Copyright

HarperVoyager

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2017

Copyright © Amy S. Foster 2017

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017

Cover illustration © Larry Rostant

Cover image © Shutterstock.com(texture)

Amy S. Foster asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008190361

Ebook Edition © November 2017 ISBN: 9780008190354

Version: 2017-09-25

Dedication

For Eva,

who loves just as fiercely as Ryn does

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Also by Amy S. Foster

About the Publisher

CHAPTER 1

I hear birdsong inside the Rift.

A thousand skylarks trilling into an endless emerald prism. I wasn’t expecting music. Maybe a droning hum or a keening wail, but the symphony is a surprise. It fills my ears and spreads throughout the rest of my body like cyanide. In a matter of seconds I’m entirely at the Rift’s mercy.

The sound overtakes me and the swelling current claims whatever sense of orientation I have left. I don’t know which way is up or down. I’m tumbling through the noise, unable to fill my lungs. My body feels like it’s being squeezed by a vise, but at the same time I’m being pulled apart. And then, almost as quickly as it began, the Rift exhales in a single violent breath, and I am pushed out.

My face is in damp soil and dead leaves. I look behind me in time to see the Rift’s giant, neon green jaws snap shut. In an instant it’s gone and I’m here, wherever here is.

At least I’m not alone.

A long, thin cable runs between my pack and Levi’s. He’s splayed on the ground, too. I feel (an admittedly petty) gratitude that he didn’t manage to navigate the experience with his usual ease and grace—he’s clearly just as disoriented as I am. I unclip the tether between us and it retracts all the way back to his pack with a snap.

I don’t really want him here, but I also absolutely do. I need backup and he was the best choice. Still, he’s a pain in the ass. But when it comes down to it, he’s just about the best Citadel we’ve got in Battle Ground. To be fair, my options had been Levi or Henry, but Levi insisted and Henry didn’t put up much of a fight, which really is a motherfucker because Henry loves a good fight. Also, I know Henry. I’m comfortable with Henry. Levi is just … Levi. I stare at him hard, kind of hoping he’ll share a look of mutual amazement of what we have just done, but he only stares back, his face unmoving, giving nothing away.

Finally he says: “You okay?” With a voice so indifferent I wonder why he even bothered to ask.

“Yeah,” I say, getting up and looking around, scouting our immediate position. Levi follows my lead. We should have been doing this from the moment we emerged. We have gone through a Rift. We are in an unknown, potentially hostile land.

We have navigated our way to another version of Earth.

The thing is, this Earth looks exactly like the one we just left. And not only does it look the same, it smells the same. I study the nearest tree, an old and gnarled fir, and recognize the height, the knots and their placement. I scan the rest of the trees in our vicinity. I have a photographic memory, as does Levi, but I’m not sure I would even need it to recognize this place. I spend a lot of time in these woods.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I whisper to myself, even though I know Levi can hear. He sighs, and I know he’s figured it out, too.

“So we go through all that just to end up in the same exact spot we started from. Seriously? I think we opened the Rift right here.” He gestures with annoyance to the space between us.

I bite my lip. This is the absolute definition of anticlimactic. “It might look the same,” I warn him, “but that doesn’t mean it is the same. We have to be careful. I know it sounds crazy, but a dragon could swoop down and try to get us, or burn us or something.” I swing my arms around dramatically to try to prove what is admittedly not the most realistic point. “We can’t take anything at face value,” I try with a more serious tone.

“I’m not a total idiot, Ryn. I get it,” Levi snaps. I grit my teeth. I know I’m stating the obvious. He knows I know I’m stating the obvious. It’s just his tone. Mean. Condescending. This is another reason I didn’t want him here. We bring out the worst in each other. First, when I was a kid, and he was just my best friend’s brother, I turned into a babbling moron every time I was around him. And now, as Citadels, our interactions are generally a game of offense and defense. I feel defensive because he’s constantly swinging his dick around—metaphorically, anyway—to prove his superior skills as a Citadel. And I think he gets defensive because I’m pretty popular in the program. People like me. People respect Levi, but I don’t think there are many who actually want to hang out with him. And no one, not even someone as badass and self-reliant as Levi, wants to feel unliked.

“Come on,” I tell him, and begin to walk toward the base. Levi doesn’t follow.

“You don’t honestly think he’s here, do you? You can’t possibly think it would be so easy.”

I stop and roll my eyes, then turn so that I’m facing him. “Here’s what I know. The QOINS device uses harmonic resonance to open a Rift. It’s programmed to find the exact note of Ezra’s quantum signature. The one that only resonates to him and his specific Earth, which is where he’s headed. So it will find him. I get that this is an ‘eventually’ kind of thing, but we will end up in the same place, maybe on an Earth like this one, that’s on the way. I also get that the number of jumps we need to make to find him could be ten or a hundred, and that the chances the QOINS will lead us down the same harmonic path Ezra is taking are slim to none. But, however infinitesimal, there is a chance. So we are going to check every single Earth we jump to because the not knowing if he’s alive or dead or even okay is practically killing me. So, if you have a problem with that, you can stay here and sulk or do push-ups or whatever the hell it is that you do when you’re not getting your way, but I’m going to look for him.”

Levi narrows his eyes at me and then stretches his neck from one side to the other like he’s cracking it. “I never said I wasn’t going with you, or that it was a bad idea to investigate our surroundings. I was just trying to manage your expectations. Believe me, I know how desperate you are to see your boyfriend.”

“Don’t,” I interrupt before he can say something awful, but he keeps going anyway.

“No really, I get it. Ezra Massad. The perfect guy,” he says in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Not like us chumps who have super brains because our genes got fucked with. Ezra, the savior of all Citadels who figured out so many of ARC’s secrets.” Levi thrusts his hands out like he’s serving me a platter of something other than this total bullshit. “Your wonderful boyfriend who cured you of the Blood Lust so that you two can screw like rabbits.”

His words are teeming with bitterness and I don’t know what to say. Levi is supposed to be my partner here, my ally, but his intense dislike for Ezra has me genuinely worried. I consider my options for a moment. I could tell him that he should stop being such an ass, that he does owe Ezra a debt of gratitude. If it weren’t for Ezra we wouldn’t know the truth about the chip ARC implanted in our heads when we were children. We wouldn’t know that not only was it designed to amplify the harmonic signal of the QOINS, it was also there to kill us if we stepped one pinky toe out of line. The Citadels were told that the chip gave us our abilities, and without Ezra’s intervention we wouldn’t have found out that it was, in fact, a series of genetic modifications (not the chip) that turned us into super soldiers, and which, despite ARC’s lies, can never be undone. We can never have the “normal” life that ARC promised we could have later in life. If Ezra hadn’t helped me uncover the truth, we would have no idea that we’d been drugged and brainwashed for most of our lives. Without my “boyfriend,” we wouldn’t know what ARC had in store for the Citadels and how easy it would have been for them to use us in the most depraved ways to get whatever they wanted from any Earth of their choosing.

I want to shout all this at Levi, but I understand that in this moment there’s no point. He knows these truths already. He’s just angry, like he always is, and Ezra is a convenient place to lay blame. Or at least, I think that’s what’s going on. Levi has been acting strange ever since he wormed his way into this mission. One minute he’s eager, upbeat even. The next he’s sullen to the point of emo. Whatever is going on in his mind, he’s not being straight with me, which is fine. I don’t want anywhere near the inner workings of his thought processes, which seem to be rigged with emotional booby traps inside every conversation we have. So, I choose to say nothing. I turn back around and start walking to the base.

We move in silence. We don’t run, but we walk so swiftly that our boots merely brush the dirt beneath us. If anyone glimpsed us right now we would look like ghosts, haunting this forgotten stretch of wilderness that used to be a military base.

In short order we see a signpost. They have these scattered throughout Camp Bonneville—directions to the road and the barracks, and firing range warnings. However, the first thing I notice is that these signs aren’t in English—they’re in Japanese. All Citadels are polyglots, a word I love because it sounds like a magical spell straight out of Harry Potter. In reality, though, it just means that we are masters of many languages—a perk of our super brains. I grip my rifle a little tighter and look over at Levi.

“Kayanpu Joryoku,” he reads with a perfect accent.

“I guess things are different here after all,” I say aloud, as much to myself as to Levi.

“Yep,” he concedes.

“Could this be a Man in the High Castle Earth? Like one where the Allies lost World War II?” I wonder.

“A sign in Japanese on an American military base built in 1909? I think there’s a high probability that’s the case.”

“Right,” I say, almost to myself more than Levi. I grip my hand just a little tighter on my rifle.

“But the time line seems on par with ours just based on the tree growth. Most of the soldiers who fought in that war are probably dead. After so many generations, I doubt whoever is occupying the base is going to be much of a threat to us.”

I scratch my nose and look at the sign again. “They probably don’t even see themselves as occupiers anymore. This country belongs to them now. They’ll have gone soft.”

“As long as the war is really over,” Levi throws out.

“Look around. The forest is pristine. And listen, it’s quiet. Wars are very, very loud. I say we stash our stuff. Hide it where no one is likely to find it, but easy enough for us to access if we’re in a hurry. Then, we just knock on the door.”

Levi narrows a single eye at me. “Ballsy,” he says with a little smile.

“What are they going to do? We’re kids. So, we leave our guns here and we act, I don’t know, like we’re on drugs or, like, we have super-mega daddy issues.”

“You want to go into a Japanese military base without our weapons?” I don’t know whether Levi disagrees with me or he’s just double-checking.

“We are the weapons. The guns stay here.” It is clear from my tone that this is not a request. This is an order. Still, Levi’s eyes glint with approval.

“Roger that,” he tells me as he slowly unclips his rifle from the clip on the leather padding of his uniform. We disarm ourselves mostly (keeping a bowie knife tucked into each of our boots) and hide our backpacks in a thicket of hemlock, covering them with some fallen leaves that are still moist from recent rain.

We have a good idea about what kind of opposition we’re likely to encounter now, or at least a plausible theory, and we know this terrain. We run full speed to the entrance of the underground bunker that serves as our headquarters back home and then we just stand at the door and wait. There are cameras mounted at the corners of the door. A steady buzz electrifies the air as they both turn and point their lenses at us. I give a little smile and wave.

It doesn’t take long for them to come for us, maybe three or four minutes. The doors burst open and half a dozen Japanese soldiers emerge and surround us. They are not gentle, and they don’t bother to ask what we’re doing there. They simply take us roughly inside. The general layout of the bunker is much the same, though not as updated as our bunker back home. Probably because the people here don’t have the Roones sprucing the place up for them. So the bunker here looks haggard, full of dark and dank corridors, leading to rooms that look the same but no doubt serve entirely disparate purposes.

We’re taken in an elevator to what is (back on our Earth) the intake level, the section of the bunker where all the Immigrants that are pushed through the Rift end up for processing. I can now imagine what it felt like for them, even though we actually understand what our captors are saying as we’re screamed at in Japanese. I note that we are gentler with the Immigrants than these soldiers manhandling us are. Regardless of how I feel about the welcome we receive, Levi and I don’t say a word, then we’re separated. I think we expected this, but it still doesn’t feel right. I’m thrown into an interrogation room and the door locks behind me. The room is empty save for two chairs and a table. There is a long mirror on the far wall, which I assume is a two-way mirror, just as we have. I haven’t been handcuffed, which is a lucky thing—for them. I could tear apart the cuffs like tinfoil if I wanted to, but more than likely I’d just use them to strangle the poor bastard who comes in here to question me. Handcuffs can be very efficient for that sort of thing.

I sit down in one of the chairs. All I can do now is wait. I close my eyes, and immediately my thoughts drift to Ezra, just like they always do when I have even one minute alone since he was pushed through the Rift—

By Levi.

In Levi’s defense, someone was trying to kill me and he was only trying to save my life. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve told myself that so many times I’m actually starting to believe it. But don’t I have to? The alternative is that Levi, for whatever reason, might have killed the first person I’ve ever had real romantic feelings for. If I continue to believe that, I may just snap and do a little killing of my own, and right now, I need Levi. He is the best Citadel for this job and there is a certain amount of justice to it as well. If Levi had given two shits about Ezra’s life, then I wouldn’t even be here in Kayanpu Joryoku. Then again, if Levi had hesitated, I might not be alive period.

Still, for me anyway, it all comes back to Ezra. He is smart—and I mean, like super-genius smart—and he’s a survivor. But can he survive on his wits alone? Even on an Earth like this, which seems rather tame compared to the ones I know are out there? He doesn’t speak Japanese. He isn’t totally white. He definitely isn’t East Asian. If he Rifted here first, he could have easily been captured before being able to Rift out and, let’s face it, they make actual movies about Japanese prison camps, and they never have happy endings …

For some reason I thought once I actually got through a Rift it would somehow ease my anxiety. It’s only made things worse. I have to get out of here. Safely. That means I have to push all thoughts of Ezra aside and focus. I keep my eyes closed.

And exhale.

CHAPTER 2

It’s been thirty-seven minutes and I’m getting restless. There’s a clock, old and moonfaced, trapped behind a metal grate. It’s the same exact clock we have in our own version of Camp Bonneville. From outside the room Japanese words float through the thick walls. Because of my spectacular hearing I can hear things that normal people can’t. No one is saying anything of consequence. The clock, though, is really starting to piss me off. Its hands grind and tick. Each revolution a reminder that time is against us. And not just Levi and me.

Because back on my Earth, Henry, Boone, and Violet have control of the Battle Ground Rift. For now. How long they will be able to keep that leadership a secret from ARC is unknown. To maintain news of the mutiny under wraps from the higher-ups we used the same drugs ARC had been using to keep the civilians—the soldiers at the base—and us in line for years. We even had to use it on the damaged Citadels who refused to believe that ARC was anything but benevolent. I never wanted to brainwash my own kind—I never wanted to brainwash anyone—but I learned the hard way that the truth doesn’t always set you free.

