Chapter 21

Once Eorius resumes its path, we pack our things and prepare to move. All we need to do is to find and destroy the radiation core before our time is up. Cass volunteers to stay with Gwen and Philip until the end comes for them. She adjusts the bedspread and lays them down gently. They've been sleeping more than usual, barely eating or drinking anything. Though Cass is still relatively awake, she's starting to get a little delirious.

"We'll all be happy up there," she points to the sky, smiling for the first time, "so don't worry about us."

She gestures for us to get going and climbs the stairs to the trapdoor, unhinging it and letting us outside. I nod gratefully, and we hit the road again, following Eorius's fading light hanging high against the azure backdrop of the sky.

"That wall wasn't there before," Mateo says, pointing to the gigantic slab of concrete that looks like it was torn out of a skyscraper. I gulp and face him, trying to read his expression and look out for the crimson color in his eyes. Thankfully, it's not there yet. Mateo also points straight ahead to some abandoned buildings, the signs outside so corroded that I can't make out the words. "These are the labs for Eorius, but I doubt they'll be of much use anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"The explosion cut off Proxy's exo energy route, so we can't use anything even if their equipment is still working fine." He gestures to the red blinking lights that pierce through the thick bushes. "Even the backup generator is busted." Mateo's voice is strained now, and he's growing breathless. Once the shade of coffee-brown, his eyes turn to the color of blood. "Proxy's energy is growing stronger, so I can't get too close to you guys. I'll wait for you somewhere further away, and when it's over, stay where you are until I come back for you." His movements are stuttered now, and his bones creak with every step. Scowling, he limps away until he's a few feet away from us.

The leaves rustle, and the trees sway. Out of nowhere, a wall appears next to the one in front of us. Then there's another and another until we're locked in a massive enclosure. More real immunes walk out of some glowing portals, looking as confused as I am. It's almost like they don't know how they got here, and now we're all stuck in a cage.

A thunderous clap erupts, and a hologram of Cleo appears in a beacon of light from above. "We've gathered all of you here to discuss Eorius's recent explosion. It was unexpected, and we know that the Outsiders are responsible," she lets out a shaky breath, "One of them found Eorius's monitoring lab. She set the artificial Sun on its highest burn cycle. Here's the footage if you don't believe me."

With a wave of her hand, Cleo pulls up a surveillance clip of Scipio sneaking into the labs. I can't see what she's doing inside, but I soon understand what's happening as Eorius grows larger and brighter. There's a flash of light, followed by glowing streaks of electricity as the Sun rips itself apart. The ground vibrates. Warning sirens ring out, but their wretched cries are promptly snuffed out in Eorius's explosion. Scipio heads outside and spares her handiwork a brief, appreciative glance before slipping away.

I stifle a groan, though the others aren't so subtle. Cleo clears her throat and adjusts her perfect braid that's plastered to her thinning hair. "I hope most of you will make it past these walls, but before that happens, we'll need to run a Simulacrum first."

Murmurs break out among the crowd, and Cleo stares blankly at us. Her face is expressionless and almost bored. "This test is simple. All we need to understand is where you stand with Proxy, that's all."

"What's the Simulacrum for?" someone asks. Her voice trembled as the words tumbled from her mouth.

Cleo offers a tight smile. "You'll experience the memories of the false immunes, but they were stopped before they could make it outside. Think of yourself as a video game character who died and respawned. How would you do things differently? If given a second chance, would you still choose to escape or remain in the experiment camps until it's time? Now that you've made it this far, we want to know if you share in our vision for the future."

They're probably trying to see if we'll submit to them or if we'll act like the Outsiders.

Soon, a prickling sensation starts in my neck. It lasts for a fraction of a second, and the last thing I see is Mateo peeking through a cracked wall nearby. Then, he's gone. The Simulacrum is starting.

"Want some?" Jax hands me a sweet. He works another one free from the parchment and pops it in his mouth. It's tempting, and I finally give in. Still, I study his features, looking for anything that could mean he isn't real. That's what the Simulacrum does to the mind. I've experienced it before in our trauma training at the Institution. For a while, I lived through the mind of a mother who'd recently lost her child. I felt like death after that module.

Shaking those memories away, I reach up and trail a finger over Jax's arm.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

I drop my hand, cheeks burning as he studies me. "I wasn't sure if you were real or not."

Chuckling, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Then he grabs my hand, brushing it against one of the low-hanging branches. It feels like a plastered surface, the ridges and bumps unmistakable beneath my touch.

"There's a building next to us, but the Simulacrum disguises it."

I hear the heavy breathing and the tentative footsteps of the others, but I can't see them. All I catch are glimpses of mere silhouettes. Suddenly, the plants recede to reveal a tall structure. Someone waves at us through the sole window, and the door swings open, letting us into a plush meeting room.

