I shake my head. "I've never been to their hideout," I say slowly. Does a part of him think I'm telling the truth. Can really tell if I'm lying?

I need to lead him away from the hideout. I need to think of something.

"Rian." The word just decides to escape by itself. I swallow and continue. "That's the name of the leader. They told me his name, but I've never seen him."

I shut my eyes and look down at my knees. Why Rian? Couldn't I have just thought of some other name?

"Rian," Marcus repeats.

I nod, trying to remain calm despite the tugging in my stomach. "Know him?" My voice shakes.

"Am I supposed to?"

I don't answer because I don't know.

Marcus clasps his hands together. "You will assist us in this mission Vivian, whether you like it or not."

I pull on my handcuffs. "I've had enough of being part of projects and missions. Just leave me alone. Leave them alone," I say, referring to the people in the hideout. "What have they done to you anyway?"

Marcus sighs. "Just imagine us as the police. Imagine them as the criminals. Cops want to catch criminals and keep their town safe, right?"

I look at him for a few moments. "You can forget about my help."

"Like I said, Vivian, you have no choice in this." He leans toward the door and calls out, "You can enter now."

I turn to the door as it is pushed open. A young girl walks through, carrying a small box. She pulls the lid open as she nears me. Inside is a syringe.

I freeze. Then, without warning, my body completely snaps. I kick, trying to get the wires around my legs to untie. What's inside the syringe?

"Get that away from me!" I almost yell out. But the girl doesn't flinch as she walks toward me, holding the syringe in her hand.

Marcus is calm and collected as he stands up. The girl stands behind me, but doesn't do anything. She's waiting for Marcus to say something. Is she going to inject whatever is in the syringe, right into me?

"Like I said, Vivian," Marcus says, putting his hands behind his back. "There's no getting out of this. You will help us."

"No," I say, for the nth time.

But I can't stop the syringe from impaling me. There's a pinch in my arm, then it stops just as suddenly as it came. The girl does not appear in my vision again.

"What is that?" I ask, clenching my teeth.

Marcus gives me a tiny smile. "It's simply a tracker. When you'll be taken to the criminal's hideout, we'll know exactly where you will be located. Easy, right? See? You really have no choice in this."

I still have a choice. I can choose not to enter their hideout. I can stay outside and live on my own.

But I'm not a survivor.

The next words Marcus says make me freeze. "Knock her out."

CHAPTER 13

V I V I A N

There's a pulsing in my head as I open my eyes.

I'm on the concrete, in an alley...sprawled out in a small puddle of water. I squint my eyes.

An unusual blue glow is coming from under the skin of my right forearm. As I stare at it, the memories come flooding back in.

The tracer.

Marcus had it injected into my arm. That's the cause of the glow. I rub and tap at the spot, but the glow remains. Damn it.

Groaning from my pulsing head, I push myself to my feet, using the alley walls for support. The right side of my t-shirt is wet from the puddle of water I woke up in. I brush a hand over the soaking wet half of the shirt, grimacing.

The sun is already setting, leaving orange and blue streaks in the sky. I stumble out of the alley, my hand clutching my head.

A woman passes me, and when she throws a glance my way, her brow is furrowed with disapproval. I'm about to ask why she's frowning like that when I catch a word out of her mumbling sentence. "...drunk..."

Before I can tell her it's not what she thinks, she's gone and I feel too nauseous to come after her. The streets are occupied by people and cars, but despite my sudden claustrophobia kicking in, I force my wobbly legs to keep moving.

A bench is not too far away, so that's where I decide to sit down. My head spins, and pulses, and no matter how hard or how long I try to rub my temples, it decides to stay. Why am I like this? The thought of this being a side affect of a drug slips into my head reluctantly, but I push it away.

Pedestrians and cars pass by. While I watch them, I notice they decrease one by one, at the same time the sun starts to disappear.

Last night was a mess. I remember my first step out of the hideout. I remember the group I came with.

But something happened; I just can't grab on to the memory. There was a gunshot, but I don't know who is the one who took the bullet. And where did the group go? Have they been kidnapped like I have, or are they safe? I need to find them somehow, but I don't know how. Marcus would have told me if they caught someone, wouldn't he? He seems like the type of person who would share his accomplishments, but I don't know him enough to say that I'm correct.

The group could be fine. But maybe...maybe they're getting interrogated right now. What if they get the same tracker I received?

I sigh and lean back on the bench, perplexed on what my next decision should be. The only thing I'm certain of is I can't go back to the hideout, not when my location can be tracked by the police. I have to stay away. But what if someone notices my absence? I'm not sure that will happen.

The blue glow on my right forearm is gone. What does the light even mean?

"Hey, ma'am!" a man's voice suddenly calls out from my left. I turn my head in that direction, suspicious that he's taking to me. Sure enough, a man stands there, finger in my direction. He wears a dark blue uniform. And barely peeking from behind his back is a rifle. This man is an officer.

I get to my feet and slowly make my way over to him. He tells me, "You should be heading home by now, judging by how late it is."

I don't recognize him from anywhere, which means he probably doesn't know me either, which is good. He doesn't know I don't live here. But I play along, nodding, "Sorry. I felt like staying out here for a couple of hours more. I'll be heading home now."

He returns my nod, and when I expect him to say something else, he walks off. I go the opposite way, looking over my shoulder to see where he is. He has stopped at the corner of the block with his back turned to me.

I keep moving, heading farther into the town.

A building appears in front of me, the letters OPEN glowing orange above the doorway. The building is worn down, but the windows are bright, which shows that the lights still work. There are no other letters telling me what this building actually is. A bar? A restaurant? Something tells me it's one of those options. But it's still open when no one is outside?

Curious, I keep walking, heading for the building. But as I get closer, I see that there are no curtains shielding the windows like the other buildings have. Whatever is inside this bar is free to be seen by passerby.

Round tables have been placed around the building's room. A counter is all the way on the other side, and someone occupies it. A woman. She must be the worker Other than her, there is one customer seated at one of the tables, hunched over a sheet of paper. This must be some kind of bar.

I pull the door open and step in.

As soon as the woman spots me, a large smile appears on her face. But she looks tired, and I understand that she would rather be asleep than wait for customers who are not likely to show up. In a clear, loud voice, she calls from across the room to me. "Can I help you with anything?"

My eyes settle on an empty table by the window. "Can I just sit down?" I ask her.

Her hand gestures around the whole room, so I take that as an invitation to pick my own table. I sit down and turn my head toward the window. The streets look darker from here, and completely empty. So at night, everyone disappears into their homes. But what if they don't follow their curfew? What happens then?

"Would you like a menu?"

The woman's voice interrupts me from my thoughts, and I turn my head to look at her. I had not heard her footsteps, but she's standing right by my side.

She sets a sheet of paper in front of me, and before she walks away, I ask her for the time.

Almost midnight.

I pretend to study the menu, but in truth, I'm staring out the window. As good as it sounds right now, I cannot order food. I have no way of paying, so I'm just going to have to sit in this silence and act like I'm still making my choice.

Through the window, I see two figures turn the corner in the dark street. Their stride is fast, but they aren't running. One of them—the female—is turning her head left and right, almost like she's looking for something.

A familiarity tugs at my stomach, and as soon as I squint my eyes to get a better look at her, I realize she's Sabine.

What is she doing here? Did Marcus kidnap her like he did me? Did he let her go with a tracker in her arm? Is she choosing to stay away from the hideout to keep the others safe?

I hastily look around the room, not sure what I'm looking for exactly. A hiding spot? A way I could casually walk out? Sabine and the man with her are heading toward the bar, and I'm not doubting they won't spot me. I'm right by the lit window. Surely Sabine has memorized my face enough to figure out it's me? Is she looking for me?

No, that's impossible. I'm not that important.

I leave the menu at the table and push myself up from the chair. The worker notices because she calls out, "Leaving so soon? Aren't you going to order?"

I shake my head and put my hand on the doorknob. "I'll come back later." It sounds more like a question, but I leave it at that, slipping through the door and shutting it behind me. There is no blast of wind to my face like I'm expecting. It's calm and humid.

My short conversation with the lady inside was long enough for Sabine and her companion to get from the other side of the street to where I'm standing.

Sabine stands right in front of me, jumping back when she realizes that it's the short, new girl she found. "Vivian?" I'm surprised she remembers my name.

I nod slowly.

Sabine lets out a breath of air. "You're okay!" She points behind her. "A team was sent out to search for you, and we've been looking everywhere! And here you are!"

I blink. "You have? How long have you been out here?" How long have I been with Marcus Kent?

Sabine shrugs. "Caleb sent us out today in the morning. We stayed outside for a couple of hours, but we couldn't find you. When it got dark, we tried again. Where have you been? Why didn't you come back to the hideout?"

I open my mouth to talk but my first couple of words are stuttered. "I abandoned you guys that night when those guards came." I pause and look down at my feet. "Then something happened."

"What happened?" Sabine whispers. The man behind her, who I still have no idea who he is, tries to say something, but Sabine stops him. "What happened?" she repeats.

Instead of answering her question, I say, "What happened to you? There was a gunshot. Was anyone hurt?"

Sabine laughs, but I don't see humor in that. "Nobody was hurt. Except that man that tried to shoot us. Tobin bashed that guard's head on a brick wall."

I cringe and find myself taking a step back. Had that resulted in the guard's death? I'm reluctant to ask, but I do anyway. "What happened to him?"

"Who? Tobin or the guard?" Sabine must know who I'm talking about. I couldn't care less about Tobin. Without waiting for an answer, she adds, "He blacked out, I think. Probably got a concussion." She shrugs like it's no big deal and grabs my arm to try and drag me forward. "Let's go."

Back to the hideout, I'm guessing. I plant my feet on the concrete and pull my arm back. "I can't go," I say.

Sabine looks taken aback. She blinks a few times, staring at me. "Wha—? What do you mean you can't go back? Sure you can."

"The police are tracking me." I point to my right forearm, where the blue glowing light of the tracker had been visible once. It's not there anymore so I don't have any visible proof of the tracker to show to Sabine and the man with her. She just has to take my word for it.

She narrows her eyes. "What do you mean? Is that where you were all day?" Her voice rises. "Helping those guards?"

I shake my head. "No. They shot me and I blacked out. I woke up tied to a chair and...I talked to someone named Marcus."

Sabine tilts her head back and laughs. But it's a shaky laugh. Her voice cracks when she says, "That leader guy? He's tracking you right now?"

"Yes. He wants me to lead him to your hideout."

Sabine takes in a deep breath. "But you won't? That's why you don't want to go back."

I nod. "I'm going to stay out here. If he's listening in, then he knows what I'm trying to do."

Sabine scratches her head. "We could send out a couple of people to protect you out here. You won't be alone."

"No. I don't need any help. Just go. Before anyone comes." Maybe they're already here, watching. Or maybe they're never coming at all. I wouldn't know. My hand tries to wave off Sabine. "Go."

"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?"

"No," I say. I don't how long I'll be able to survive on my own, but I'll find out soon enough.

"I'll get you some help." Sabine starts backing away, pointing to me. "You stay safe for now. Don't get into any trouble." She disappears, the man following after her, before I can even think of anything else to say. She doesn't know me that well, so why does she want to help me?

I don't need her to put anybody in danger just so they could protect me. I'm fine on my own with however many days fate decides to give me.
CHAPTER 14

RIAN

It's like nothing but this wilting, gray field has ever existed. That's how it appears through my eyes. Uninhabitable and toxic. And I had never in my right mind thought I'd be standing on Earth's ground again.

Is this what Vivian saw?

Fox, Laurey, Addison, and I have been walking for what feels like a long time now. The device still continues to mark Vivian's location, and the radio built inside our helmets still works between the four us, but we can't call the guys back in the complex.

The signal doesn't reach that far. We were told to keep going, even if we lost the signal. They were expecting this.

"We could've at least packed a lunch," Fox's radio voice says inside my helmet. I turn to look over at him and see he's still walking with us. Well, not really walking, but dragging his feet after him. When we left the building, he had been enthusiastic, making jokes and gazing out into the field just like we all were. But that excitement disappeared quickly.

Addison sighs. "Well, I can't really make you feel better by telling you we're almost there, because I have no idea if we are." She points far into the distance. "All I know is we have to keep going that way. What if nothing lives there?"

"Snakes could live there," Fox starts. "Tiny ones."

"Or squirrels," Addison adds. "Or chipmunks."

"Or birds," I add.

Silence follows.

Fox breaks it. "Hang on." He crouches down on his knees and pokes his gloved hands into the earth's ground, occasionally pawing at it.

We all watch him. Addison is the one to question his actions aloud. "What exactly are you doing?"

Fox keeps digging. But then he stops and brings his face closer to the small hole he's made. He reaches into the soil, stands up, and holds his hand up to his face, his fingers pinched like he's found something small.

"What?" Addison walks over to stand by his side. She snatches his wrist and pulls his hand closer to her helmet-covered face, trying to get a better view of what he's found. "What is that?"

"An insect," Fox says. "Proof that's it's possible something can live out here."

I walk over to Fox. "You found a bug?"

Fox nods and brings his pinched fingers in front of my face. I squint at it. Sure enough, I see the black bug.

"And you just happened to have picked it up?" I ask.

The pane of glass built in the helmet is too dark for their face expression to be seen. The sound of their voice is the only thing I can use to at least get a small idea of what they're feeling. So I just stand there, gaze locked on the black pane of glass.

Fox continues to examine the insect between his fingers. "Something else lives here too. We just have to find it." I can hear a smile creeping on his face as he says these words.

Addison is about to say something, but I interrupt. "How about we just keep going, okay? Every second we spend, we might be putting ourselves in danger."

"Or putting Vivian in danger," Laurey, who has barely spoken this entire time, says.

Fox snorts. "She might already be dead."

~~~

My feet are throbbing, and I can't help but think that maybe I have a thousand blisters on my skin. I'm only minutes from collapsing onto the ground, and I'm sure if I do, I won't wake up again.

The last time we ate anything was an hour before we left the building. And how many hours we've been on the move is something I can't answer.

If we did pack food, it's not like we'd be able to take off our helmets and eat it. Not in this toxic environment. But how was Vivian able to breathe? There had been no protective suit over her when she had been thrown away. If she is able to breathe this, maybe we can too. But I know the air is not the only thing that I should be worried about. It's what sort of threats are out here.

But nothing has come up so far, and our weapons stay where they are, in their holsters. Laurey told us she doesn't want to be forced to shoot, and secretly, neither do I.

"Oh, look at that!" Addison's voice exclaims. I snap out of my thoughts and focus on what she's pointing at. Green weeds. I haven't been focusing on my surrounds at all these past several minutes, so I have not noticed that we have just come across green plants. So much different from the gray environment we have been walking across. I feel a small smile start to creep onto my face.

Addison starts toward the purple flowers ahead of us, running her hand along every plant she passes. She turns her head around to look at our surroundings, yelling, "This is beautiful!" Since there's a radio right in my ear, her shout vibrates, and I cringe as my ears start ringing. My black helmets prevents me from rubbing my ear.

The sound bothers Fox too. He mutters something I can't understand, and then adds, "Dude, don't shout. We'll go deaf."

Addison turns back to us three and gasps. "Wait! Plants make oxygen, right?"

Fox coughs, but it sounds more like he thinks the answer is obvious and Addison shouldn't be asking the question. At least that's what I think. "Yes," he answers.

"So," Addison starts,"that means there's oxygen out here, right? We'll be able to breathe without our helmets."

"I agree with that," I say. "But...along with the oxygen, there could be a bunch of other chemicals mixed in."

"Maybe there aren't," Addison mutters, looking less enthusiastic than she had been. She looks down at her feet.

"Might be or might not, I don't want to take that chance," I say.

~~~

Hills emerge on the horizon ahead of us. They block the view of whatever is behind them. Seeing them gives me new motivation. Maybe because there could be something on the other side. Vivian could be on the other side. Did she really walk the same distance we did? That's unbelievable. Why would she just decide to go see what's out here? Had she tried to find access to the underground complex? We would have let her back in.

"Hey oh, Rian!" Fox calls. I turn my head around and realize I've passed the three without realizing it. My hand raises up in an awkward wave, and I slow down to let them catch up to me. Fox asks, "Slow down, dude. There's nothing to be excited about." But I notice his stride is faster now as we near the hills.

Before we know it, we're jogging at an incline, toward the highest point of the hill we're on. Fox gets there a few seconds before we do and he gazes in wonder at whatever lies past the hills.

"What the?" he says. "Oh man. You. Will. Not. Believe. This." He continues to gaze out.

Laurey gets there second, and Addison sees it third. I'm just so lucky that I reach it last, panting and trying to catch my breath. It's difficult to run in these suits.

What I see as I stand at the top of the hill is something I do not expect to see.

Smoke. Buildings. A gate. Life.

It's a town.

"It's not burning, is it?" Fox asks quietly, still not taking his attention off the town.

Addison stares too. "No," she whispers. "It's...alive." She sniffs and her voice cracks. "Ah, man...now I'm crying and I can't wipe my eyes."

Fox is the first to start jogging down the hill, toward the town. All three of us follow, and I hear the constant sniffing of Addison's nose in the radio by my ear.

Fox pulls his assault rifle out.

"Whoa," Addison exclaims, taking a step back away from Fox. "Nothing's out here, so don't use that."

Fox shakes his head and points his finger toward the town. "See that gate?"

We all nod.

Fox continues. "Well, there's someone standing at the entrance. With a gun."

I squint and look toward the place Fox had pointed to. He's right, there is what looks like a human figure standing guard. Only one? I guess they don't expect much to happen here.

Addison snorts. "So you want them to think we're a threat by showing them our guns? We're here for Vivian, aren't we? When we get her, we're leaving."

"You do realize we won't leave right away, right?" Fox says. "There's something called exploring. Besides, if Vivian is alive, I doubt she'd want to leave this place too. Who knows what living underground does to you. This town looks like paradise." He slides his rifle back onto his back and continues walking toward the front gates. He doesn't get far before that one guard spots all four of us. What does he do?

He aims his weapon at us.

I jump back and my arms go flying up in a gesture of surrender. The others copy.

"It's okay!" I call out to the guard. "We don't want any trouble."

He doesn't shoot, but he doesn't say anything either. He just gestures for us to come closer, his weapon still pointed at us. I obey whatever he says, and to my relief, the other three follow me.

"It's all right," Fox says, starting to lower his arms. But the guard notices.

"Stay still!" he shouts, poking his gun at us. But he seems to realize something. I can't read his expression that well to know what. Very slowly, he drops his weapon to his side and asks, "Did Kent send you?"

Silence stretches between us at the unfamiliar name. I turn my head to look at Fox just as he does the same to me, but his helmet keeps his expression hidden.

He looks back at the guard, arms falling to his sides casually, like nothing ever happened. "Yes," he says along with a nod of his head. "We were sent here by hi—uh—Kent."

We don't know if Kent is a man or woman, so it would be safer not to use pronounces.

The rest of us copy Fox and bring our arms back down to our sides. I'll leave Fox to do all the talking.

The guard points to the gate's doors. "I haven't been informed of the new suits. Someone must have complained about the old ones. Go on in. Best to not keep Kent waiting for the information."

Fox nods and we walk toward the door, slowly.

This is it? The guard is just letting us through?

But I'm not halfway done with the thought when out of my peripheral vision, I see the guard swing his gun. My next thought: why not just shoot us?

It takes me an extra second to realize the guard is a threat, but it's not me he's aiming for. It's Fox. And fortunately, Fox is prepared.

He ducks and pulls his own gun out, but it's the pistol, not the rifle.