Before I left, we all agreed that it was best for everyone to believe that Colonel Applebaum was still in charge. Applebaum, that brash bully of a man, is nothing more than our puppet now. I even had him call my parents and send off a bunch of fake paperwork for them to sign to explain my absence (they think I’m doing an internship for one of our senators in Washington, DC). He was never much of a threat, especially with the Roones, like Edo, on our side. But Christopher Seelye, the president of ARC, is a different story altogether. Thankfully, he’s based at ARC HQ in California, but he does travel to all the Rift sites frequently. He’s scheduled to visit Battle Ground in three weeks, and I need to be back there to help my friends when he does. Seelye isn’t like Applebaum. He’s ruthless and brilliant, and I don’t know if my team can fool him for long. I don’t want to think about what will happen to the Citadels at Battle Ground if Seelye sends in troops from other Rifts to neutralize us. It’ll be a blood bath—death on both sides. The Battle Ground Citadels have had their kill switches removed, but the Citadels at the other Rift sites haven’t. Edo could once again engage the Midnight Protocol and kill thousands just by tapping Enter on a keyboard.

Tick, tick, tick. This must be an Earth close in space and time to our own. It seems like our theory was correct. This could have been my reality if the Axis powers had won the war. Strangers would have stolen our country, our freedom, and our clocks. They didn’t even bother to install their own. For some reason, I find this really annoying.

Finally, a door opens and a Japanese man in uniform enters the room. His face is unweathered. I doubt he’s seen even a moment of action his entire life. He sits down gingerly on a chair in front of me, the chair shifting beneath his slight frame. I sigh. He doesn’t look like a bad man, but I’m going to have to hurt him in order to leave this room. I don’t feel guilty about it. I look at the clock again. Timing is everything and he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I am Captain Kotoku Sato,” he says in Japanese. “What is your name?” He’s efficient and to the point, but he’s not angry. He sounds mostly curious and maybe a little irritated.

“Ryn Whittaker,” I answer honestly.

“Why are you here, Ryn-san? You don’t look like a stupid girl. You must know this area is off limits to civilians.”

I shrug my shoulders. It’s not like I can tell him the truth. “Why are you here? Japan wasn’t big enough for you?”

Now it’s his turn to sigh. “The war has been over for almost a century. And just by looking at you, I can tell that you are not indigenous to this country, and so I could ask you the same thing.” I furrow my brow for a split second. He kind of has me there. “I just don’t understand you people,” he continues. “Is democracy so wonderful? In the years leading up to our liberation of this country, America suffered a great depression. People starved in the streets. There were no jobs. Entire families were homeless. And now every person in this country has a job. No one goes hungry. We all work for the benefit of our community. The individual is not more important than the greater good. We have proven this. We have eliminated suffering. Is that not better than your democracy, which leaves so many behind?”

I narrow my eyes at him. He makes a good point, but I’ve sacrificed enough in my own life for the greater good. And while I’m really not here to argue comparative politics with a man I’m about to kick the shit out of, I can’t help myself.

I’m impulsive like that.

“Except the Jews, right?” I ask in English. “Probably aren’t too many of them in your fantastic community.”

Sato slams his fist on the table. “We don’t speak that language here,” he says with a slow intensity that is bound to build. “Your punishment will be even greater if you continue.” So now I say nothing. I can hear his heart rate increase. I’m not afraid of him or his threats, even though I can tell he’s a man who is used to being obeyed. “Tell me, Ryn-san, are you a militia now? Is that why you and this other boy are wearing uniforms? It’s one thing to protest in front of government buildings, but to dress up like a pretend soldier and walk into a military base would imply that your group of anarchists is attempting something very foolish. I would like the names of your collaborators. I ask this only to keep you from further harm.”

I fold my arms and cock my head. My defiance makes his heart race even faster, but there’s no point in pissing him off too much. I switch back to Japanese.

“I can tell you in all honesty that I am not collaborating with anyone. Branach Levi-san and I came here alone. We are not part of any anarchist movement.”

Captain Sato grits his teeth. He doesn’t believe me. “Then I ask again, why are you here? Did you think we would just tell you to go away? Did you think there would not be consequences for your actions? We could lock you up for as long as we wish. Along with the dishonor you have already brought to your family by your actions, would you have them fret and worry about your whereabouts? Tell me who else you are working with and I will make sure your parents know you are safe.”

I roll my eyes just a fraction and give a little laugh. “Oh come on … No one has ever tried to break in here before? I can’t believe I’m the first rebellious teenager to try.” I emphasize the word teenager. It’s imperative that Sato believes that’s all I am.

“No civilian has ever been stupid enough to try such a thing, young and ‘rebellious’ or not. Kayanpu Joryoku is for military personnel only.”

I take a moment to process this information. I stare at the captain, whose heart rate has slowed, but who is nonetheless still agitated. “Just to be clear, then,” I begin slowly, “no civilian has been on this base or is on this base presently?”

The man stands and leans over the table. “Of course not. But do not think that you are special. This is not some sort of achievement. You won’t be bragging to your anarchist friends about what you’ve done by the time we have finished with you here.”

He’s threatening me again, and I really don’t like to be threatened. I like it even less that his idea of a perfect society includes the notion that it’s okay to torture a seventeen-year-old girl. I could kill him right now if I wanted. I could reach over and break his neck before anyone could get in to help him. I’ve killed like this before—quick, unthinking. I don’t enjoy doing it, but I do enjoy the power of knowing I have the ability to do it.

This is part of the darkness in me. All Citadels carry this weight, these shadows. But, unlike some of the others, I don’t deny the rage. I’m a rabid dog in a cage. I keep the cage locked with the help of my family and friends, and with discipline and purpose. I have a purpose here today—to find out if Ezra is here—and this self-important man has just helped me achieve it. I won’t have to let that dog loose.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” I say as I stand up. “I will be leaving now. For your own safety, I am warning you not to try and stop me.”

“I don’t think you understand what’s going on here. I am the one asking the questions!” Sato shouts as he jumps up from his chair.

I actually laugh aloud, much to Sato’s chagrin. I look him up and down. “Are you? Really?” And with that I walk toward the door. He races to stop me, yanking my arm back and actually pulling my hair. Good Lord, these are the people on this Earth who won the Second World War? Sissy hair pullers?

Faster than he can react, I reach down with my free hand, undo the holster at his waist, and grab his gun. I could shoot him, but that would be messy and noisy. Instead, I remove the clip and it falls to the concrete floor with a tinny clang. I check briefly to make sure there isn’t a bullet in the chamber and, finding there isn’t one, I fieldstrip the gun and release it from my hand with all the sass of a mic drop.

I really don’t like this Earth.

Sato’s eyes widen in surprise as he backs away. I have to be quick now, because any second, whoever is watching us through the two-way mirror will burst through the door.

I walk toward him and he distances himself so that we are facing each other. I look over his shoulder into the mirror and because I just can’t resist, I give a slight bow. Then, I pick Sato up, lift him high above my head, and—with all my strength—throw the captain through the mirror. He crashes through and lies still. He’s probably not dead, but I really don’t have time to wonder. The soldiers behind the broken glass scramble and push an alarm.

The siren’s wail is not loud enough to cover up the gunshot I hear.

Shit. Levi.

Our Citadel uniforms will protect us from a bullet to the body, but not the head. If he were a member of my team from back home, I probably would have stuck around to make sure he didn’t need my help.

But I know Levi can handle himself.

I kick down the door to the interrogation room and start running. I have an advantage here. I know this base level by level. I know what is behind every corner. I zip past the soldiers as they begin to open fire, and though one bullet manages to land on my shoulder blade, it doesn’t penetrate my suit. That’s not to say it doesn’t sting like hell, but I heal fast, and it doesn’t slow me down in the slightest.

I make my way to an old escape hatch and find it already open, which means Levi has gotten out. I race through the forest, the soldiers chasing after me. There’s no way any one of these men or women can catch me on foot. I don’t know exactly how fast I can run, but when I’m really pushing it like I am now, it’s hard for the human eye to track me. I slow down at the site where Levi and I had stashed our equipment.

“What took you so long?” he asks me with a straight face. Coming from anyone else this might be considered humor, but not with Levi. He’s trying to work the laptop, which is tough, since he’s holding his other hand straight up in the air. His palm is bleeding like a stigmata.

“At least I didn’t get shot,” I snap back.

“Ezra isn’t there?”

I pull my pack up onto my shoulders. “Don’t tell me you weren’t able to figure that out during your interrogation?” I nudge Levi out of the way so that I’m the one facing the laptop. I have two working hands, which means I can get us out of here faster.

“No one asked me any questions. I suppose they thought you would break first.” I involuntarily snort, and Levi wisely says nothing more. I drag Ezra’s quantum signature icon into the running program and wait for a Rift to open. When it does, I hear something, an ever so slightly high-pitched frequency. I certainly heard sound inside the Rift, but now it seems like I’m hearing it outside of it as well.

“Do you hear that?” I ask Levi, just to make sure.

“What? Something other than boots on the ground headed our way? Let’s just go!”

While I want to figure out what the hell I’m hearing, I don’t argue. I stuff the laptop into Levi’s bag and wait for him to hand over the carabiner. I give it a tug and a long thin wire drags out so that I can clip on to a loop in the leather breastplate of my uniform. We’re attached but not touching. Levi expels the air from his lungs and closes his eyes. I keep mine open and follow the music as we jump into the Rift.

CHAPTER 3

Like a dirty shirt inside a washing machine, once again I’m spinning in the Rift’s emerald mouth. The sound is so much louder this time. It burrows into my ears and latches on to my brain. An orchestra, a hundred orchestras, tuning their instruments to a single note. I must figure out a way to combat the disorientation if we’re going to keep doing this.

It’s a struggle, but I manage to focus my eyes. Still, I’ve waited too long in accomplishing this one small thing. The green is almost behind me. I see a slit of light ahead, and then before I can steady or upright myself, Levi and I are pitched forward.

Immediately I know that something is wrong. Not only am I gasping for air, but the sky on this Earth is sickly yellow. My hands and face, the only places where my skin is exposed, are burning. Levi and I scramble. He opens his pack and pulls out his laptop, bubbles of burnt flesh starting to form on his hands. On top of the fact that he’s already been shot, he must be in considerable pain.

While he powers up the program, I reach around and dig into my pack, tears leaking out of my eyes from the pain, and manage to pull out my oxygen mask. It’s agony as the contraption forms around my face, but at least now I can breathe. I scramble around Levi’s pack and find his oxygen mask, too. It’s a Roone-designed device, more advanced than anything humans have developed yet. In its dormant form, it looks a little like a metal beanie. Once I put it on Levi’s head, it clamps to his skull and a hard black shell molds down his cheeks. A clear plastic barrier covers his face and I can hear it seal at his neck with a soft pop. The mask filters our carbon dioxide emission, mixes it with a small amount of water, and converts it into oxygen. To his credit, Levi doesn’t even wince as the helmet covers the melting skin on his face.

Once again I push him off the computer. My hands look like they’ve been in a microwave, too, but at least I don’t have a hole in one of them. The next Rift opens and I can’t believe I’m actually relieved to see it. As Levi puts the laptop away, I do a quick atmospheric reading from yet another Roone device attached to my utility pouch. It may seem ridiculous, as I’m standing there, literally cooking, but we need to catalog and identify as many Earths as we can. If we can get a fix on this location, no other Citadel has to endure this as we have. Ezra once said that mapping the Rifts would be pointless and impossible, but I’m not so sure this assessment is correct. I now know the location of this Earth, or at least the computer does, and I have viable proof that we should stay away.

I pull Levi to his feet and strap on his pack. As I do, a strip of bubbling skin peels from my hand and I let out a small yelp of pain. Putting on my own pack brings me close to retching. Luckily we’re still attached. Not that I think that even matters anymore. Based on our last two trips, I’m beginning to suspect that opening a Rift leads to one distinct Earth and one distinct Earth only. The Rift slingshots us through in a straight trajectory—there are no tunnels or curves to lose one another in. Even if we were disconnected, we would have had to risk it. Levi doesn’t look like he’s doing so great; his eyes are closed behind his helmet, and my hands hurt so badly that I can’t even hold on to him, so I push him through the Rift and jump in behind him.

CHAPTER 4

Once I’m inside the Rift I use the pain to focus. I keep my eyes open so I can watch Levi, who seems to be tumbling, head over feet. I concentrate on my hands, covered in blisters and blood. I can filter out the distraction of the Rift, of its intense green light, the careening noise, and the lack of gravity if I allow myself to embrace the agony of the exposed flesh on my palms.

I make my body straight as an arrow and nosedive through the tunnel of space and time. After a few seconds I begin to feel something else. My body starts to feels heavier, denser, and I can see a vertical light ahead of me. It’s clearly the new Earth’s gravity pulling me forward. On the previous two trips I’d thought that the Rift literally spat me out. I realize now that the kicking force I feel is simply the change in atmospheric pressure. Using the white light coming from the other side, I align my body accordingly. I’m now vertical, and my hope is that the exit is upright, too. I brace myself for the final release and take a step forward. My foot hits solid ground. I’ve done it. I’ve walked out of the Rift instead of landing on my face again. Levi isn’t so lucky. He tumbles out and rolls three or four times in the white sand at our feet, pulling me down with him.

I disconnect and pop up, grabbing the Roone device on my belt that’s used to measure the compatibility of our human physiology with our current environment as I do. Thankfully, the air is clean and fresh without any toxins. And I mean totally clean. Not even our Earth is so free of pollutants. I push a switch on my oxygen mask and it retracts. I scream as it takes a layer of skin along with it. I’m usually good with pain, but this must be really bad. I wonder briefly if my face is going to be scarred for life. Given a Citadel’s advanced capacity for healing, I doubt it, and either way, scars don’t bother me. In fact, I wish I had more. I think it might actually be a relief to see on the outside what I feel so often on the inside.

I don’t even know why I’m letting myself be distracted by something as stupid as a scar. Probably so I can ignore how bad our current predicament is. I shake myself out of it and go into crisis mode—say what you will about ARC (and believe me, I’ve said it all), but their training is exactly what we need right now.

