Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe it was just one of my nightmares.
I open my eyes and find myself on a bed in the infirmary, just like I had found myself on the Immortal. The pillow beneath me stings my wound. This doesn't mean I was collected, I try to tell myself. Maybe I fell in my sleep. But I know the truth. I'm wearing the same funeral dress I wore earlier, and my fingertips are still stained red with blood from my gash. My ankles and wrists are strapped to the hospital bed, as they were when Gunther wanted my blood sample. A gag of cotton and gauze wraps around my head and through my mouth.
It wasn't a dream. It all happened. The camp was really attacked. The Council is dead, and Gunther is really in charge. I think back to Daniel criticizing the Knock Out serum, and I want to scream. He was right. He was right about all of this. If we had escaped when he said, we'd be safe. Maybe we could have even gotten everyone out. But my mom... Declan... they would still be dead.
Time folds over itself: I've been captured by a Prowler, I'm in a strange infirmary, what made me feel at home has been destroyed, and my family is gone.
At least the first time, I rolled over to find my mom. Now I see only a black haired man to my left. There are screens beside each bed, just as there were on the Immortal, and his screen reads, "Hugh Quail." His head is turned away from me in sleep or coma or death, so I use the opportunity to try to break free. If Hugh is here, Gunther will be back soon.
I poke my tongue against the gag, trying to push it from my mouth, but all the gauze and panicking only makes my mouth fill with saliva. I try to swallow it, but it slips down my wind pipe, and I erupt in a fit of coughs.
He rolls his head to face me, and, upon realizing I'm choking, painfully lifts himself from his bed and leans across to pull the gauze from my mouth. I catch my breath, and thank him.
He looks me up and down. "My brother told me not to interact with you. But you don't look so scary," he says, wincing in discomfort. His voice hints at Gunther's cadence, only lighter. Sweeter. They are unmistakably brothers, from the midnight hair to the ocean eyes, except that the cryo chambers kept Hugh closer to my age than Gunther's. He falls back on his bed, and rests. "I'm Hugh. You look really familiar to me. Do I know you?"
I don't know how to answer his question, or if I even should. This is the brother of the man who just swept me up in a Prowler machine, who turned my friends into robots, and made Daniel, Nina, Celia, Jane, all of them, into bloody slaves. But this is also the man who Declan loved, and who loved him back. Who made him feel valued. My heart breaks into jagged shards in my chest, and I have to push myself up to relieve the pain.
"Slow down," Hugh tells me, "I tried that this morning when I came to." He beams, dimples framing his mouth. "I was in a coma after I had lung implants. My brother, Gunther, made me new lungs. But you probably already know that. He seemed to know you well. Do you work for him or something?"
"Women aren't allowed to work here. I don't know what your brother told you about me, but I really need to get out of here. Do you think you could unstrap me?"
"That depends, where are you going? You might have a concussion, you should rest."
His naive sunniness is refreshing, but just outside those doors are piles of drained bodies, and I need to do my best not to join them. Hugh needs the truth if I'm ever going to convince him to let me out.
"You do know me," I start, "but you probably don't remember. You were in the government bunker, in the cryo chambers. My group attacked to get back some of our own and kill the President, and your brother thought you were out already, so he activated the self-destruct response. He sent out a gas that makes people susceptible to suggestion, so that everyone in the bunker would stay until it blew, but I'm immune to it. I got everyone out. All the people in my group, all the survivors, and all the people in the cryo chambers. Like you. You were having trouble breathing, you couldn't keep up, so I carried you. That's how you know me. As for Gunther, I know him, yes, but in the same way a rabbit knows a wolf. He's going to hurt me and what's left of my family. I can't rest right now, I need to get out."
"You...? You saved me? But you're just a little girl."
"I'm seventeen, and I... I was strong."
A plan forms in my mind. I search the room for one of the flood vents that lead to the drain. I see one behind the bed beside mine, so I turn back to Hugh and plead, "Please. I need to leave."
He searches my face, and groans in exasperation. "Fine." He lifts himself again and leans over me to unstrap the restraints. "A life for a life."
As soon as I am free of the straps, I leap to my feet, and rush to slide the neighboring bed over, away from the vent. I loosen it from the wall.
"What on Earth are you doing?"
"What time is it?" I ask Hugh from over my shoulder.
"It's morning, not sure what time exactly. Why?"
Today is the tenth day. Today is the day we were supposed to get out. "No reason."
"Hey," he says, as I finally pull the grate from the wall. "I don't even know your name. Gunther didn't tell me."
"It's Isla. Isla Blume."
"Isla... is what you said about my brother true? He's going to hurt you?" I nod. "I don't believe you."
"See for yourself, Hugh."
I start to crawl into the wall when I hear Hugh call after me, "Hey." I turn back and see him in his grey pajamas, stumbling around the beds and clutching his chest. "You haven't met anyone named Declan Kunkle have you?"
