Expiration Date (Books 1 and 2)

57 A Storm Is Coming

I put the car in drive and maneuver with care through the barriers and Veil guards. "I don't doubt he would, but I don't know if he did. No matter what he says, Iris is invaluable to him." A Veil motions for me to keep coming forward as he directs me through the final barricade. "I don't think he could throw her away."

Seong-ho runs a hand through his brown hair. "I still can't believe the very same girl I knew years ago is the one we're talking about."

"Were you two close?" I hedge, entirely unsure how to ask him about his past with her. Since the moment I found out they had even shared a conversation before yesterday, I've wished to ask him about it. I assume the relationship was an adversary one, but Iris reacted as if he was a close friend who betrayed her. Seong-ho drove from the Estate to Tennessee and for the entirety of the trip it was eating at me to ask. The only reason I could come up with for why I didn't was because I was scared—am scared by the chance that maybe it was a good deal more than friendly.

Seong-ho taps his finger against the black plastic button for opening his window. "I suppose you could say that. I worked with her a lot—with training that is."

"You trained the rebels?" Restricted no more by the barricades, I'm free to push past the speed limit, winding my car around the mountain's bends.

"It was part of the charade. And besides for the most part it was only her who I focused on."

"Why her?" I can't fathom willingly spending time with her.

"I didn't think it would matter. She'd be dead before twenty. And I guess I took pity on her. The dynamic between her and the other kids was . . . strained because of her early Expiration Date. I pushed her harder than any of them."

"You tried to provoke her?"

"It wasn't like I had any of you around to provoke. But I guess I wanted to see her succeed."

"At what?"

"Being the best?"

I focus on the road, making sure I slow down enough, turn the wheel enough for the curve.

When we were little, Seong-ho and I were inseparable. We'd torment Gwen, play pranks on Jonas, and we'd always be on the same team whenever there would be some sort of capture-the-flag-like game in the fields surrounding our estate in Wyoming.

Then Seong-ho's father started priming him to infiltrate an orphanages to discover if they were training rebels. He left on his first assignment when he was eight-years-old. I suppose it only makes sense we lost what we had. With him gone, I had to deal with Eli on my own. A year before Seong-ho left for his first orphanage, Eli, about a year and a half younger than I, was hiding with me in a cabinet and had not mastered the anxious, jittery feeling that comes with hiding and soiled himself—on my foot.

"Do you really think Erik killed Molly?" Seong-ho asks as we pass by a rotting blue sign announcing we're entering the town.

"Haven't we exhausted this conversation by now?"

He doesn't answer.

"If Erik wanted us to believe he killed Molly, then I'm going to believe him." Even if I have my doubts.

"But are you going to believe him about Iris?"

"He has something to gain by us believing Iris is dead. There was no reason for him to lie about Molly."

The town is old—not beautiful, awe-inspiring old, but tacky old. Each one-story building looks like it was built in the 70s and hasn't been painted since.