The massive screen in front lists the database of our serial numbers. Cleo is there already, and she taps the display to give the numbers a shuffle. Jax's bracelet blinks red, along with a few others. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, I shoot him a terse smile and a quick nod. He plants a chaste peck on my lips in front of everyone, and Cleo taps her foot impatiently at our exchange. The group disappears behind the last door at the back, leaving us waiting in silence. A few minutes later, I'm called into the rooms.

The guards lead us down the hallway. Soon, almost everyone peels away from the group, disappearing into the rooms along the corridor until I'm the only one left. My guard shoves me inside the cramped space, where Cleo stands much too close for comfort. She takes a seat facing a chair. Her blue eyes are unmoving, trained on me with hawk-like precision. No matter how I fidget, they never break their unsettling stare. Never once does she blink.

"Remember that everything is monitored. Your movements, your thoughts, and your emotions. We know it all." She clicks the door open to reveal a black, swirling expanse. "This is false immune EL520's memory." Swallowing the lump in my throat, I face the scene before me.

Thunder rolls across the sky, each clap sending vibrations to the wooden planks beneath me. Each breath becomes labored. The side of my cheek burns with splinters. As I touch the tender spot, I'm careful not to bump against the lifeless faces around me. They're at various stages of decay, and some of them have bones peeking through their rotting flesh. The liquid spilling from their wounds soaks into the vandalized floor. Mustering all my strength, I try to free myself from the weight above me. Little by little, I manage to wriggle out of the entangled pile of bodies.

Racing a small window at the side, I peek outside. A Proxy building stands among the trees, and I glimpse a hint of the Capital City in the distance. Its skyscrapers pierce the gathering clouds, and the streets are dotted with people going about their day. It's as if they don't know that all false immunes have targets on their backs.

Is this what it means to be a free prisoner? To always have to look over your shoulder to see if you're next?

I slip outside. Pretending to wander around aimlessly, I put on a dazed expression, keeping my steps to a slow shuffle. The guards pay me no mind. As I walk around the compound, I realize it's the same one where Krystal's mother was locked. We're all donning the old pajamas with their faded stripes and different serial numbers printed on the top corner. It looks way different from what it is now.

I scan the area for an escape route, but there's only one so far. The fence seems straightforward, but it's too easy to get caught if I'm not careful. Sauntering to the camp's edges, I plucked out the weeds while searching for another way out. Then, a loud cry and gunshot fire shatters the quiet morning. Following the direction of the false immunes, I stumble upon a smudge of crimson on the grass.

The lump in my throat is unbearable now. I join the onlookers gathered around a battered man, watching while he writhes and squirms. His tears are quickly washed away under the first drops of acid rain.

A guard stands over him with a gun in hand.

I lash out and kick the weapon out of his grip, but I'm not fast enough. It fires a shot into the air, and the deafening sound cackles in the whirling wind. A false immune helps me up. "Don't run. Just fight to the end," he says, the brewing urgency in his voice making my heart stutter.

"What?"

His shoulder explodes in a burst of crimson, and a scream falls from my lips. The guard slams me against the fence. Streaks of exo energy dance across my tattered skin, exposing me further to the downpour. I don't see anything else except red, excruciating visions of death. Gritting my teeth, I kick and thrash in the mud, drawing obscene curses from the guards. Through the downpour, I can barely make out the pitter-patter of feet crashing against the damp Earth.

My vision is gradually returning. At first, I make out the vague silhouettes of men standing in the rain. Then, one of them steps closer. His face is inches from mine, and I shrink away. "EL520, is that you?" His voice holds a tinge of hurt, but I've got no time to dissect what it means as another guard takes his place.

This one has a huge black eye. He draws nearer until the tip of the cold barrel is pressed against my forehead, pinning me against the harsh surface. A slow smirk creeps across his features. "You're too predictable. This is where they always go."

"Shoot me. I dare you," I glare at him, pressing the barrel harder to my skin. I decide when it ends—not him and not the Proxy.

He fires at my chest. A deep scarlet explodes through the cavity. My insides feel like they've been ripped and twisted apart from the inside out. I gurgle blood as it collects in my throat, suffocating me. He strolls into my line of sight and aims straight for my head. I take in every detail, from his artificial eye to the scar on his neck and how his hands tremble slightly.

Everything fades away.

I can't feel anything, not even the slightest tingling sensation. My arms and legs have numerous tubes, feeding information to a monitor. There, I catch glimpses of a graph. There's a straight line across.

"Tell me, don't you feel fear?" Cleo looks up from her computer, her brows furrowed.

"I thought I died." The words feel foreign, and that voice isn't mine. I'm guessing this could be one of the experiments for the false immunes.

"You did, but we kept your consciousness alive in a different body. You're still EL520, understand?" She adjusts her glasses against her nose bridge, her gaze intensifying.

