Chapter 17

Save me.

Those words are carved onto the wall with a dirty handprint beneath them. As we walk, dust swells beneath our feet as we tread the parched Earth. My neck aches from the device Scipio implanted before we left, so I'll be electrocuted before I can make a break for it. Jax's device is inserted into his wrist, so taking it out won't be easy. If I'm not careful, I could cut an artery, and I won't be able to heal him before he bleeds out.

"What is this place?" I mutter to myself. Jax flashes me a tight smile and doesn't say anything in return. Instead, he gives my hand a light squeeze, his expression growing serious. Clenching his jaw, he frowns at the other tiny writings on the stone surface.

"Stay down," Mateo murmurs, and I notice the quiver in his voice as the slightest tinge of emotion returns slowly. He guides us past the wall once it opens, and we venture further into the cluster of buildings nearby.

The structures here are relatively intact, save for a few missing bricks and the small holes in their roofs. Wild, mutated plants take over the abandoned houses, their roots digging into the cracked walls before twisting towards Eorius. Now, the sky has stopped glitching, and it remains a pale blue color. Never have I felt more exposed. Never have I craved the cover of night so much until now.

People in radiation suits roam the area, holding their touchpads while treading carefully. There's a soft click followed by a small gasp. My gaze rakes over the dried grass, resting on Esper's ashen face. Her eyes are milky white with a golden rim around her missing irises. Soon, the wind picks up and blows her hair over her face, breaking her stare. Another click shatters the dreary silence, the quick sound of death as inconspicuous as the slightest rustling of leaves. Her identification bracelet snaps and slips off her wrist, meaning there's no pulse. It exposes the Outsider's insignia in its wake.

Maybe she was just a girl with Esper's mask. That's what it is, and I dare not think of any other possibility or ask Mateo for the truth.

Biting my lip to stop a cry, I watch as the people in radiation suits load her onto the back of a truck. The urge to scream, kick, and punch is so overwhelming that I start to tremble with need, the heat rising to my cheeks and surging through my veins. My body shakes while electricity fries my nerves.

I steal a glance at Mateo as scorching tears flow down my cheeks. By now, the crimson color in his pupils has faded to a dull, pulsing glimmer. He looks around discreetly before lowering his voice. "I'm sorry, but the device activates whenever you get too worked up."

"Whatever you said about getting us to the outside world, was that a lie? Seems like Scipio just wanted to use us all this time, and she's doing the same to you," I say dryly.

"The Outsiders saved me so that I'd owe them. There's no way around it unless I break our bond, but there'll be hell to pay for that." He rolls up his sleeve to reveal the arrow insignia burned onto his arm. "I'm only taking you guys outside once I'm free from this."

"Then what's the bond about?" Jax asks.

"A debt of service, like paying them back for saving me. There's no such thing as a free lunch, you know?"

I file that information in my mind, and I'll decide later if having him around is a risk I'm willing to take.

Eorius begins to burn brighter and hotter than anything I've ever seen. The fiery ball of light bakes the land slowly but surely. Even with a small slice of it peering through the clouds, my skin turns ruddy with their onslaught, and it's not the comforting warmth that I've always known. Finally, Mateo leads us to an observation tower where the Proxy leaders are probably watching. "I'll take out the devices when we're alone up there. The higher we are, the more difficult it is for Scipio to control me."

I don't bother answering him. Instead, I think about Esper, her face still fresh in my mind, especially her face, devoid of emotion and life. Sighing, Mateo carries on through the thick forest. Everything is a tangle of roots and branches, forcing us to squeeze through whatever small space until we get to the other side.

Stoic faces stare back at us, their bodies trapped in transparent containers. All of them don the same plain-white pajamas, so I'm guessing they're false immunes. Their eyes are the same shade of white as Esper's, and their bodies are slumped against the glass. It's when they blink that I know they're still alive. Slowly, the forest uncloaks to reveal a fenced area of exo energy reserves powering the electric, barbed-wire fences. The observation tower now overlooks a mansion.

The sprawling house is a vision of white, immaculate beauty. Its corner posts frame the home with a polished façade, matching the paleness of a roof that resembles porcelain. Lights penetrate the windows. They cast a soft glow on the slanting eaves before cascading down and bleaching the manicured grass in a lifeless, ghostly shade. Researchers gather at its front porch, nursing shots of bubbling drinks.

President Finley mingles with them. A foul smell lingers, and it reeks like a carcass. "That's the Auction Manor, where people bid for recycled body parts. Come see for yourself." He walks towards the back of the observation tower, where he picks the lock with ease and holds the door open for us.

"You're insane, Matt," Jax rasps.

"There's no one here for now. I've memorized the lookout schedules already, so we're safe for a few minutes. Don't ask why or how. Just count your blessings and get a move on."

We slip inside and march up the spiraling stairs.

The sides of the building grow narrower as we reach the top, forcing us closer together. Sultry air laden with the smell of sweat and dirt swirls between us. Leaning closer to the wall, I listen to the distant cries slipping through the cracked bricks. Once we're at the top, we pause at the small window, and I watch as Sentinels emerge from the manor, making their way to the false immunes and releasing them from the enclosures.

The prisoners don't put up a fight. Their faces are drained, and my gaze skims over their crinkled, papery skin that reveals the meandering paths of their veins. Everyone stands in ascending order of the serial numbers sewn onto their pajamas. Once they're assembled, the researchers take that as their cue to leave. Already, they're downing the last of their drinks and heading inside, their forced smiles dying alongside their gag-worthy pleasantries.