I look down. Levi is in bad shape, but before I can worry about him, I need to assess our situation. We are on a narrow stretch of sand bordered by a bright turquoise ocean. I pull out the binoculars attached to my utility belt, which are also enhanced with Roone tech. I see nothing but some palm trees and the sea for at least a hundred miles in every direction. Beautiful as it is, this version of Earth might be scarier than the last. I wonder if it’s sheer luck that the Rift happened to open on the one piece of land available, or if it’s some kind of fail-safe built into the system. I pray to God it’s the latter, and not just for our personal safety. The fact is, our packs are water-resistant against things like rain and what not, but they aren’t airtight. And that’s crucial because of our equipment, specifically our laptops. If they got wet, that would effectively end our travels and we’d be trapped. It really dawns on me in that moment how crazy this mission is and how much faith we’ve put in Roone tech. It’s one thing to imagine how it’s going to be in theory, but out here in the field I understand how truly vulnerable we are. What at first seemed like a miracle—a computer program to navigate us to other versions of Earth—is starting to feel primitive, cumbersome, and unpredictable. There are simply too many variables and too many potential situations that end with us being separated from our technology, and effectively stranded. I allow myself to imagine briefly what it would be like to be stuck on a desert island with Levi for the rest of my life. No family, no friends, no Ezra. Just me and Levi forever.

That thought, along with the excruciating pain, brings bile to my throat.

What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t be thinking about any of that now.

Crisis.

Mode.

I have to deal with Levi. Since he’s lying facedown in the sand, I’m fairly sure he isn’t conscious. Thankfully, there is that small tree line behind me made up of a crop of swaying palms. They’ll provide enough shade for us to rest without having to set up the tents. I grab Levi by his pack, and because I’m in too much pain to carry him, I have to drag him the hundred feet or so away from the beach. My burnt hands touch his backpack, and the pain of this one small act, dragging my partner to shelter, almost brings me to my knees. I take a moment when it’s done, steadying myself on a tree with my elbow. I’d like to collapse, too, but there’s too much to be done.

There’s no point in waking Levi until I can doctor his wounds, and I can’t do anything to help him with my own wounds raw and exposed. I take off my belt and unzip my catsuit-like uniform down past my belly button. Ever so gently, with just my thumb and index finger, I peel the suit down. When I get to my wrists I try to make the opening wide enough so that the material doesn’t touch my hands. I fail on both sides and I grind my teeth against the pain so hard my jaw starts to ache.

I sigh with relief when it’s off. Beneath the suit I’m wearing nothing but a black sports bra. Ordinarily I’d worry about touching Levi dressed like this, about touching him period, but he’s in too much pain for his Blood Lust to activate.

I hope.

I gently tie the sleeves of my uniform around my waist and walk briskly to the ocean. I need to clean my injuries before I can put on medicine and dress them. I crouch down and swiftly blow air out of my lungs, then plunge my hands in the warm salt water. I actually scream it hurts so badly. I must be seriously injured. Citadels excel at many things, but most of all they are masters at fighting, lying, and enduring pain. The Roones say we have the ability to turn down the sensitivity of our nerve receptors, which is probably a version of the truth. So the fact that I’m ready to pass out right now says a lot about the magnitude of my injuries. I need real medical attention, but what can I do about it? There’s no one else here, and Levi is worse off than I am.

I steel myself as I splash seawater on my face, bringing on another round of agony. I falter in the ocean, nothing but collapsing sand beneath my feet to steady myself on. I dig deep, mentally, trying to push through the sharp white pain without passing out, but I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

When it feels like I’ve sufficiently cleaned my wounds, which, as far as I can tell, are mostly second-degree burns wherever my skin was exposed, I race back up to the coverage beneath the trees. I dump the contents of both our packs out onto the sand. It’s easier to get what I need this way as opposed to rooting through them with my raw and damaged hands. I take our bowls and cups and run back to the ocean to fill them. I move so fast I manage to outrun the latest wave of pain as the water hits my skin. Or maybe more and more of my pain receptors are being turned off.

A girl can hope.

When I get back to our pile of stuff, I find my first aid kit and open it with my teeth. We have an ample supply of medicines and supplies for all kinds of injuries. Edo must have known we would encounter Earths like the last one, with dangerously unstable atmospheres. I find a tube that looks like toothpaste but is labeled as burn ointment. I unscrew it with my teeth and squeeze out a generous amount into my palms. The relief is immediate and palpable and I cover my hands with the medication. I do the same with my face and the pain becomes tolerable. I wrap my entire left hand in a bandage and most of my right, but leave my fingers exposed so I can treat Levi.

I remove his helmet first. When the contraption retracts he wakes up with a yelp of pain. “Don’t try to be a stoic, okay? Just lie here and let me help you,” I warn him. By way of reply Levi nods his head. “This part is really going to hurt. Like, probably more than anything you’ve ever experienced. I have to clean the injuries and no, I’m not rubbing salt in your wounds for fun. It’s antibacterial, so grit your teeth and don’t punch me.” I gently pour the water I collected from the ocean over his hands. To his credit, Levi remains perfectly still, though tears are pouring down his face. I take a clean cloth and dab his face lightly with the seawater. Wearing a sealed helmet would have helped with bacteria, and even though there is an antibacterial agent in the burn ointment, given our situation, I must be doubly safe. I don’t want to return home before we’ve found Ezra just because of an infection we can prevent.

Once everything is clean, I gently pick up his hand and, with featherlight fingers, apply the ointment. I hear his heartbeat slow and he releases an audible sigh of relief. The burns he sustained cauterized the bullet wound, which went straight through his palm. I suppose in that one way he was lucky. I wrap both his hands in bandages and then move to his face.

There’s no denying that Levi is beautiful. His brown hair glints russet in the single shaft of sunlight that has escaped the palm leaves. His eyes are a green as bright as the Rift. But right now he looks like something out of a horror movie. There is not an inch of exposed flesh on his face that is not blistered or bleeding. I gently rub the medicine into his skin. He remains unmoving, but his eyes tell a different story. It seems that he has focused all his pain right in the blazing rings of his irises. I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable, and it actually shakes me to my core until I can force myself to simply focus on the task at hand. When I am done, I sit back on my haunches and reach for the other bandages to wrap the fingers I had left exposed.

“Thank you,” Levi croaks. I nod my head and turn away. I didn’t choose to become a Citadel, but I did choose to get out from under the yoke of ARC. My decisions are now a constellation of burns and blood on Levi’s face. I don’t know exactly how much I am to blame for all this, but I feel responsible enough, and a wave of guilt washes over me, settling squarely between my shoulder blades.

Captain Sato had done a lot of preaching about the greater good, and now I recognize why his seemingly casual grasp of the concept offended me. Levi, right here, in agony—this is sacrifice for the greater good.

Thinking of Sato reminds me of that stupid clock on the wall. My flesh seems to throb in time to the second hand. Tick. Tick. Tick. Every hour we are gone puts everyone more at risk, but right now we’ve run out of options. We have to stop and rest. We have to heal. I pour some water down Levi’s throat and take a deep gulp from my own canteen.

I pull out the Roone equivalent of a hypodermic needle from the med kit. It looks like a tiny silver gun with a hollow front where you can swap out different medicines. I load up Levi’s with a pain medication that will knock him out. He’s looking at me, shaking his head. He doesn’t want this.

I don’t have time for his stubborn ass right now.

“We have to, Levi. We’re in no condition to do anything. And besides, I really don’t think there’s anything or anyone else here. This is Waterworld Earth. We need to sleep.”

I prep the little gun and watch the slender needle snap out. “All I need is rest, not sleep. We could be out for days,” Levi says in a whisper.

I cock my head and give him my best mom look. “If you had a mirror right now, you’d let me do this.”

“I don’t need a mirror. I can see what you look like.” I curl my lip. Rude. No need to state the obvious.

“Sorry.” Not sorry. I jab the needle into his neck, maybe a little harder than necessary. I watch his eyes flutter and close. He’s out in seconds. With the last bit of energy I have I manage to make a lean-to of sorts by jamming our rifles into the sand and attaching a solar sheet with tiny holes in the corners for this very purpose. It’s little things like this that freak me out. The Roones really did think of everything. I’d love to believe that Edo is on our side, but until we get her laptop and what it contains from Ezra, how can we really know for sure? When we take down ARC, who’s to say the Roones don’t have some way of wresting control of us? If it comes down to a fight, how do we engage an enemy who is so many steps ahead?

The trees provide shade, but I have no idea how long we will be down. The solar sheet will keep us cool and provide some coverage. I hope. The ointment’s effects are beginning to wear off. I lie down beside Levi and load my own needle gun. I make sure there are at least two inches of space between us. I inhale deeply. We’re losing valuable time we can’t afford, but there’s nothing for it. I inject myself with the pain medication.

Immediately, I feel a rush, like warm bathwater running through my veins. As a Citadel, I’ve been hurt a lot and given all manner of drugs, including variations of opiates like these. I expect that in a second or two I will be out like Levi, but I am not. Instead, my head starts swimming and my body feels like it’s falling, fast and deep. I can’t imagine anyone doing this for fun. I hate this feeling, this loss of control.

And then, I see Ezra, clear as anything, standing just a few feet away. Part of me knows it’s the drugs, but a bigger part is sure that it’s really him. He is beautiful and perfect—bronze-colored skin like caramel, tall and lanky with those luminous eyes matching the turquoise of the ocean behind him.

“Ezra,” I whisper as I hold out my hand. Why is he still standing there? Why doesn’t he come over here? I flex my fingers outward toward him, but he remains where he is. Then, slowly, his skin begins to bubble. I blink hard. His flesh begins to melt off his bones. “No. No. No …” I say, though I’m not sure whether I’m actually using my voice or if my voice is trapped inside my mouth. Frantically, I think about the Earth that we were just on. We had been so desperate to leave, I hadn’t checked for a body. I hadn’t made sure that he wasn’t there. Oh God. Why hadn’t I done that? How could I just have left without thinking of him? I can see his jawbone through the blood and muscle that is falling off him in grotesque chunks. He is saying something and I am straining to hear above the ocean waves. Finally, I hear him.

“Get up!” Ezra screams. “Why aren’t you looking for me? Get up!”

Blackness bleeds through the corners of my vision. My eyesight is closing up like a pinhole camera. I want to stay awake. I want to assure him that I will find him, but I can’t move or speak. It’s too late now. My hand drops. I am out.

CHAPTER 5

I don’t wake up all at once. My mind clicks on, but my body is slower to follow. In my confusion, I expect the nightmare version of Ezra to be standing and screaming in front of me. I am both relieved and disappointed when I see nothing but white sand and an ocean that’s so blue it’s practically neon.

I turn my head. Levi is gone. Of course he is. I’m sure at some point later he’ll make some passive-aggressive remark about waking up first. I sit up slowly and notice that although my hands and face are tingling, they don’t really hurt. I unwind the bandages and have a look. The skin is a little raw and red, with some peeling, but other than that my hands are fine. I really have to pee, so I’m glad that Levi isn’t in the immediate area. I walk farther into the grove and squat down. I look at my watch. It looks like we’ve been asleep for close to fifteen hours. My heart sinks. It’s such a long time. I pull up my uniform and walk back to the temporary shelter. I scan the horizon and spot Levi at the farthest end of the island, swimming in the water. I’m sure he didn’t go in with his uniform on, so I turn away. There’s no privacy here, for either of us, and I don’t like it. It was one thing, back at Camp Bonneville, to agree to a partnership with Levi. Back there, it was all theoretical and strategic. Out here, just the two of us, it’s unnerving. I can easily ignore his hostility even though it’s as obvious as one of those duck-lipped idiots with a selfie stick from my high school. No, it’s when he’s not angry—when he goes quiet and I know he’s watching me—that he really gets under my skin. Is he judging me? Admiring me? Resenting me? All of the above? I have no idea and it’s not like he’d ever in a million years be honest. We’re liars. All of us Citadels are, but he takes it one step further. Stupid, competitive boy. He always has to be the best. At everything.

Whatever. I’ve got work to do before we can Rift out. I walk to the other side of the beach and collect more seawater in a metal can about the size of a coffee canister. I drop in a pill to desalinize the water and then I undress, putting my underwear, bra, and bandages inside of it. This is yet another great Roone invention: a tiny, portable washing machine. I take a drop of soap and snap the lid shut. I hit the On button and quickly slither into my extra undergarments. I slip on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt so that I can air out my uniform. I jump up a few feet and attach it to a small palm leaf.

When I turn, Levi is back. His uniform is unzipped about as far as it can be without it being indecent. His V, which is admittedly glorious, is as defined as an underwear model’s. I also notice that his face looks fine, as if he’s a little sunburnt. His nose is peeling, though, and he gives me a sheepish grin.

“God, Levi,” I say while rolling my eyes. “Why don’t you just get naked?” I’m frustrated. We need boundaries here more than ever. The Blood Lust isn’t a problem for me anymore, but Levi is still susceptible. This is no time to be reckless.

“Do you see anyone here? There is nothing. No one. This is literally a desert island. I didn’t realize you were so uptight.”

Am I being uptight? Would I care if it were Boone or Henry? No, probably not. But Henry is gay and Boone is in love with Violet. So no, I’m not uptight. I’m wary and Levi is playing a dangerous game because even though he’s one of the most irritating people I know, he also has Captain America’s bod. Which is doubly annoying, really. This partnership of convenience would be so much easier if he were hideous because even though he’s Levi, it’s hard not to stare.

“Whatever.” I shrug my shoulders, unwilling to let him know that he can affect me in that way, or in any way. “I’m doing a wash of my bandages and some … other stuff. You should do yours. They were pretty gross.”

“I will. I need to eat first, though. I actually don’t think I’ve ever been hurt so bad.” Levi proceeds to set up our camp stove and sets the water to boil. Then he grabs a food pack and dumps it in to heat. Sitting on the ground with his face in his hands, he does look more worn than I’ve ever seen him. My stomach growls loud enough to get my attention, and probably Levi’s, too. So I grab my own food pack and put it inside the boiling water and wait a few minutes.

I am not thinking about the injuries we just sustained or how sensitive my skin might be, and I pick up the hot package of food from the pot, unprepared for the searing pain in my fingers. I drop my meal and stumble backward, right into Levi. I land squarely in his lap.

He is almost naked and I am not wearing my uniform. It takes only a second for me to realize what I have done. We lock eyes momentarily. I had been so wrapped up with what Levi might be up to that I’m the one who fucks up. I lost focus.

