Chapter 5

Part II: Chrysalis

Metal bars cut across the flaming orb in the sky. My fingers coil around them, and I curse under my breath. The newly-formed cage isn't enough to fit all of us. Drones buzz around us, taking pictures and videos to be broadcast live in the Capital City. In the distance, the big screens display shaky footage. I watch myself curled up in the corner, all of us shrinking beneath the world's scrutiny as the camera pans out.

Opposite the stage, the Proxy politicians gather in a viewing tower. They're sitting around a conference table. Some of them watch us while others go through the pictures on the projector screen. Profilers gesture to the graphs and statistics, probably talking about how we'll survive for the next few years. Recruited for their intelligence and memory, they're the ones who'll be ranking our work performance at the Sanctuary.

Everything still feels like a dream. All around us, other platforms are making their debut on the grand stage. President Wright holds up a fist until the jeering stops, and everyone's eyes are focused on her alone. Satisfied that she caught their attention, she gestures to either side of her. "I'm sure you've all heard about the incident earlier. The false immunes are subdued and locked away now."

Her voice is loud and commanding but does little against the restless crowd. They push against the barricades, throwing punches against the Sentinels. President Wright runs a hand through her hair and sighs. It's the first time I've seen her face so pale, and her eyebags make her look like she hadn't slept in days. Forcing on a smile, she addresses everyone. "These young adults are the future, and they're the first batch to have children if they pass the Trials. Other real immunes will soon follow."

A woman screams. She kicks and claws at whoever tries to help her up, beating against the Sentinels' solid bodies until she's a blubbering mess on the ground. A guard offers to lead her away, his grim expression breaking his stoic exterior. President Wright shakes her head, gripping the sides of the podium as she stares back at us. "The Trials will begin soon, and it's the only way we can make things work again."

The crowd surges against the flimsy barricades, and the Sentinels rush to keep them at bay. "False immunes will be temporarily sterilized, so those who've received the letters this morning will proceed to our facility. Proxy thanks you for your cooperation." With that, President Wright gives us a dismissive wave. I don't know what happened to her, but she's a shell of the person we voted in. Gone are her speeches of promise and economic success. Anything she says is fuel to the fire now.

A screeching noise rings through the city—the jumbotrons flicker and glitch to reveal four words.

Proxy wants you gone.

I barely process the message when the screens are shut down. Guards pull up in massive trucks. The Sentinels cut through the sea of people, shoving them into the waiting transports and driving off like madmen. There's only one surviving hospital in the area—the soulless, pale building where I was born. I'm guessing that's where they're going.

While the other Sentinels are busy, the Taser guy leads the new group of guards to us. He barks an order at them, but they don't flinch even as he spits in their faces. After rattling off some instructions, the Taser Sentinel and his guards haul our cages to the back of monstrous vehicles I've never seen before. "We're taking you to prepare for the Trials," someone says. I don't resist when the guards reach through the bars and slap the shackles on our wrists. They push us into a compartment with only one small window to look outside. Even then, the glass is stained with oil and fingerprints, so I can't make out anything that's too far away. Soon, the engine chokes to life, and we start down the road.

I've been fighting the urge to look up, but I can't take it anymore. Looking through the window, I watch the crowd spill onto the streets. They release white flower petals to the wind. "That's how they wish luck for the new graduates," the girl next to me says. She's the first one to speak, and as she turns to face me, I notice the thick rings of scar tissue around her eyes. No, it can't be. Without being too obvious, I fiddle with a hangnail on my thumb before stealing a glance at her.

"Esper?"

The girl turns to me, her face contorting in mock horror. "Aria, you couldn't recognize me? I thought the scars would be a nice addition before I came back," she laughs mirthlessly. I stiffen, and my brain goes into panicked overdrive. "Sorry, that's not—"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you. It's great to be back, I guess."