"Stay where you are and don't move," the guard yells out. "You think I'm that stupid? You surely don't act like you know what you're—"

He doesn't finish his sentence. Fox twists around until he's right behind him. His hands go for the guard's neck, and the next seconds, I'm watching the guard struggle as Fox blocks the oxygen from entering his lungs.

I wish I could plug my ears, because the choking noise that comes from the guard is something I don't want to hear. But then it's over in a few seconds, and the guard's limp body falls to the ground.

Fox looks more alive than ever. His back is straight, but his knees are partly bent. His fists are out, ready for a fight.

Laurey squeals and recoils, bringing curled hands in front of her face to mirror Fox. "Jesus, Fox!" she cries out. But no one argues that his action wasn't necessary, because we all know it is. Fox just saved our lives.

He pulls in a sharp breath and shakes his hands out.

Laurey shivers, and I notice I've never really seen her shout like this. She's been in her own head this entire trip. I guess the thing that made her pull down her protective wall was seeing Fox choke some0ne unconscious.

I swallow and look away from the guard's limp body.

Laurey still has her fists positioned in front of herself. "Well, hide the body!"

Fox agrees, bending down to grab the guards arm and preparing to drag him. And then I notice something no one else has noticed. If they have, they would have pointed it out.

"The guard's breathing the air," I say. I stop, letting the words sink into everyone's heads. Even my own.

Addison gasps. "No way." She reaches for the back of her head and fiddles with the clasps of the helmet. She's going to take her helmet off.

I stop her, but only for a second. "What if the only reason he's able to breathe it is because their bodies have adapted to it? Maybe if we try, we'll fall dead."

Addison continues unzipping the straps attaching her helmet to her head, looking like she doesn't care at all. "Then you'll have one less person to worry about," she says. Then adds, "I want to breathe real air again."

Before any of us can do anything to stop her., she grabs both sides of her helmet and pulls it off. Her black hair falls to her shoulders, and I realize I can see her face. She looks up into the sky and takes a deep breath, and smiling when she realizes she's still alive.

She is still alive.

We all stare at her, our eyes wide.

"Maybe it kills you gradually?" Fox suggests. But he's the second person to take his helmet off. As soon as my helmet comes off, I inhale the deepest breath I have ever breathed in, which hurts my lungs. As the air enters my nostrils, I can't help but laugh. The air is cold and sharp, but it's the greatest thing I have ever felt. The smile on my face doesn't seem to want to leave no matter how hard I try to lose it. And everyone else is grinning too.

CHAPTER 15

V I V I A N

I don't remember what I did today.

Everything has been passing by so slow, that as soon I do something, I forget it.

The temperature drops as the sun goes down, first to hide behind the buildings, then behind the horizon. I shiver and clutch myself, trying to take advantage of as much body heat as I can. Why did I give up that large sweatshirt?

The wind has picked up, and it blows strands of my brown ponytail into my face, stick to my mouth and refusing to leave me be even as I try to spit it out.

I shiver and jump off the bench I'm sitting at. The sky is already black, and I know I should keep to the shadows in case there are guards patrolling the dark streets.

But I am supposed to be doing something else. Marcus sent me back out here with a tracker chip in my arm. He wants me to lead him to the hideout, but I don't think I can do that. It's not only because I don't know where it is, but because I don't want to betray anyone, even if they're people who I don't know very well.

The town looks deserted and eerie in this darkness. It well past midnight now, but I still don't have anywhere to sleep.

A shadow passes over me, but disappears the split second after. I stop, straining my ears for a sound. Nothing.

Is someone out there? It's better to keep going.

My legs want to break into a run, but I force them to keep moving at a regular pace. Running for it won't help. I don't know where I'll be going, and I'm sure I'll hit a dead end. But if I'm just imagining things? What if no one's out here except me?

My footsteps echo through the streets as I put my left foot, then my right foot forward. Don't go too fast, I remind myself, realizing my pace is increasing. I slow down and steal a quick look behind my shoulder. No one's there, but something catches my eye on one of the roofs. A flash of a silhouetted figure. It's gone now.

My feet start moving faster.

Someone is watching me.

Just keep moving.

Maybe it's just my imagination. Maybe the dark frightens me more than I think it does. Maybe I should plant myself in an alley, close my eyes, and wait until morning. Maybe then my fears will go away.

Another black silhouette peeks out from the edge of a roof, disappearing the next second.

Definitely not my imagination.

I turn a sharp corner, hoping to find a narrow passageway I can fit through. But no.

Dead end.

I turn back toward the street and break into a slow jog. No one's out on the streets except me. Not even a stray. What if they're all hiding out on the roofs?

Where am I going?

My feet have been taking me toward an unknown direction, eyes moving this way and that, trying to spot a figure or a shelter. Some of the building's windows are lit up, looking welcoming and warm. But I doubt anyone would want to let me—a filthy stray—into their home. I can't trust anyone either, no matter how sympathetic they appear to be.

I have to find a safe place to stay for the night. But maybe there is no such thing as a safe place. Every roof is occupied by someone, and right this minute, their eyes are on me. And I don't know if they're an ally, or an enemy.

A narrow passageway appears as I turn the corner. There are small puddles of water scattered around.

I need to stop here. This place will have to do for now.

I move around the water and head for the deepest corner, hoping this place is safe enough.

I'm going to have to wait and see what happens to me.

I press my back against the deepest wall of the alley, sliding down to the cold ground and wrapping my arms around myself.

As I bury my head between my knees, I finally realize what kind of life I'm living right now.

I'm an outcast. I'm going to live by myself for the rest of my life. And how long do I have left to live anyway? A day? A couple of hours?

The corners of my eyes start to sting, so I shut them and pull in a large breath of air. A block has planted itself in my throat, and there's no use swallowing it down.

I sniff and wipe my nose, biting my tongue to try to stop the silent tears.

A breath of air is blown out. Too loud in this silence. But I wasn't the one to cause it.

My head shoots up to the alley's exit. There's no one there, but I swear I heard it.

There is someone on the roof right above me.

Should I get out of here?

I'm on my feet again, jogging out of the alley I found only ten seconds ago.

The streets are still empty. There are no guards, no civilians. If a stranger entered this place right now, they would think it's been abandoned.

I cross the street quietly, heading toward another alley. A sudden bash echoes through the air. I snap my head left and right, trying to locate the source of the sound. What if whoever is following me is a guard?

I break into a jog, turning away from the alley I had my eye on. I can't go there now. I'll gladly run around town the whole night if I have to.

Another alley catches my eye, and I want to stop there and investigate it. Maybe someone's sleeping there, or maybe I can use it as a shelter—

There's a flash of a figure ahead of me, too fast for me to know if it's male or female. My legs decide to turn around and go in another direction.

But another dark silhouetted figure appears in the direction I'm traveling. This one doesn't leave. It remains stationary at the edge of a street, eye on me. It's a male, judging my it's tall, muscled stature.

No, no, no.

I spin on my heels and change direction.

Footsteps echo behind me, but I dare not steal a look back.

I am being followed.

The pace of my heart increases as the idea of potential danger makes its way into my head.

This can't be happening.

I need to get away.

My legs break into a sprint, and I can still hear the footsteps, faster now.

I pump my arms and put one foot in front of the other. My heart pounds against my chest, matching the rhythm of the swinging of my legs.

The end of the block is right ahead. Only a few more feet until I can make a right turn. But what good will that do anyway?

Maybe there will be guard around the corner. He can help me.

I turn my head to look behind me, praying the man who I thought is following me isn't actually following me.

I don't want to die.

But no. There he is. He's closer now and I get a brief description of him before I turn my head back to look ahead of me. Gray clothes and brown hair. His face definitely does not look familiar. It's not Tobin, not Caleb. No one I've seen in the hideout.

He stretches an arm out, and the words that escape his mouth nearly make me stop in my tracks. "Vivian, I'm not going to hurt you!"

I don't slow down, but when I turn the corner, I have to stop.

Four people stand in the middle of the street ahead of me, wearing gray and black uniforms. They look like guards, but a second look at them tells me they are not. Two girls. Two guys. One is holding a rifle.

I know who they are.

In front of the group of four people stands a tall man with spiked up blond hair. He freezes in his tracks as he sees me standing there. And I can't believe he's actually here. Am I seeing things?

But the guy with the gray outfit—the one who is following me—reaches my side. He sees the four black-uniformed people and runs at them.

Before I can figure out what's going on, he tackles the blond one to the ground. Rian.
CHAPTER 16

V I V I A N

I am hallucinating.

Everything I have endured has done this to my brain. The four aren't here.

They can't be.

Imaginary or not, I say Rian's name.

The unfamiliar man with the gray outfit has already grabbed Rian by the collar of his black uniform. His hand pulls back, but the three who came with Rian tumble forward like dominoes, turning themselves into Rian's shield before he gets struck.

The unfamiliar man gets a punch to the face by one of the girls, but that doesn't stop him. He's about attempt another hit at Rian's face. The tall guy with the rifle acts first. He shoves the rifle's end toward the man's chest, promptly causing the man to roll off Rian. He sprawls out on the concrete ground, and doesn't move again. I don't think he's dead. I don't want to be looking at a corpse.

"Rian!" one of the girls yells, pushing her black hair behind her as she kneels down in front of Rian. I've met her before in the white underground building, but I just can't remember her name. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

My knees buckle at everything that has just happened. I brush myself off and force my feet to move toward the five people. The unfamiliar man is still motionless on the ground.

Rian grunts and waves his hand, silently telling the black-haired girl to give him space to move.

"Rian, are you all right?" My voice cracks as I say this. I know it's a stupid question to ask. Of course he's not all right.

Just as soon as I say this, everyone's heads turn to me, eyes pulled open. It's like they just noticed my presence.

Fox is among the four. He looks the same as always. Short brown hair, and still towering over me. He looks at me as if he's never seen me around before. "Vivian?"

"Fox?" I say back. This could all be a dream. How could they be here with me, and breathing? "What are you...what are you all doing here?"

Rian pushes himself up, cringing.

I look around at the four surrounding me. "I—I don't understand," I manage to get out. "What are you...?"

"We were sent to get you." Fox is the only one who's talking. The others are sitting back, staring at me and afraid to touch me like I'll explode. "I don't understand either," he whispers. "You're alive."

I look down at my hands, examining the black swirl of graffiti weaving through my fingers. "I am."

I never thought about what had happened to me. I woke up in the white container, and just accepted it. It's like black magic brought me back to life.

"So you are alive," one of the girls speaks up. A quiet voice. Blond hair. I know her too. Laurey, is what I think her name is. "I didn't believe it when they sent us out in search for you. I thought it was their way of getting rid of us, but I just accepted it..."

I look at Rian to see his reaction. He keeps looking at me up and down, but his eyes tell me he's tired.

"Hi" is all I say to him with a small smile on my face. His hand reaches out to touch my hair. He thinks I'm a ghost...while I think the same of them.

I reach out to touch his hand to make sure he's real, but just for a second. His hand is cold, but he's tangible. I pull away.

"What is going on? Why were you sent to get me?" I ask, my voice trembling. "How did you know I was alive?"

"Because," Fox starts, "of your chip." He points to the spot on his forearm, but the black material of his suit covers his skin. "The chip they inserted inside your arm right before our mission several months ago is still functioning."

Several months ago. My head spins once from those three words. It's really been that long, hasn't it?

"We were told your chip was tracked here," Fox continues. "And they were right." He looks around. "Man, how is this place standing?"

I skim the faces of the other three. The two girls are looking around as well, as if already forgetting about me. Rian stares at me, his mouth partly open. When I meet his gaze, he whispers three words. "But you died."

Fox slaps Rian's shoulder. "Man, we're confused about his too, so don't think you're the only one." He stands up from his crouched position, brushing his sleeves off. I see the handle of a rifle peeking out from behind his back, and I have to wonder...has he used a bullet yet?

"What's going to happen now?" I ask, standing up as well. Fox's tall stature might have frightened me when I first met him, but now all he is is just a person, disregarding the gun attached to his back. I tilt my head up to look at him.

"And by that you mean...?" he asks, searching the pockets in his suit.

The suits have been made especially for the four of them, just like those bulky suits we had to put on before. Are these new ones better than the old ones, or the same?

"Are you going back?" I clarify. But I'm not sure if he knows what I mean by back. Back where?

I mean the underground building. Its white color sickens me as I think about it. I don't want to go back, but yet at the same time, I do.

"That's not the plan," Fox replies. "I was thinking of investigating this place. Where is everybody?"

"Asleep. No one's really allowed to be outside after dark," I tell him.

He raises his eyebrows. "And you learned that where?"

"I'm not sure. I don't remember." I turn back to Rian. He's still sitting on the ground. Whether he needs it or not, I hold my hand up to him. He stares at it for moment, as if unsure why I'm offering it to him. Slowly, he reaches out and takes it, using it as a small support to pull himself up on his feet.

"Thanks," he mutters, brushing himself off.

He's not looking at me, but I give him a smile.

"All right, time to get a move on," Fox says.

"Where are we going to go exactly?" the black-haired girl with us asks.

Fox shrugs. "Find a place to crash." He looks at me. "Might you happen to know where we can find one?"

The underground hideout.

But I can't enter it. I have to be careful now because of the tracker Marcus Kent gave me. I'm being watched by him now. As soon as I enter the hideout, it will be infiltrated. I can't be the one responsible.

"No," I decide to tell them. "I don't know any safe places. There are always alleys."

The blond-haired girl Laurey points to the unconscious guy on the floor. "Don't forget about him. He might be someone important."

As soon as she says that, a spark in my head goes off. I can't believe I haven't thought of this yet. What if this guy was sent by Kent? He attacked Rian, and Rian looked a lot like one of Kent's guards. Why would the guy attack a guard? And how did he know my name?

I shouldn't come to conclusions right away, but I think it's safer to assume he's not on our side.

CHAPTER 17

V I V I A N

With a grunt, Fox releases the unconscious guy dressed in gray. He falls to the floor with a thud, and for a few second, everyone watches him, expecting him to wake up. But he doesn't stir.

We found a quiet alley, but my back tingles with the thought that someone is living on the roof above us, listening to our conversation.

The black-haired girl—who I now remember is Addison—wraps her arms around herself. She shivers and says, "Vivian, aren't you cold?"

I glance down at myself, seeing my bare arms. The cold isn't bothering me as much as it did a couple hours ago, but I have been noticing the drops in temperature.

"Yeah," I say, trying to fit my small hands in the small pockets of my jeans. Now that she mentioned it, the cold is slowly biting at me.

"Where did you get that outfit anyway," Fox asks. "Stole it?"

It was given to me by an underground gang. But I don't know if I should tell them that. It's not a good idea to mention the hideout. Kent is listening.

"Well?"

I cross my arms and shift my foot. Lies are what I they'll get now, but maybe I can explain it all later. "Yeah, I did."

"How'd you manage that?" Fox asks, mirroring me by folding his arms over his chest.

I don't know if he thinks I'm not capable of doing such things, or he just can't do it himself and he's impressed that I could pull it off. The theft was fake, of course.

"I don't know," I reply, voice growing quiet. "It wasn't that hard." I don't want to sound overconfident—because I didn't steal this outfit—so I trail off and step back. What I need is someone to change the subject.

Fox continues to bombard me with his questions. "You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

I take a breath, preparing to answer, but Rian interrupts. "Can we just focus on the guy here?" He points to the unconscious man—who looks more like a teenage boy now—on the floor.

Fox gives three nods. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. What are we going to do with him?"

I don't really want to give any answers, but no one else wants to share anything. The silence gnaws at me, so I speak up. "Wake him up and ask him questions." My suggestion is simple and obvious, but at least it's something.

Fox arches an eyebrow. "But that's what anyone else would do. Why can't we do something interesting?"

"Like what?" Addison asks, grinning. "Hang him off the roof?"

Fox shrugs. "If he doesn't cooperate, we might as well."

Rian clears his throat, and for the first time since we got here, I shift my eyes to him. His arms are resting by his sides. His hands are half curled and his legs are crossed as he leans against the wall. But he doesn't look exactly comfortable. "Shouldn't we focus on why we're still alive? Because that's what's on my mind right now."

He's right. Neither Fox, Laurey, nor Addison have really mentioned anything about breathing this town air. Even I have forgotten about it.

"And how," Fox starts, his voice low at first, "are we supposed to come up with an answer to this question?"

"That's exactly what I want us all to do—solve this." Rian straightens himself out and points to the guy on the ground. "Whatever you want to ask him, he's not going to help us with our current mission. I'm not trying to take over here, but our mission was to find Vivian, and bring her back." He points to me. "We found her. Now we have to bring her back. We shouldn't get distracted by anything."

Fox takes a step toward Rian, and I almost want to jump in between them.

"We can't just leave now. Are you out of your mind?" Fox's words mean he's angry, but he keeps his voice level and at a safe volume. "This place—" he gestures around him "—is different. It's not normal. We'll find out as much as we can about it, then we'll come back. Unless you want to leave with Vivian yourself, then go ahead."

I catch myself shaking my head. This town isn't safe. I'd rather not stay here and be under surveillance. But I can't forget about the people in the hideout. They don't deserve to be abandoned. But how can I help them? They've survived here by themselves for how many years?

Fox notices my head shake. "You have something to add?"

A decision has to be made. Tell them about my tracker and the hideout and risk Kent overhearing it, or keep silent? What if I tell them? How will Fox's curiosity change about this place? Will he want to leave, or go after Kent?

I take a deep breath and run through the possibilities of what may happen if I spill the information.

"I don't think it's a good idea to stay here," I begin.

"Why not?" This time it's Addison. "You don't like it here?"

"We were never invited here anyway," Rian mutters.

Everyone ignores him but me. I look at him but he's only looking at the ground.

"It's dangerous," I say, heartbeat speeding up as I decide it's best to go deeper into my explanation. I'm dreading the consequences. "There's a man..." I take another deep breath, and catch myself looking over my shoulder. "His name is..." I trail off.

But Fox is waiting. "His name is what?"

I don't answer his question, only continue with my slow explanation with a swallow. "He's looking for a hideout, and he thinks I'm part of it. He...he wants me to lead him to the people living there, but..." I shake my head and lift my forearm to point to the spot where the blue tracker was injected. "I'm being watched right now. I need to leave."

Fox holds up a hand to stop me, but I have already finish. "You're saying he thinks you know this hideout. Do you?"

Slowly, I nod. "He wants them dead." I almost cringe, wondering if I've said too much.

"Can't we save them?" Addison says.

I shake my head, but I'm really not sure. "Our fire power is significantly weaker than the guards'. It's best to keep out of it." There's bound to be a betrayer living among them. Surely not me?

"And what's this guy's name, do you know?" Fox asks.

Will I regret this, or no? "His name is Marcus Kent."

Silence.

Then from Fox, "Kent?" He looks at Rian. "That guard guy mentioned a Kent. He's the same guy, no doubt about it."

I'm not sure what he's talking about, but at least the name Kent is not extremely unfamiliar. Although I do not know how much they've heard about him.

Rian nods. "He's some kind of leader, isn't he?"

I return his nod. "I don't know how much risk I put you all in telling you this."

Fox pats the rifle attached to his back. He's either taking comfort in its presence, or he wants to use that gun to shoot everyone down. Either way, we're not stronger than Kent's guards. "So you don't know how dangerous this guy is?" Fox asks me.

"Not really, but if he has all these people working for him, I can't say he's weak—"

A groan comes from the ground. All five of us look down to see the guy dressed in gray rubbing his chest with his arm, his eyes closed. When he opens them, he lets out a low gasp and scrambles back, eyes darting from one person to another until they land on me. I take a step back.