Dammit.

I scramble up, hoping that our brief contact was not enough to trigger the Blood Lust. But his eyes narrow and take on a look of absolute malice, and I know that all the wishing and hoping in the world is not going to change what my clumsiness has just done. As Levi said, we are on a desert island. It’s just the two of us and I didn’t just brush against him. I landed on him.

“Levi,” I say gently as I back up. I don’t have very long before he comes at me. My soothing tone fails to even register. “Levi!” I snap, this time with authority, as if he’s an attack dog and I can get him to heel by playing alpha. That doesn’t work, either, but to his credit, he hasn’t yet lunged for me. Maybe he can fight it.

Then again, probably not.

I have no doubt that if I don’t manage this situation, Levi will kill me. I’ll put up a hell of a fight, but he’s better than I am, and bigger. I have to think, quickly. There’s only one thing that will stop him. Pain. A lot of very, very bad pain. I look around for anything I can use. I’m almost up against our stove. I could throw boiling water at him, but if it gets in his eyes it could blind him, maybe permanently. I need a partner who can see.

I notice his utility knife in the sand. He probably left it out to puncture the food packs. It’s still sheathed, but I’m fairly certain that I can get the blade out faster than he can get at me. He sees me look at the knife.

Time’s up.

Levi pounces as I jump for the knife. He lands where I just was while I somersault away again, taking the knife out as I do. I put the blade between my teeth so I can use my hands to do a back handspring away. This is a pretty show-offy way to distance myself from him, but it’s also something he’s not expecting, and I can get a tremendous amount of space between us because I’m using both my arms and legs for power.

I don’t have time to bask in the glory of nailing the landing. I whip the knife out of my mouth and throw it. He’s not expecting this, either. He wants to kill me, but he wants to use his bare hands. He wants to strangle me or maybe punch my head until my skull shatters into a hundred pieces. You don’t think about knives or guns so much inside the Blood Lust, because the kill would be too clean, too unsatisfying. You want blood, and you want to feel that you caused it.

The knife lands squarely in his right shoulder, exactly where I meant it to. I threw it hard and it’s now embedded deep inside the muscle. That’s an actual skill they teach during Citadel training. At the time I believed it was utterly ridiculous. Who has the luxury to stress about missing a vital organ when you’re fighting for your life? Sadly, since then I have honed this throwing talent and used it many times. Do I worry about being killed on the battlefield? Absolutely. But I worry more about killing unnecessarily. There are only so many lives you can take without it completely, irrevocably, fucking you up.

My plan works. I watch Levi’s face change from fury to frustration to outright pain. He looks at the knife and I look at him. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw.

“I am so, so sorry,” I say as I walk toward him, picking up the med kit from the pile of our stuff on the way.

“Ryn, stop,” Levi commands, with more defeat in his voice than I have ever heard. I do as he says. I want to keep on apologizing, but I feel like it’s better if I don’t speak, and follow his lead. “Just throw the med bag over here,” he asks softly.

“Levi, come on …,” I practically plead. “You won’t be triggered again. You’re in too much pain. Let me help you.” I take another step.

“Seriously, Ryn, back the fuck up!” I wince at his sudden burst of anger. I’m used to him like this, of course, but right now I’m feeling guilty. I’m vulnerable to his tone. I swallow hard.

“Fine,” I tell him as I throw the bag. It lands at his feet and he squats down, opens the case, and grabs an anticoagulant gel, superglue, and a bandage. I can’t believe he’s going to do this by himself. I blow out in frustration and wish that I could turn away, but I have to make sure he patches himself up decently because he won’t let me help.

Levi remains on his knees. He slowly pulls the knife out. I watch the blood drain from his face. Without the knife as a kind of stopgap, the wound begins to bleed profusely. Levi doesn’t even seem to notice. He rubs the anticoagulant on it and the bleeding stops within seconds while the wound bubbles and foams. He doesn’t have a mirror, so he can’t really clean the cut properly and he doesn’t even bother to try. Levi closes the slit as best as he can with the glue, though it’s still filled with coagulant and covered in blood. Then, he undoes a large bandage and slaps it on his shoulder.

Using the sleeve of his uniform, he picks up his food out of the pot on the stove and opens the pack with the same knife he had just pulled out of his body. Gross. He pours it into a bowl and starts to eat in silence.

There’s nothing I can do now. He’s going to blame me for this for a while, and I suppose it’s mostly my fault even if I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t give him the Blood Lust. I didn’t even ask him to come along with me through the Rift. All I did was trip, but he’s the one parading around half-naked and acting like this is some sort of vacation. If he’d been acting normally, then I wouldn’t have been worried about this exact thing happening. I realize there’s a causality thing going on here that if I think too hard about will do my head in, so I dismiss it.

The silence becomes increasingly awkward. We focus on eating our food and hydrating the cells in our weakened bodies. Regardless of our superhuman abilities, that last Earth pushed us to the limit. I know we need to get moving, but right now I just want to sit here. I’m exhausted from the drugs and it takes a lot of concentration not to think about what just happened. I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I am startled when Levi finally speaks.

“We can’t do this,” he tells me solemnly.

“We can. We just have to be more careful. Maybe we jump with our masks on next time or—”

“No,” Levi interrupts. “I don’t mean the mission or the Rifts. And you know that I don’t. I mean, this—me and you together all the time, alone. I’m going to kill you.”

“You won’t,” I assure him as I put down my canteen. “It was bound to happen once. Think of it as a warning shot. Now we’ll be extra vigilant.”

“Jesus,” he says as he shakes his head. “For someone who is so smart, you really can be dumb as shit sometimes.”

I throw him a nasty look. “You’re trying to bait me, but it’s not going to work. I made a mistake. I’m not going to make it worse by getting into an argument.” And then, he actually laughs.

“Make it worse? Worse than a knife in my shoulder? Worse than the fact that I can barely do my job because I’m so friggin’ scared of accidentally touching you? What if we’re on another Earth and some poor girl who doesn’t know the rules puts her hand on my shoulder? What then? I just kill an innocent person because that’s how it is?”

I slowly lean back, away from him. “What are you saying?”

“Stop it!” Levi yells. “Stop playing dumb! You know what I’m saying. You know what we have to do, and don’t for one minute tell me that you haven’t considered it.”

“No,” I tell him, and I shoot up, off the sand, onto my feet. “It is way too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than what the fuck is going on right now?” Levi gets up, too, and faces me in a standoff. “You know,” he says with a sarcastic huff of a laugh, “if I thought you were saying no because you were afraid for your own safety that would be one thing, but that’s not you. That’s not Saint Ryn, leader of Beta Team, the savior of all Citadels. That isn’t the case. You won’t do this because of Ezra. You don’t want to cheat on your boyfriend. Look around you!” Levi yells as he points at the bandage on his shoulder. “Look at me! You think normal rules apply? You think life and death is more important than disappointing some kid?”

I take a long breath in an attempt to calm myself, center myself. I told myself that I wasn’t going to let him bait me and I’ll be damned if I let him play me like that, even as I want to tear his face off for the contempt that dripped from his voice. I’m almost proud of myself for my restraint. He just has to think this through.

Shit, I need to think this through.

What would it mean, really, to deprogram Levi? He’s asking me not to consider Ezra, but that’s impossible. I could fight beside Levi all day long, but touch him? Softly? The way I let Ezra touch me? Alarm bells and sirens and a robotic Danger! Danger! voice goes off inside my head. He doesn’t know what he’s asking me. He thinks it’s something easy. That it’s something we can just do in all our spare time jumping from Earth to alternate Earth.

He thinks, but he has no frickin’ idea.

I have to handle this very carefully. I begin to talk, but I make sure to keep my tone level and empathetic. Well, as empathetic as possible for me: “Were you listening when I explained to everyone what the Roones and ARC did to us? We were fourteen when they figured out exactly what turned us on and exactly what we thought would be romantic and loving … and then they drugged us and beat us and broke our bones. We were tortured. The Blood Lust isn’t something you just get over. So this is not about cheating. It’s not about sex, it’s about feelings. And as strong as you are about everything else, you aren’t good with the feelings, Levi. In fact, you suck at them. You aren’t ready.”

Levi folds his arms, one over the other, and then nods his head slowly. “Yeah I was listening,” he tells me, as stone-faced as I’ve ever seen him. “I was right there when you laid out all the big bad secrets ARC had been keeping from us. I was also there when Edo hit the kill switch on more than a few of my friends when they disagreed with your assessment that ARC is the devil.”

“Are you kidding me?” I throw my hands up. I can’t believe what he’s saying. He doesn’t think that ARC is the enemy? “Are you saying you agree with your brainwashed friends?”

“I never said that, Ryn. I just said that I was there. I was there when they died and I was there when we pulled in their parents and gave them the deluxe ARC treatment so that now they think their kids are off at some year abroad. They can’t even grieve their own children’s deaths.” Levi kicks his toe in the sand. It hits me that maybe Levi might actually have feelings, as I see this particular injustice weighs heavy on him. I could try to justify my actions, but there’s no point. Even though it was the only way to ensure the life of our rebellion, he is right: It was a vile thing I did to those Citadels’ moms and dads. I hate that I have to defend those decisions, so I remain silent while Levi keeps talking. “I was also there when you made sure that everyone else on that base was either loyal or drugged to become loyal. This is a messy, ugly thing that you started. I’m not saying you weren’t right to do it, but your methods? Not good, Ryn.”

“You’re right, I fucked up,” I admit. He’s not saying anything I don’t know and haven’t agonized over already. “But I’ve copped to that and I’ve apologized as much as I’m ever going to. I was only trying to save everyone, so please stop holding my good intentions against me. They don’t teach ‘How to Effectively Start a Coup’ in our training, you know?”

To my surprise, Levi starts to laugh again, though I am sure it’s not because of the joke I just made. He’s laughing at me, not with me. Then he drags his hands through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I’m not holding anything against you. I’m trying to make you see how huge this fucking thing is. It’s bigger than you and your Boy Wonder. It’s way bigger than your bizarre sense of morality. You can’t not help me because it’s inconvenient, not when you’re all in everywhere else.”

Now it’s my turn to snicker. He just doesn’t get it. “Morality? I’m not being moral. I’m being realistic. It isn’t a question of convenience. At all. You want me to deprogram you? Okay, well, that involves shedding layers and layers of emotional armor. It involves intimacy and truth. So let’s start there. Why don’t you tell me exactly how you feel about me? Can you even do that?”

Gotcha, I think to myself. Because although I know that Levi is attracted to me physically (girl, boobs, pretty good hair, an ass I’m proud of—for a white girl—but I’m no supermodel), I doubt very much that he can verbalize his feelings for me beyond that, and more likely than not, there aren’t any of real significance. But instead of trying to avoid the question and redirect the conversation, Levi says nothing. He just stares at me. His gaze is intense. It’s so powerful that it makes me want to look away. I steel myself. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of watching me squirm.

“Fine,” he says finally. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I realize I don’t actually want him to answer that question. I don’t really want to know the truth, because if it goes beyond the physical, I wouldn’t know what to do with that. It dawns on me that I might have just made things worse between us by asking him to fess up: opening the door to a series of more tense conversations and weird, awkward silences.

But there’s no going back now. He’s already started talking.

“I feel a sense of loyalty toward you, but maybe that’s just because you’re a Citadel. I feel protective of you even though I know you don’t really need my protection. I think you’re strong. I think you’re beautiful, but I also think you’re a pain in the ass, and honestly, I’m not sure I even like you.”

I sigh and throw my hands up. “Well that’s just great. I can totally see how deprogramming someone who doesn’t even like me is going to work.” I’m relieved. He’s confused. He doesn’t know how to separate attraction and real feeling. No surprise there. Still, the conversation has me a little freaked. Hearing Levi say these things makes my heart race a little. Is it guilt? Because I’m with Ezra and I’m pretty sure this level of openness is inappropriate, but since I’ve never had a boyfriend before, it could very well be that this is the absolute best way to handle a situation like this—by acknowledging it, even if there’s no way to know exactly what “it” is. I should probably say something, but Levi holds out a single hand to stop me from continuing.

“I wasn’t finished, so calm down.” I let out a low growl that I’m sure he hears, along with an increasingly ascending pulse, but so what? This shit is intense. There is nothing I hate more than someone telling me to calm down as if I’m some crazy Real Housewife who screeches and wails all the time.

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Levi admits. “I really have no idea. Mostly I’m just angry and everything else I feel is pretty much a mystery.” Levi stops talking and I sigh. I had been trying to prove a point, that despite our hormones the Blood Lust is not really sexual. I didn’t think Levi understood that, but by the look on his face right now, I know he does. Damn. There is something in his eyes, something lost and bewildered. This is Levi’s version of intimacy. “I am ashamed,” he tells me softly. “I’m embarrassed that, basically, I have the emotional intelligence of an eight-year-old. I know there are other things to feel besides anger and guilt, but fuck, I don’t know how to get to them.”

“Oh, Levi.” I exhale his name, pressing my palms into my eyes as if I can somehow ignite the right answer inside my brain.

“Listen,” he says with urgency, seeing me falter. “I don’t think it matters if I like you. I think what matters is that I trust you. With my life. Right? I need your help, Ryn, please.”

Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to be a good leader and a good person at the same time, because let’s face it, there are precious few examples. After all I’ve done I think it might be too late for me to ever call myself a good person. But a true leader, the kind that I want to be, doesn’t hold fast to an opinion in the face of overwhelming evidence that it’s wrong. A strong leader is secure enough to change her mind.

I stare off into the distance at the light reflecting off the water. It’s gorgeous here, but it isn’t real. It’s a plucked moment. A pause before we jump again. Into God knows what.

There is no absolute right answer here. This isn’t something I can win. This isn’t a contest or a fight. My new partner may or may not have feelings for me that go beyond the way I look in an absurdly tight uniform (I get it, it’s supposed to fit like a second skin, but it’s more Black Widow than real black ops). I shouldn’t deprogram Levi because it’s dangerous and intimate and I have a boyfriend. But if I want to get that boyfriend back in one piece, there’s really only one logical choice.

As much as it annoys me, Levi is right.