Silence hangs over us. Only the drumming of the nearby machines reminds me of reality.

The cooling liquid no longer flows through me, and the machines stutter to a halt. Cleo walks over and deftly removes all the needles attached to me. She roughly rubs the wounds with a medicated cloth until my skin heals, and a testing bracelet is quickly attached back to my wrist. As the guards slap on my handcuffs, I turn back to Cleo. "There's one thing I wanted to ask. Since this body doesn't belong to me, what happened to this person, and what was her name?"

"There's no reason to care. Even if we told you, it doesn't bring her back to life."

I bristle at her words. "No, but at least she'll have some dignity knowing someone cares about her."

Cleo remains quiet.

The guards drag me away to another waiting room with only a desk and a chair. It has no windows and no clock. Perhaps the only comfort is a piping hot sandwich sitting on the desk and a cup of black coffee. I wolf the food down since the next test could begin in a few minutes. Halfway through my drink, the guards reappear at the door, escorting me to a new location.

We walk to the other side of the building, where there's a sprawling lobby fitted with numerous rows of lifts. The guards shove me inside the small space when an elevator arrives. There's barely enough room for the three of us. At the slightest movement, my shoulders brush against their arms, making them recoil. I ignore their reactions and stare at the digital display above. We're heading for the highest floor. Once we're here, I realize we're in a waiting room. The guards set me down in the only chair.

I don't need to wait long. A green, blinking light appears on the ceiling, and my testing bracelet vibrates.

My palms are sweaty even before I open the door. As I step inside the pitch-black room, the door automatically locks once it's closed. Immediately, flashes of lights appear. They illuminate the room, and a gust of sand swirls around my legs.

As I start adjusting to the light, a holographic prism appears before me in the middle of a desert. The Sun hangs high in the cloudless sky, the sweltering heat causing me to become restless. Then, the ground begins to shake as it splits to form a single, fragile column of soil leading to the prism. I probably hesitated for too long.

I dash for the straight route before it collapses any further. Both feet land safely on the delicate, thinning path of dirt. Pushing my feet harder against the weakening earth, I feel like I'm running on air. By the time I'm a few steps away from the prism, all that's left is a sliver of soil barely wide enough for both feet to walk on. Once I'm safely on the other side, the last bit of the ground disappears beneath.

The door slides open to reveal shards of glass floating in display panels throughout the room. I instantly recognize these as memory fragments. Some are huge, extending about ten feet high, while others are smaller at about three feet high. I walk around the room, scrutinizing each one. They all date back from the year of my birth until this year.

I walk around them, pausing at one with Mateo's face. Reaching up to touch it, I watch as the shard floats up to the ceiling and slides inside a rectangular slot.

"You will now relive EL520's memory dating back to the first year after the war. Please choose your actions wisely," a mechanical voice chimes.

In less than a second, I see whitewashed walls and people in white coats rushing around. This is where the mother works as the head nurse. Immediately, I take the lift to the 20th floor. I run across the corridor until I reach the ward. I knock softly, but no one answers. Gently, I open the door and take a peek inside.

Scipio sits by someone's bed and discreetly wipes her tears. Then, she stands to leave, fiddling with her wallet as she pulls out some spare change. Scipio rushes through the door and walks by me, almost knocking me over. "I'm sorry, El," she mutters. Taking tentative steps to the bed, I move to stand where Scipio is. An intravenous drip feeds into the boy's arm. His legs are cast, and his neck is cocooned in a brace. He has smoldering gray eyes and slightly wavy hair. The chart at the edge of the bed reflects his name, Mateo Menzel.

Is this a hospital from the outside world?

Suddenly, the machines start beeping frantically. He goes unconscious. A woman in a gray suit bursts through the door, drawing the curtains around his bed as she works on him. More people surround him. My heart races until my pulse thunders in my ears. Still, my body remains paralyzed, and my limbs won't cooperate.

They're already charging up the defibrillator. From the corner of my eye, I spot someone leaning against the doorframe. He wields a wrench, spinning it around as he watches on. The unmistakable tattoo of an eagle shows through the thin fabric of his shirt. He slides on a coat to hide it and stares right through me. He's a Proxy worker disguised as an Outsider. As Scipio appears at the door, the man's hand dips to his holster and fires at her.

The last thing I hear is her piercing scream.

Cold sweat drips down my forehead, tangling in my auburn strands. I'm lying on the chilly marble floor of the prism. On the pale surface beneath me, some words materialize.

Result: Pass

Cleo sits across me. She nods as she waits for me to get up, gesturing to the chair before her. Reluctantly, I take a seat.

She cracks a small smile. "I must—"

"Why did I pass?"

At first, she looks stunned and a little annoyed. Then, she closes her eyes and composes herself. "Because you've accepted that death is inevitable, and that's the whole point. It's about learning to let go of yourself before the end comes, EL520."