The guy blinks. "Vivian?"

Once again, I wonder how he knows my name. Rian, Addison, and Fox wonder the same thing, because all three of them ask the same words. "He knows you?"

Laurey just stands back and watches as everyone catches on to whatever is happening.

Fox prompts for an answer. "Do you know him?" His squinted eyes drill into me, and I'm almost certain he doesn't trust me. He thinks I'm not telling them something I should tell them.

"No, I've never seen him before." I try to keep my voice steady. This is the truth, but I feel like if any one of them detect a weakness in my voice, then I'll be suspected of lying. "I swear."

Fox turns his narrowed eyes to Rian, as if expecting him to know if what I'm saying is the truth. But Rian says nothing.

It's the guy on the ground whose voice we hear. "It's true. She's never seen me before."

Fox reaches out and snatches the pistol from his holster. He raises the gun at the guy.

I jump back, fists clenched. Addison is the first to move. She grabs Fox's arm, but doesn't try to push it down. "Whoa! Calm down. He's not doing anything."

Fox's eyebrow angle downward, but he keeps the gun in the air. "Oh yeah, sure," he says, rolling his head around on his neck. "If someone doesn't keep him down, then he'll shoot every one of you before we'll know what's going on."

The guy lifts his hands and ducks his head. "I don't have a weapon on me, man."

"We don't know that," Fox says coldly. "We haven't searched you yet."

"Your fault." The guy's voice is surprisingly steady. "I'm not a threat to any of you. Sabine sent me to watch Vivian, and I thought you were the town guards, so I attacked."

I stare at him, feeling my mouth open. "I...Sabine sent you?"

"You heard me."

I remember she told me she'll send someone, but I have completely forgotten about it. Although I don't know if I should believe this guy. But his gray outfit means something. Both Sabine and her brother had gray-colored clothing. Maybe Sabine did send him.

I cross my arms, preparing myself to ask him questions. He's at gunpoint, so he might not attack me. But I can't be sure.

"And why did you call me by my name the first time instead of actually telling me Sabine sent you?"

"I don't know. I wanted to get your attention."

"I think I remember seeing more than one figure following me." Actually, I know I saw more than one figure. The way my heart had beat that time is not forgettable. "How many people came here with you?"

"Just me. Those people may not have been following you. You could have just imagined—can you please just lower the gun?" The guy turns to Fox, and I can tell the words catch Fox off guard. "I don't like how you're holding it."

Fox straightens himself out and snorts. "You don't like how I'm holding the gun? Well I don't like that brain of yours. Mind if I—?"

"Fox!" Addison exclaims. "Shut up, will you? He might be able to help us."

The guy nods. "I might be able to help you."

"Unless you know where to find a man named Marcus Kent, then you're no help to us," Fox says.

The guy's face lights up. "I have connections that can help you find Marcus." His smile drops. "What do you want with the leader of the town anyway?"

Fox laughs through his nose. "So he is the leader then?" He lowers his gun, no doubt thinking the confirmation is enough to give the guy a break. "So what's your name?" He uses the pistol in his hand to point to me. I recoil. "You know Vivian's name, so tell us yours."

The guy nods. "Fair enough. Jarrod."

"Okay, Jarrod," Fox says. "Where can we find this Marcus Kent?"

Jarrod nods again. "Someone in our hideout knows where to find him."

I cringe when he mentions the hideout. If Kent is listening, then Jarrod's already been targeted. It will be dangerous to let him go now. But if he can't enter the hideout, then how will he help us?

"Who?" Fox asks.

"A man," Jarrod says.

No one prompts him to be specific, and I am glad. Maybe they finally understand that it's not safe to say any names yet.

Fox leans his back against the wall and slides down to the ground, his long legs stretching out. He laughs. "I guess we wait then?"

"For what?" It's Rian who asks this.

Fox says, "For something to happen." He looks at me. "If what you're saying is correct, then Kent's soldiers will be here to pick us up."

Slowly, I lower myself to the ground, a couple feet away from Rian. Laurey and Addison sit down too.

Jarrod d0esn't run for it like I'm expecting him to, that is if he really is a traitor. But where would he go? Fox will shoot him before he can take two steps.

"I'm not falling asleep, you know that, right?" Fox says with a sly grin on his face. He fake shoots Jarrod with the pistol. "You aren't allowed to leave."

Jarrod doesn't seem to realize we don't trust him. "I could keep watch for you. I'm here to guard Vivian, might as well watch over all of you."

Fox fidgets in his spot and reaches for the rifle on his back. The pitch of his voice is higher than usual as he says, "Of course, you may. That would be helpful." He starts laughing at his own joke, but when no one joins him, he stops. Something rumbles suddenly, and he laughs. "Sorry. My stomach."

Jarrod points toward the alley's exit. "We could go get some food?"

Fox leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes. "Nope." Without looking, he directs his pistol to Jarrod, then shifts it to point to the dead end of the alley. "You head on back to that corner and shut your mouth. If your digestive system fails you or something, make sure you don't let us know. You stay there and do whatever business you need to do."

Jarrod stands up and obeys Fox's order. The dead end isn't that far, so he reaches his destination quickly. When he sits down, he stays silent.

"So who's keeping watch?" Addison asks.

Fox slaps a hand over his chest. "Me."

"But you're asleep," Addison points out.

"No, I'm not. And I trust myself."

"Oh sure," Addison mutters, pulling her knees close to herself and hiding her hands in her sleeves. Her eyes fall shut, and she doesn't say anything else.

I would expect someone to complain about the condition of our shelter, but no one comments on it.

With his eyes still closed, Fox says, "Laurey, get some sleep."

I glance at her to see her nod her head. "All right." She folds her arms across her chest and shivers once, but closes her eyes too. "Goodnight, guys."

"Goodnight," I whisper to her, rubbing my hands over my arms.

"'Night," Fox echoes.

I get a quick look at everyone. Jarrod has settled down too. Both Laurey's and Addison's eyes are closed. Fox is picking at something on his rifle.

I tilt my head to look at Rian. His eyes are open and he's staring at the empty wall across from him. He can tell I'm looking at him because before I turn away, he's already locked eyes with me. A tiny smile appears on his face.

I manage a small smile back.

He notices I'm shivering. "So the people at the hideout didn't give you anything to keep yourself warm? So considerate."

"Well..." I'm about to say, I did have something, but they took it away.

But Rian doesn't wait for an excuse. He stretches an arm out and says quietly, "Come here."

I hesitate, but slide toward him anyway. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and presses me closer to his side until I can't breathe. But not because it's too tight.

I've been this close to him before, but only because the lunch tables in the underground complex were packed. This feels different. I'm not being pressed to him because there's a lack of space.

My heart thumps against my ribcage, and I listen to it, wondering if anyone else hears it in this silence.

If someone passes by, they will see the group half asleep. But this is the only place we can find. It will have to do, I think as I close my eyes.

~~~

The shadow settling over my face is what wakes me up. My hands sting, is what I notice second. With my heartbeat picking up, I peel my eyes open.

The blur in my vision disappears, and my surroundings sharpen. I focus on a pair of shiny shoes.

Slowly, I tilt my head back to look into the eyes of the familiar person in front of me. His hair is messed up, just like when I saw him last. He still wears a crisp suit.

Marcus Kent.

Everything hits me in one blow, and I realize that whatever happened to me might have been a dream. But it was so real.

"Hello, again," Kent says.

Again. So maybe it wasn't a dream.

I nearly fall back on the chair I'm chained to. I'm in the same cold, gray room again. I start to twist my head around, trying to get a look around, but large hands clamp down on either side of my head, preventing me from moving at all anymore. I can feel a presence behind me, but I can't see their face.

Where's Fox? Where's Addison? Where's Rian? Where's Laurey? How about Jarrod?

"I hope I didn't startle you," Kent says, taking a seat in the empty chair behind him.

"How am I here?" The questions are already slipping from my mouth. "How did you bring me here?" Wasn't Fox keeping watch?

Kent crosses his arms. "You know about tranquilizer darts, right?"

I yank on my hands. They're tied behind me, just like last time. It's like I never left.

"Like I said, I'm not helping you," I say. But my voice cracks as I think of the others. I hope they're all right. Even Jarrod.

Kent did just mention tranquilizer darts. My head throbs from the thought of them, and because of the hands clamping me in place.

"I don't need your help anymore. I found the leader you were talking about. The leader of the hideout."

He found Caleb? How? Is he here with us?

Kent's eyes move up to the person standing behind me. He waves his hand once and the large hands holding my head release me, pulling away whatever weight is giving me the headache.

I take this as an opportunity to turn my head around. My eyes land on two chairs in each of the back corners of the room. A person occupies each seat. One is dressed in gray, while the other in black. This one has long blond hair. Female. Both of their heads are down, but I already know who they are. Laurey and Jarrod.

But what Kent wants me to see isn't Laurey or Jarrod. It's the guy who is pushed into my view.

Kent stands up from his seat and forces the stumbling guy into it. Then I realize who this blond-haired guy is.

Rian.

I search his face, looking for any bruises or anything telling me he's hurt.

I gasp. "What is this?"

Kent holds Rian down in the chair, but surprisingly, Rian doesn't squirm. "I," Kent starts, "present you the leader."

I don't understand. How is this the leader? "I..."

Kent frowns and looks down at Rian. "The leader of the hideout. You said his name is Rian."

When did I say—? Oh. I did tell him that. I had completely forgotten about it. Did I really do that—put Rian in danger?

"What are you talking about?" Rian asks, his voice hoarse.

I don't know what to say to Kent, but he has to know Rian is not the guy he's looking for.

"He's..." I hesitate. "He's not the real leader. I lied to you." I have to remind myself the reason Kent knows Rian's name is because I used his name last night—or whenever that was. So people were monitoring me that whole time, and they heard.

Kent stares at me, looking humiliated for the first time since I've met him. "Excuse me? Not the leader?" He growls and pushes Rian off the chair. Having nothing to balance himself out because of his handcuffed hands, Rian scrambles away ungracefully, nearly face-planting on the hard cement floor. He's dragged away from my view by a guard who's been hiding behind me this entire time. But it's not the same one who held my head in place. Because before Rian and the guard completely disappear from my vision, dark hands clamp down on my head once more.

"Rian!" I call out, forced to look at Kent. "What happened?"

But Rian doesn't answer, and I think he's been instructed not to. Is there a gun pointed at his head right now?

Fox did a terrible job keeping watch, but I know I can't blame him. We were all knocked out with darts.

So Fox was right. That's what we were waiting for—Kent to come get us.

Kent spreads his hands out, gesturing at the cold and empty room. "You like what I did with the place? Two decorations in the corners, while the rest of your group hangs out behind you.

Behind me? So Fox and Addison are in this room too. But they're not saying anything. I would expect Fox to talk back.

"What I am fascinated by," Kent begins, "is where you got your uniforms. They look familiar to mine, but not entirely."

The design is similar to his guards' uniforms, so I understand why he thinks they look the same.

"So?" he prompts, eyes on me.

How am I supposed to know where they got the uniforms? I was not there with them.

My answer is a shake of my head.

Kent's eyes shift to look somewhere behind me. He waves a finger. "Let him speak."

No one replies for a while. Then I hear Rian's voice. "They were given to us."

I'm surprised he doesn't say they found them.

Kent arches his eyebrows. "Given to you? By whom?"

"A team of people," Rian's voice answers.

Mr. Welds, is what I think. He's the man who runs the vast underground building. Mr. Welds and his team of people.

"And what exactly is this man's name?" Kent asks.

"He's far away. It doesn't matter what his name is."

Kent laughs. "Oh, of course it does. Names may be insignificant to you, but it's the other way around for me."

He doesn't seem to realize that Rian said far away. As in not in this town. Isn't Kent interested in what's out there?

There is no answer from Rian, so Kent looks at me. "Well? Do you know his name."

I clench my jaw, not sure if it matters if I spill Jack Welds' name. Rian isn't saying anything, so should I? How about a fake name?

But what I tell him is "No, I don't know him."

Kent clicks his tongue and lifts a finger. I don't know what it mean—

But I understand when a foot shoves the chair I'm sitting at, hard. I jump, but I'm not hurt.

"Talk." The voice in my ear is low, but familiar. And that's when I realize I know whose dark hands are over my head, and I stiffen.

Denham, the commander who took me out of my cell to speak with me. He had said he knows the white building I came from. Does he know the people in it? Does he know Jack Welds?

Kent sighs and waves a hand. "Ah, you gave away your identity. Miss Vivian knows it's you, Carnez."

I realize my eyes have widened.

Kent places his hand on the empty chair next to him. "Here, Carnez, sit down. She might be more comfortable talking about it with you since you two share the same information. Let go of her head. She's welcome to get a look at her friends."

Denham obeys, and soon, his large hands are lifted from my head. I breathe in and take a quick look behind me. Fox, Rian, Addison, and a guard all stand there.

Fox is limp on the ground along with Addison. Rian is the only one who's standing. And like I had suspected earlier, the guard next to him has a gun pressed to his head.

I don't have a chance to say anything before my head is yanked forward again until I'm looking at Denham seated in the chair in front of me. Kent is the who has his hand on my head.

"That's all you get for now. Look at Carnez, Vivian," he says.

I grunt and lock my eyes on Denham, who has a smile on his face. But that smile isn't warm.

"The man's name is Jack, isn't it?" he starts. Hearing that name brings a wave of ice to my blood. "Jack Welds?" I say nothing. The smile on Denham's face widens. "You do know him, don't you?"

But how does he know him? If I ask this question, then I would basically be admitting that I've met Mr. Welds before. But what's the point? Denham has already found out.

"Yes," I say.

Denham leans back in his chair and looks up at Kent with the smile on his face. "See?"

"Hmm" is Kent's reply.

Denham focuses on me. "So he has already built something new, hasn't he?"

I stare, dumbfounded, at him. "Y-you...you lived there?"

He scoffs. "Who told you that?"

"You just did," I say.

Denham looks taken aback. "No, I didn't."

I turn my head back to get a split second look into Rian's wide eyes. "Rian, do you know who Denham Carnez is?"

But Kent forces my head to turn away, saying, "He's not allowed to speak unless I give him permission."

"Then I won't talk," I say back.

I hear Kent laugh. "Very well. Shoot him."

Who? But I choke on my own spit at the words. "What? No! No—don't—fine, I'll talk!"

Kent pats my head. "Good choice."

I stiffen and ask Denham, "What do you want?"

He folds his hands out in front of him. "If it's not that guy Rian, then who is in charge of the criminals' hideout?"

I take a deep breath, practically hearing a voice in my head singing, Traitor, traitor. You're such a traitor.

"His name is Caleb."

I tell myself it's just a name. A name that holds no meaning. There are probably many Calebs there. Kent has no last name. No description. I've just saved someone's life by cooperating, but I must have endangered the hundreds in the hideout.

"Now, was that so difficult?" Denham inquires.

Yes.

Kent steps away from my line of sight, taking his hand off my head. But I don't look behind me at Rian and the others. I am listening to Denham.

"The misunderstanding with the leader is quite a disappointment, really," he says. "But this Caleb guy—" he shakes a finger— "how do we know you're telling the truth?"

There is only one more person in this room who knows that Caleb exists. Jarrod. But that's assuming he's part of the hideout group.

But Denham has already caught on. He casts a glance at Jarrod, who sits unconscious in the chair in the corner of the room.

Denham points to Jarrod's limp form. "He looks like a reliable source."

I chew on my tongue.

Denham stands up. "Better go wake him up."

My eyes follow Denham to Jarrod's slouched body. But then I remember Rian is behind me, and I still don't know if everyone's all right.

"Rian, is anyone hurt? Do you know?" I ask as I twist my head around to look at him. He lowers his head down and starts to shake his head. But the look on his face does not make it clear what he's trying to say. Is he telling me that everyone's hurt, or is he reminding me that he's not allowed to talk?

Kent makes sure I don't continue the conversation. He slaps my head, bringing me back to face the front. "Like I informed you earlier, he cannot answer unless I permit him."

I say nothing, but turn my head to get a view of Denham and Jarrod from my peripheral vision. Denham has something in his hand, but it's not clear to me what it is. The motion he makes with it—stabbing Jarrod is his shoulder—makes me cringe. Then I realize that it's a syringe meant to wake Jarrod up because moments later, he gasps and flies up into a straighter posture in his chair.

Jarrod's head darts left and right. He gasps again and manages to get a few words out. "What the hell? Where am I? What is this?"

He has noticed the cuffs wrapped around his wrists because he strains his head back to get a look at the strange thing keeping his hands together. Then his eyes land on the people behind me; then they find their way to where I am.

"Vivian? What happened?"

I'm wondering the same thing. So "I don't know" is what I say. The lost look on his face could either be real or fake.

Denham doesn't let Jarrod ask anymore questions. He pinches half the guy's face and jerks his head up, forcing him to stare at the commander.

"Don't look anywhere else," Denham says calmly, his voice almost haunting. "But answer this. Who's in charge of running your hideout?"

Jarrod stutters out incoherent words and recoils because of the personal space Denham isn't considering.

"Who is the head of your group?" Denham asks again. "You don't want your fingers cut off, do you?"

Jarrod shakes his head frantically. "No, no, I'll tell you. His name's Caleb." He says it like it's no big deal, but everyone else seems to freeze as they realize I told the truth. But they don't know how Caleb looks like.

However, Denham's smart enough to ask. He turns to ask me this question. "So, how does this Caleb leader look like?"

I swallow and look at everyone behind me, fearful they will hate me for telling them. But only Rian is conscious, and he doesn't know anyone in this place. Jarrod is avoiding everyone's eyes, so I can't tell what he wants me to do.

"He," I start, "looks..." Guilt tugs at me, forcing me to veer away from the answer. "I forgot." But I can't forget, because his appearance isn't forgettable. Towering and formidable with his black tattoo covering his entire arm, but surprisingly not harsh with his words. "I only saw him once, just for a little bit."

Denham scoffs and turns to Jarrod, muttering, "That's fine. I have this guy, and he's been living here for quite some time now. I'm sure he's capable of describing him. So?"

If Jarrod decides to tell them, then I won't be the only traitor here.

"He..." Jarrod doesn't know how to start either. He takes a deep breath and gets it out quickly. "Man, he's really tall. Has a tattoo on his arm. Black hair. Uh...sharp nose, I think?"

It's about what I can remember too, and Jarrod has known Caleb for longer than I have.

Denham pulls away and raises his hands to fix the collar of his own shirt.

A realization hits me in the face. On Denham's right hand—and I really doubt I'm imagining it—is a swirl of black graffiti weaving through his fingers. How did I not see it before? Even when I first met him? It stands out like a building in the middle of a barren field.

All the breath has been knocked out of me.

He kept his hand hidden behind his back, that's why I had not noticed it the first time. He even ordered someone to bring him gloves to cover the tattoo.

But that's not possible. This cannot be the same tattoo I have. Because...because he...

How could he have lived in the underground complex if he's living right here?

CHAPTER 18

V I V I A N

I squeak.

But Denham doesn't give me much attention. He turns to Kent, who's standing by my side.

"We need to keep a look out for this Caleb guy," Denham says. "He has to come out of hiding every once in a while."

Kent nods. "I'll have my guards bring in anyone who matches his description." He waves a hand toward me. "Knock all of them out. We need to continue with the project."

I shake my head and pull on my cuffs. "Wait!" I call. "Denham, your hand—"

"It's Commander Carnez," Kent tries to correct, but no one's really paying attention to him.

Denham frowns and turns his hand over, inspecting it. But when he looks back up at me, he has an amused look on his face. Instead of getting an explanation, I get the pinch of a needle in my neck. The pain only lasts for a second before everything fades away.

