Chapter 12

This isn't a dream. I pinch myself just to make sure, studying the cobwebbed ceiling while I rub my sore arm. Like a prisoner on death row, I lay wide awake with my heart hammering in my chest. Hours have passed since our trip to the cemetery, but I haven't slept a wink. Esper didn't seem to notice as she rolled out of bed at an ungodly hour this morning. She packed her things quickly, pausing briefly as she whispered, "I hope I'll see you on the other side, Aria."

Snapping out of it, I finally kick the sheets away and force myself up. My hands move like clockwork, and I stuff some bottled water and snacks into my rucksack. Proxy gave us a poncho and some knives too. I twirl the weapons in my hand, feeling their weight and how they can't compare to Father's handiwork. Still, they're better than nothing. My gaze soon finds some clothes on the counter where our pajamas used to be.

We have insulating tops with matching pants. There's also a brooch in the shape of a Leviathan, and I fasten it onto my shirt.

Giving my room one final sweep, I make my bed and drag myself outside. Pounding footsteps echo off the walls as the others rush by me. We all head downstairs to the cafeteria, where a researcher waits for us. She could be the one who asked me if I wanted the Wanderlust. I scrutinize her features, searching her frown, crooked nose, and downturned lips, but my mind only draws a blank.

Jax and Seth arrive soon after, both rubbing the sleep from their eyes. I nudge Jax and cock my head at the woman, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. "That's Cleo," he says. I nod, reminding myself that my condition is getting worse and there's nothing I can do about it.

Cleo moves to stand, and she motions for us to follow her. We walk through the grand hallway until we reach the back of the building. A massive elevator greets us with a melodious chime, and we're crammed inside. Once she presses the button for the basement level, Cleo turns to us with narrowed eyes. "Remember, we'll be watching you."

Murmurs break out everywhere, but she claps for silence just as the lift grinds to a halt. The doors open to reveal an empty room as large as a warehouse, and something stings my right arm like a blade carving a path onto my skin. Slowly, the number 14 appears in black ink. Cleo clears her throat and addresses us. "Everyone will have the number of days left inked on your arm, showing two weeks from now."

She walks out of the elevator. Once she's at the far end of the room, she presses a button on the wall. "Choose any portal you'd like, and each one will take you to different parts of the map. If you can find and destroy the radiation core, the Trials will end. If not, you'll have to make do until the two weeks are up."

The shutters to the next area slide open, revealing a black expanse with glowing slots. Thousands of them float in the space, and we walk along the stairs leading to row after row of entrances. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stop at a random portal and hope for the best. Jax decides on the one above me. With one leg perched on the higher step, I give Jax a quick squeeze. He sighs and pulls away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Good luck," he breathes.

I nod, and we enter our different realities.

A wall extends the entire width of a forest, stretching as high as the treetops. Moss fills a carved inscription on its rough surface, and the rogue weeds drape over the uneven stone. Reaching up, I part the wild, dangling plants and stare at the words on the weathered structure—Variable One.

As I step back, the wall splits down the middle for me to walk through. Then, it shuts me inside. There's no going back now.

A sprawling field extends far into the horizon. Wading into the dried columns of tall, swaying grass, I gather enough to make a small bunch in my hand. Cooking them with animal venom makes a poison for potential prey, enough to stun but not to kill. At the Institution, trainers taught us all we needed to know about plants and how to hunt. If anything happens to the Sanctuary, the plan is to move to an emergency safe zone and survive caveman style.

My hand seeks my knife, and I sigh when the sharp metal scrapes my fingertips. Never have I felt less prepared. Though I handle a weapon well enough to survive, clean kills are tough for me. I could stab an animal and then butcher it—as if that counts.

Creeping through the field, I trudge deeper into a forest until mud and dirt start to soak into my shoes. Leaves poke and scrape at my skin, and I keep going until the stench of death hits my face. I think I hear a voice, or maybe it's a trick of the wind that's messing with my head. An unmistakable whistling of a knife slices through the air once more. The weapon cuts like an ore blade; perhaps, it's even better than the one Father fashioned for me. Reaching up, I pressed a hand against my neck, where it nicked me.

I barely duck in time as another one lodges itself into a tree and bursts into fine splinters. Whirling around, I don't see or hear anything else, not even the slightest shadow or the crunch of a twig that gives anything away.

Trudging through the undergrowth, I search for animals when I hear a soft curse. My breathing stills almost entirely, and I stare at someone's hand sticking through the plants. It's a man with a knife sticking out from his neck. I gently angle the blade into the moonlight and study it, raking my gaze down its gleaming surface until I spot Proxy's eagle insignia engraved on the metal.

Letting out a long breath, I study the man's face once more. He has a scar of two arrows on his forehead, one pointing to the left and the other to the right. His jet-black hair ruffles in the wind, some of the longer strands brushing against his half-opened eyes. Recognition tugs at the back of my mind. It's that man in the cloak, the one who said that I'll always be one of them, right before the orientation started. A liquid, red snake trickles down my fingers, carving a meandering path down my hand before staining the grass.