Mateo moves closer to me. "See that pit over there? That's where they'll stack the false immunes' bodies before auctioning them away for research. They're planning to make a new prototype of humans that won't be affected by radiation or any sickness. Proxy thinks it's Plan B if anything goes wrong with the real immunes or if the Trials don't work out somehow."

"You gathered all this from spying on them, right?" My voice comes out weak and unrecognizable. The shadow of death hovers over me, and the haunted looks of the false immunes replay endlessly in my mind. Mateo bites his lip, resting his hands on my shoulders like an unspoken plea to meet his eyes. "I wish I could've done more, Aria."

I wait a long while before daring to glance outside again. The execution pit is almost black and impossibly deep. Off to the side, derelict buildings lean over the ditch. They cast lanky, distorted shadows as Eorius continues its restless path across the sky. Gnarly plants climb the concrete, their poisonous, low-hanging fruit dangling from the shriveled flowers.

The false immunes shuffle to the center of the pit at the Sentinels' command. Their cheeks are sunken, and their skin is so sallow and bruised that Eorius's light lends a jaundiced shade to their complexion. One by one, their knees give out, and they fall to the ground. Even those left standing are swaying on their feet. With great effort, they lift their gazes to look at the executioners. A cold, clinical stare settles on the Sentinels' faces as they point their guns straight ahead.

President Finley pumps his fist once, and shots ring through the area. The false immunes collapse in a heap, and I watch the final rise and fall of their chests. Blood flows from their heads, dropping down into the deep abyss. The Sentinels never take their eyes off the false immunes and wait until they're sure everyone is dead. Stepping over the mass of bodies, they load the corpses onto some waiting trucks.

A slight jolt of electricity shoots up my spine. I bite my lip, breathing shallowly and even until the pain passes. "Can I get it out of you?" Mateo asks.

He reaches for his knife just as I manage a nod. My fingernails curl deeper into my palms until my skin has red, crescent-shaped marks. Burning dread teases the tip of my tongue, and I watch for the slightest hint of red in his eyes or any sign that he's still under Scipio's trance. Jax slaps his hand away. "You said that Scipio's control is weaker here, but it doesn't mean it's completely gone. I'll do the cutting."

Mateo sighs, but he lets his brother take the weapon instead. Jax barely spares him a glance before turning to me. He gently parts my hair, and the cold metal ghosts the nape of my neck. Quickly, he makes a small incision and pulls out the chip. As my skin heals, I take the knife from him and glance at his wrist.

Jax reaches up and smooths my furrowed brows, shooting me a tight smile. "We'll figure it out."

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Mateo points to a gray building ahead. "We're near the recycling center, and that's where they're taking false immunes," he goes back down the stairs and opens the door to a slight crack. For a moment, I see my parents' bleeding faces again, the bullets flying clean through their heads and stealing the life out of them. The fleeting memory brings a strange tinge of longing. Jax closes his hand around mine, and I hold on tightly.

Following Mateo outside, he leads us near the barbed wire fences where the false immunes are kept. Most false immunes are slumped in their enclosures, pale and dazed.

"Aria?" Someone says from behind me.

I whirl around, but I don't recognize the girl standing there. She pauses mid-step and stares at us like she can't believe we're real. Her green eyes are rimmed with a golden gleam, so I'm guessing she now has a new ability mutation. "Krystal," Jax whispers, and I give him a grateful nod.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, making my way toward her.

Her leg is swollen, and she sports a bandage on one arm. "They're coming." She pushes me back into the forest, Jax and Mateo following behind us. My head hits a tree, and I barely suppress a cry. Krystal gives me an apologetic smile before pressing a finger to her lips. Beyond the foliage, shady figures move through the area. It's the Sentinels making their rounds. I listen to their footsteps, not daring to breathe until I can't hear them anymore.

Rolling over, Krystal studies Mateo's face with a curious expression, and that's where Jax and I explain everything. Mateo even holds out Seth's mask as proof. She takes it and feels the material, still staring at him incredulously.

Taking one more peek outside, I signal to the others to get moving. Mateo rubs the side of his head, where a silver liquid trails down the side of his face. He reaches up and swipes it away, smudging it over his hair before dusting himself off.

Krystal tugs on my sleeve. She cocks her head at the recycling center. "There's a way to get inside, but you'll need to get past the false immunes first."

"Wait. How did you—"

"Go now. Talk later." She leads the way to the recycling center, only slowing down when she reaches one of the enclosures near the area. Most of it is covered in a light fog, making our skin prickle and redden. From a distance, the guards look like long, uneven shapes. We take a detour around the back, squeezing through a hole she made at the bottom of the fence.

She slides in first and helps us through, limping as she tries to regain her balance. The sharp edges of the barbed wire dig into my ankle while I crawl through the narrow opening. Using sign language, Krystal communicates with some of the false immunes, and they smile back at her. We're met with guarded stares and wary expressions. Many others shuffle around in a daze murmuring gibberish under their breath.

Finally, we stop behind a woman stooping down and staring at a centipede wriggling about in the soil. "Is this the last one?" she asks without turning around. At first, I'm not sure what she's talking about until Krystal pulls out some cured meat from her bag and hands it to the false immune. The exchange is wordless.

"Even if it isn't, we don't have many days left anyway. You all should move on first," the woman says as she clutches her stash close to her chest. Leading the way through the group of false immunes, she walks with us until we reach the other side of the fence. A dirt path leads to the recycling center, separated only by some sparse trees. "Be careful out there. Some crazies just planted more bombs in the ground."

"Thanks, mom."

"But I don't have a—"

Krystal sucks in a sharp breath and shakes her head. "Sorry, forget I said anything."

The woman furrows her brows and tilts her head like she doesn't understand what's happening. Reaching down, she pulls at a loosened section of the barbed wire and gestures for us to go through.