~~~

My head throbs as everything starts coming back to me. My back is pressed up against a hard ground.

My hands are no longer tied. They are spread out on the cold concrete I'm laying on.

I open my eyes to dawn.

I'm in the same alley our small group of people had fallen asleep in. Five bodies are sprawled out on the ground. Addison, Rian, Laurey, Fox, and Jarrod. They're all here.

Kent let us go. Why would he let us go?

Because we can help him find the hideout.

If he kept us locked up, then we would be useless. We're already being monitored—I know it. Jarrod will want to go back to the hideout, but I can't allow it. He'll get tracked—wait...did the others get trackers like I did?

I look down at my arm, anticipating a glow to come from my arm like it did the first time I woke up with the blue light. But there is no glow. However, the others might have it.

I cringe as I hop to my feet. Everyone else is unconscious, so it's silent. Even the town is still empty.

I crouch down next to Rian, who's lying on his back with one arm over his stomach. Gently, I pick up one of his arms, turning it over to try to locate any hint that Kent's tracker is living in his flesh. Nothing. It's either turned off and invisible, or it's not there at all. After I check his other arm and find nothing, I move on to Addison.

Nothing. The others don't have anything else either. Not even Jarrod.

But something else catches my eye after I'm done checking for chips. The black uniforms the group was wearing earlier have been replaced.

The group is now dressed in matching old pants and sweatshirts. It's the same thing I was given when I first met Denham.

But who is this Denham with the swirl of graffiti on his fingers? Why is he here? And what are we going to do without the suits? Can we go back to the underground facility without them? The weapons were taken too. We're completely helpless now.

I shake Rian's shoulders. He doesn't stir. I put my fingers underneath his nose to make sure he's breathing. He is.

"Hey," I whisper, but realize I won't be able to wake him up that way. I shake his shoulders again. "Rian, wake up." Again, he doesn't stir.

I decide to move on to Fox. Before I crouch down by him, I push his face with my shoe. "Psst." He doesn't move. I step on his chest, light enough not to crush his lungs. His eyes twitch but do not open. "Wake up."

I tap his shoulder and that seems to do the trick. His faces scrunches up. He grunts. "Huh?"

"Kent let us go. We're back in the alley," I tell him.

His eyes finally snap open and he sits up, rubbing his head. "Back in the alley? Why were we...?"

He doesn't seem awake enough to realize what's going on right now.

"Our weapons are gone, and so are the suits," I add.

That's what makes him snap out of his state. He gasps and his eyes fly wide open. He pats himself, first his new outfit, then his face.

"What the hell happened?" he asks, jumping to his feet. He looks around the alley, probably looking for the weapons we're missing. Then he looks down at himself and pulls at the collar of his shirt. "Hell, this stinks!"

I hold in my snicker. That's what I thought when I first got the same outfit. But I say, "We have to wake up the others."

Fox blinks at me, then glances at the others sleeping forms. He rubs his hands together. "All right. Better get these birds up."

I want to scoff at the choice word Fox used to call the group, but I keep silent, watching as he moves to wake Addison first. He grabs her arm and shakes it. As if by some miracle, her eyes open.

"Get up." Fox moves on to the others, waking them faster than I could have. Soon we're all on our feet. The person who looks the most lost is Jarrod.

"I gotta get back to the hideout," he starts to say. "The others have to know about—"

I hold up a hand. "Don't. Someone might be watching you right now. As soon as you enter that hideout, Kent will have his guards invade it. It's best to stay out here."

Jarrod eyes become slits on his face. "Stay out here? Are you crazy? I'd rather not."

I shake my head. "You don't really have a choice. Unless you want to give away the location of the hideout."

What I'm wondering is how Kent has not found the hideout yet. Hasn't he heard enough in his years to be able to pin-point the location of the hideout right on his map?

Fox points a finger in Jarrod's face. "You're either telling the truth about your relationship with this hideout, or you're not. There's no evidence of anything, so I'm not going to believe you. You're staying with us. I think you are associated with Kent and not with what you say."

"All right, enough." Rian cuts in. "Absolutely not one person here seems to care that we were just shoved into some basement."

Fox glances at Rian, but turns to examine his new but worn out outfit. "That's because I didn't stay awake in there long enough to care."

Rian looks at him. "But you remember waking up in a strange room, didn't you?"

Fox nods, and Addison adds in her answer. "I did too, but I don't think I was of much help."

So they weren't questioned as much as I was. Rian must have stayed awake throughout my whole questioning. Maybe he was awake to see Laurey, Addison and Fox wake up too. There's one reason I think they let him stay awake. Because they thought he's the leader of the hideout. I can't imagine their disappointment after learning he isn't at all part of it.

But they know Caleb.

"That son of a gun took our weapons and uniforms," Fox says. "That's just great. Who else has a stinky shirt?"

No one replies.

I didn't have any sort of "special" suit on, so thankfully, my clothes weren't taken away. Jarrod still has his original gray shirt and pants. It's the others who are struggling. But Laurey, who's been staying quiet most of this time, has not complained yet.

"So what are we going to do now?" Addison's asks. "We have nothing. No knowledge of where anything crucial is located."

Fox grins and looks out toward the exit of the alley, where we see a couple of people passing. So everyone's waking up now. Soon enough, the town will be crowded.

"There is actually," Fox says. "And I think it might be the quickest, most stupidest plan I've ever come up with."

CHAPTER 19

V I V I A N

We all trail behind Fox.

He walks slowly through the packed streets, so we have no problem keeping up.

"Dark blue uniform? Right, Vivian?" Fox looks at me briefly as I nod.

He means the guard's uniform. And since I've stayed here longer than the group has, I'm expected to know how these guards look like. And I do know. How could I forget?

"Just ask someone already. It's not that hard," Addison says. She's been the tense one, always keeping close to the walls in case she needs to find an alley or corner to hide herself in.

"You're right. It's not." Fox stops where he is, right in front of a man with graying hair. He taps him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. But can you point me in the direction of the police station?"

The man looks at Fox. He raises both of his eyebrows as his eyes notice the group of five behind Fox.

"And why do you six young fellas want to know where the police station is?" the man asks.

Fox shrugs. "We're touring the place." I want to cringe at his terrible answer, which doesn't sound at all believable to me.

"Touring the place, huh?" the old man says slowly. But he doesn't ask any more questions, only points to his right. "Down this street. Take a right on Carl Avenue, then..." He shakes his head. "That's all I can recall. I'd need to see the street to find it. I'm sure other fellas are willing to help you."

Fox pats the man's shoulder. "Appreciate your help." Then we leave the man by himself.

"Down this street," Fox repeats, pointing ahead of us. "Then take a right on Carl. Hopefully someone else knows the rest."

We keep walking, looking out for any sign telling us Carl Avenue is ahead.

Rian falls into step by my side, getting my attention by bumping his elbow into my arm. I look up at him.

"You weren't hurt back there?" he asks me. He's talking about the time in the basement with Kent and Denham. He doesn't know this isn't my first time talking to them.

I shake my head to answer his question. "No. Were you?"

"No."

We have somehow slowed down to let the others pass us, but yet we're not too far behind them.

I look down at my right hand and examine the black tattoo around my fingers. Why this noticeable of a tattoo? Why not a smaller, less formidable one?

Rian smiles as he looks at his surroundings. "It's crazy, you know, how it's so different out here. Sure it's more hostile, but it's incredible how everyone's getting along."

I laugh lightly but know why he thinks this isn't a safe environment. Because of Kent and his guards. They're tracking us down.

I know it's my fault. If Rian and the others hadn't come here, Kent would not have known they existed. He would never have caught Rian, who was (at that time) thought of as the hideout leader.

Why can't I just get away from everyone and keep them out of danger?

"Rian," I say. "Do you know who Denham Carnez is?"

His eyebrows furrow. "Denham Carnez? No, the first time I met him was when I woke up in that basement. Why?"

I hope he's telling the truth, but if he's not, I don't blame him. I have secrets of my own. "He," I say, looking down at my right hand again, "has...the same tattoo we have."

Rian keeps walking but looks down at the ground. "I know. I saw that too."

"What do you think it means?" Denham can't possibly be from the white facility. But what if he is? How did he get here?

"I don't know."

"I think...I think Denham used to live in that building. He knows who Jack Welds is. He knows where I came from," I say, teeth gritted. "We have to find Denham. We have to figure out who he is."

"He won't tell you." But this time this isn't Rian talking. It's Fox.

Everyone looks at him.

My gaze is fixed on the back of his head as I wait for him to continue.

He doesn't turn to look at any of us, only keeps walking. But I can hear his words. "What I mean is don't expect him to share anything with you. He's not on your side."

A pause. I dare ask, "Do you know who Denham is, Fox?"

Fox slows down until he's no longer in the lead, but in the middle of the circle the five of us have created. He sighs. "I've lived in the underground complex longer than you have, and I am the second one to receive a machine for a heart."

I take a moment in his pause to realize that he said second. I've always thought he was the first, because Rian told me Fox was the first.

Fox continues. "The engineers underground worked to create a machine powerful enough, if put inside a human, would be able to generate enough power to keep a human being alive out in the contaminated air. No one wanted to live underground for the rest of their life, so a solution had to be made. So a mechanical device was created and installed in the chest of a man, right where his heart should be. He was brought back to life, but wasn't a pure human anymore. More like a cyborg. Everyone thought the project was a success. A man with a robot heart, can you believe that? But two weeks later, the man fell dead just in the halls of the underground edifice. He was tossed out. Just like you, Vivian."

Fox takes a breath. "The project was canceled, but five years later, was continued again. That's how I'm standing here with you all. Still alive. The second one with the mechanical device for a heart. The man who received the first was Denham Carnez."

Silence.

The information had all been inside Fox's head, while we sat around, oblivious?

"No way," I gasp. "B-but why is...Denham here? He's supposed to be dead."

Fox shrugs. "You're supposed to be dead, too. But why aren't you?"

He's right. What's wrong with the device I have inside me? Why am I alive right now?

"That's why Jack sent us to get you. You're much more vital than you think, Vivian. He's needs you as evidence to continue his research. We need to bring Denham back too. He's a project everyone thought was dead. He can't just get up and walk like that."

"He's a commander," I say. "He's not going to cooperate."

Fox lifts his shoulders again. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"So what, are we going to have to knock him out and drag him back?" Addison asks. "How will we be able to knock him out without putting him in a two-year coma?"

Fox quickens his pace, and all of us follow him. "We drug him, although I'm not sure where we'll find the certain drug."

Jarrod perks up. "Our hideout has many of them. I'm sure—"

"You're not going back," Fox snaps, "to your hideout. I may not know it well, but if this Kent dude is a threat to us, I will not let him become a threat to others."

"He's already one," Jarrod points out, but Fox does not comment. He only taps someone else on the shoulder and repeats the same words he asked the old man a while back.

"Can you point me in the direction of the police station?"

It's a woman he asks. She turns around to face him and sees the group of us behind him. And just like that man, she looks amused. But she's more willing to help us. She directs a finger behind her, toward the place we're headed.

"The police station's that way. Turn right on Carl. Turn left on the first street you see. You should be able to spot it around there. I would suggest hailing a car."

I almost laugh. We have no money, so no one here can pay for anything. Maybe we're going to have to dig through the trash just like I did with Sabine and her group a couple nights ago.

Fox nods. "Thanks."

After we pass the woman, Fox asks us, "Anybody want to start running? Or will that make us too suspicious?"

I shrug, but no one's looking at me.

"We should just stick to walking," Jarrod says. "Save our energy."

How is Jarrod going to help us now? He can't enter the hideout anymore. Are we just going to keep him a prisoner? Is he an ally? The enemy? He could be the one watching me for Kent for all we know.

"I agree," Laurey says softly, her head moving up and down.

"Well," Fox says, "it'd be better to get there faster."

"So you want to run?" Addison inquires, pulling on her oversized sweatshirt. "In these things?" She rolls her sleeves up. "I just realized I don't have anything underneath this thing. This Kent guy isn't very considerate."

"He's considerate enough," Fox adds in over his shoulder. "At least we're wearing something." He starts jogging, but returns back to his walk when he realizes it won't do any good.

We eventually find Carl Avenue, and when we make a right turn, the next turn we were told to take is not far ahead.

Another view of buildings is revealed. It takes me a couple of extra seconds to realize the reason they look familiar is because I've been here before. With Denham.

"This must be it," I tell the others. "The police station."

The building looks the newest out of all of them. There are plenty of open windows built in its walls, but they're too far for anyone to see what's through them. Even though the building looks welcoming, I know it's not at all. Denham or Kent could be standing there, just through those walls.

I point to the building to make sure the others know which one I'm talking about. All I get in response is a nod from Fox. The others just gaze at it.

"So..." Fox clears his throat. "We just storm in?"

"Not sure," "I don't know," and "Why?" are the answers I hear. I don't even bother figuring out who they all belong to.

"Well, you know what they say." Fox grins. "It's now or never."

He's strangely happy for someone who's at a risk of getting shot down. Everyone else has a frown on their face.

"What if," Addison starts, "we wait while you throw your own life away?"

Fox looks down at her. "So you're really letting me go, huh?"

Addison shrugs. "Yeah, I guess."

"What are you expecting from this anyway?" I ask. Now we're questioning this, but not when Fox introduced this plan to us. "Answers?"

Fox's smile drops. "I'm expecting answers, yes. We need Denham, and we need our suits. Because I don't know about you, but I would rather not have to take a risk and walk out there and die just because we didn't have the appropriate protection on."

"But how about Vivian?" Rian reminds us. It's something I haven't thought about, and I'm sure the others haven't either. "How about Denham?"

"If Vivian is alive now," Fox says, "that means she'll live when we get back."

I don't quite like his idea. The temperature in the gray field was low. I'd rather not walk around half-naked again.

But if that's the only way, I know I'm going to have to pull myself together and go. But what's startling to me is if I never would have left, we would never have found this town and its people. If I would have stayed outside, someone would have noticed me—dead probably. Maybe this town would have continued to live peacefully, while its other twin—the white facility—lived the same way.

We're going to have to share this information with Jack Welds. But how will they be able to solve whatever we have started? Are they going to send out another group of people to investigate?

"And Denham," Fox adds, scratching his head. "I...don't know how he got here." He looks toward the police station again. "Anyone willing to come along?"

It seems like he doesn't want to go by himself.

"I'm coming with you." It's me who says this, and I don't know why I suddenly have the courage to blurt it out.

Rian nods and holds up a hand. "I'm sticking with you too."

I glance at Addison to see her cross her arms. She exchanges looks between Jarrod, but says nothing.

Laurey speaks up, nodding. "I have no special abilities to be able to do anything outside the station for you guys. I think I'm coming with you."

Addison has not yet said anything. Jarrod hasn't either, but I don't know what we can do with him. We still don't know who's side he's on.

"So, Add," Fox says. "You're staying out here?"

Slowly, Addison nods. "I'm not a coward. I just feel like you should have someone on the outside to help you guys out."

I turn to Jarrod, but know the idea I have is stupid. The team at the hideout barely knows me, so I doubt they'd be willing to risk their life to get us out if anything does happen to us.

"Jarrod?" I ask him, trying to get his attention. He's looking away, and it takes him several seconds to finally realize that someone's talking to him.

"Yeah?"

Everyone turns to our conversation, and surprisingly no one interrupts it.

"Sabine really sent you to look after me?" I ask him. Just as soon as I mention the girl's name, I see the group's brows furrow. Her name has been mentioned before, but no one had questioned it aloud. Neither are they doing it now.

Jarrod nods and raises his hands in fake-surrender. "I understand that you don't believe me, and I completely agree, but that is the truth."

"All right, then," I say, starting on my idea. "There is a chance we'll get into trouble along the way, and I don't know how much risk your leader is willing to put his people in, but what if...what if—"

"A few of our guys help bust you out?" Jarrod finishes.

I feel my eyebrows raise. "Yeah, exactly that." I don't think I would have let the words out that easily.

Jarrod nods and directs his thumb behind him. "If anything happens, we can try. But to tell you the truth, I'm not sure we'll be able to know you're in trouble."

That is what I'm worrying about. But he's going to have to enter the hideout. What if Kent tracks him down and finds it that way?

As soon as we enter the building, there's no going back. Because what if Denham is inside, and as soon as he spots us, we'll get grabbed and thrown into prison? Maybe it's not such a great idea that we're sending three people. Either Rian or I need to stay here with Addison.

Slowly, I raise my finger to point at Fox. "What if you only take one of us? Rian or me?"

Fox blinks. "Why?"

"It'd be safer to leave most of us out here. You know, in case we won't come back. We'll lose less people."

Fox squints his eyes. "You're still pessimistic, aren't you? Same old, same old Vivian?"

I snort. "Well, what do you expect?"

Fox changes the topic. "Leaving you guys our here by yourself is just as dangerous as sending two of us inside the enemy's quarters. You witnessed what happened to us. As soon as we fell asleep, Kent grabbed us. It was easy for him then, so don't think it's not easy for him now."

Addison laughs lightly, but she sounds shaky. "I can't say we'll be careful, because you're right, that can happen."

Fox looks around at us. "So, we're only sending two, then? Hard choice." His gaze lands on me, then on Rian. "Don't be offended by this, Callum, but I'm taking Vivian with me."

He doesn't explain why, but I think I know. Rian's much stronger than I am. If something comes up, he might be able to take care of it better than I can.

I slap a hand to my chest. "Flattered." But really, I am not.

Fox laughs and slaps me on the back. "We need to meet somewhere after we're out. Anyone have a destination in mind?"

Rian lifts a shoulder. "To tell you the truth, I don't know this place very well."

Fox points a finger behind Addison, and everyone focuses their attention there. It's another dark alley, but narrower than the ones I've seen. "I don't know how long we'll be gone, but for now, wait there. If it starts turning dark and we're still not back...then something's happened. Or we just lost our way. Find out what happened to us, then get help."

Addison points out what I just happen to realize. "Vague plan."

Fox's head goes up and down. "Last-minute. But the sooner we find out what's up with Denham and this place, the faster we can get out—" Without warning, Fox spins around to face the girl behind him. Laurey. She's been so silent this entire time that she has turned invisible. "I completely—" Fox takes a breath—"forgot about you. If you weren't so damn quiet..." He shakes his head. "Nevermind that. You're staying outside with the three, got that?"

Laurey pats her head gently and looks away with a small smile on her face. "Yes."

"I swear," Fox mutters. "You get quieter and quieter every day. You weren't this silent when I first met you, you know."

Maybe everything she's experienced is slowly silencing her. We have been discovering new life, and new things.

Fox grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward the police station, calling out to the others, "Don't starve and take care of yourself. Remember our last-minute plan."

This can be talked over if we only spend more time on the plan. But how much time is left, and how much danger is the hideout in is unknown. Maybe we have no time left to waste.

"Stay close," Fox says, voice low as we step onto the police station's campus. I hear our shoes pounding on the cement, and when I look down, I notice Fox's boots have been replaced with worn-out sneakers.

"We need our uniforms back, seriously," Fox says, noticing me looking at his shoes. "Did you ever have to wear this?"

"Yes."

The door is close now, and as we get even closer, my hands start to shake. I take a deep breath and swallow.

Guards patrol the building, their steps robotic and timed. I don't want to think about how much they've rehearsed this.

Not one of them approach us as our distance between the building decreases. We must not look like threats, or we've already been scanned without knowing it. Or maybe Denham or Kent is expecting us, so they're letting us through.

Two guards stand in front of the white entrance door. They hold rifles by their sides, but do not raise them when they see us. One guard only drops his head and asks, "What business are you here for?"