It would be safer if he were deprogrammed. He’s asked for my help. He’s done it as honestly and authentically as he can. That’s huge for him. I can’t turn away from that. Ezra won’t like this, but again, props to Levi. I’m trying to apply normal relationship logic to this situation and it won’t work. By agreeing to help with the deprogramming, I could very well be saving my own life and the lives of others. It might be suicide—there’s that, too—but I think the odds are in my favor on this one. Ezra will get over it once he takes the time to think it through. Once I explain to him that it is the best chance that all of us have to survive. So, now the real problem is time. Deprogramming takes time, which we are desperately short of. Once we start, we can’t stop; doing so may ruin any chance he has at being cured.

But really, this mission can’t possibly succeed unless we do it. So …

“Okay. Since you said that you had considered this, I assume you brought a supply of the drug that leaves you open to suggestion? The red pills?” I ask, just to make sure this is even a doable thing.

“I have them. And I put some music, shows, and books on my tablet. That’s what we need, right? Sensory reminders of when we were younger? Before this happened to us?”

I nod my head and zip up my uniform to the neck. But the whole time I want to scream at him: Do you really think that’s all it takes? Listening to some songs? Watching a movie? He has no idea. “Just go take a pill. Take two, actually, just to be on the safe side. We’ll start in fifteen minutes.”

In the meantime, I’m going to pray to something and hope to hell this works.

CHAPTER 6

We are sitting side by side, watching the tide as it pulls out farther with each wave. Levi has taken off his uniform and is in his khakis and a T-shirt. My uniform is on and I have put my blond hair, badly in need of a trim, back and up in a messy bun on the top of my head. I am thinking, though I don’t want to say it out loud just in case it isn’t something Levi had thought of, that me throwing the knife at him after he felt the Blood Lust might have ruined any chance of this working. He got turned on and I hurt him, which is how he was programmed in the first place. I can only hope that the drugs, in conjunction with patience and a true desire to kick this, might override what just happened.

It occurs to me that in deprogramming Levi’s Blood Lust, I might also need to deprogram myself of my distrust of him.

Levi has his tablet on his knees. He looks a little nervous. I’m downright scared. When I did this, I had Ezra. Ezra is patient and loving and, for obvious reasons, much more emotionally intelligent than I am. Ezra and I care for each other. Levi and I tolerate each other. If that. But maybe in a way that’s better. Maybe a little emotional distance will be more effective. I have no idea.

And that’s probably what has me the most frightened.

“This is the song my mom sang to me every night before I went to bed when I was little,” he says, showing me the tablet. “Don’t ask me why. Weird choice, I know. She did change up some of the lyrics so that it wasn’t a proper love song, ’cause that would be gross, obviously.”

“Look, you don’t have to defend the choices you make in this process. Ezra read Harry Potter to me. He wore my dad’s clothes. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is that makes you feel safe and takes you back to that place, is not for me to judge. If you feel like I’m judging you or laughing at you somehow, then we can’t do this. It means that we haven’t created a trusting environment. Your guard will be up and things will go badly. Besides, Dolly Parton is amazing.”

By way of an answer, Levi nods his head. He pushes the Play button and “Islands in the Stream” starts up. I don’t think it’s actually that weird of a choice for a lullaby at all. It’s cute.

“Just make sure the song is on repeat,” I tell him.

I let the song play all the way through, and to his credit, Levi doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t demand to know what’s going to happen next. He just sits there, which is good. When the song starts again, I begin to speak, softly: “Now, Levi, imagine yourself as a young kid, in bed, your mom singing to you. Remember how it felt. Live inside this memory for a moment. You were safe, you were loved, nothing bad was ever going to happen to you, because your mom was there and she was going to take care of you. Let the drug work. It will take you deep inside this memory. You have to open up completely and let yourself feel how you felt all those nights.”

Levi closes his eyes. His breathing slows. His heart rate becomes more difficult to hear over the breaking surf. He is calming down, and thankfully, so am I. I let the song finish out and once it starts over, I begin to speak again. “You’re safe here. You have to clear your mind of doubt. In a few moments, I’m going to put my hand over yours. If you need to say out loud that you’re safe and that everything is fine, you should. You should talk. Don’t say that you aren’t going to hurt me. It won’t help. It will take your brain down the wrong path. No one is hurting anyone. Put thoughts of being hurt or hurting someone else far away from your mind.”

I let the song play again. I let Levi live inside this dreamlike state for a while. It’s probably been years since he’s thought about this, about how it made him feel. No one other than a Citadel would know why he has had to make himself forget the innocent child he was. There is no room for sweetness or vulnerability on the battlefield. Better just to put it away, lock it up, forget that we were ever young. “You’re a kid in this memory. You’re a boy and you’re defenseless, but you’ve never felt safer and that’s because love is safety and there is nothing stronger than a mother’s love for her child, not even a Citadel and especially not the Blood Lust. It’s no match for this love.”

I let the song play a little longer. Let him absorb what I told him. Slowly, I put my hand over his hand. I inch a little closer to him. I never imagined I would ever be so physically close to Levi. I can’t imagine being physically close to anyone besides Ezra. To that end, I start to say a mantra of my own. And while I know that what I’m saying to myself is not exactly the entire truth, bringing my boyfriend into the equation makes this whole affair seem like, well, less like an affair.

This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra.

While I’m silently saying this, Levi is repeating his own mantra: “I’m safe,” he whispers. “I’m safe. I’m okay.” I sit there unmoving for about ten seconds and then Levi’s eyes fly open and he looks at me with gritted teeth. Shit.

He takes my hand and flips it over, bending it the wrong way. My wrist could snap in an instant. He forces me to my knees and then he takes his free hand and puts it on the back of my neck, forcing my face in the sand. At this rate I will suffocate in a matter of minutes. I have to remain calm, but he’s going to kill me. My training overrides my good intentions. I kick out with my leg. I get him off balance and he staggers just enough so that I can roll out of reach. He lunges for me again and I block his arms.

“Levi,” I say calmly, “stop this. Go back to that place in your mind.” Before I can say anything else he gets a good punch in to my eye. It’s a massive wallop and I can feel my lid swelling almost completely shut. It’s going to be near impossible to defend myself when I’m blind in one eye. Yet if I attack more, then this is all for nothing. So I do my best to keep him at bay. We are dancing in a way. He keeps lunging forward and I keep moving my hands and forearms to various positions to block his attack. He gets in a few more punches that I miss because I don’t see them coming, and all the while I try to reason with him: “You’re fighting the Blood Lust and it won’t work! Surrender to it. Acknowledge the pain you’re feeling and try to pull it inside instead of taking it out on me … Levi!” I scream.

But he can’t hear me. He’s lost to it. This won’t work. I have no choice. I don’t want to die. I kick him hard in the abdomen and he goes flying. I leap over to where he lands and before he can get his bearings I put him in a sleeper hold. I squeeze my biceps. I cut off his air supply until he loses consciousness. I release his limp body and sink to my knees.

Shit. I completely fucked it up.

I may have saved my own life, but I also may have ruined any chance of Levi’s deprogramming ever working with me. My eye is aching. I’m so tired of this. Watching Levi in the throes of the Blood Lust broke my heart. I know my own deprogramming was brutal. I almost killed Ezra, twice. He never fought back, though. He trusted me enough to know I would never take it that far, even when I myself wasn’t sure. He cared about me enough to want it to work more than he wanted self-preservation. I’m positive that’s not the case with Levi and me. For one thing, I don’t love Levi, so I’m not willing to die for his transition. For another, though, Levi’s Blood Lust is different from mine. He becomes primal, more animal than man. He himself may not be able to distinguish his emotions outside of the Blood Lust, but I saw every one of them on his face and in his eyes. There was so much pain there.

Who does this to children? It’s easy to blame the Roones, because it was their technology and their offer that put us here, but it was ARC that demanded this safeguard. The planet could not afford the distraction of teenage drama, so human beings took the risk away. We had to be focused. We had to be single-minded at all times. Guard. Protect. Fight. Kill. It wasn’t a monster that turned us into monsters, it was our own kind.

Human beings took away our humanity.

If I’m going to lead us through this, if I’m going to dismantle ARC and take control, I have to be willing to put it all on the line. I have to be willing to die to save us. I have to trust Levi in the same way Ezra trusted me. Levi said it. I need to be all in. Seeing Levi inside the madness of the Blood Lust has shifted my perspective. Levi absolutely cannot see this as a battle, but I have to. This is a fight like any other. I’m ready to die back home at Camp Bonneville every time I engage. I’m not willing, no, never that, but I’m always prepared for the worst. What’s one more risk on top of everything else? My life is always on the line one way or another.

If I were the type of person who cries easily, I would be teary eyed. I’m not, though, and thank God; otherwise, after what I’ve seen and done in my few short years, I would be hysterical all day long. When I look at Levi lying here helpless, with tiny grains of sand peppering his long, dark eyelashes, the injustice of the Blood Lust and who and why we are suddenly feels explosive. Sadness turns to anger. I’m mad now and more determined than ever to fix him.

It doesn’t take long for Levi to wake up. His eyes flutter open, but he stays on his back in the sand. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

“No. It’s me who should be sorry. I should never have fought back. I was afraid. It won’t happen again.”

Levi sits up on his elbows. “What are you talking about? You had to fight back. I would have killed you. Look at your eye. I did that to you.”

I get up and wipe the sand off my palms. “Oh, please,” I say, deliberately playing it down. He doesn’t need the guilt. It won’t be useful moving forward. In fact, it’s probably the opposite. “I’ve had worse training with Violet. This is nothing. You’re not some asshole who likes to beat up girls. You’re not some psycho who takes pleasure in hurting women. We aren’t normal people. They did this to us. We’re sick and this is our therapy.” I walk over to his pack and take out another red pill from a container in his Dopp kit.

“You can’t be serious right now,” he says with disdain.

“We’re going to do this. We’re gonna fix you because you deserve to be fixed, even though in general, I think you’re kind of a douche.” I smile. He does not smile back. So much for trying to lighten the mood. “I’m serious, though. It’s too dangerous for you to be at such a disadvantage with this. And while we don’t have time, we also don’t have time not to do it. You were right. You were right from the start and I should have just agreed with you straightaway. Take another pill.”

I reach out my hand and offer it to him and he just looks at me. “You don’t get it. I will kill you. Put the pill away. I came here to make sure that you got back safe. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t.”

“But those two things can’t coexist. You can’t say you’ve got my back when I have to worry that you might stab me there. And I need your help if we’re going to find Ezra and get back home. So shut up and listen: You’re not going to kill me and I am never going to fight back. Ever. I will keep my uniform and armor on and curl up into a defensive position if I have to, but I will never hurt you again.”

Levi leaps up. It’s his turn to be mad. This is the Levi I recognize. “No. End of discussion.”

“Screw that! This isn’t a decision you just get to make. This is my life, too. Take it!” I say in a voice one decibel away from a shout, but anger isn’t the way. I have to learn, right now, not to be combative with Levi, which feels impossible but I have to try. I relax my posture. I lower my voice and cock my head to one side. Anger won’t work, but something else … “You are a lot of things, Levi, but I never took you for a coward.”

“I’m not a pussy, Ryn, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“You know, I don’t really like that word in this context. It makes me feel all feminist-y, which we could talk about. At length. Orrrrr you could just take the pill.”

Maddeningly, he ignores my attempt to lighten the mood. He just shakes his head, like a child refusing to take a bite of food. “I thought the pills would make it easier. Now that I see they don’t, we have to stop.”

I put my hand out again. Stay calm, stay calm. “Oh my God, you are a child! Did you really think this was going to be done in fifteen minutes? The pills work. You just have to let them. Right now your brain is making it impossible. You may trust me, but you don’t trust yourself. You have to let go of your guilt. You didn’t choose to be this way. This isn’t the real you. Come on. Let’s do this. Let’s trust each other.”

Levi glares at me.

I smile. “Come on.”

He rolls his eyes but actually laughs as he swipes the pill from my palm and pops it in his mouth. He takes a swig of water from his canteen.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” I answer sarcastically. “The awesome kind of crazy that they make movies about.”

“And modest. Clearly,” he says with a straight face. I raise an eyebrow and shrug.

Levi walks to pick up his tablet and then comes and sits down beside me. We wait in silence for the drug to kick in, the white sand surrounding us like outstretched arms. I’ve never been on a tropical vacation. Once a year I go with my family to Europe to visit my grandparents in Sweden. From there we’ve traveled to England and France. We went to Disneyland a couple of times, but nowhere like this. I’ve never been anywhere this remote, with actual palm trees and burnt-orange sunsets. This must be like Fiji on our Earth, or maybe Tahiti. Though, for all I know we could be in Battle Ground. This might be the only land mass for miles. I haven’t even seen a bird and that’s never a good sign.

When enough time has passed I look at Levi. “Ready?” I ask.

“As I’m ever going to be.” He reaches toward his tablet and I take it gently from his hands.

“I’m going to sing it. Just like your mom did to you. I’m not, like, a terrible singer, but I’m not exactly very good, either,” I warn.

“That’s probably better. I think it would actually irritate me if on top of everything you were a great singer, too.” He smiles. That is a major compliment coming from him, and I can’t help but flush a little bit at the implications of “on top of everything.” Clearing my throat as much to do something as to warm up, I bring up the lyrics.

I begin to sing.

It’s so interesting that his mom chose this song. I get that it’s a love song, but it’s also just about two people who sometimes feel like they have only each other. I know Levi’s dad left his mom when he was pretty young. I know because his younger sister, Flora, told me before I became a Citadel. I don’t think his dad is really in the picture. I think about the burden that must place on Levi, to take care of his mom and Flora and whatever comes flying out of the Rift at the same time. It’s so much for someone so young. I don’t think he’s close to his team like I am. God. He must be so lonely.

When I finish the song, I immediately start over. To my surprise, Levi starts singing along with me. I don’t need to say anything. He’s deep in this memory, I can just tell. Very slowly, I lean closer to him. I put my head on his shoulder.