Chewing my lip, I feign interest in the scenery outside and watch the people go by. Esperanza was one of my classmates at the Institution, but I hadn't seen her in months. Everyone said that she was suddenly pulled out to be homeschooled. I didn't buy that explanation, though. Only the children of governors could afford private tutors. Even then, they had to be supervised, and their sessions recorded for monitoring purposes.

The other girls study the steel around their wrists, the tension never leaving their bodies.

"When did they start doing the flower petals thing?" I ask.

Esper shrugs, focusing on the rusted section on the side of the truck. We drive away from the main roads and into the open country. Away from the city center, the aura forms a wispy layer in the cloudless sky. It lends a rosy tinge to the manicured fields, purifying the air wherever it goes. Homes dot the scenery, but most of them are empty for now. From here, I can make out the Sanctuary where our clustered neighborhoods begin.

I focus on the brick walls on both sides of the road. It extends for miles, guarding its secrets within its crimson embrace. The guards at the gates punch in some numbers, and we enter the world of horrors. People roam around aimlessly behind a barbed-wire fence. They have no names, only serial numbers sewn onto the left-hand corner of their plain white pajamas. Huge blue-black patches are spreading fast on their grey skin. They stare blankly at us, eyes flickering with a hint of red.

Then, it's gone. They go back to milling about the area. Some of them rake the leaves, while the others stoop among the bushes gathering the weeds. The rest of them face the walls that are too tall to climb, running their hands across the chalk lines that mar the uneven bricks. My gaze flickers to the yellow sign on the fences.

Danger. Beware of violent false immunes. Interaction is strictly prohibited.

The truck slows to a stop, and the guards let us out of the cage, walking us to the nearest building—it's a rectangular block with windows identical to the three others at the back. All the structures are high enough to skim the aura.

Cleo steps through the sliding doors, never once meeting our eyes as she scribbles on her notepad. "The Trials will take place soon, but first, you'll need to build your strength. Follow whatever we've planned for you, and stick close to your groups." She hurries further inside, and I need to jog to keep up with her. We walk past rooms with beeping machines and data charts splayed on massive screens. The clicking sensation in my identification bracelet intensifies until we get to the end of the walkway.

An automatic door slides open to reveal an empty room the size of a few football fields. From the walls' reflective surface, I think those are privacy screens, though there's no way of knowing if they work the same as those at the Institution. Cleo flips a few switches, and the screens lower to reveal a boy. His synthetic skin is stretched across his face. It hugs the stark curves of his cheekbones and down to his muscled body. His blue eyes hold no emotion while he studies us carefully.

Cleo gestures to him. "This is Xavier, one of your artificial intelligence trainers. He and a few others will assess your abilities before the Trials, so we'll have a clear idea of how to design the experiments based on your aptitudes."

Xavier cracks a smile. It looks more like a grimace, but no one seems to notice. "This is the training pad. You'll be using this to test the limits of the human body."

"Limits?" Krystal asks.

Everyone turns to her, and she stiffens beneath their stares. Xavier nods. "For example, being immune makes you stronger than the average human, but that physical difference varies between people, depending on their mutations. We'll begin tomorrow morning."

Cleo nods. "For today, make yourselves comfortable at the dormitories until the orientation begins. If you need a break, the garden fields outside are always open." She makes a sharp right to an adjoining plaza area. Rough linoleum flooring gives way to expensive marble and tiles made of pearls and diamonds near the kitchen area. A fountain gushes recycled water, and it's already murky from a broken filter. The sprawling area makes the reception seem tiny in comparison. An elevator leads to our dormitories upstairs, and I vaguely recognize this as a celebrity's house. The government probably modified it to fit more of us at once.

Seth nudges me. "Meet me at the back of the dorms tonight."

I don't have a chance to answer before he walks away.

Punching in some commands into her tablet, Cleo sends the room numbers and access keys to our identification bracelet. She says it conserves plastic resources since we wouldn't need key cards. We're taken upstairs in random groups, and the shackles are broken before we unlock our doors.