Fox gives him a casual wave and says, "We need something filed."

I slow down, expecting the two guards to block our path; they only let us pass through.

When both of our feet hit the floor of the building, the door falls shut behind us. What catches my eye is how shiny the inside is. The tiles are reflective, and as I look down at the ground, I can see my reflection staring back at me.

I'm expecting some sort of signal to go off, telling everybody in this room Fox and I have arrived. But of all the crowds in this room, only one person notices us. And he's probably supposed to notice us, because he stands right by the door, his hand stretched out.

"Welcome. What is your business here?"

I look him up and down, quickly taking in his jeans and tucked-in blue shirt. He's carrying a clipboard, and once Fox shakes the guy's hand, the paper on the clipboard gets a couple words written down on it.

"Uh," Fox starts, looking around. "Could you not shout this to everyone else, but...we're looking for a man named Denham Carnez."

The employee guy's smile falters, but he answers with "Oh, of course. He should be right in here. But if it's an interview with the commander, he would expect you to set up an appointment. Your names?" He slaps his finger down on the clipboard and starts scrolling through lists of words before our names ever leave our mouths. He's getting ahead of himself is what I think.

Fox points to the clipboard. "Don't bother looking even if you know our names. We haven't set up any appointments."

The guy looks up at us and blinks. "All right. Would you like to set up an appointment?"

Fox shakes his head. "Of course not. It'll take too long to get to it. We need to talk to him now. It's sort of an emergency."

The guy laughs. "I'm not sure who you think you are, but our policy states that every interview needs to be set up, and the interviewee has to be patient, as well as punctual. Arrange an appointment, then come back."

No one has looked up at us yet, but if this guy, or even Fox, raises his voice, there might be a chance we'll get kicked out.

"Yeah, but the Denham guy knows us," Fox tries. "He'll be more than happy to talk to us."

"Well, I think..." The employee looks behind him, where there is a reflective staircase. He stays where he is for several seconds, leaving us hanging. Then he finally finishes his sentence. "...he might be available."

Fox and I share glances. They can't possibly let us go through. Two possible criminals wanting to talk to the commander? Even I would not let them talk to Denham if was an employee.

But the man does not have anymore words to offer. Instead his eyes tell me something when they dart just above my head. At the same time, a shadow passes over me, and right away, I know someone way taller is behind me. It's not Fox, because I can see him clearly.

I turn my head, bracing myself. A man, dressed in a dark uniform with two badges attached to his chest, stands there. One badge reads: CDR. The other: CARNEZ.

Denham, of course.

The employee guy has already backed away to the door, leaving us alone with Denham. The commander smiles, but his eyes do not look amused. "You are here...for some reason."

Fox mouth gapes open. "Uh..."

I don't think he's seen Denham before in person. Maybe a picture, yes, but he hasn't talked to him directly.

And now he gets to.

"So," Fox starts, scratching his head. "Denham, right?"

Denham arches his eyebrows. "That's right."

Fox nods and keeps scratching his head. "Uh, yeah." He clears his throat. "Look, man...uh...you're sort of important. I don't know how else to put it." He looks at me, expecting me to help.

I surprise myself by taking over. My finger points at Denham. "You're a failed project, you know that right? We know you used to live back in the underground complex I came from. That's how you knew what I was talking about."

Denham rubs his chin. "I do not recall anything even remotely close to that. My entire life was spent dwelling here."

Fox snorts. "Oh, sure. You're the same guy."

"The same guy? For what exactly?"

"Jack Welds' project. And you know who that is," I say, searching his face for anything. But I'm not good at reading expressions. "You even mentioned his name."

"Not sure what you mean." Denham crosses his arms, and I immediately remember the tattoo on his hand. But there are black gloves over his fingers, and I know I can't invade his space to try and pull them off.

Denham smirks. I'm almost sure he's thinking the same thing I'm thinking. Touch my gloves and you're dead.

I take a step back and respect his silent order. "All right, then. If that's how you want to do this." But I'm all out of ideas.

Fox steps up this time, but he does something that I don't want him to do.

He swings his fist at Denham's face.

The guy realizes it, but it's too late. He's already on the ground.

Sirens pierce my ears, but the location they are coming from is a mystery.

In a second, the crowd of relaxed guards in the room stream toward us until we are surrounded. My arms are pulled back and I'm pushed to my knees.

Fox is grabbed, but he doesn't kick. Neither do I.

"How stupid are you?" I yell at him. He turns his head to me, but does not get to reply. A device is stabbed into Fox's stomach.

I hear a sharp zzzt, and Fox crumples to the floor.

A shriek escapes me. He's not dead, I try telling myself. Only unconscious.

Stupid, stupid Fox! That isn't part of the plan, at least not the one I had. Is this his plan?

Another guard appears in front of me. I clench my teeth together, knowing what will happen next as I watch the same device that was used on Fox appear in front of me. I swear I can hear it purring. The idea of touching me is comforting to it.

Denham is already on his feet, and before the object makes contact with my stomach, his hand clamps around the guard's wrist.

"Do not harm her. I'd rather have her conscious," he says calmly, his expression placid. Almost immediately, the guard blends in with the crowd of his buddies without a word.

I look down at Fox on the ground, then at Denham. "Is he all right?" Please, tell me he's all right.

Denham's nod is so small it's almost unnoticeable. "I need to have a conversation with you, Vivian." He waves a hand at a guard and points to Fox. "Take him to the room adjacent to my quarters. Let him wake up himself. Notify me when he does."

"But—" I start to say.

Denham reacts quickly. His gloved hand clamps over my mouth. "No talking," he says, gesturing toward the staircase with his other hand. "Please, let us through."

My arms are released and I instantly feel lighter. I keep my arms close to my sides and watch as the crowd splits to let us through.

My gaze is planted ahead of me. Not at Denham and not at Fox. The crowd of guards has already flooded around his body, so I cannot see him.

Denham places a hand on my shoulder. I shudder internally, getting a sudden thought of him digging a knife into my back. I swallow and force my legs to keep walking. If only I could stop and turn toward the exit.

But I cannot leave. Fox and I are in trouble.
CHAPTER 20

V I V I A N

Denham points to the red chair against the wall.

"Sit," he says.

I do, but I cannot stop thinking about Fox. Where are they taking him? How can I get him out?

Sitting on my hands underneath me and clearing my throat, I say the only words that pop into my head. "What are you going to do with me?"

The pounding in my heart gets faster, and it's almost hard to breathe as I sit here. My fate is unknown, but Denham might have it planned out already.

Denham sits down behind the desk in the room and slides his hands through the handle of a cup. He takes a sip.

During the five seconds it takes for him to get a drink, I get a brief look at my surroundings. It's a small room with white walls. Nothing decorates the walls except a bulletin board covered in photos and papers. There is one window, but blinds cover what the outside holds. There is another table against the counter. On its surface rests a coffee machine. But that's it. Denham's room, like his personality, gives me no information about his life or his interests.

"Oh nothing, really" is his answer to my question. He takes another sip from his mug, and attaches more words to our conversation. "While we wait for your friend to get back into the world, why not talk about this project that this Jack Welds has cooked up?"

He makes it sound like he doesn't know who Jack Welds is, when earlier, he made it absolutely clear that the name and the person is familiar to him. He's in another mood today, and I don't like it.

"What project?" Maybe I can be clueless today too.

Denham takes his time to answer. After one more sip, he slides the mug across the table toward me. I stare at it and feel my mouth turn down into a frown.

"I'm not drinking that," I tell him, leaning back in my chair.

"It's wine."

I want to laugh at his choice for putting wine in a mug, but I don't. "I don't drink wine."

Denham chuckles and pulls the mug toward himself. "Suit yourself." He takes a sip. "So...want to explain this project?"

I glance back at the door and my stomach clenches. Fox should wake up soon. To relax, all I need is for a guard to run in here with the news.

"You're a project of Jack Welds, just like I mentioned before. You were dead, and his team revived you. You're not normal, but more of a cyborg." If I call him a cyborg, I might as well call myself the same thing. We are both projects, him and me. And Denham knows about the project, I know he does. There is no point keeping it hidden from him.

"Cyborg?" Denham laughs. "Really?"

I narrow my eyes. "Don't act like you don't know this. You know very well what you're part of."

Denham's grin is replaced with a frown. "And what if I don't?"

There is a moment of silence.

Until he says, "I am surprised how far Jack has gotten in his search for a solution. How is it going for him now?"

I freeze for a second before composing myself. Scratching my ear, I answer, "So you do know him." Well, of course he does. He confirmed it himself. And here was I, starting to doubt that he's actually the same Denham. "How are you here? You're supposed to be dead."

"Same thing happened with you. They threw you away because they thought you were dead, didn't they? But here you are, alive. Jack realized his mistake so he sent a team after you. But they failed."

I do not know what he means by the last three words. "They didn't fail," I say, trying to keep myself as calm as Denham looks. My nails are digging into my palms.

"Of course they did." Denham pauses to take a drink from his mug again. "My plan has already been launched, and it is great enough to disrupt Jack's useless project."

"It's not useless." The air has been cleared, hasn't it? That empty field that I had walked across should have held my dead body, yet here I am.

"Oh, it's not useless? Why are you so sure? You've been great enough to assist me in two of my missions. First the hideout, and now...this one."

So my information about Caleb did help him.

Am I supposed to consider myself a traitor now? The hideout's location might have been found, all because of me. All those families, all innocent.

Something tugs at my stomach, and I close my eyes for a second or two as everything around me spins.

"Why do you want to track them down so bad?" I ask, voice cracking. "They did nothing to you."

"I'm sure Kent has justified his reasons, Vivian. They are criminals and we've been trying to hunt them down for a while now. Then you showed up. The special girl thinking she'll be able to save everyone. Now look where that got you."

I want to growl, but it only sounds like I'm clearing my throat. "And where did that get me?" I snarl, trying to make up for my pathetic sound. "If you want to kill me now, then do it." But I know it's stupid of me to say this. I'm not ready for death yet (although I've been revived twice). My mouth needs to be shut, not encourage Denham to kill me.

But Denham only laughs and shakes his head. "No, I do not want you dead, as typical as that sounds. If I did want you dead, you'd be dead the second I saw your face. There is something you need to realize." He straightens out in his chair and folds his arms on the desk. "Look at me and tell me if I look familiar to you."

I squint my eyes and study his face, but also make sure I don't do it for too long. Dark skin, small nose. But nothing familiar. "The first time I've ever heard of you was when I arrived at this town. Before that, you were completely nonexistent to me."

"But that's what your brain wants you to think."

I scoff. "Oh, please. I've never seen you before," I repeat. "So don't go giving me that garbage."

Denham rubs his chin and bends down to search through a drawer behind his desk. He starts whistling, and after several seconds of waiting, I hear the drawer slide shut. Denham fixes his posture and slams something down on the desk. Something silver and reflective.

I lean away. He really wants to kill me. What the heck is he doing with that?

It's a knife, a long one, glinting in the artificial light of the room. The point is sharp. I focus on Denham's face instead, trying to forget about what that blade can be used for. A memory—not a very good one—slips into my head. A pointed knife, stabbing me three times before I collapsed, breath lost.

What does Denham see in the knife on his desk?

"Seen something like this before?" he asks, running a finger over the leather handle of the blade. "You should have."

Hesitantly, I lean forward, trying to get a better look at the object Denham's expecting me to know. A clean, brand-new dagger is what I see.

I shrug, acting casual even though the sight of the blade makes my stomach spin countless times.

"No? Doesn't strike anything in that brain of yours?"

I shake my head. Every memory from my past has been erased, either because I've been dead for the past 30 years and forgotten everything, or because my mind has been cleared on purpose. According to the scientists, it's the latter. But they never fully explained if the former is also related to the loss of memories.

"A shame, really." Denham picks up the knife.

My foot twitches.

No. Stay still, I tell myself.

So I obey my own order, breathing little by little.

"I have a mission for you." Denham pauses in his act of examining the knife. "But I need you to realize who I am first."

I don't miss a beat. "A commander." My assumption is not the answer he's looking for, but this is all I can think of.

Denham fixes the collar of his uniform. "That's correct, yes. But I'm looking for something else. The answer to the question, where have you seen me before."

"Like I said, nowhere. You're a completely new face to me."

But even as I say that, I start doubting it. Denham recognizes me from somewhere, yet I do not know who he is. I am not reaching far enough. There has to be something more.

"All right, I give up. Give me a hint." Or I might as well not know. Maybe he's confusing me for someone else.

Denham tilts his head slightly. "The first time you arrived here, I knew I recognized you from somewhere, I just didn't know where—"

"I never asked for a story."

But Denham continues as if I didn't just say something. "The memory was so—" he raises his fist and clenches air— "close, yet I did not know what it was."

I clear my throat loudly. "I said, I never asked for a story. Why don't you just tell me why you think I'm so familiar?"

Denham lowers the blade back on the table and spins it around so that the silver point faces me. "I'm sure you can remember it yourself."

I search through my head, trying to locate any memory of a Denham Carnez from my earlier life. But there is nothing, and I'm sure that he is mistaking me for a different person.

I weave my fingers together and look away from him, trying hard to remember anything that I could have done in my past life. I've never really tried to find my memories.

Something flashes in my mind, but I don't know if the blade triggered it. Something pulls on my stomach as the short hair on Denham's head becomes familiar to me. I fidget. What if I do know him?

I shake my head. No. He wants me to believe that, and he's slowly succeeding.

But why don't I want to believe this? It's not like I can remember anything from my old life. Maybe what Denham is saying is true.

The doors to the room burst open, shoving me away from my very-close memory. A guard's head peeks into the room.

"The guy is awake, sir," he says quickly. "He's nauseous and weak, but he can talk."

"Well, that was quicker than I expected." Denham stands up and brushes his shirt off. Looking at me, he says, "I had planned for us to have a longer conversation. But that's not a problem. We shall add another companion to our group."

He starts heading for the door, grabbing my arm and pulling me up on my feet simultaneously. The guard trails behind us as Denham leads the way to the room right next to his. The door is marked with gold lettering. It's a storage closet.

I don't even bother to question why they would put a body in a storage closet because I am too busy trying to peek past Denham's tall figure as he opens the door. Denham enters first, then the guard pushes me in, shutting the door behind us. He stays outside the closet.

But this room is much bigger than I expect a storage closet to be. It's messy with mops and cans and wires. I step over objects on the ground as I follow Denham toward the farthest corner of the room. A figure sits on the ground, back leaning against the wall. Short brown hair and tall stature. It's Fox. The rise and fall of his chest brings relief to me. He's not dead.

"Fox," I whisper, almost pushing Denham out of the way to get to him faster. But Denham grabs my arm and blocks my path even more, obviously trying to tell me he's first. I shut my mouth.

Fox tilts his head back at us with a crooked grin on his face. His face, normally tan, is chalky in color. I can't believe the zap to his stomach made him look like this. He's smiling. At a serious time like this? I don't think he's fully conscious. He almost looks like he's been drugged.

"Viv-eh-ann." My name is long and slurred coming from him. Yep, he's not thinking properly. "Whaat aaaare yaaa doin' here?"

I swallow the urge to hide behind Denham. But the commander's the enemy. I can't use an enemy as a shield.

Fox's question is never answered. Denham crouches down until he is eye level with him. He raises his hand and slaps Fox right across the face.

Fox, slumped in his sitting position, tilts to the ground. He laughs and pats the hard tile. "Waanna knooow...s-something?"

Denham yanks at Fox's short hair. A cringe appears on the drunk guy's face.

"Yes?" Denham asks.

Fox gargles before answering. "My stomach kind of tingles."

I shake myself off and bend down until I'm next to Fox too. Wrapping my hands around his arm, I pull him up into a normal sitting position. Denham just watches.

"It's all right," I tell Fox, wondering why on earth would he care to know that right now. I'm not supposed to be comforting Fox. He's supposed to be up and steady on his feet. I'm supposed to be listening to his commanding voice.

He obviously did not plan this. But what if instead of getting tazed, he got shot? What would have happened then?

Denham laughs lightly and prepares to stand up. But when he's halfway on his feet, Fox swings his own legs right at Denham's knees.

I yelp and jump back as the drunk look on Fox's face disappears, getting replaced with the alert and adrenaline-filled one I saw earlier.

I only have time to wonder what just happened before Denham, who doesn't have that great of a reaction time as I am expecting, collapses to the floor, pulling me down with him.

But Fox is already by my side, grabbing hold of my arms and righting me.

"Wha—?" I start.

Fox kicks Denham in the side, but Denham doesn't even seem to feel it. He recovers quickly, just like he did with the punch to his jaw.

So Fox's and Denham's battle continues here, in the storage closet.

I zip to the other side of the room, head turning left and right, looking for any weapon I can use. But there are weapons everywhere; I just don't know which one to choose. No guards have charged in, but I doubt there will be anymore room left.

I grab a broom off the floor and swing it directly at Denham's head. But he ducks, only because he is trying to dodge Fox's next punch.

I swing again, but hit his side. The broom leaves my hands and goes flying.

I grunt. But my eyes land on an ax inside an empty cardboard box.

My heart seems to stop as I realize what I can do with it. But no... I can't. I'm not a killer. I don't make people bleed.

Fox throws another punch and swings an elbow, but Denham easily maneuvers around it, presenting Fox with a jab to the face.

Screw this.

I snatch the ax off the floor, feeling tears falling down my cheeks already. How can I murder someone? This isn't right.

But my arms are already swinging at Denham's side. He has his back to me, about to take a swing at Fox again.

And I'm thinking about what I'm going to become if I go through with this. I'm thinking what am I going to do if I accidentally hit Fox?

But too late to stop.

Woosh.

Clunk.

Denham's scream rips through the small storage closet. The blade of the ax digs itself into his side.

The impact of the force sends Denham stumbling to the left and into a wall. He crumbles and his screams never stop.

God, why don't they stop?

Wait. They're my own.

Fox is by my side in a second, covering my mouth with his hand.

"Shh." I hear the words, but I don't care because I'm frozen in place. My tears have stopped and all I can do is stare at Denham's body.

There is no blood.

There are no organs.

Only wires. Wires protruding from his side, where the blade of the ax impaled him. Wires pour out from his neck. No one hit him there, but there they are anyway.

My muffled shrieks stop. I sink to my feet, Fox going down with me. He's staring at Denham's lifeless body in silence, unaware that he is clutching my arm in a death grip.

I've never seen this before.

Denham isn't—there is no pool of blood. Where is his blood—? He's supposed to have blood.

My stomach tightens, and I gag.

His face starts flashing in my mind, stinging my eyes and blocking air to enter my nose.

I see myself, on my knees on a platform, looking out at a large crowd of people. My hands are tied behind my back, and tears are sliding down my face. A man, with a long blade in his hand stands in front of me. His hair is dark and short, his skin is dark, and his uniform is black.

And I realize where I've seen him before.

He is Denham, the man who stabbed me three times until I fell over dead. It was 30 years ago, way before I was revived and way before I lived underground. I used to be some kind of soldier in my old life, an impassive human being according to Jack Welds himself.

My arms throb and I don't understand what's happening to me. A sharp pain shoots up my neck, settling in my head. That's not true. He's not the man who killed me.

But yet he is, and even though I want to veer away from the truth, I know it's impossible.

CHAPTER 21

V I V I A N

Denham was right. I do know him.

And all it took for me to remember him was an ax to his side.

Now I've returned what he did to me, except I don't know if he's ever coming back.

He's my murderer. The man who killed me in the video I saw back in the complex.

I'm on my knees with my palms flat against the closet floor, gagging. My heart is ready to rip out of my chest. I'm expecting my brain to shut down.