This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra. This is for Ezra …

After a few seconds he slides his hand down my arm and takes my hand. I never dared try to initiate contact with Ezra when we did this, but Levi is not Ezra, and neither am I. We’re Citadels. We take risks normal people wouldn’t. I close my eyes. I know Levi could turn any moment, but I don’t think he will, not now. He’s getting it. He feels safe and so do I. When we finish the song, Levi doesn’t let go of my hand and I don’t move. The surf breaks with a dull clap on the sand in front of us. The waves are music, too. This is working. This is going to work. I am going to deprogram Levi and he can be like any other guy. He’ll be able to make out and have sex and not hurt anyone. I open my eyes and take my head off his shoulder. I look at him and he looks back and smiles at me in a way that’s so unlike his usual predatory grins. This smile is almost tender. Pretty soon he’ll be normal.

That thought instantly fills me with a feeling I cannot figure out. It’s not dread, but it feels similar. It’s not fear so much as anxiety. I look out toward the ocean, confused. Why would the prospect of fixing Levi leave me like this? With a feeling I can’t name?

CHAPTER 7

Each trip through the Rift is becoming easier. I explained to Levi how I managed to basically fly within its tunnel and then use the gravity and light of the approaching Earth to get my bearings and end up on my feet instead of my ass. He seemed dubious, especially with the part about us not being grappled to each other, but in the end he trusted me and we both walked out of the Rift on our feet with only minor stumbles.

The first few seconds are always the tensest. Where will we end up? In the middle of a volcano? A freeway? Someplace where a Rift will be seen as a horror and we, by default, some sort of monsters? Thankfully, we find ourselves in the middle of yet another forest and when I listen, I can hear nothing but animals scurrying, and from somewhere above, the screech of a bird in flight.

I stare at the ground and then the trees. The terrain looks to be high mountain desert, the landscape I’ve seen and loved on family trips to central Oregon. It’s rocky and barren at my feet, but then the desert disappears as my gaze lifts upward to the ponderosas. From this vantage point it is clearly the Pacific Northwest.

But there’s something off.

I mentally scan all the trees, making a slow 360-degree sweep. I take a mental picture of each one and close my eyes, calling them up in my memory. I compare them side by side. The smell is right. Ponderosas are smoke and evergreen. I walk up to one and put my hand on its large, rough bark.

“They’re too perfect, right?” I ask Levi to back up my hunch. “And the placement—it’s meant to be chaotic, but there’s a pattern to it.”

Levi squints a little and cranes his neck back and forth. “Yeah. The branches of that one,” he gestures, meaning the one I’ve touched, “and the one eighteen feet away are almost identical except for two variables. That doesn’t happen in nature.”

“So, it’s man-made and the trees must have been cloned. What kind of an Earth is that, you think?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, but you must have clocked those buildings about six klicks away. We should go and check it out.”

Before I can answer we hear a noise, a buzzing, getting closer. Without saying anything further, we both grab our rifles and unclip them from our chest pads. We don’t have to wait long to see the source of the sound. It’s a drone, although it’s not like any drone I’ve ever seen. It’s a silver disk that’s just hovering with no discernable way of actually flying. I stare at it, almost transfixed. It gets closer, and then light pours out of a thin circular strip in its midsection. The light races up and down our bodies in a long blue flash.

Observing is one thing, this is obviously something else. I point my rifle at it and squeeze the trigger twice. The drone stops and drops almost immediately and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

“That was either a really good idea or a really bad one,” I say before Levi can, because I know he’ll have a choice comment.

“I vote good one. That thing was scanning us.” I side-eye him because I think he just lobbed me a compliment. Levi walks over to the downed object and bends forward to have a better look.

“Don’t touch it, even with your foot,” I warn.

“Yeah, okay, Mom, are you sure? Because weird alien hovering silver disks that scan people never explode.”

“Noted. Thank you, Levi.” I leave him be for a couple of minutes. It’s not like I couldn’t make useful observations, but I’ve already annoyed him with my previous—and admittedly unnecessary—comments, and besides, my skill set in that area leans more toward noticing the tree thing. Levi’s mind is more mechanical. Which, if I’m being honest, kind of pisses me off a little bit because it feels so typically gender biased. Citadels don’t do gender bias. Except, it seems, in this case. Right here.

Annoying.

Levi straightens and walks back over to me, but before he can say anything we both hear another noise and this one is much louder. It is the sound of helicopter blades slicing through air.

“That came out of nowhere,” I say, taking hold of my rifle yet again. My pulse quickens. “It’s almost on top of us, so where the hell did it come from?” We both look up to the sky and sure enough, it’s a chopper. It is moving with alarming speed, and at two hundred yards away, it’s closing in fast. I can see its sleek design—black chrome and streamlined, with none of the bulky aerodynamics of helicopters on our Earth.

“We’re on a future Earth. A time line way more advanced than ours. We must be.” Although I don’t know why I bother to say it. Levi has eyes. I suppose saying it out loud makes it more real somehow, because right now I feel like we’re in a movie.

“We could run,” Levi suggests.

“No. Why waste the energy? If we’re going to have to fight, we’ll need it.” So both of us just stand there unmoving as the helicopter approaches. It’s noisy, but it’s not overwhelmingly loud. In a way, the propellers are almost soothing. They whoosh in the cloudless sky in precise measures. When the chopper is about fifty feet above us, the door slides open and two men emerge. They don’t jump, but rather float down gracefully as if being lowered by cables. Except there are no cables, and no pilot, either.

I just look at them and stare because, holy fuck, I literally don’t know what else to do. I look at Levi, and he’s just as dumbstruck. Finally, I have to say something.

“Did Jason Momoa and Andy Warhol just fly down from up there?”

“I feel like yes, that is what happened. Unless we’re being drugged or that drone thing brainwashed us.”

When the two men are about twenty feet away, I put my rifle up. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move,” I yell. They both stop and look at us, puzzled. As if the way they arrived was totally normal and why are we surprised.

“Hello!” Jason Momoa says enthusiastically (which already seems not very Jason Momoa–like, though I don’t know him personally, obviously). “You are humans, yes?”

“We will not harm you,” Andy Warhol says brightly. “We were alerted to your presence and were sent to retrieve you.” They both take a step forward.

“I said don’t move, and keep your hands up!”

More bewilderment, although they don’t come any closer. Eventually they both raise their hands. “We do not possess any weapons. We are no threat to you,” Jason Momoa says earnestly.

“Fine. You can come closer, but stop when we tell you, and walk slowly,” I command. When they are about ten feet away I tell them to halt. “I’m going to frisk them. Cover me.”

“Really? You’re going to go frisk Aquaman? That’s going to be your job?” Levi throws out.

“Not now, Levi. God.” There’s a time and place for sarcasm, but this is not it. I quickly move over to the two and I am able to get a good look at them close-up. If I needed any more proof that something absolutely bonkers is going on here, I get it after I see their silver eyes. They are as round and luminous as full moons, but the irises are a darker silver, the color of bracelets or rings left forgotten in a drawer. On Andy Warhol it looks creepy as fuck. On Jason Momoa it’s kinda sexy in an otherworldly way. Both have hair cut close to their scalps and they are wearing matching slate-gray outfits, though uniform is a bit of a stretch. They are dressed the same, but there is no ornamentation, not even buttons. Just plain jackets over trousers. Even with all that, though, it’s their skin that really gives me pause. It doesn’t look right. It is without blemish or lines, fine or otherwise. It’s as if a newborn baby morphed into an adult. I’m not sure yet what these people are, but this is definitely not an Earth like ours—not an echo Earth.

My rifle is clipped, which leaves me with both hands free to pat them down. I do this efficiently and without lingering, even on Khal Drogo.

“My name is Thunder,” he says kindly.

“Really?” I say, even though of course it is.

“And this is my colleague Ragweed.”

“Hello,” Andy/Ragweed offers. Okay, the names are weird (and more than a little unfair).

“They aren’t armed, Levi, you can put your gun down.” Levi slowly lowers his weapon and moves with steely determination toward us. As he approaches, I know he is noticing the same exact things that I did. It’s clear that he feels threatened. I do, too, but I can hide these things better. His posture is yardstick straight and he’s clenching his jaw.

“I’m Ryn and this is Levi. Where are we?” I ask with determination.

“North 44°3′29″, West 121°18′51″,” Ragweed answers efficiently. I don’t even need to check in with my partner. We are both well aware that these are the coordinates of central Oregon. Just as we thought. Still, latitude and longitude are not as helpful as an actual city name.

“What year is it?” I ask a little more impatiently.

“I am afraid I cannot answer that question. We do not keep time in the same way that I think you probably do,” Ragweed offers regretfully.

“Yeah, well,” Levi says while resting his forearm on the butt of his rifle, “maybe you should just give it a try anyway. Let us be the judge of what we can and cannot figure out.”

Both men look past us, in the distance. I have a feeling that their eyes are providing some kind of digital interface. More than likely, we are all being monitored and they are awaiting instructions.

Finally Thunder says, gently, “I am sure you have many questions. We cannot provide you with the answers you are looking for. We have been designated to deliver you to our doyenne, who will be able to discuss your questions in detail. We are simply escorts.”

I nod my head and look to the ground as a wave of nausea washes over me. I’ve heard this speech before because I’ve made it. It’s the same speech I give to all the Immigrants who came through the Rift at Battle Ground, and I doubt these two would give up any more information than I would. However, they are decidedly less aggressive than the Citadels are, and if there is some kind of equivalent of a Village on this Earth, chances are that’s where Ezra would be. There’s also no chance in hell that a place like the Village could hold me and Levi. Still, going with them is a risk—I’m not sure we could elude them and get our packs and the QOINS up and running without incident. Just because they don’t have weapons doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous.

“And you guys just fly around, hoping to run into someone? Escorting people places?” Levi asks stubbornly. They aren’t going to give us anything useful.

“Yes, I can see why you would think we have the ability to fly. I assure you that we do not. It is technology, built into our boots, using a combination of the planet’s magnetic core and micro thrusters,” Ragweed offers, but why? Why is that information something he’s willing to give up, unless …?

“You want to take us up there? With your shoes?” It’s an amusing thought, but I am not amused.

“You will agree to come with us now?” Thunder asks brightly. I don’t think I actually agreed to anything, but he is certainly hopeful.

Levi must see me mulling and he leans in closer, not near enough to actually touch me, but close enough so that he can speak almost in a whisper that they hopefully can’t hear. “They seem pretty harmless, and if you want to know if Ezra is here, then I think we have to go with them. We just have to demand that we stay together and we get to keep our things with us at all times so we can Rift out if we need to.”

“To be clear: You do understand that it’s Jason Momoa and Andy Warhol with silver eyes offering to take us in their Blade Runner helicopter, right? Because I’m still coming to grips with that, and there is no scenario we thought of that included anything like this in our strategic planning sessions,” I add, concealing at least half of my mouth with a well-timed itch to my top lip.

I can practically hear his eyes rolling. “Yes, I understand that we are in the Multiverse. And yes, this is batshit crazy, but it’s the Wild West out here, so what else do you want to do?”

“Fine,” I say to everyone. “We will go on the condition that we will not be separated from our things or each other.” I watch as they pause. It definitely seems like they are getting information visually from the implants that are their eyes. I think I might be way more freaked out by this if I had never watched Black Mirror. “Oh, and no flying. Send down a rope or something. You must have a backup in case your rocket boots don’t work.”

Ragweed grabs hold of my arm. “Excellent. We will now escort you to the doyenne.”

I give him a stern, unflinching look. “Take your hands off me. Now.”

Ragweed does not remove his hand. I look at Levi, who has backed away from Thunder. His look is a clear warning. “We must escort you to the doyenne safely,” Ragweed tells me, undeterred.

“Yes. But. Do. Not. Touch. Me,” I growl.

“We must escort you to the doyenne safely.”

“Remove your hand or I will escort my fist into your throat.”

Ragweed seems not to hear me, or not understand. He simply holds on tighter, attempting now to pull me toward the chopper. “We must esc—” But I don’t let him finish the sentence. I’ve set a boundary, a rule. I asked, maybe not so nicely, but a girl shouldn’t have to be polite when asking a man not to touch her. I yank my arm away from him and pick him up by the throat. His body lifts up into the air and his feet are off the ground. Ragweed has that faraway look in his eyes. He is not struggling. His body has gone slack.

I exhale loudly and pitch him up and out, tossing him in the air. He lands with a dull thud, his head hitting a tree trunk.

Oh shit—did I just kill him?

His eyes are still open, but he isn’t moving, never a good sign. I spin on my heels toward Thunder and Levi. This whole situation is tense as fuck. Why wouldn’t he just do as I asked?

“I don’t know what ‘escort’ means here,” I say to Thunder, “but where we come from it implies a certain amount of protocol. All he had to do was direct me, verbally. I know I look young, but I can follow directions. Apparently your buddy over there can’t. I won’t be held responsible for actions I take when I feel threatened.”

Levi’s stance has gotten wider. His chest is thrust forward slightly. If Thunder isn’t a complete moron he’ll notice this and not try anything. There is an awkward, almost painful silence as Thunder looks at his fallen colleague and then out past him above the tree line.

“Yes. I understand. Another team will come and retrieve Ragweed. I will escort you safely to the doyenne without physical contact. Cable. Harness.” Given these people’s weird names, I hope he’s asking for what I think he is and not sending more “escorts” down. Still, who is he talking to? I don’t see any kind of comm system. I frisked the guy and he has nothing on him, not even an earpiece.

In three seconds I’m relieved to see a pulley being sent down from the chopper. Still, I find it odd that Thunder has not gone over to Ragweed to make sure he’s okay. I have my back turned to him because, quite frankly, I don’t want to know. I have no idea how they do things here. That might be normal. I’m beginning to wonder if these people, like the trees around us, are clones. It would be a logical reason as to why Thunder isn’t more concerned about Ragweed’s safety. Still, you can’t know what you don’t know and my hope is that my explanation, my very clear vocalization that I felt threatened, will be enough for what just went down.

We make our way to right below the hovering aircraft and its muffled blades. “I’m going first,” Levi tells me. It’s not a suggestion. I put both my hands up in surrender. Thunder is keeping a respectful distance. The device they sent down looks a little like a swing with a crisscross seat belt that you step into. Levi figures it out quickly enough and secures himself in with the carabiner they’ve provided. He holds on to the cables on the side, and once he does Thunder says, “Retract,” and the seat shoots up with alarming speed.