I swallow air as if I'm drowning, and somehow manage to say, "He was one of the best people I have ever met. I loved him like a brother."
His face goes white. "Past tense."
"He was one of the rebels, like I was. Gunther and Cooper killed them."
I turn back into the drain to hide my tears, when Hugh leans into it. "Gunther wouldn't lie to me," he says, "and he wouldn't kill Declan. If I ask him, he'll tell me what's happening."
I frown. "I hope he does," I say.
He nods as if to thank me. "I'll close the vent behind you."
He places the grate back over the drain and stands. Through the metal lines, I watch him grab a walker that's been left for him before he leaves the room. Once the door closes, I crawl through the wall to find a tunnel down to the drain, toward where I can only guess the ballroom is.
There's a hole in the wall behind the grandfather clock, and I peer through its face onto the ballroom. Morning light leaks through the windows and shines over Hugh, who paces the blood-stained room with the assistance of his walker. I scan the room, and find a group of my friends, still scrubbing remnants of blood from the floor: Nina, Celia, Daniel, and Winston. No one speaks. Only the ticking of clock gears and the pulling of skin from sticky marble are audible.
Hugh limps over to them, his legs still weak from disuse. "Stop. Stop cleaning. Sit down, rest. Please," he tells them, and they all do exactly as he says, sitting against the far wall, resting their heads on one another and shutting their eyes.
Gong. Gong. Gong.
The calling of a new hour drums in my ears. I step back from the hole, cupping my hands over my ears to stop the pounding, when I stumble against something behind me.
It's... a door? Light leaks through. I would have seen this when I walked here, especially with the light, so it must have just opened when the clock rang. Could the light be sun? I slip into the opening to investigate.
A narrow passageway leads toward the light, but as I near, I realize it's definitely not an exit. It's a secret lab. In the greenish fluorescent light, I see vials of blood line the room, and I bend down to read some of the labels: Nina Allen, Celia Rivera, Ava Ward, Nathan Ward, Alexander Ovis, Phoebe Clark, Kevin Sato, Winston Fowler, Joseph Wilkes, Daniel Crowley, and Isla Blume.
What the hell? Who has my blood? It must be Gunther. Who else? But why?
There's a desk in the center of the room, so I swipe through the papers to find a name. The papers detail DNA experiments and genetic mutations on babies forming in the womb, and experiments using artificial wombs to nurture the fetuses through birth. All done by Gunther Quail. This is his real office. There are confirmations of genetically modified infants born to Carriers, using spliced DNA strands, taking the best attributes from various donors. One confidential paper lists all Carriers pregnant with genetically modified babies, and among the names, I find Eleanor Crowley. I scroll across, and see a list of all genes used in each Carrier baby. I check Eleanor's baby's information: She's carrying a 50/50 mix, unlike some of the other Carrier's, who carry more than two parent DNA strands. I move my finger to the parent DNA donors, and it's like someone has punched me in the gut. Her baby is mine and Nate's.
Nate and I have... had a baby... and it was growing inside my fiance's mother. I scream and push all the papers off the desk, when I find, beneath the files, an electronic rectangle, like tablet. I examine it and press the only button I can find, which makes the face light up. The tablet opens to an audio file titled "Gunther Quail: The Story of World Domination." Really, Gunther?
A pop-up asks me if I would like to continue recording, so I press my finger against the "No" option, and instead press the "Play" button beside a random chapter of this audio file.
"Chapter 3: The Start of an Empire. When I became involved in the government, I never imagined so many agencies would be contacting me. Genetics was, at the time, an area to be explored. There were food shortages to deal with, and troubling social issues coming to light. Suddenly, I was being asked to genetically modify everything from food to bugs to plants to humans."
Is he dictating his life story? I move the cursor along the audio line at the bottom of the screen to skip ahead.
"—tunities. George Cooper didn't understand the potential, however. I went ahead with the genetic experiments, as Roberts had instructed me to, and ignored Cooper's narcissistic insistence on creating a system devoted to his own vanity. While I moved ahead with my experiments, Cooper devoted his energies to creating a fan base of attractive 'Comforts,' 'Caregivers' likely to die anyway, and 'Carriers' who were hearty enough to bear children. All C names, after Cooper. A group of my former colleagues and survivors, calling themselves 'Deathless,' attempted to tear down my empire. It was a futile effort, and soon after, many of the Deathless rebels saw the light, and joined my team, including heroes Mitchell Harper, Alexander Ovis, and Phoebe Clark. However, many of the rebels had to die for their participation in a treason plot, including Winston Fowler, Kevin Sato, and Isla Blume. On October 5th, my soldiers who had been implanted with the modifying software went to the rebel site at the Hoover Dam in Old Nevada, and destroyed not only the camp, but the threat of rebel uprising. From then on, we were able to continue our research. It was the first step to developing our empire of genetically superior human species."