Inside, there's nothing except a set of twin beds, separated by a small side table—cameras on all four corners of the room blink red. A cracked mirror dangles from the concrete wall, and there's a dead cockroach by the dustbin. The only thing that's relatively new is the ventilation system at the ceiling. Even then, dust flutters in the warm rays piercing through the window. Drawing the curtains back, I set my things down by the bed and take in the view beyond the brick walls.

Nestled among the split roads and collapsed buildings, a quaint home glistens beneath Eorius, its roof caving in from a fallen tree. Rumors say that only one family still lives there. With the waning daylight, I'm sure their makeshift solar panels can't generate enough electricity for a day. A boy emerges from the house, muttering something as he flips a rude gesture at the government building.

"Thinking about home?"

I jump at the voice, only to come face-to-face with a smiling Esper. She bites her lip to stop a laugh, but it comes out anyway. Setting her things next to the other bed, she unpacks the few clothes she has and hangs them in a jiffy. I let my mind wander to everything earlier.

Proxy wants us gone, but why? Also, I've never seen that look on the Sentinels before. They're trained to never show emotion, but was that fear I saw today?

Esper snaps her fingers, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Spill the tea."

I pretend to examine the furniture, my gaze darting to all four cameras before landing on Esper again. Her eyes are golden now. My identification bracelet powers down, and the ventilation system stutters until it dies. Our lights are the last to flicker a strange shade of purple until darkness engulfs us. Here, there's no one except for two people and the secrets that should never reach the ears of the outside world. Hesitation lingers in the air, one that comes from being broken too many times, especially Esper. She clicks her tongue. "Missy, I don't have all day. Yes, the mutations make my body immune to electricity, and I can control it for a while. Shoot before the cams come on."

"That homeschooling thing wasn't real, right?"

Scrubbing a hand across her face, Esper sighs. "Aria, if this is your way of asking about my scars, you're not very subtle."

My cheeks flame, and I go back to staring at the bedsheets. Esper continues, "I can still see, just not like I used to. Sometimes, my vision goes white and all kinds of weird colors."

She winces at the memory. "I don't remember much, except I woke up in a hospital bed with all sorts of machines attached to me. Some Healers said that I had a disease and they couldn't fix the scarring. That's why I couldn't face anyone until I snapped out of it and stopped caring about how I looked." Esper shrugs, her gaze contemplative as a rueful smile tugs at her lips. "But you know what? People who don't love you at your worst don't deserve you at your best."

A bead of sweat rolls down her brow as she strains to control the electricity. "None of my friends take this as well as you. They freak out and apologize for it later, but it's not like I can blame them. I was afraid of myself too."

I meet her eyes, noting how the glow in them flickers as her strength wanes. "Can I try healing you instead?"

She nods, and I shift closer, pressing my hands to her scars. Esper quickly grows warm beneath my touch, the rough marks smoothing out and the peeling areas melding with the newly-formed skin. For a split second, I glimpse a vision of myself as a silhouette. Then it's gone—an alternate version of myself that I don't understand. "The Healers lied," I say dryly.

The lights come on, and the cameras flash once more. Soon, my identification bracelet comes to life again. Staring at the brightened room, Esper groans, shoving off the covers dramatically like I just woke her up. As she walks by me, she whispers her thanks before heading outside and slamming the door shut.

There's not much time until the orientation starts, so I pull out the wax paper I saved from the past few months. I gave up on pencils a long time ago, or rather, I learned to make do with what I had. Instead, I whip out some natural dye I made from the Sanctuary's plant seeds. Using some of our precious water, I mix it all and glide my fingers over the paper, layering the colors over each other. Sierra's face is still fresh in my mind and soon materializes on the page. Forgetting her is the last thing I want, so I write down her name on the back of the vanguard.

I painted my parents the same way after they died. Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I can't recognize people well. Unless I see some people often enough to remember them, I could walk by like a stranger. Esper and Seth might be one of the few exceptions.

Then, I throw my coat on. Burying my drawing beneath a pile of clothes, I head outside, where Jax greets me with his usual carefree grin. Seth powers ahead, shoving the others in his way until we get to the cafeteria.