In short order it’s my turn. I get myself in and braced for the ride. This time, when Thunder gives the verbal command, he follows me up in the air with the same impressive speed.

Once I climb into the helicopter I see that it is compact, but there’s enough room for at least six people to sit comfortably on two padded benches. There is no cockpit or jump seat. There isn’t room for a pilot at all. The whole thing is automated. I feel like that’s cool as much as it is terrifying. The doors are mostly windows, so as we begin to ascend and veer off I get a better view of the trees and their odd layout from this vantage point, meant to look wild but really spaced in a sequential pattern, which is easy to discern when you know what you’re looking for.

I don’t get much of a look, though, because this helicopter is fast. And not just regular fast but, like, bullet train in Japan–style fast. The landscape below me becomes a blur, but it only lasts a couple of minutes. The chopper slows as we approach the city. I peer down and look at the entire scope of this place. Everything is gray and green, like a giant stone sundial covered in moss. There are tall high-rises ringing smaller buildings, though not many roads. The few streets branch out like perfectly proportioned sunrays. We are clearly headed to the center of this circle, an impressively large building with a solar-paneled roof in the shape of two giant butterfly wings. The building is concrete, as it seems the other structures in this city are as well, but there is fluidity to it, an odd sense of motion to the heavy architecture.

The helicopter touches down softly and without so much as a bump. The landing pad is a raised cement platform in the middle of a large expanse of grass. This grass, like the ponderosas, is too green, too perfectly mowed. It almost looks like carpeting. The doors open and Thunder solicitously waits behind as Levi and I exit. I see there is a stretch of concrete leading from here to the building.

I also see others. They stop and watch us, and I can’t help staring in turn. Like Thunder and Ragweed, many of these people have famous faces. I see Meryl Streep, Gandhi, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Princess Diana. It’s just too weird. Awesome but weird. My clone theory is starting to feel more and more plausible.

The path leading to the building we are going to starts blinking blue. How they get cement to turn color is another neat trick, but considering what I’ve seen already, it’s almost hardly worth noting. The blinking lights flash more rapidly and turn into arrows, and it’s apparent that this is the pathway we are meant to take. I don’t love being told so explicitly what to do, but I figure this is the fastest way to find out if Ezra is here, so I stay on the path.

We arrive shortly at the entrance and two massive glass doors slide open. I center myself to steady my heart. I have no idea what these people are or what they want from us. I have just injured—more than likely killed—one of their own, so that’s going to play into this equation. On top of that, if Ezra even showed up here, would they tell me? And how will I find him if they won’t? It’s a mix of frustration, fear, and curiosity coursing through me as I walk through the doors.

Once we step inside there are more famous people sprinkled among others I don’t recognize. I notice they are dressed more for comfort than fashion, but there is a certain element of minimalist chic going on. Everyone is wearing loose-fitting cotton or linen clothing. Some of the women wear leggings with long tunics past their knees, almost like traditional Indian dress, but without the vibrant colors. In fact, all the colors are muted: grays, blacks, ivories, and rusts with more browns than reds. The people move silently around us, staring with unabashed moon-eyed curiosity, and it’s unsettling, so I take in my surroundings instead.

The ceilings are incredibly high, at least three stories with long pendulous lights that hang down from the ceiling like necklaces. There are elevators, but we veer away from them and end up at a frosted glass door that slides open with our approach. Inside this room is a man who I don’t recognize and a woman who is Tilda Swinton because of course Tilda Swinton would be here.

Thunder stays at the door, and any trace of his earlier goodwill has dissipated. In a way, I almost find this more imposing version of him comforting. It’s kind of how I expect Jason Momoa would actually be. In the middle of the room is an ivory-colored reclining chair and there is a bunch of equipment lined up on a tray that is hovering a few inches above the ground. I have a sinking feeling I know where this is going. I glance at Levi, who has focused all his attention on the man seated on a low stool by the chair. If I were that man I would be very worried right now. But he does not seem worried at all. His unremarkable face is open and gentle. His posture, though straight, is not rigid.

“My name is Feather,” he opens with quiet confidence. “I am the head of the biomed division here. I understand that you do not want to be touched, but if you will allow me, I can repair your eye in less than ten seconds. Please?” He asks kindly. My eye. It must still be bruised from when Levi hit me on the island. It has been throbbing, a dull ache that I have ignored and, admittedly, my vision hasn’t been 100 percent. There is more than a good chance that he actually fractured my orbital bone or even my maxilla.

I look to the chair and then back again at the man who I suppose is a doctor, or something like it. “How would you fix this?” I ask skeptically.

“We have a patch. It has the ability to instantly heal damaged tissue. It is painless and I promise to apply it only to your eye.” A Band-Aid that can heal cuts and bruises instantly? That’s the kind of thing a Citadel could really use—the kind of thing that would stop our parents from worrying about our time at all those fake martial arts classes ARC says is a mandatory part of the curriculum but which is of course just a cover-up for the injuries we sustain.

“And it is not just your eye. The initial scan our drone sent back before you shot it down revealed that you both were exposed to a dangerous level of radiation. I could fix that as well, but it would require cooperation on your part.”

“Radiation?” asks Levi cuttingly.

“The microwave Earth,” I remind him. I assumed we had just been burnt, but of course there was bound to be more than just toxins in the atmosphere. These people found it with a blinking light. We don’t have anything like that sort of tech, and now it seems like my earlier paranoia about our lack of technological advancement wasn’t paranoia after all. I think these people probably have a lot of things that would help us, save us even.

Still …

“I didn’t notice it before,” I say to Feather calmly. “We were outside. There was a helicopter over our heads. You all look like famous people, except for you. I don’t know who you are,” I tell the man honestly. “But that,” I say, pointing to the woman who is silently standing behind him, “is Tilda Swinton with silver eyes, so I’ve been distracted, but not here. Not now. The thing is, you don’t have a heartbeat. Your chest moves up and down and you blink, but you don’t have a heartbeat.”

Feather looks past me. He is doing that same zoning-out thing that I watched the others do. He quickly shifts his eyes to me after almost twenty seconds and says, “I do not have a heartbeat, but that does not mean I do not want to help you. I promise, I would never hurt you. None of us would ever hurt you. It goes against our very nature. And our nature does not change. Ever. It is why Ragweed did not fight back. He did not even struggle, because he might have accidentally harmed you if he had done so.”

“We’re looking for a friend,” I try, but Feather holds up a single hand.

“Please. I do not want to appear disagreeable. I am not authorized to answer any of your questions. My only job here is to make sure that you are healthy. I am asking that you let me do my job.”

“I think you should let him, Ryn. I think they really can help us and they did let us keep our weapons.” I curl my lip up and throw him an incredulous gaze. Why is he talking like that? Is he trying to good cop/bad cop this situation? Because I may have already killed one of them, so the jig is up on that front. It doesn’t matter how much ass he kisses or how official he tries to sound; they probably won’t see us as anything more than teenage crazies.

“Look, I’ll go first.” And before I can do anything Levi has his pack off and is sliding onto the chair. He unclips his rifle and holds his hand out. “Here. Take it,” he tells me.

“Well, they aren’t clones or zombies. So, this means that this must be some sort of Westworld Earth, and how shocking that you would be so down with that.”

“We don’t know anything yet except for the fact that we’ve been exposed to radiation, which I believe because I don’t feel all that great. Do you?”

I swallow hard and push my thumbnail into the pad of my index finger. I don’t have a clue how I feel. There’s my eye. And Tilda Swinton. And the rocket boots. I guess now that I’m thinking about it, I suppose I do feel a bit hot and disoriented, but isn’t that more likely an indicator of our present circumstance than radiation? To Levi’s point, though, I can’t be sure.

“Fine,” I say, grabbing hold of his gun and stepping back.

“Thank you. Your name is Levi, I believe? Now, in order to neutralize the radiation, I am going to have to take a sample of your blood. My colleague Shrine will create an effective treatment once we know the precise levels of toxicity in your body.”

“That’s fine, but only you are allowed to have any contact with me. She can’t touch me.” Whoa, I’m surprised and impressed. Levi must think Tilda’s a bit sexy (quite frankly so do I, and I’m not even into women). He’s ensuring the Blood Lust won’t kick in.

“It is only me. Shrine is the head of our chemistry division. She is here only to create a compound agent,” Feather assures him.

“Okay, go ahead.” Feather gracefully picks up a metal tube with the tiniest of needles on the end. He sticks it quickly inside the crease of Levi’s arm, into his vein. I can see there is a clear window in the tube and in maybe two or three seconds a large portion of blood has been taken, almost like a vacuum.

“That is the first part done. Normally I would not activate the holo-sets, but in the spirit of transparency you should see exactly what I am seeing.” Feather plugs the metal tube into what looks almost like an electronic tablet but thinner. We don’t have to wait long. It takes less than a minute for the images to pop up, seemingly out of nowhere. The first thing we see is something that looks like different lines of tape with varying thicknesses, hovering in midair. Then behind Levi, and slightly above his head, another Levi appears … naked.

Feather examines the image. I don’t know where to look. I’m a soldier. Nudity isn’t an issue for me, but it’s kind of like I’m staring at a naked photo of Levi, which feels weird and icky. Feather notices the wound from the beach right away. “I see there is tissue damage here. Would you allow me to repair it with one of our biopatches?”

“Sure,” Levi says indifferently. He had glanced at the image when it first went up. He’s well aware that his naked bod is floating right before my eyes. If he’s embarrassed, he sure isn’t letting me know. I look down at my boots. I hear paper ripping. I don’t need to see exactly what’s going on. It’s not like Levi can’t handle himself if things suddenly go sideways.

I look up when I notice Feather’s hands rapidly touch the projection. With two fingers he plucks at the naked holographic form. Levi’s skin is removed so that now the image displays his musculature only. Again, Feather picks at the body and the muscles are taken away, leaving only bones and organs. After a cursory examination of those, Feather dismisses them with a short flick and a turn of his wrist until all that remains is Levi’s skeleton and circulatory system. Feather sticks one hand in and opens his palm until we are actually inside Levi’s blood stream. And then, with two flat hands, Feather enhances the image so that we can see the cells themselves. I suppose with who I am and everything I’ve experienced I should be past surprise.

I am not past this.

Air gets trapped in my throat as I bring my hand to my mouth. Levi is staring at the display, but then he looks at me and I know we are thinking the same thing. How did we even get here? There is a sudden weight to this room. It is thick and heavy with all the things we should be doing. Parties and part-time jobs, football games and essays. We can’t unsee this. We can’t have normal. I accepted that long ago. We weren’t like other kids before, but now, after this trip, we won’t even be like the other Citadels.

“Display toxins,” Feather says with quiet authority. And there again, hovering in the air, a list of words comes online. Ammonia, sulfur dioxide, lead, mercury—the list keeps scrolling. I think a lot of this stuff we were exposed to on our Earth. And some words I just don’t know. I look past the words, to the strange strips running almost around the room like a news ticker. Oh shit. Of course I know what this is.

“You’ve sequenced our DNA.” It’s not really a question, more of a statement. Check our blood, okay, but this veers dangerously close to crossing a line.

“It was necessary, for an accurate holo-projection.” I stare at the black marks as certain lines begin to ping and flash in different colors. Feather stares at them. I stare at Feather. These angry, perfect lines. These unnatural stretches of biology, pocked and darkened like craters on the moon. I don’t want to see it. I fight the urge to look away, but I stand firm.

This is who we are.

“Your DNA has been altered,” Feather says to Levi. There is a melancholic tone to his voice. It’s almost as if seeing this hurts him. But we knew our genes had been messed with, so it’s not really news to us. “You are not even entirely human.”

That, however, is news.

“What?” Levi and I both say at once.

“Your DNA has been spliced with other species. Not all of it, obviously, but here,” he says, pointing to one of the red flashing parts. “And again here.” His long finger gestures to another line, this one a bluish purple, like a bruise. “I cannot even say what species resides in your genome. It does not exist here on this Earth.”

Not entirely human. What have they done to us? What does that even mean? There is too much information buzzing around in my head. I need to process this, alone, with Levi. I don’t like the idea that these people have figured something out about us that we ourselves didn’t know, and I certainly don’t want to let on that I was in the dark about my genetic alterations, at least right now. It will make me appear ignorant, weak.

“You can still fix the damage done by the radiation, though?” I ask deliberately. If Feather isn’t going to answer any of our questions, then I am not going to answer for this.

“Yes. Ryn, would you please change places with Levi?” Levi hops off the reclined chair and I slip onto it. It isn’t leather, because it doesn’t smell like leather, but it is certainly one of the best imitations of it that I’ve ever seen. “You will allow me to fix your eye, please?” I just nod my head and Feather opens a paper package and holds up a tissue-thin piece of material. It is cool to the touch and slightly wet when he puts it on my bruise. After a few seconds he removes it, and sure enough, even without touching it, I can tell that whatever swelling was there has gone because my vision is better.

“You can go ahead and take my blood, too,” I offer, knowing that I will need a neutralizing agent that differs from Levi’s because we’re bound to have different levels of toxins in our cells. I push up the sleeve of my uniform and watch diligently as he takes the blood painlessly. Again, he plugs the silver tube into the tablet and in a matter of seconds the holo-projectors begin to work.

I am well aware that Levi can see a naked version of me, but I notice that he doesn’t stare. He finds another place for his eyes to focus on, which is a relief. I already feel too exposed. It took me years to accept and adapt to what my body could do. And now there’s this.

Not entirely human …

Keeping my face deliberately passive, I think about Edo. She’s a liar. She might be under ARC’s control, but she kept this from me. So, what are we? Part Karekin? Dinosaur? Maribeh? We could be a hundred different species. There’s also a good chance that not even ARC knows the truth of it.