The pop-up returns to ask if I would like to continue recording now that the file is finished playing, so I press "No" again, this time with a little more force than is necessary. He is going to kill me. He was always going to kill me. His plan was to take my genes and kill me.
Two can play this game, Gunther. Two can ruin lives.
I lift the tablet, and use it like a paddle against the vials of blood encircling me. Blood spills to the floor and puddles around my feet. In this moment, I'm not a scientist. I don't care that I'm probably destroying months, maybe years of research. It all must go.
I rip through the room until there's nothing left. Then, as if the walls were to collapse around me, I race from the lab, and everything blurs until I find my way to the drain. Down some pipes, and into the space where we kept all our secrets. I fall to my knees, and sob.
I can't do this much longer, live in this world. Every time I begin to feel safe or happy, the world cuts into me a little deeper. I just want to go home. I want to open my eyes, and be back in the safe room. I want my dad to make me a crown of wildflowers, and I want Ben to make tinctures with me from our herbs. I want Eleanor to read a book with me, even if we've read it a hundred times, and I want my mom to hold me. I want her to cook me stew, and brush the hair from her shoulders before ladling me a bowl. I want her to read me poems before bed, and pull my covers up to my chin before blowing out the candles. I want Daniel to hold my face between his hands and kiss me in the fields, hidden between stalks of corn. I want to wear my crown of wildflowers and shoot at rubble with my slingshot.
My slingshot! Celia made me one, and I left it in her box of armor. And armor! If Gunther wants me dead, he better believe I'm going to fight. If it means destroying him, I can be the monster he bred me to be.
I throw the box open, and drape the armor over me. I throw my hair up, so it doesn't get caught on the spikes poking up from my shoulders. I wrap a holster around my waist, and stuff it with ripped spikes from extra pieces of armor. Then, I take my slingshot from the box, and arm myself.
"Isla...," I hear someone behind me say. In one motion, I pull a spike from my holster, load it into the sling, pull back, and spin around. I have the spike aimed directly at Jane. All my muscles relax, except those in my face, which strain in confusion.
"What are you... Why aren't you knocked out like the rest of them?" I ask.
"None of the Caregivers are. We were just following along. What's happening?" Her hands are still up in surrender, so I lower my slingshot, and she breathes a sigh of relief.
"Why wouldn't the Caregivers be knocked out?" Then I remember. Joe recreated Nate's DNA altering serum for Gunther. He could have put it into the pills he gave to the Caregivers. If we can ever fix his brain, I'll have to thank him. "I know," I answer myself. "The pills Joe gave you. They have a DNA altering compound in them that would keep you from reacting to the Knock Out gas."
"What do we do now?" Jane asks.
"I don't know. But I'm going to find Gunther, so you might not want to be around me."
"Are you going to kill him?"
There's nothing else to do. "Listen. Gunther wants me dead, so I'll create a diversion. He'll be too worried about me to notice the Caregivers and you all can sneak out with the knocked out people, okay? Can you promise me that? Can you promise me you'll get Daniel, Nina, and Celia out?"
"No," Jane says. She's right. She can't promise me that she will.
"Can you promise me you'll try?"
She nods her head, biting her lip. "Yes."
"Think of Meg. Think of the ballerinas. This is your chance to save people. This is your chance to lead others to safety. To be your own knight in shining armor. Okay?"
"Okay. What about you? You said we'd all leave together."
"Plans change. I'll be fine. Watch out for the Prowlers—the Collector Droids—in the yard. There shouldn't be too many, though. Once you're through the wall, there are planes on the runway. One of you has got to be able to figure it out. At least to drive one on land until you're far enough away. But be careful, I think Gunther had some sort of pulse. He shouldn't be able to use if I distract him, though. Just in case, don't fly the plane until you're away from the estate's perimeter."
"Okay."
I rush to hug her, and whisper that she needs to go. But she holds me more tightly. She whispers, "You don't need to die."
I hold her, and thank her for her words, but I know what I have to do. I have to do whatever it takes to get my loved ones to safety, and if that means leaving this earth to meet my parents wherever they may be, then so be it. And Daniel will learn to love again. He will live a long, happy life, and every now and then, he'll think of me. He'll remember how much he loved me, and I'll be there for him. In the wind, in the grass, in the flowers. And then, one day, after many, many years, he'll pass on, and we'll be together again. I can die happy knowing that.
"You know what you need to do?" I ask Jane. She nods. "I'll do my best to live."
Jane hurries up the tunnel I came from, and I turn from her, looking at myself in Celia's makeshift mirror. Blood is splattered all over me and my hair is wild like fire, untamed and brilliant. I'm padded in spikes and metal and chains. I'm not a monster, I am a warrior. I finish breaking off pieces of armor and dropping them in my holster. Then I walk to the elevator, and pull myself up.
I'll cause my distraction far from the ballroom. Up in the bedrooms.