Why doesn't it? I don't want to be conscious during this.

What have I done?

My face is completely wet, and I'm trying to wipe it on my shoulder. Fox is by my side, but I can't hear what he's saying.

Denham limp corpse is visible out of my peripheral vision, and it's difficult not to think about him. Fox is grabbing my arms, and I now realize I've started flailing them around.

"No!" I shriek. "No, no, no. Please don't. I d-d-didn't...why—?"

My voice cracks and I stop talking, yanking my arms back from Fox to curl myself into a tight ball.

The wires protruding from Denham's side and his neck are stapled to my mind. I try to back away, to leave them in the dark, but they follow me.

"Vivian." Fox's voice echoes in my ears. His hand is over my mouth, but his palm is wet from my spit and the tears falling down my face. "Shh, don't move. We're staying here."

I cringe as a vice compresses down on my head. My eyes are shut, and I don't dare open them. I don't want to see Fox's face. I don't want to see what I've done to Denham. "S-stop." What I mean to tell him is that he should get away, give me some space.

My stomach is eating at me, and I can't do anything. I can't dig my fingers into it to tell it to stop. I can't even settle the screams in my head.

Stop this and make it all go away. But who am I talking to? No one is here to listen to me.

Fox's shadow, looming over me a couple of seconds ago, disappears. His presence is missing, and I almost relax. Almost.

Denham's fading image drills itself into my head again, and I clench my hands, wishing whatever I have left in my stomach would leave. I do not feel good.

Why did I do that? Why did I even have to come with Denham? Why did Fox do what he did? This would never have happened if he stayed where he was, if whatever he faked was actually real.

His drunk act was actually an act. Where does he expect to go after this? We can't stay in the room for long. Someone's going to wonder why Denham is taking so long. And when that someone comes inside, they're going to wonder why Denham is there, looking more like a machine than a human.

Oh god. Why this?

I cough and spit out a bitter taste from my mouth.

Fox is not by my side anymore. It's what I asked for, isn't it? But where is he?

With my eyes still stinging, I lift my head from the ground, my eyes searching for Fox's tall figure. They first land on the ax, then to what it's attached to. Denham's corpse. The sharp blade tore through his black uniform and completely hacked into his bones. I didn't swing that hard.

Shut up. You did.

I am not the same thing as him, am I? We are part of the same project. We both survived death when everyone thought we were gone.

No, we can't be the same. I am not a machine. I do not have wires inside me.

Next my eyes land on Fox, who's crouched by a wall, trying to pick at the cover of an air vent.

Hold on. Air vent?

With my eyes, I quickly measure Fox's body size, and then the size of the vent. There's no way he'll fit through that. It's not big enough for him. It doesn't even look big enough for me.

I run a hand over my wet face and shudder at the thought of Denham again.

Pull yourself together. You can't be like this. You need to get out, not sulk.

As soon as I think this, I know I've already wasted a couple of precious seconds. The time could have been used to find a way out.

But I killed Jack Welds' project. We were supposed to bring him back. Now we'll never be able to do anything with him.

It's my fault. Entirely my fault.

He wouldn't want to cooperate and go back anyway.

I grab my hair, trying to force the thought out of my head. But it has glued itself to me, causing my stomach to flip with guilt at what I have done. Fox isn't saying anything about it, but I'm sure he's thinking it.

I clutch my stomach as I shakily get to my feet. With one trembling foot in front of the other, I stumble to Fox.

He pops the cover off and sets it on the ground, his head directing toward the small space.

"Go," he says. His eyes dart behind me, at Denham's corpse. "Follow the tunnel and find a way out."

I stare at the opening, then move my eyes to Fox. "I can't fit through there." My voice cracks.

Even if I can fit, I don't have the skills to sneak by and run outside. It's not that easy, not for me.

Fox's face drops. "Try it. If you can, keep going and find someway to call the others for help."

"And where are you going to go?" I ask. My thoughts go to the door. He'll walk out, get himself captured, and then what?

Fox shakes his head. "I don't know yet. I'll think of something."

My throat starts to sting and I look down at the opening of the vent, holding my breath to stop my tears.

Hesitantly at first, I step toward the vent. I shouldn't waste anymore time. Move.

And I do.

Fox is right. My small figure squeezes through the opening, but barely. My shoulders scrape against the tight walls.

I'm stuck in that white container again.

My lungs shrink, but I keep going, using my arms to pull myself into the cramped tunnel. I grunt with each pull, and as my feet finally enter, the tunnel darkens and I hear another snap from behind me. Fox has closed the vent.

I hear his voice. "If there's nothing on the other side, don't come back right away. Bye."

I nod, even though I know he can't see me, and continue to crawl through the dark vent, hoping I don't cause too much noise. What if the people outside the vent tunnel hear someone crawling through? What if they come to check it out?

Silent tears fall down my face, but I can't reach out to wipe them. There is not enough room. Why couldn't this vent be a little bit bigger? Maybe that way Fox would be able to fit and follow me.

And if I do get to the other side, what I am supposed to do then?

An indistinguishable voice comes from behind me, right in the room I left Fox in.

I stop where I am, hoping to catch anything else. Is Fox in trouble? Should I go back?

No. Keep going. The best you can do is find some help.

I gulp in a breath, but nearly gag as I realize what kinds of things have settled on these metal walls. Things I don't want to think about. I purse my lips together and continue dragging myself forward, exhaling whenever I succeed. I have to keep doing it over and over again, and every accomplishment is a silent congratulations from me.

Fox stays away from my mind; Denham stays away from my mind. All I'm thinking about is what could possibly be waiting for me at the end.

I keep my head down as I crawl, only because that's the most I can do to give me as much space as possible. I can't even see what's ahead of me—

Bang!

The metal wall in front of me collides with my forehead. I hiss and slide back, realizing this is the end of the tunnel.

No. This can't be. There's nothing there. Why does the vent end—?

I turn my head right and see the passage doesn't actually stop here. It turns right.

That's where I need to go.

But how can I twist my body to get a good turn? It seems almost impossible.

Clenching my teeth together, I turn on my side, surprising myself when I still fit into the tight space. Slowly, I squirm the top half of my body into the right turn of the tunnel. My head is pointing toward the way I want to go while my feet point behind me. My body forms a right angle.

I toss myself forward, but only manage to hit my hand against the close-packed walls with a clang.

I clear my throat, my eyes searching the dark and claustrophobic surroundings around me.

There's light ahead of me. A square filled with black and white lines. The white is the brightest, and I know that I'm looking at the next opening. It's blocked by an air vent cover.

I haul myself forward—still on my side—until my feet leave the previous section of the tunnel and enter the new one through the turn. Then I rotate back on my stomach. Breathing steadily, I continue to crawl toward the bright light.

But it flickers off.

I freeze where I am, feeling the cold metal walls pressing against my skin.

What? Where did the light—?

Someone turned the light off and left the room. That's the only logical explanation. Does that mean I'm safe for now? How long until they return to the room this vent leads to?

I place my hands on the walls on either side of me and push off, decreasing the distance between the destination and me faster.

I breathe out.

My mind can't help but wander to Fox now. Where is he right now? Is there still time to save him? Where is the other group? How long have they been waiting for us, if they're waiting at all?

I continue dragging myself through the tight passage, my arms sore. It's been a while since I tried carrying my weight. In fact, I don't think I remember doing any of that, ever.

The exit is only a couple feet away from me, and my arms throb, too weak now to continue to pull my body any farther. The thought of seeing what's behind that air vent cover works its way into my mind. I'm almost there, so I can't stop now.

With one last pull of my arms, I erase the distance between me and the blocked opening until my nose is pressed up against the slits of the cover. I squint into the darkness, trying to peer into the room this passage leads to.

I pause and blink a few times quickly, knowing that maybe this is costing me time. But I need to get my eyes used to the darkness before I can get an image of the room.

There are folded chairs stacked in the corner. The opposite walls are not very far from each other so right away, I know this room is almost as small as the storage closet I left Fox in.

What if this is another closet?

I spot the switch right next to a dark shape of a door. I have to remember that someone has been in here only moments before. They might be back soon.

I slide my thin fingers through the slits in the vent cover and grab hold. Now what? Slowly, I push. But the vent's not even nailed on. It comes off easily. At least I'm holding it, or else it would have clattered to the ground.

I'm not able to see how far the ground is from where I am. So gently, I lower the loose metal cover. It collides with something solid. I'm sure that's the ground, so I let go. The cover slips from my fingers and drops to the floor with an almost inaudible thud.

Now I just need to get myself out of here.

I clutch the edges of the opening and pull, only managing to get half my body out of the vent. The rest of the way out requires me scrambling.

Once I'm finally on my feet, I brush my face off, conscious of the tickling on my skin. It's too dark for me to know exactly what is causing it.

I get a look around the room, and my suspicions are correct. This is another storage closet, and this one is more deserted than the last.

There is no one here, but I don't relax. My ears pound just by thinking about what might be on the other side of that door. Or who.

I take a few steps forward on trembling legs until I'm right by the door. My hand reaches out toward the doorknob.

I turn. The door clicks and I pull it open a crack. It's a hallway.

Every second, a figure in a dark blue uniform brushes past before I can get a glance at their face. But it's not like they are anyone I care about.

How can I step out of the room without anyone shooting me down? While the others are wearing dark blue uniforms, I'm an outcast with my outfit.

But what if—?

I turn my head behind me, searching for some kind of box or anything that looks like it would hold a uniform. But there's nothing. Only chairs and an open cabinet with papers. I'm going to have to step out and hope for the best. Is wearing a uniform mandatory? What if I say my shift ended so I'm heading home? That's why I'm not wearing my uniform.

I shake my hands out. Okay. This is for Fox and the others.

Because it's about time I risk my life for the greater good.

CHAPTER 22

V I V I A N

No one even looks at me.

Either they've zoned out completely, or they see me as one of them.

My legs threaten to buckle as I get a look at the guards passing me. If I attract unwanted attention toward myself, who knows what's going to happen.

But which way down the hallway is the exit? Left or right?

Left. That's what I'm going with.

I scan the guards' posture and mirror them. Back straight with arms at their sides. Their strides are quick, as if they are in a hurry to go somewhere.

The hallway turns sharply to the right and I make the turn, hesitating at first. No one has questioned my motives yet, at least not aloud.

I spoke too soon.

One guard stops in the middle of a stride and turns to look at me. I pass him, pretending I don't notice him.

Please don't see me.

My wrist is grabbed. I yelp and turn to face the threat.

It's the same guard I saw only seconds ago. His expression isn't filled with anger, but amusement. He looks me up and down, and opens his mouth.

I brace myself for what he's going to say. He's going to call the guards. He's going to kill me right here.

But he smiles. "Jones? I haven't seen you in like a month! You look great! How much weight did you lose?"

All the blood rushes to my face. "I—uh..."

The guard slaps my shoulder. "I almost didn't recognize you there for a second. Can I just say again how great you look?"

He probably doesn't care anymore, but the answer to his question just slips out. "I, uh, lost eighteen pounds."

His eyes widen. "You look amazing, Jones. Say, I've been meaning to ask you...do you want to get coffee sometime after our shift ends?"

I scratch my head, having really nothing to say to that. He thinks I'm some woman named Jones. It's too late to tell him he's mistaken me for someone else.

I glance at the badge on his chest. It reads: TEDDER

Even though my heart is ready to rip right through me, I take a deep breath and force a smile on my face. "Oh...um...sorry, Tedder. I actually have to uh...deal with a couple of things at home." I'm not even sure if I pronounced his name right.

Tedder's face drops. I don't think I've seen this much disappointment on a grown man's face.

"That's fine," he says. "I just remembered I'm busy tonight. Perhaps maybe next time?"

I give him a nod and pull my arm back from the hard grip he has on my wrist. "Yeah, maybe next time."

Then he just lets me go. And as I continue walking, I glance back to see him watching me.

Does he realize something's wrong?

But the next time I look over my shoulder, he has already turned his back to me.

I exhale and rub my forehead, keeping my head down as I head for the door in front of me. It has a small window, and as I look through it, I see the door leads to a staircase.

Am I allowed to use it?

Once I stop in front of the door, I search the guard's faces to make sure they're not looking at me like I'm a threat. Only some glance at me, but no one tells me to stay away from the stairs.

I push the doors open and am greeted by two staircases. One leads up, while the other leads down.

I head for the ones leading down.

My shoes smack against the steps, echoing throughout the room. I continue moving, not sure how many floors this building has. Is it possible for me to end up in the basement?

But I don't have to worry about that because I come across another door, this one is marked with the words: FLOOR 1.

I turn away from the stairs leading farther down and use the door in front of me instead.

No alarms have gone off yet. Is that a good thing? Maybe Denham has not been discovered yet. And neither has Fox.

Nerves twitching, I push the door open.

I'm back in the room where Fox had first started the fight with Denham. Not the storage closet, but the reflective room where the exit to the police station is.

Guards are spread around the room. They look calm, as if nothing involving the commander and an enemy ever interrupted their afternoon. Quickly, I search the room for anyone familiar.

There's the employee guy Fox and I had talked to. He's still by the front doors. How can I walk past him without being noticed? Surely he'll recognize me?

Before I walk through the door, I yank my hair from my ponytail, trying to cover as much of my face as I can. Then I force my legs to move. Left, right, left, right.

Come on, come on.

A guard walks right in my way, but I serve around him, missing him by inches. He sees me and laughs, "Whoa, there. Slow down. You in a hurry?"

I give him a quick nod. He doesn't seem to see me as a threat because he laughs again and moves on. My adrenaline is pumping hard through my veins, but I know I have to keep calm.

I keep my eye on the employee man by the door. With every step I take toward him, my body turns cold. I don't know if I can do this.

When I'm only a few yards away from the door and him, I see his eyes lift to me. But just as soon as he does that, I bring a hand to cover half my face, pretending like there's some sort of an itch.

The exit is so close. If he doesn't say anything—

He does. "Ma'am?"

I don't lift my head, but only pretend to scratch half my face.

"Yes?" I make my voice a little hoarse on purpose, hoping he won't recognize it.

He waves me toward the door. "Have a wonderful day."

I almost scramble outside.

But that's it? He doesn't remember me?

Well, I won't blame him. There are hundreds of people coming in and out every day. I wouldn't expect him to remember me. However, Fox and I were different. We caused all the guards to stream toward us.

I slam the door open, throwing my hair back up into a ponytail. As soon as I'm out, the wind hits me. But I don't care—I cherish it.

Then I start walking, passing the two guards by the door. They say nothing to me.

Once I'm off the police station territory, I break into a sprint, heading up a small hill on sore legs.

Where did Fox say the others should go? I search my surroundings, trying to spot any narrow alley.

Nothing familiar. What if Rian and the others have already left? What if they were taken by Kent?

But what if they're still waiting? How long have I been gone?

"Vivian!" Rian's voice.

I spin around, my heart pounding. They're all right, then. They're still waiting for us.

But Fox isn't here.

I spot Rian and three other people heading toward me. Laurey, Addison, and Jarrod. I look behind them and see a narrow alley. The same one Fox told them to wait in. How did I miss it?

Addison is the first to mention Fox. She comes to a stop in front of me and looks like she's about to place a hand on my shoulder, but stops herself. "Where's Fox?"

I pursue my lips together and glance at the building behind me. How should I tell them this? He's either dead or alive.

"He's in the building," I say, turning back to the four. "I don't know how much trouble he's in, but we need to get him out of there."

Jarrod steps forward. "How did you manage to get out while he didn't?"

I look at him, not sure how to answer that question.

"Well?" the guy prompts. Does he think I'm an enemy now?

"We were split up," I say, hoping they don't think I'm lying because of how quickly I uttered the words. "He got knocked out. Then we were split up."

Addison drops her head, muttering something I can't hear. When she lifts her head again, she has audible words to share. "We need to go get him. Jarrod, you said you have a couple of people willing to get him out. Where are they?"

Jarrod looks like he's about to turn in a certain direction, probably wanting to head back to his underground hideout. But maybe he's thinking of Kent, and how he's being tracked. Maybe my words are drilled into his head.

I turn away from the group of four, trying to pull in a breath as the thought of Denham makes its way into my mind.

Rian notices. "You okay?" he asks me.

The best thing now is to lie about it. They don't need to know Denham's dead. Or do they?

I shake my head and rub my eyes, pretending like I'm exhausted. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But Rian doesn't let me go that easily. His eyebrows furrow. "You don't look fine. What happened back there?"

Somehow I'm wondering if Kent knows I infiltrated the police station. He can easily track me down, and he easily could have stopped me. Yet here I am, able to tell everyone about my experience.

I scratch my forehead. No secrets about this. I have to tell them, but I just don't know how I'll get the words out.

"You're right," I start. "Nothing's fine. I need to tell you guys something."

All the attention shifts to me. Even Jarrod, who looks like he's trying to find a way out, looks at me. They wait, but I find myself stalling.

"Well...I mean." I scratch my head again. How do I get this out without my voice cracking. I swallow, and start again. "When Fox and I...entered the station, there was this guy...who stopped us. Fox asked him if we could talk to Denham." I pause and look around at the four watching me.

I chew on my tongue and continue. "But Denham appeared right by us. Fox—" My voice turns deep just as soon as it starts to tremble. "Fox put us into trouble by..." I shake my head, afraid I won't be able to continue. The information will be my secret.

I run both my hands over my face. This is no place to break down. So quickly, before the pitied stares of the four get to me, I blabber out as many words as I can. "Fox was knocked unconscious after he hit Denham. We were split up. Denham took me to an office, while Fox was sent into a storage closet."

I look at Rian, wondering what he's thinking. But he has nothing to say aloud. Jarrod does.

"And what happened to Denham?"

I turn away. "After Fox woke up, Denham and I came to see him. Fox attacked—he started attacking Denham, but I—I—"

This is stupid. I can't bring myself to say the last words.

I look down at my hands, clenching and unclenching over and over again. The same hands that destroyed Denham's life. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn't. I'll never know, and I don't even want to think about it.

"There was an ax," I stutter. "And I—"

I can almost feel the fear coursing through everyone's veins, but I can't see their faces. My head is cast down.

"You what?" Jarrod asks. "You killed him?" He doesn't seem to have any problems getting those words out. I mean, he himself didn't swing an ax at anyone.

I don't say anything. I only look down at my hands. A shadow passes over me, and I am too afraid to look up to identify who it is. But I lift my head and look into the eyes of Rian.

My entire body pounds with fear. Fear of what he will say, fear of him being so close to me, and fear of what happened to Denham.

"Is that what happened, Vivian?" he whispers.

Slowly, I move my head up and down, refusing to look anywhere else but at his forehead. Creases appear on it, and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking right now.

"What happened to Fox?"

I can tell his question is hesitant. Fox is either dead, or he's alive.

I lift my heavy shoulders. "He told me to crawl through an air vent and leave him behind. I found the exit and saw you guys. I don't know what happened to him after I left."

Rian turns to Jarrod and says, "We need to get Fox out of there. Can you call a team?"

Jarrod looks up at the sky, where it has darkened. How much time has passed?

"I can call a team, but they won't go bursting in."

Rian doesn't seem like he has the patience for this. One of our group members is in trouble. I know how he feels. "And how long will that take?" he asks.

I don't tell him that it was not hard for me to move myself around the hallways. Everyone seemed to believe that I was one of them.

But the reason for that can be because I had already been inside the building. If I would have entered, I'm sure I would have been stopped.

We're creating a plan out in the open. All of our ideas might be going straight to Kent's ears. I've been worried about what he's hearing lately, but I don't know if he's actually listening to us.