"Stay back. He's gone."

I look up to see a young boy pointing at the body. A girl stands stiffly next to him, tugging at his arm and nudging him to leave. Both couldn't have been older than nine or ten, and they lack the black, mutating veins that false immunes have.

I don't know what they are.

They start moving away, but their expression grows warier with each backward step. Just behind them, there's a sliver of metal peeking through the soil. It glistens like a trap.

"Stop!"

It's too late—the ground caves in, dropping into the ravine below. Everything happens in a blur, and I'm left clinging to the jutting rocks. A stone grazes my brow.

Hanging on the edge of a boulder, the children grit their teeth, clawing and scratching their way up. They paint the rock with crimson streaks of desperation until the agony stops them from trying. Instead, they turn and stare at me vacantly, the shadows of the night highlighting the sunken rims of their eyes. Silhouettes of swaying trees sculpt stark angles and harsh expressions onto their faces. There's an emptiness in their features—an acceptance of certain death.

The boulder holding its weight starts to teeter, slowly slipping further into the abyss. Staring down below, I don't dare to move. Don't dare to think.

The crunching of bones comes first, followed by a high-pitched screech that makes my ears ring. Deathly silence lingers like a sour taste on my tongue. Still, the rock rattles beneath my grip, and I hang on even tighter until my arms are numb and a slick warmth burns my palms.

I'm about to start climbing when a flash of luminescent green blinks in the shadows. It starts small, growing and stretching, flickering like a blinking light. And it's gone. Before I can breathe again, a low growl escapes oblivion. Out of the depths, a scrawny creature with green eyes sniffs the sides of the rocky ravine. The moonlight barely skims its contorted body, and I watch as it unfurls in a series of popping and snapping noises, the joints groaning until it stands on all fours.

It looks strangely human in a way. Somehow, a crazy part of me thinks that it probably is. Tattered clothes still cling to its body, and it even has a broken watch on its wrist.

The creature studies me and lets out a piercing shriek. Galloping up the abyss, its thunderous footsteps growing desperate and insistent. Its head is deformed with a dent in the back, and it has no nose, with its features pinched into a mouth that stretches from ear to ear. Its gangly body is surprisingly strong, and I can see its ribs straining against its translucent skin. With a shrill cry, it sinks its fangs into my leg. Its venom drips down my skin, snaking down the creature's distended mouth.

"There's a way up here." I point to the sturdy block of rocks just out of reach, fighting the scorching feeling clawing at my throat in a silent scream. The boy frowns as he surveys the route upwards and nods. His fingers slip off the boulder's edge, but the girl catches onto his wrist.

"Let me go," he rasps.

Understanding soon flits across his friend's face, but she doesn't listen. Her knuckles turn white, and her nails leave red streaks on his pale skin. The boy pushes her hand away, loosening her grip. "Hold onto me," she says, her voice turning strained. "Remember, you said that Proxy won't find us. We just need to—"

"And they won't, Elora."

Biting his lip, the boy takes out his knife and slits Elora's hand. She bites back a scream, but he's already falling, and the creature lunges at him. I lower myself and reach down, brushing my fingers with the boy. Still, I can't catch him in time before the beast's claw impales his soft belly and swallows his cries with another stab through his eye.

"I'm sorry." Elora's voice is barely audible. Clenching her jaw, she reaches for the nearest rock and climbs up. Her body quivers with the effort, and I adjust myself, so I can catch her if she falls. My fingers are barely hanging on now. With the last burst of strength, Elora holds on to another boulder above and hauls herself up slowly. After that, I follow her steady path to safety.

She sits still and unmoving. On her wrist are serial numbers, and a burn mark of Proxy's insignia sits on her neck. As soon as I'm on solid ground again, the weariness gives in, and I lay sprawled on the grass in a pool of sweat. I relish the dampness of the dirt while I stare at the gathering clouds, not even blinking as the sky cracks open and drenches us in thunderous misery. Mercifully though, there's still some moonlight, so I hope the rain will just be a passing storm. I roll over and try to heal Elora's wounds, but she grabs my hand and shakes her head. "You...n-need to find the rest of us."

I don't answer, and she doesn't let my silence faze her. "If you can't, we'll come here and get you."

The downpour drowns out her words before I finally register what she's saying.

"Who are you guys?" I ask.

She sucks in a deep breath. "Whatever it is, you need to kill me, or Proxy will. Find the others from the outside, and they'll help you."

She already has a knife dripping in a hardened, black substance and plunges it into her stomach. Her body goes limp, and she shivers beneath the rain's onslaught. Blood gurgles from deep in her throat and spills from her mouth. Elora's hand closes around mine. I hear her strangled sobs, wincing at every twitch of pain on her face, every tap of her finger on the ground. She cracks a weak smile of gratitude and breathes her last.

Rain forms a glistening layer over her skin. In her unmoving eyes, the reflections of the trees and the sky are crystal clear. She seems familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. Sighing in the roaring storm, I don't leave Elora's side for a while.

A strained cry rings out in the night. The boy is somehow still alive, but he won't be for much longer.