The Boy Who Wasn't Real

Bajah

I have to smoke. No, I need to smoke.

So, I light a cigarette and watch as Vivian's blue eyes widen in shock as she stares into the Danish soldier's hut. Honestly, it looks like she's just seen a ghost. But Isaac and I stand back, probably thinking the same thing: What is she looking at?

Møller shifts against the barrel of my pistol and I push it forwards, into his head. He grunts something unintelligible under his breath and straightens, his head facing Vivian.

Vivian crosses her arms over her chest and looks at Møller skeptically. "Spill whatever you can to make me less angry at you, Møller."

"First, can the drenge see what's in my home so they aren't confused?" Møller gestures absently to Isaac and I.

Isaac gives Vivian a mock-pleading look and I take a drag on my cigarette, the smoke filling my lungs for a brief second before I blow it out. She steps out of the way, allowing Isaac and I to step forward. Møller grunts as I adjust the position of my gun on his head so I can see better.

When we finally get a good view of the inside of the ramshackle hut, Isaac's jaw drops. The lit cigarette hangs between my lips as I stare at the corkboard-walls. They're covered in pictures of Isaac, Vivian, Rue and I. One of them is from just this morning—although, from the angle and slight blur, I'd say it was taken in a hurry. Equipment litters the floor.

To all the Gods, why is he obsessed with my friends and I?

On one of the screens, tiny black writing contrasts against the white. It reads, Bathroom break for Subject Five. Subject Two and Subject Three talked, each experiencing something like mutual respect. In the morning, Subject Four looked as if she was jealous of the conversation Two and Three had, although Subject One didn't seem to notice anything off about Two, however One looked very worried for Three.

I stop reading, floored. We're subjects. Vivian is obviously Subject One, I'm Subject Two, Isaac is Subject Three, Rue's got to be Subject Four and Claws is probably Subject Five. Isaac doesn't see the writing—I know that because if he did, he'd punch the lights out of Møller for documenting every action that we do. I don't bring it up.

I face the man with Isaac, keeping the barrel of my pistol trained on Møller's head. "So, now that we've seen, do you care to explain why you're spying on us?"

"Well," the old soldier says, "I was hired by Ocean's government, as I mentioned before. I did help Fabio, even though that wasn't part of my task. I killed him. Ocean's government told me to do that once they'd found out that I was trying to train the kid. The money is what they offered me to keep quiet about their orders to me. I took it in full, all the while keeping track of the four kids who drove up to this Godforsaken place on two motorcycles." Møller walks to the hut.

I jab the barrel of my pistol into his head. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to get something, dreng. No need to worry."

I nod and move with him as he pulls on the wooden plank he uses as a door. He crosses the room, carefully stepping over piles of equipment and supplies. Stopping at one of the walls, Møller takes a handful of pictures from the wall, leaving a blank spot where I can see a patch of the tawny corkboard. He walks past me and back outside, holding the door open for me politely. My pistol doesn't move.

Møller nods and shows us picture after picture of Isaac, Vivian, Rue and I. Then pictures of Isaac, Vivian, Claws, Rue and I. There's even a picture of Isaac without his eyepatch on, without Rue's stitches to make it look better. In almost all of the pictures, my face is either disgusted or annoyed. And in exactly all of them with her in them, Rue is looking at me.