Jarrod points in a vague direction behind him. "We have a couple of the guard's uniforms. Some of them are outdated, but I'm sure our scouts have been able to get the newer versions."

"So who're you sending?" Addison asks. She doesn't know anyone from the hideout anyway, so I'm not sure how knowing who's coming will help her.

Jarrod looks at me. His words seem to be directed at me more than Addison. I'm the one who is supposed to know these people, not her.

"You're familiar with Sabine's brother? He's one of the scouts. I don't doubt they will send him. He likes these types of missions."

I nod. He's talking about Tobin, the dark-haired guy who appeared to not like me very much. I'm surprised I still remember his name.

"Who else?" I ask. Will Sabine come?

"There's Violet, one of the trainers. I'm thinking she might. I'm not sure who else. The two are my ideas."

"You've been talking a lot about this Sabine girl," Addison says, looking from Jarrod to me. "Who is she? Some leader or something?"

I shake my head. Hadn't we gone over the fact that Caleb is the leader? "No, she's just someone who helped me find the hideout and helped me get settled in."

Addison shrugs. "Isn't she the girl that sent that guy to look after you?" She points at Jarrod, and I nod.

Rian holds up a hand. "How quickly are you able to gather the team?"

We have to remember that it might be too dangerous for Jarrod to get back to the hideout. He's going to have to send some kind of signal from outside, and we have to hope Sabine or a group from the hideout will see it.

Jarrod shrugs, but adds, "Caleb needs to give permission." He turns around, looking as if he's about to start moving. His waving hand tells us to follow him.

So he isn't thinking about the danger he'll put his hideout in?

"Hang on," I cut in. Everyone turns to me, and I know I have to explain this quick before patience is lost. I feel like I am repeating myself. "It's not going to be that easy. You can't just go tell them now."

Jarrod laughs. "And why not?"

I have a strong urge to slap Jarrod, but force myself to remain still. This has been mentioned many times, and he still does not listen. He's not a very good guardian either. He was sent here to protect me, but look at him!

I slap my thighs instead and growl. "Don't you understand? Marcus Kent could be watching you right now. He's desperate enough to try and find Caleb and his people. I'm sure he'll target anyone that's part of the hideout."

Jarrod crosses his arms. "If you don't want to risk it, then we will have to do it the harder way."

He's right. I don't want to risk anything. The hideout may not be the most familiar thing to me, but it was my temporary home. I will never be able to enter it again for as long as both Kent and his mission lives.

Mirroring Jarrod, I cross my arms too. "We need to send some kind of signal."

"Like what?" Jarrod asks.

I remember the day I first left the cell Denham put me in. There was that red smoke. It caught my attention as well as two guards'.

What if we do the same thing? Maybe scouts will be out here tonight. They'll see the smoke and want to come investigate it. But wait...I can't forget about Kent's guards. They'll want to see where that smoke is coming from as well.

I turn to Jarrod. Maybe he has some ideas. "Is there anything you guys use to send signals to each other?" I want to tell him about the smoke, but I don't.

Jarrod lifts a finger to point somewhere at the sky behind him. But it's not necessarily the sky, I notice, but more of a tall, gray tower.

"Every night, Caleb sends out someone to remain in the towers for a couple of hours or so. They act as a look-out. If we get to that tower and wait, we'll be able to get help."

"Every night, you say?" Addison asks. "How long will we have to wait, then?"

She looks up at the sky right at the same time I do. The sun is slowly setting, even though it seemed to be morning only a few moments ago. Streaks of orange are starting to show up, and I can't believe how fast this day has ended.

"Should we go now?" Rian asks, looking out at the tower too.

Jarrod nods. "It would be better."

So using the same street we took when Fox was here (my stomach tightens as I think of what could have happened to him), we walk. It's silent at first, right up until Rian walks up behind me.

"So," he starts. "I've been meaning to ask you, but I just didn't get the chance. When Kent asked for the hideout leader, you gave him my name."

I don't know if he's angry, or just amused. My action put him in danger, and I regret doing that.

"I did," I confirm. "And I'm sorry."

Rian shakes his head. "That's fine. We're still alive, and I don't blame you."

He doesn't ask why I used his name, and I am secretly glad. I myself don't know why I used it. All I know is that I needed a name, and the first person that I could think of was Rian.

I look up at him. "You don't blame me?"

"No. How are you holding up so far?"

Both Rian and I are behind everyone else, and I stare at the back of our companies' heads, trying to think of what I can say.

I've been doing well so far, according to my standards. Apart from waking up from death a second time, murdering Denham, and possibly betraying people who helped me, I'm doing okay. But I'm afraid that maybe...maybe there's one more thing left to happen that will snap me completely in half. And I am dreading that moment.

The answer I provide Rian is something he probably doesn't want to hear, but he doesn't push me for details. "I'm fine so far."

No one asks about Denham. He's dead, and there's really nothing more he can do for us. Fox didn't seem to care when I saw him last. Rian and the others don't seem to care either. But who does care about Denham's death enough to do something about it?

The people of the town? How great of a commander was he that people would be devastated?

What is wrong with me? I almost feel glad for Denham's death. What is this place turning me into? I'm not supposed to feel lighter. I'm supposed to feel fear, because whoever cares about him will be coming for me soon. Is it Marcus Kent?

"Here."

Jarrod stops where he is, and the others follow. It's not until a couple of seconds later that I realize I need to stop walking too.

We have arrived at a tall building...or more like the tower Jarrod had pointed to earlier. It's not the tallest structure here, but it still stands at a great height.

Bricks—now chipped and stained—have been used to make this tower. It's painted with dirt, mold, and what I think is blood.

I put a hand over my forehead, trying to get the thought of what could have happened here out of my head.

"This way." Jarrod motions to us with his hand, and we trail behind him as he starts making his way around the tower. We reach a wooden door already falling apart from the many years it has existed. How long has this town been standing in this empty field?

Jarrod taps on the door and waits, glancing at all four of us standing behind him. My stomach twists and I can't help but think this could be some sort of trap. No one is opening the door. Is someone supposed to?

I still don't know what decision to settle on. Jarrod's really part of the hideout, or he's not. If he's not, he's doing a hell of a job acting.

He finally twists the doorknob, pushing the door open. All four of us crowd behind Jarrod to see what's inside. I have trouble seeing anything because I'm in the back, trying to look over my group's shoulders.

I can only see darkness. The others seem to be seeing the same thing.

"Is there a light here?" Addison asks.

Jarrod is the first to step inside. He nods and places his hand on one of the walls, groping around for a light switch.

The darkness inside the tower disappears, and dim light replaces it. The group has spread out enough, giving me room to see what the tower holds. None of us have walked through the door yet, and I don't I want to. What if I just stay out here?

There are boxes strewn throughout the room, torn ones along with whole. And I see a staircase, not too old but not too new either. It's like this room is pulling me in, wanting me to check out its mysteries.

No, thanks, I tell it. I'd rather not.

"You're sure we can go inside?" Addison asks, stepping closer to the door again.

Jarrod nods and points to the staircase. "Caleb usually sends someone here. Very rarely does anyone just want to enter for fun."

"Why are there boxes?" Rian asks.

Jarrod laughs. "No one's going to steal anything from them. They're empty." He waves a hand. "Let's go."

Addison steps forward first, but she doesn't walk through the door. "You sure it's safe?" she asks.

Jarrod nods.

I pull in a breath. "Can I stay here...and keep a look out?"

Everyone looks at me. Do they know I won't actually keep a look out?

"Still paranoid about Kent coming to sweep us away, huh?" Jarrod asks, crossing his arms.

I scoff. "Of course I am."

Jarrod sighs loudly. "I can't say that he won't, but sure. I'll just—"

Click.

Our eyes shoot up to the tower's staircase. Even though there's not a lot of light provided by the light bulb, I can still see a figure standing on one of the steps.

He's holding a rifle.
CHAPTER 23

V I V I A N

Jarrod's hands shoot up.

Almost immediately, the others follow.

But my hands are reluctant to lift, only because the face that belongs to the figure is familiar. He's someone I wouldn't think would want to hurt us, but maybe I'm wrong because the first time I met him, he didn't seem to like me very much.

He's Sabine's brother.

"Tobin?" I call out, just to be sure. I hear a laugh echoing in his familiar voice. However, I do not find comfort in it even though he's not a stranger. He lowers the gun. So Jarrod's not lying. People from the hideout do get sent up here.

I hear Tobin clear his throat, then call out, "And you must be that new girl, am I correct?"

"Yeah."

With his large rifle by his side, Tobin steps down from the stairs until he's standing right in the doorway. My eyes drift from his face to his gun, then back up.

"So you know him?" Rian whispers. "Who is he?"

I don't get a chance to answer the question because Tobin raises his eyebrows and asks, "What's your business here?" His eyes move to Jarrod. "And yours too?"

I can't read his expression to tell if he knows him or not. If he doesn't, then maybe Jarrod is a traitor all along. If he knows him, then I have no choice but to accept everything Jarrod has told us.

"Just trying to—" Jarrod clears his throat "—just trying to get—uh—Caleb's attention."

Tobin laughs through his nose. "Caleb's attention? He rarely comes here. It's my attention you want. And you got it."

Jarrod points to me, and it's still not very clear if they know each other. "Vivian here," Jarrod starts, his words speeding up as he moves further down his sentence, "needs a team sent out to help some guy—her friend, I think. He's inside the guards' quarters."

Tobin looks at me. "Is he alive?"

But I can't answer that. Addison beats me to it with a scoff. "Excuse me? Of course he's alive."

I start to shake my head but realize it won't do anyone any good. I don't know what's happened to Fox anyway.

Tobin doesn't snap back at Addison. He just stands there, looking down at her.

"His name is Fox," I decide to say. "Will you help us or not?"

Tobin turns to me. "And you had to come here? Why couldn't you have just asked Caleb yourself?"

I swallow, my throat dry. If only Tobin knew how dangerous it is to just stand here and talk about plans. I've reminded myself about a hundred times already. Kent might be listening in.

If I tell him what has happened to me, will he distance himself from us? Will he have us killed? Is Sabine a type of person who would tell her brother this kind of information?

I point to Jarrod and say, "Because Jarrod told us to come here."

Tobin glances at him. "Jarrod, huh? He told you this?" Again, if he knows this guy, he's not showing it.

Jarrod replies, "We can't go inside the hideout because Marcus Kent planted some sort of chip inside her. She said it monitors her all the time, and our conversations are recorded."

I brace myself for Tobin's reaction. I can picture him raising his gun and impaling me with bullets. You're a traitor, I can hear him saying.

But his reaction is nothing I expect. He only stands there and laughs. "So Kent's finally created some great technology, huh?" He shakes his head. "Fantastic. Do you know if it's actually functional?"

I shake my head and hold up my right arm. "There was something glowing here when I first got it."

"And why did Kent give you that?"

"He wants to find your hideout. And if I returned back to it, he would track my location. I'm not planning on going back."

Tobin nods. "I figured. He's been looking for us for quite some time now."

"So will you help us?" I ask.

Tobin waits a moment, then says, "Yes. I'll send a message to Caleb."
CHAPTER 24

V I V I A N

Tobin leaves us inside the tower.

He says we won't have to wait long, but what are we waiting for? A team, or permission from Caleb to assemble a team?

"Does Tobin know you?" I finally ask Jarrod. He looks at me and sits down, his back against the wall. The others are on the other side of the room, discussing something in low voices. I'm next to Jarrod by my own free will.

"Yes, he does know me."

I remember how Tobin looked at Jarrod. It was almost a confused look, like he didn't actually know him. But at the same time, it looked like he did know him. He was just not fond of Jarrod.

I've been doubting his earlier words, so I'm not sure if I should believe him right now. My opinion will not change until I know for sure this guy is not going to stab us in the back.

"How long have you two known each other?" I ask.

Jarrod laughs and scratches his head. "Not long actually. I joined the hideout group about half a year ago."

Half a year ago? While I was dead half a year ago, Jarrod was joining the hideout. There's so much going on right now, and there's so much I've missed.

Earth used to be beautiful. Just thirty years ago, everyone was living a normal life. I, on the other hand, was being stabbed to death by...Denham.

I scoff through my nose, shaking my head from that thought. I had completely forgotten about him and what he did to me. Now I have to sit here and pretend like I'm fine.

Something happened to turn nature into this. Remembering Denham from my past did something to my mind. Something opened up. A passage in my head. The tunnel to my past used to be blocked completely, but now I can see a crack, but it's barely big enough to let me through to my memories.

I remember seeing the people way before this time. Innocent people who didn't deserve to die in nature's destruction. People who could have been saved. But scientists and researchers refused. There is not enough room, they had said. We can only preserve a certain number of people.

There had been a certain age range they accepted.

I remember the air. I remember how the sky was. I remember how cold it got. The weather was unusual, unpredictable, and abrupt. Weathermen predicted a hot day, but instead, we received snow.

Slowly, the earth died out. From what, I don't know. The memories are too far to reach.

My death came before I could experience the full disaster.

Here I am now, sitting here with strangers I might have known from my previous life. I barely know them now, and thinking about what they might have done to me in my past life does not help. Addison could have hated me for all I know. Laurey could have been an enemy. And Rian...he could have been someone close to me.

But what do I think of him now?

My eyes lift to him. To his once spiked-up blond hair. It's flat and not brushed. But I couldn't care less how he looks like now. We've all gone through things we were not ready for. But what kinds of things are waiting for us now?

Rian meets my eyes just as I'm about to look away.

I glance at Jarrod, wondering if he wants to continue our conversation. He's looking down at his feet, silent. I'm guessing not, so I push myself to my feet and head over to Rian, who has pulled himself out of the discussion the rest of the group is having.

He pats the empty space next to him and rests his head against the wall of the room.

I take a seat close to him, cross my legs, and place my hands on my knees.

"So," I say. "You're doing okay so far?" Typical conversation starter.

I expect his true answer to be "no." None of us are doing okay. We need Fox here with us so we can all go home.

Home. How great does living underground sound to me right now?

Rian takes the easy answer. "I'm fine. You?"

I shrug, but decide against answering the same thing. Taking a deep breath, I say, "Frustrated. What happened with Denham is all my fault." My answer finally has some truth to it.

Rian sighs. "Look, Vivian. Denham was a project we hoped to bring back to Jack Welds. We failed because the project's dead now."

I purse my lips together, hoping this doesn't turn into a heated argument.

But Rian does not seem angry. He continues. "Even if he hadn't died, I'm sure he would have refused to come with us. Sure, we could have knocked him out somehow, but—uh—that would probably give him a concussion."

I don't laugh at Rian's attempt to lighten the mood. There is just not enough strength and courage left in me to plant a smile on my face.

Rian frowns too and looks over at the others. They've gone their separate ways. Addison seems to be sleeping, and Laurey is sitting away from everyone else in silence. Jarrod hasn't moved from where I last left him.

"Vivian?"

I look up at Rian. "Yeah?"

"Who exactly are those people everyone keeps mentioning. Caleb, Sabine...Tobin?"

I point to the door but realize that doesn't answer his question. "Tobin is the guy who just left us. Sabine's his sister. Caleb is the man in charge of the hideout." I know that this information doesn't help him, but maybe if he knew a little bit of their background, it'd be easier to understand them. But even I don't know what I mean by understand them.

What I know about those three people limits to only one thing: they work together.

"Hmm..." Rian trails off and looks down at his hands, flipping them over to examine the black swirl of graffiti printed on his fingers. "This is just all so weird."

The tower's door flies open, letting in the little light that's left from the sun.

"Tobin's back." Jarrod is the first to get to his feet and greet the silhouette standing at the door.

It is Tobin. His hair pointing to the side is something I can't really miss.

"We had a couple of volunteers," he tells us, hand still holding the door open. Somehow I think they're right there behind him.

"Who?" Jarrod asks, taking small steps toward Tobin. "Your sister, I'm guessing?"

Tobin glances to his right without a reply. But the answer comes when two figures emerge from behind the wall. A tall girl with short, black hair is one of them. Sabine.

The other is a man. Someone I've never seen before.

Tobin narrows his eyes, and I swear he's looking at me. "I'm coming with you, but only because I need to take a look at this prison, not because I want to protect anyone."

He only wants to protect his sister. He's made it obvious by now.

Jarrod claps his hands together. "So...when do we go?"

Tobin holds up a hand. "We wait until it gets darker, then we go ahead and infiltrate the station. There won't be as much security."

Jarrod laughs. "You do realize there's electronic security at night, right?" He waves his arms around. "I'm sure they won't let the entire building alone with the door unlocked."