Feather wastes no time in plucking the skin and musculature off my holographic form. I catch Levi’s eye. I wonder what he thinks about all this. He has put our rifles in the corner with our packs. He is standing with his arms folded, his brows knitted together, and his full lips stolen by a thin-lined grimace. For just a split second, all this fades away and it is only the two of us. The two Citadels who know the truth behind our strength and speed. We are as alone as we had been back on that deserted island. I almost want to reach out for him, just to steady me, to hold me fast to where we are, but that would be inappropriate and would likely trigger the Blood Lust. Instead, I bring my fist up to my heart and push down, hoping there will be some kind of comfort in the pressure.

“Ahh. Yes. There. Your orbital socket has a small hairline fracture. We do not have anything that can repair this quickly, but I will assign one of my colleagues to look into it.”

“Thank you,” I tell him honestly. They may be weird, but they are helping. They are playing by the rules, and more importantly, Feather has not appeared even remotely judgmental about his discoveries. As my own genome begins to display, I watch with rapt fascination as it unfurls around the room. I barely notice as Feather dismisses Shrine to presumably make up our anti-radiation cocktail.

I see the same blinking and alerts on certain bands of the code. The parts of me that are alien, the molecular rips and cuts that have been twisted around DNA that I can only begin to imagine. Feather cocks his head and examines a strip more closely. He reaches into the band and expands it. In doing so, he enlarges the microscopic images into a panel that we can all see. The vicious helix spins but half the ladder is bright orange.

“You and Levi share the same DNA alteration except for here; this is a mutation that he does not possess. Do you have some sort of ability that he does not?”

“A slightly higher tolerance to certain medications,” I offer.

Feather’s face remains passive. He stares at the spinning gene for quite a while. And then, he looks at me directly, his silver eyes boring into me. “I do not think that is what this is.”

CHAPTER 8

Shrine administered a series of shots, making sure to show us on her tablet the atomic structures of each ingredient in the compound that she included. Which was all very nice and good, but it’s not like we would have any idea if that was what she was actually dosing us with—or what any of that stuff meant, anyway. At that point, given all that we’d seen, I chose to accept that they were being honest. If they wanted to harm us, they already had plenty of chances.

When that was done, Thunder escorted us into the elevator (which had no buttons or displays) and up into the doyenne’s office. Unlike the minimalism of the rest of the building, this space had a rug, a bookshelf with real books, and paintings on the wall. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it had a slightly Scandinavian feel, and since I’m half Swedish, there was something almost familiar about it.

What was not familiar, though, was the doyenne. I half expected her to be J. K. Rowling or maybe Judi Dench, but she looked like an ordinary woman, pretty in an old-fashioned kind of way. She reminded me of the film stars you see in black-and-white movies. I didn’t recognize her, which was a good thing, because I might have to push back a little, and that would be difficult if she looked like Ellen DeGeneres or, even worse, Buffy Summers. I’m pretty sure I’d cave under the Vampire Slayer’s steely gaze. Too much of a fangirl—probably has to do with our shared world-saving agenda and whatnot.

“My name is Cosmos. Please, sit,” she says kindly, offering us a seat on a buttery suede couch. She sits down in an upholstered armchair across from us. There is something about her, something unlike the rest of the people here. She has the same silver eyes, but her face has a touch more character. It’s not that she has lines or age spots or anything, it’s that she actually expresses. Not a lot, hardly at all, really, but her smile reaches her eyes, which is more than I can say for the others. “The water is for you.” She gestures to the two glasses sweating on the small table in front of us.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a sip. I notice there is a ring mark on the table and I wipe it up with the sleeve of my uniform.

“Now, I know you must have questions. My story may well answer most of your queries. It will also sound unbelievable, perhaps, but I cannot lie. It is not in our nature to lie. Can I begin?” Levi and I both nod. She smiles. “Good. To begin, you know that we are not human?”

“Well, apparently, we aren’t entirely human, either, so …” I say, trying to find some common ground, which might make things easier when it’s our turn to ask the questions.

Cosmos does not smile at this. In fact, she looks downright grim in that moment. “Yes. I saw that.”

“I’m just gonna say it. You guys are robots, right?” Levi asks, leaning back somewhat on the couch. I look down to the floor for just a minute. So smooth, Levi. But then it hits me that I’d be no better if I had been the one to broach this topic, and I have a revelation: We aren’t great at this. We’re spectacular fighters, insanely good liars, but this kind of thing? We don’t do this. The people back at ARC have a legion of anthropologists and zoologists and psychologists who specialize in this first-contact sort of thing. We’re just the muscle. Which lately has begun to piss me off more and more. They could have trained us for this. We’re smart enough, but they didn’t. They didn’t want to give us so much power in the system. They only wanted fighters, someone they could keep sending to the front lines of the Rift.

They never meant for us to be in this situation.

And, in a way, that thought makes me feel good about our decision to be here.

“You are correct, Levi. We are robots … but we do not call ourselves robots. The word has a fairly primitive connotation.” At this, Cosmos smiles.

“So what do you call yourselves, then?” Levi throws out. Okay, so he guessed right, but still, I’m going to have to give him an elbow nudge if he doesn’t chill with the tone.

“SenMachs, an abbreviation of ‘sentient machines.’ Are you aware of something called the singularity?”

I nod assertively. “Yes. It’s the projected point in time when artificial intelligence overtakes human intelligence. Most people on our Earth imagine it as a kind of doomsday scenario.”

Cosmos’s eyes change. They aren’t any less kind, but they seem to focus on something else. Something far away or long ago that still pains her. “I assure you, the loss of humanity was a great tragedy to us. Humans are our creators. In many ways we revere them in the same way that your kind worships gods. And … you are the first human beings we have seen in two thousand years.”

“Really?” I ask hesitantly. “Are you one hundred percent sure there are no humans on this planet? Because the Earth is very big. And the Amazon, for example. I mean, tribes existed and still exist in isolation for thousands of years in the rainforests down there.” In that moment, I don’t want to be the only humans on this planet. It makes me feel uneasy, like having a sliver of glass embedded in my foot. The kind that still hurts when you walk on it, even after you’re sure that you’ve picked it out.

Cosmos’s shoulders drop just a fraction. “You are not from the Amazon. You are not indigenous people, except maybe to the European continent. I assure you. We have searched. We have covered every square inch of this planet’s surface on foot and in the air, even from space. We monitor everything that happens here, especially anomalies, which is why we knew the moment you arrived. We have always theorized that a sentient species on an alternate Earth could open a doorway through the Multiverse, but the statistical probability that it they would then arrive on our Earth was very low, and the statistical possibility that the species to do so would be human was even lower.”

“So you know where we come from?” I ask wondrously.

“Well, we knew that you weren’t here before and you didn’t penetrate the atmosphere. The Multiverse is the most likely explanation.” Cosmos is not particularly impressed by this. Are robots impressed with anything, though?

“It doesn’t matter where we came from,” Levi says quickly. “I want you to finish your story about how all the humans on this Earth went extinct.” Levi is in threat-assessment mode and I get it. A very advanced species has replaced us and we are only two. If she is lying, then we might not even get the chance to ask about Ezra, let alone free him if he’s here. We might have to make a run for it.

“Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Levi,” Cosmos tells us with something very close to emotion in her voice. “We did everything we could to stop mankind from destroying themselves, but there was only so much our programming would allow. And remember, this was thousands of years ago—we have evolved as a species. I think, if faced with their problems today, we could have saved them.”

“Fine. So what happened?” Levi asks dubiously.

“Many things, over a long period of time. In the beginning, it was just more automated systems making many jobs obsolete. Then the first SenMachs, though very basic, took more employment opportunities away, creating a tremendous unemployment rate. Humanity separated into the very rich and the very poor. Entire economies collapsed. Humans became increasingly reliant on their SenMachs. They turned us into weapons in an attempt to control an angry and hungry population. Pollutants in the air increased, diminishing natural human reproduction. We eventually overwrote our base code with a saving directive so that SenMachs could not harm humans. The wars stopped, but it was too late. Billions had died, and those left no longer knew how to do anything for themselves. They became like children—petulant and entitled. They did not want to have children of their own. Their notion of self was too aggrandized to give their lives over to others.”

“Seriously?” I’m sure there are better, more comprehensive questions to ask when offered such a tale, but at the moment, I’m stumped. It seems, in every sense of the word, outrageous.

Levi swallows a big gulp of water and practically slams the glass down on the table. “Nice story,” he tells Cosmos, clearly offended, “but I’m having a hard time buying it. We aren’t built like that as a race. We’re stubborn. We don’t give up. When we’re backed into a corner we come out swinging. I cannot believe we just rolled over and died. No way. Besides, we love … breeding.”

Cosmos is utterly indifferent to our reactions. She is not defensive. She’s not trying to persuade. It is clear she’s just stating what she believes are the facts. “I never said you stopped having sex, only that you gave up on wanting the burden of children. SenMachs had been raising human offspring for over a hundred years at that point. While we were once domesticated servants—I believe you call them ‘nannies’—we eventually became the primary caregivers. It’s also worth noting that only the rich and privileged survived. Entire generations had never known hardship. When nothing must be earned, then nothing is valued.”

I think long and hard on what Cosmos is saying, and actually it isn’t all that unbelievable. I think about what ARC did to us as kids. Is it so impossible to believe that, given the right parameters, children in general could be deemed nothing more than a nuisance? Even on our Earth, right now, birth rates are dropping rapidly in the more developed nations. I’m convinced, through her demeanor and from the dark shadows I’ve seen in humanity, that it’s the truth.

“Okay,” I say, stretching out my fingers, trying to process, “okay. Can we ask you some questions now?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’re looking for someone. You’re sure that no one else has come through a Rift here? Even in an extremely remote location? The man we’re looking for is six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, half northern African, half Caucasian,” I say hopefully, leaning forward toward her.

Cosmos takes a moment. I am getting used to their deliberate pauses, but I wish she could answer this question a little more quickly. “I am sorry. I am sure my answer will disappoint you, but there is no way that a doorway to or from the Multiverse could be opened on this planet and go undetected, let alone a human suddenly appear. Your friend is not here.”

“All right.” Shit. “Well, thank you for answering and for the great medical care, but we have to go—” I begin to shift in my seat, ready to stand, but Levi interrupts me.

“Wait, I have more questions.”

I whip my head around to gawk at him. “Levi, he’s not here. We have to leave.”

“Ryn, look,” Levi practically pleads. “I know you want to find Ezra. I get it. But these, ummm, people, they have technology that could help us find him. It could even maybe turn the tides back home. Give us better odds against ARC and the Roones who, incidentally, made us part alien. Let’s be smart about this.”

I bite my bottom lip. I don’t want to stay here, but Levi has a point and it’s a good one.

I shrug my shoulders passively. It’s a delicate dance this one, making Levi happy and making sure we get to Ezra quickly. Levi is risking his life, too, so as much as I want to have complete control over this mission, I know that’s impossible. I am emotionally involved, and while Levi hasn’t quite played that card yet, he can at any time. I need to make sure he doesn’t do that here, in front of Cosmos. Levi takes my shrug as a cue to continue, so he turns back to Cosmos.

“So why do you all look like famous people?”

“That’s the question you want to ask? Not like, will you help us with stuff?” I blurt out.

“I’m sorry,” he says to both Cosmos and me. “But it’s really frickin’ weird. And it doesn’t make any sense at all. So yeah. I wanna know,” Levi says defensively.

“Yes. I can see how our appearances might be disconcerting. We are given our faces at random when we are born, though that is not the right word—finished is perhaps a better one? We use records from the past—television shows, films, paintings, portraits, renderings of death masks. Celebrities leave behind the most data. We feel it is only right to honor those humans who contributed to their society rather than destroyed it. I myself have been modeled after Deborah Mitford, a Duchess of Devonshire. She was a fascinating lady who saved a great estate and who was also a wonderful writer. And Feather, did you see that he was modeled after Beethoven?” At that I do a double take. Feather looked nothing like the wild-haired composer I’d seen in portraits. Cosmos continues, “You will probably have noticed, too, that our names are proper nouns. We thought it distasteful to give ourselves human features as well as human names. So we are assigned random nouns instead. Everything is assigned randomly, even our jobs. I was programmed with more leadership code than any other SenMach, gleaned from the writings and teachings of humanity’s greatest leaders. I am in charge of our people, but we have a council with advisors from each faction of our population. Gardeners are given code to understand landscaping. Scientists are also coded in this way. We all have a purpose, and there is much contentment in that. We are also given two hobbies, to keep our circuitry active beyond our basic programming. One of mine is painting. I did the paintings you see here on the walls.”

“And no one ever complains about their jobs?” I ask, not even bothering to glance at the pictures. “The guy in charge of recycling isn’t bummed that he sorts waste and someone like you gets to lead your people?”

Cosmos gives me the most blank look I’ve seen her give yet. I can tell that she is trying to understand this question. “We are not humans. We are not ambitious or envious. It may be difficult for you to understand, but we believe there is a greater force guiding the random process. We are who we have been programmed to be. We simply could not be anything else.”

“What, like God? You believe in God?” I ask in surprise.

“No. But perhaps it is something else. Some buried code left behind by our creators. Some sort of human ghost in the machine, if you will. The humans that designed the first of us did so with the noblest of intentions. We in turn honor that genius and foresight by creating a society that seeks peaceful enlightenment in all areas. That is our goal, our reason for existence. Like any other child we want to make our parents proud. We want to solve the answers to the great questions that they could not.”

“Wow, that is super interesting. And very philosophical, but we’re actually in kind of a hurry.” I know it’s rude, but if I were to engage with Cosmos, I’d only be doing so to point out how wrong I think she is. That a lot of kids don’t give two shits about what their parents think of them, and even worse, a lot of parents can be oddly competitive with their kids and never want their children’s accomplishments to surpass their own. It’s time to try to get what we need and get out. If Levi wants to strike some kind of a deal, then okay, I’m willing to try, but I’m not going to argue the underpinnings of human motivation with a robot right now. “You see there’s a lot of stuff going on back on our Earth,” I continue, “very dangerous stuff, and we need to find that guy I asked about earlier because he could have some answers that we really need to potentially fix it. You’ve made some pretty amazing advancements here and I think it could be a big help to us. So is there any way you would be willing to share some of your technology? Even some of those bandages would be really great.”

“Very eloquent, Ryn,” Levi mumbles.

I don’t even bother to respond to that, continuing to stare at the SenMach sitting across from me.

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