"Who said we'll be going through the front door?" Tobin grins, but it looks forced. Why would he want to force a smile when the look on his face is naturally grim, ruining whatever good mood anyone is ever in?

~~~

We remain in the tower, talking up a plan and making sure we stick with it. Tobin leads us to the top, where I gaze out at the view of the town.

There's a gate separating this town from the empty field, and I know it's there for a purpose. No one would want to cross the safety border. There is nothing to search for in the empty field. It's cold and isolated.

The sky darkens and we're out the door in a minute. Jarrod is at the front, leading our small group of people toward the police station.

My heart pounds as I think of Fox. Is he still holding on? I'm afraid of the answer.

A hand on my shoulder forces me out of my unpleasant thoughts. I bring my head back to look at the person standing there. Rian.

"You never told us if Denham was seen dead," he whispers.

"Because I don't know." I whisper back. If Tobin hears Denham's been killed, what will he do? Does he know who Denham is?

Rian doesn't say anything more. He lets go of my shoulder and keeps walking. If we do make it inside the building, how will we find Fox?

Laurey and Addison volunteer to stay behind again. They say they want to wait in the spot Fox told us to wait if he disappears for a while. He hasn't arrived yet, but I think everyone thinks he will. I myself don't know what to think.

We told Laurey and Addison that if we don't make it, then they have to leave the town. Leave and go back to Jack Welds to tell him everything.

The unfamiliar man that came to help find Fox remains outside, right along with Jarrod. They'll help us on the outside, but I don't know how yet. And if something happens to us, they'll report straight to Caleb. Tobin says he'll send both of them a signal.

Sabine's been assigned to check the roof of the tall building. She gives us a quick smile, and I swear it almost looks like she thinks she won't see us again. "I'll get up there and check if there's a way in," she says, reviewing the plan so far. "If there is, Tobin will get himself up. I'll throw assistance your way."

By assistance, she means a device. They're more like gloves. The first time Sabine showed them to me, I hadn't the slightest idea of their purpose. But all I have to do is put them on, and hopefully they stick to the building's wall to help me climb.

"See you in a bit," Sabine says, slipping the black gloves on. She disappears behind the police building.

We wait, slinking into the shadows.

"How long will it take?" I ask.

Tobin looks at me briefly, but turns the other way. "Not long. Sabine has had a lot of practice."

Which is the opposite of the experience I have. By the time I'll reach the top of the building, the sun will have already risen. Twice.

I tilt my head back to look at the roof. It's going to be a long fall if I slip. But I don't want to think about it. My hands are already shaking.

Something falls from the sky and hits my shoulder. I gasp and jump back, realizing the object is not a threat. They're Sabine's black gloves. And her head is peeking at us from the top of the building.

"That didn't even take that long," I say in a whisper, bending down to swipe the gloves off the ground.

Tobin snatches them from me and moves to place his hands on the wall. I wasn't able to see Sabine's form and speed as she climbed the wall, but Tobin's is visible, so here's my chance to see how he climbs.

His hands are quick to grab a ledge of the building. He leaps, and grabs another above him.

I clench my hands as he increases the distance between the ground and himself. How do the gloves help? Do they glue themselves to the wall? I haven't gotten a chance to try them out yet, but I will soon.

Rian looks at me. "Do you want to go next or should I?"

I glance back up at Tobin. He's already halfway to the top. His foot kicks the ledge underneath and he jumps. One of his arms swings to the right and his fingers clamp down on another ledge.

Then I realize something.

I will not be able to do that. I am not agile, powerful, or graceful at all. These two have had a lot of practice. I'll fall, and that will be the end of me.

Tobin reaches the top of the building and disappears from view. The gloves drop down again and I pick them up, wondering how Rian or I will be able to do this.

"Maybe one of us should stay back?" Rian suggests.

I don't know if he means I should or he should. Is he afraid to climb, or does he know I want to give up?

I shake my head and look down at the gloves in my hand. "I'm sorry."

I don't know why I'm apologizing now, or what it's for. Maybe it's for everything. For everything everyone has gone through because of me.

"Hey!" I hear Tobin's voice hiss from above us.

I look up and see him gesturing with his hand.

"Go already!" he calls.

I hand the gloves to Rian.

"You go first," I tell him. "I'll go after you."

He nods and slips the gloves on. His first jump is the same one Tobin made.

"Just be careful," I tell him.

"You too."

When he grabs the ledge of one of the windows of the building, he does not let go. He only releases one arm and slaps his right hand to the next section of a wall just above him.

His left hand releases the ledge and—I hold my breath, waiting for him to lose against gravity. But he doesn't. His right hand is still attached to the flat part of the wall and he's still hanging on.

"Whoa," I hear myself say. Rian turns his head to me as much he can and laughs.

"Yeah, I know."

We've wasted too much time already. Tobin calls to us again. "You take longer than you need and we're leaving without you!"

Then I hear Sabine's voice, but she has other things in mind.

"No, we won't," she calls back in a whisper. "I'll wait for you."

Rian speeds up, but it takes him twice as long to reach the top of the building. I'm imaging myself taking so much longer than that.

But witnessing Rian hanging from the wall without a ledge gives me comfort. The gloves are the ones that attach themselves to the wall, no matter if it's flat or jagged. It means I'm safe. The gloves will hold my weight for me. Supposedly.

Rian drops the gloves back down to me once he gets to the top. Reluctantly, I pick them up and slip them on. The others are waiting, I tell myself. Weakness isn't going to help me. I have to get myself together.

I'm too short to be able to reach the ledge the three have used. So I use the low pipe attached to the wall instead.

I place my foot on it and haul myself up until I'm able to slide my fingers over the first outside sill of the window.

Okay, you can do this.

But even my words can't comfort me because I know deep down—no, wait. I take that back. Not deep down, but right on the surface of my mind. I am too much of wimp to do any of this.

Shut up and move.

I gulp in as much oxygen as I can and look up at the next window sill. I see all three heads peek down at me from the roof. I ignore them, knowing I can only go my pace.

My right foot scrambles to grab on to a nook in the wall. I can only fit the tip of my foot in it, but that's enough for me.

Slowly, the fingers on my right hand release the ledge, and I wait, hoping the gloves will hold me.

I am not straining to hold on. It almost feels like something's holding me up. What kind of device is this? Where did these people get it? The gloves are the ones that keep me connected to the wall.

"You coming already?" I hear Tobin call.

Doesn't he know I'm new to this? I'm sure if he didn't know something, he would take his time to try to get accustomed to it. But I know there's no time to get used to anything now. Now's the time to move as I fast as I can, no matter how bad I'll do it. Fox is waiting for us.

I reach up and slap my hand on the bricks above me. Something vibrates in the gloves, giving me the feeling that I'm being held up right now. I let go with my other hand and almost laugh. I'm hanging here, my feet only a few inches off the ground.

Just don't look down.

It's what everyone tells themselves.

I reach for another ledge until that is all I think to do. I move my foot, raise my arm, then let the gloves stick to the wall. It always works. I get to the top, heart hammering in my chest.

I drag myself up onto the roof, letting out a large sigh when I realize I'm still alive.

"All right, let's go."

I don't get a chance to catch my breath, because we're already moving. We start moving toward a vent in the building's roof. Actually, as we get closer, I realize it's not a vent but a door. We can enter the building through the roof.

"This way," Tobin says, pointing toward the door.

I don't want to think about what will happen when we find out it's locked. Maybe Tobin has something in mind.

But where can Fox be? What if he's being questioned by Kent? What if he got sent to a cell far from here?

Tobin pulls something out of his pocket. This is now part of the plan we have not discussed. My palms start to sweat as I think of what's waiting for us through the door. "So how important is this Fox guy to you?" Tobin asks. I watch as he fiddles with the latch on the horizontal door, but I don't answer. Tobin stops what he's doing, looks up at me and grins authentically for the first time since I remember meeting him. "I doubt he's that important."

I only shake my head and look away, leaving Tobin to do whatever it is he's supposed to be doing. Picking a lock? What is there that the hideout doesn't have?

The door clicks softly, and in a swift motion, Tobin produces something out of this back pocket, slapping it to the trap door. After another click sounds, Tobin pries the door open. How many gadgets did he bring?

Sabine does not look surprised. Neither does Rian. I am the only one staring.

"Hold on a second," Tobin says, searching through the pockets of the large sweatshirt I just notice he's wearing. He pulls a device out. A dim light shines from its end. Tobin directs it through the open trap door.

Is there anything there? A threat perhaps?

"It's safe," Tobin says, slipping the object back into his pocket. ""At least according to the device."

He grabs on to the edge of the opening, about to jump down. But I stop him with a question.

"How do you know?"

He looks at me and pats his pocket. "The device reads that there are no guards anywhere in the room. At least not right now."

I fiddle with my hands as I watch both Sabine and Tobin disappear through the door.

Rian and I share glances. The truth is, we've never done any sort of thing like this before. Not in this lifetime. According to Jack Welds' records, I was a soldier in my past life. My abilities are long gone, and I really feel like I never had them before. Being frozen for thirty years has done this to me.

I jump through the door first, and Rian goes after me. He manages to shut the door closed behind him.

Darkness envelopes us, until Tobin pulls out the same device with the light on its end. The dim light surrounds us, but disappears once again after Tobin puts it away. "No one's here yet," he says. So he'll only use the object to check for enemies, not light the way.

I blink several times, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Tobin and Sabine are used to the darkness because of the things they do. But I'm still an amateur. The only thing I can do is stay close to the group.

"Let's go," Tobin whispers.

I pat the air around me, trying to see if I can locate anyone. My hands land on something, and I hear Rian laugh.

"Sorry," I mutter, not knowing if Rian is actually the person I touched.

"You're fine. I can't see anything either."

Long fingers wrap around my hand. I hear Rian's voice again. "That you, Vivian?"

"Yes."

He pulls me along while I take small but quick steps, hoping I won't trip over anything.

"You'll get used to the dark soon enough," Tobin's voice whispers. The same screen of the scanning device appears in the blackness. I look away from the bright light so I'm not blinded.

Where are we anyway? The attic, if there is such a thing here? The room feels empty, and with every step we take, I can hear our footsteps echoing through the dark.

"Another door's right here in front of us," Tobin says. "I suggest you stop so you don't crash into anything."

I stop walking just as soon as Rian stops. His tall figure starts to appear in front of me. Tobin's and Sabine's are doing so as well.

Click.

Light floods into the room, and I realize that Tobin is standing next to an open door, hand on the doorknob.

So he's right. There is a door. His device must have scanned it.

"No one's here either, but the reader just picked up something directly below us."

That's where the security must be.

Everyone moves through the open doorway, and Tobin shuts the door behind us. There are two hallways ahead. One leads left, the other right. I don't know which way to take, but after scanning the room with his device, Tobin chooses left.

We speedwalk through the dim light of the hallway in silence. The strange thing is that I have no idea where the light is coming from. The ceiling? The floor?

"The reader is picking up a guard ahead of us," Tobin huffs out.

How is he expecting to get past the guards and cameras? Does he have something else conveniently stored in his sweatshirt pocket?

He stops where he is, and we copy. A door stands in front of us, and I can practically hear the footsteps of the guard as he nears us from the other side.

"There's only one person," Tobin says. He glances at Sabine. "You're ready for this?"

Sabine nods and holds up a disk-shaped object I hadn't seen her take out. That's the weapon they're going to use to get through these guards?

The door in front of us clicks, but before I can even blink, it's bashed open and a dozen bodies stream in, rifles in hand.

Their voices fill my ears with the words, "Hands up in the air! Now!"

I choke and slap a hand over my mouth as I realize we don't stand a chance against them. And as I stare at them longer, I realize they're wearing the exact same suits Fox, Rian, Laurey, and Addison came here with. Kent stole the suits and made replicas out of them.

Rian swears, his hands immediately flying up into the air.

Tobin stuffs his device into his sweatshirt pocket, but Sabine holds her ground, the disk still in her hand.

The guards give her no chances. A trigger is pulled and a boom echoes throughout the room. Sabine gasps, the disk slipping from her fingers.

She places a hand on her arm, where I see a dart has impaled through her flesh. A black color spreads around the strange object. I'm not sure if it's blood, or the substance she's been injected with.

But as soon as she collapses to the floor, Tobin yells out her name. His voice startles the guards. Another boom rings out, and Tobin falls, clutching his shoulder.

I want to scream, but all I can get out is a choked sob. Kent knew we were coming. We were under surveillance all this time. He had all of this under control. Kent should have found the hideout by now.

I tried helping these people. But no, whomever I try to help only gets put in danger.

"Stay put and don't move!" The order is yelled out by one of the guards. The dozen of them move toward me, rifles raised.

I remain still. I am not armed, and there's absolutely nothing I can do but wonder what I have just done.
CHAPTER 25

V I V I A N

Kent is standing right in front of me.

He's gazing down at me with those dark eyes of his while I am in a chair, free hands clasped in my lap. My face is filled with dried up tears.

Kent won't tell me where Fox is. He won't tell me where Rian is. He won't tell me where Tobin is. And he won't tell me where Sabine is.

I did not ask about the others who remained outside, because I do not want to put them in any more danger, if Kent hasn't gotten to them yet.

He relaxes his face and sits down in the chair opposite me. We're back in that cold, gray basement where I first met Kent.

I was shot in the arm with one of the black darts, and I woke up here. There's that black stain on my arm too. So the dart didn't kill Tobin or Sabine, because I'm still alive. But maybe something else killed them after I blacked out.

Kent rubs his chin. "When you see Denham, tell him I'm still continuing the search."

When I see Denham. Those words tell me something.

Denham's dead, and Kent knows. He wants to kill me, and wherever dead people go, I'll go there too. Denham will be there, and I'm going to have to take the message to him.

Then what? I live my life and wonder if I can ever get back to Earth?

"I'm going to send you on another mission, Miss Vivian," Kent says. "I've been meaning to, but you've just been so busy lately with helping us find those criminals. I've found some help, so I'm afraid I don't need you anymore for that. Mr. Tobin and Ms. Sabine will surely help me. Oh, and didn't I find a Mr. Jarrod?"

I clench my teeth, knowing I'm going to have to listen to this and not actually know if he found the hideout or not. He says he didn't, but I don't know if I believe him.

He smiles. "It's going to be so easy to find them now that I've got so many cooperative people." He claps his hands together. "Anyway, on to our little mission." He leans forward and brings his voice down to a whisper.

"I need you to," he starts, "send a message to Jack Welds and his little crew."

I don't even care to know how he knows about Jack Welds. They probably have some kind of past and they're still struggling to get over it.

"Forget it," I spit, my voice hoarse. "Send someone else."

Kent leans back in his chair and laughs into the air. "What a wonderful answer, Ms. Vivian. But you have no choice over this."

Again with the I have no choice.

"Watch me make my own choice," I say.

He laughs again, and I grimace at the sound of his voice.

He sent me on a mission to show him where the hideout was, but I haven't even set foot in it after he injected me with his chip. I can make the same choice now, and he can't prevent me from doing what I think is best.

Kill me. I couldn't care less.

"Typical Ms. Vivian wants to stay out of trouble, eh?" Kent says. "Well, you can't...because you're right in the middle of it all."

"You can torture me all you want. I'm not going to be your messenger."

Kent scoffs. "You will."

"And what if I won't?" I ask him. "I didn't show you where the hideout is. And I'm not helping you with your message."

"Oh, but you did show me where the hideout is, in a way. You let me meet all of those wonderful people. While you complete your new mission, your hideout pals are going to be showing me where they're staying."

I shake my head, reluctantly choosing to say my next words. "So say I did do your stupid little mission. What's it about?"

An amused look passes over Kent—raised eyebrows and a tilted mouth. "Good. You're interested."

I never said I am.

But I don't say this, no matter how much the words want to escape my mouth.

"All you simply have to do is deliver a device to Jack. You don't have to worry about what will happen later."

"And that's it?"

Kent moves his head left and right. "No, of course not. You have limited a time to get it done. Remember that little blue tracer in your arm?"

Slowly, I nod, fearing what might be coming next.

Kent points to me. "That is what gives you that limited time. Well, I'll tell you the truth, I'm not one hundred percent positive we will be able to get a signal if you're far away from us. It's more like seventy-five percent, to be honest."

I narrow my eyes. "What do you mean by that being the thing that gives me a limited time? Limited time to do what? The mission? Live?"

Kent holds up three fingers. "Three weeks. Your deadline is after three weeks. If you have not given the device to Jack by then, your chip goes off...and you're dead."

I feel my eyes open wider than they already are. "Dead?"

"Dead," Kent confirms with a nod. "Your device will blow up in your arm first, travel up your body, then end in your heart until you're not breathing anymore. You might also lie there in pieces, breathing, or not breathing—" he shrugs— "I can't be sure."

I stare at him, realizing my face is stuck in a cringe. I shake my head and straighten myself out. "I won't do it."

"Yes, you will."

I grit my teeth. "I may not know you that well, but I sure as hell know that I'll die anyway, whether I complete the mission or not."

Kent puts his hand up and laughs. "Okay, okay, you got me. You'll die either way. But why not accomplish something? Why not throw your life away for the greater good?"

"None of what you're doing is for the greater good."

"You don't even know what I'm doing."

He's right, I don't. But him being who he is, I don't doubt his messed-up plans.

Kent's amused look is wiped off his face. It's replaced with some else. Seriousness? Pity? Hatred?

"You're a bomb, Vivian," he says, his voice low. "You're the disposable bomb I'm sending after Jack. He deserves it. His science of reviving and killing isn't right. It has to be stopped. We have to get rid of him. If you refuse to do anything, I'll send someone else. I'll keep sending people until someone actually cooperates. If you won't be the first to do it, you'll be putting innocent lives at risk after you. Sacrifice yourself and it'll all be over with."

Something's stuck in my throat, and I can't quite get the words out. Oh, wait—

"You have got to be kidding me!" I screech. "You have seriously got to be kidding me! You're a lunatic, that's what you are!" I point an accusing finger at him, wanting so bad to spit in his face. "Sacrificing myself for your stupid plan? What did you call me? A bomb? You want to blow up Jack Welds and everything he's worked on? Do you know how much he's accomplished? Do you know how large of a community he's built? You should go see for yourself! Go sacrifice yourself for this great good!"

I take a deep breath, slapping my hand over my face. He's not joking, is he? He thinks this will help. Destroy Jack Welds' projects? Really? What if I blow up Kent's entire town? How will he feel?"

When I look back up at him, I don't doubt that my face is streaming with tears. My voice is hoarse when I say, "No way am I doing this favor for you. Rot in hell."

Kent watches me, his thin mouth completely gone because he's pressing his lips together so tight.

"I am still sending you. There will be a bag by your side. Give the device inside it to Jack. Once he activates it, I will be able to communicate with him. After our little conversation is done, you're all dead. Starting with you and the chip in your arm. If you choose not to do this, you will realize that there is absolutely nothing out there in the wild. You will starve to death. You will be so close to dying of dehydration. You will be desperate to do anything. You will finish my mission."

CHAPTER 26

V I V I A N

There is a pulsing in my head.

I think it's coming from my right arm. My forearm to be exact.

I pry my eyes open, holding the gaze of the blue sky above me. The ground under me is sharp and cold. I pat it and realize it feels familiar. Rocky and hard.

I turn my head to look at what I'm laying on.

The ground. The gray ground outside the town. The endless, hopeless field leading to nowhere.

A sob escapes me as I realize what I'm doing here. Kent sent me out here to get ride of Jack Welds. I've been set to self-destruct in three weeks.

The town is not too far away, but it still looks small from here. If I run back, it'll only take me seven to ten minutes to get there.

But I can't go back. I will not be welcomed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something black. When I turn my head to greet it, I see that it's a bag. A small one that would easily go around my shoulders. I flip over on my stomach and bring my hands out in front of me. With a pained grunt, I push myself up on my knees.

My arm reaches into the black bag, and I pull out a black device. It's nothing I've ever seen before.

But then my eyes land on something else.

A human body. A man with untidy blond hair.

I gargle out nonsense and forget the bag quickly, too focused on trying to get to this human being Kent left me.

The body suddenly divides until I can see two full human beings lying on the ground. But one is just an unstable, transparent copy.

"Hey," I croak, crawling on all fours toward the figure. It pulls together into one whole body again. "Hey, are you alive?"

The figure's face comes into view, but it takes me a couple of seconds to finally put the pieces of the nose, the mouth, and the eyes together. The parts form into the face of...Rian.

Rian?

I gasp. "Rian!"

Left arm, right arm. Left foot, right foot. I keep it up until I reach his side. He's still not awake, and I don't know what's happened to him.

"Rian!" I roll him over on his back, grunting. "Rian." I place both of my hands on either side of his face, staring straight into his closed eyes. "Tell me you're not dead." The only person Kent was kind enough to return can't be dead. I don't want to be here by myself.

I press my ear to his chest, trying to see if I can find a heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Oh.

I pull away from him, breathing out loudly.

Thump, thump, thump.

This time the pulsing isn't coming from Rian. It's coming from my right forearm. The glowing blue light has appeared again. My arm stings at the pulsing. It's the device inside of me. Why is it doing that? Does that mean it's been activated? Does that mean it's counting down the days until it gets to blow up inside me?

"What is—?" Rian. I look down at him when I hear his voice. My hands are still on his face, but I let go.

His eyes have opened.

I feel my mouth stretch into a large grin, and I can't hold it back. He's alive.

But the mission cannot be forgotten, and I don't know how it just left my mind that easily during these last few seconds. Kent planted a bomb in my arm, and now he expects me to finish this task for him. Go back to Jack Welds, and sacrifice myself. Detonate the entire building and give myself to the flames and debris right along with it.

And I have to make a choice. Go on with the mission, or walk away from it all and wait for the day I finally leave the world.

Three weeks. Let's start the countdown.
CHAPTER 27

J A N E L L E

When Jack first made the announcement of the success of our program, I did not know what feelings to express.

Getting a chance to feel the air in my lungs and smell the soil seemed possible for the later generations, but not for mine. I did not think I would be the one to stand out here, gazing out at the dead field.

"Dr. Janelle?"

Gentle fingers on my shoulder is what helps me find my way out of my thoughts. I look to my right to see Piers Clancy viewing the field with me. He has not been a helpful brother to Vivian, but I can't say that I have been a helpful doctor to her, either.

"Time to go inside," he says.

I nod, knowing he is right. Turning, I start toward the opening in the lift. It stands alone and mysterious, being the only electronic device in this flat, gray field. The lift will sink us back into the earth when we step inside it. We will be returned back to our underground edifice. But I will visit this field again soon. I know this.

END OF BOOK TWO

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