by Tahereh Mafi
“Oh.”
Warner laughs, his eyes pressed shut for a second. “You really never wanted to be there, did you?”
“What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “If you’re going to survive,” he says to me, “you can never be indifferent to your surroundings. You can’t depend on others to take care of you. You cannot presume that someone else will do things right.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t care,” he says. “You were there, underground for over a month, grouped together with these supernaturally inclined rebels spouting big, lofty ideals about saving the world, and you say you couldn’t even find your way around. It’s because you didn’t care,” he says. “You didn’t want to participate. If you did, you would’ve taken the initiative to learn as much as possible about your new home. You would’ve been beside yourself with excitement. Instead, you were apathetic. Indifferent.”
I open my mouth to protest but I don’t have a chance.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “Their goals were unrealistic. I don’t care how flexible your limbs are or how many objects you can move with your mind. If you do not understand your opponent—or worse, if you underestimate your opponent—you are going to lose.” His jaw tightens. “I kept trying to tell you,” he says, “that Castle was going to lead your group into a massacre. He was too optimistic to be a proper leader, too hopeful to logically consider the odds stacked against him, and too ignorant of The Reestablishment to truly understand how they deal with voices of opposition.
“The Reestablishment,” Warner says, “is not interested in maintaining a facade of kindness. The civilians are nothing more than peons to them. They want power,” he says to me, “and they want to be entertained. They are not interested in fixing our problems. They only want to make sure that they are as comfortable as possible as we dig our own graves.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he says. “It is exactly that simple. Everything else is just a joke to them. The texts, the artifacts, the languages. They just want to scare people, to keep them submissive, and to strip them of their individuality—to herd them into a singular mentality that serves no purpose but their own. This is why they can and will destroy all rebel movements. And this is a fact that your friends did not fully understand. And now,” he says, “they have suffered for their ignorance.”
He stops the tank.
Turns off the engine.
Unlocks my door.
And I’m still not ready to face this.
THIRTEEN
Anyone would be able to find Omega Point now. Any citizen, any civilian, anyone with working vision would be able to tell you where the large crater in Sector 45 is located.
Warner was right.
I unbuckle myself slowly, reaching blindly for the door handle. I feel like I’m moving through fog, like my legs have been formed from fresh clay. I fail to account for the height of the tank above the ground and stumble into the open air.
This is it.
The empty, barren stretch of land I’d come to recognize as the area just around Omega Point; the land Castle told us was once lush with greenery and vegetation. He said it’d been the ideal hiding place for Omega Point. But this was before things started changing. Before the weather warped and the plants struggled to flourish. Now it’s a graveyard. Skeletal trees and howling winds, a thin layer of snow powdered over the cold, packed earth.
Omega Point is gone.
It’s nothing but a huge, gaping hole in the ground about a mile across and 50 feet deep. It’s a bowlful of innards, of death and destruction, silent in the wake of tragedy. Years of effort, so much time and energy spent toward a specific goal, one purpose: a plan to save humanity.
Obliterated overnight.
A gust of wind climbs into my clothes then, wraps itself around my bones. Icy fingers tiptoe up my pant legs, clench their fists around my knees and pull; suddenly I’m not sure how I’m still standing. My blood feels frozen, brittle. My hands are covering my mouth and I don’t know who put them there.
Something heavy falls onto my shoulders. A coat.
I look back to find that Warner is watching me. He holds out a pair of gloves.
I take the gloves and tug them on over my frozen fingers and wonder why I’m not waking up yet, why no one has reached out to tell me it’s okay, it’s just a bad dream, that everything is going to be fine.
I feel as though I’ve been scooped out from the inside, like someone has spooned out all the organs I need to function and I’m left with nothing, just emptiness, just complete and utter disbelief. Because this is impossible.
Omega Point.
Gone.
Completely destroyed.
“JULIETTE, GET DOWN—”
FOURTEEN
Warner tackles me to the ground just as the sound of gunshots fills the air.
His arms are under me, cradling me to his chest, his body shielding mine from whatever imminent danger we’ve just gotten ourselves into. My heart is beating so loudly I can hardly hear Warner’s voice as he speaks into my ear. “Are you all right?” he whispers, pulling me tighter against him.
I try to nod.
“Stay down,” he says. “Don’t move.”
I wasn’t planning on it, I don’t say to him.
“STEP AWAY FROM HER, YOU WORTHLESS SACK OF SHIT—”
My body goes stiff.
That voice. I know that voice.
I hear footsteps coming closer, crunching on the snow and ice and dirt. Warner loosens his hold around me, and I realize he’s reaching for his gun.
“Kenji—no—,” I try to shout, my voice muffled by the snow.
“GET UP!” Kenji bellows, still moving closer. “Stand up, coward!”
I’ve officially begun to panic.
Warner’s lips brush against my ear. “I’ll be right back.”
Just as I turn to protest, Warner’s weight is lifted. His body gone. He’s completely disappeared.
I scramble to my feet, spinning around.
My eyes land on Kenji.
He’s stopped in place, confused and scanning the area, and I’m so happy to see him that I can’t be bothered to care about Warner right now. I’m almost ready to cry. I squeak out Kenji’s name.
His eyes lock on to mine.
He charges forward, closing the gap between us and tackling me in a hug so fierce he practically cuts off my circulation. “Holy shit it’s good to see you,” he says, breathless, squeezing me tighter.
I cling to him, so relieved, so stunned. I press my eyes shut, unable to stop the tears.
Kenji pulls back to look me in the eye, his face bright with pain and joy. “What the hell are you doing out here? I thought you were dead—”
“I thought you were dead!”
He stops then. The smile vanishes from his face. “Where the hell did Warner go?” he says, eyes taking in our surroundings. “You were with him, right? I’m not losing my mind, am I?”
“Yes—listen—Warner brought me here,” I tell him, trying to speak calmly, hoping to cool the anger in his eyes. “But he’s not trying to fight. When he told me about what happened to Omega Point, I didn’t believe him, so I asked him to show me proof—”
“Is that right?” Kenji says, eyes flashing with a kind of hatred I’ve never seen in him before. “He came to show off what they did? To show you how many people he MURDERED!” Kenji breaks away from me, shaking with fury. “Did he tell you how many children were in there? Did he tell you how many of our men and women were slaughtered because of him?” He stops, heaving. “Did he tell you that?” he asks again, screaming into the air. “COME BACK OUT HERE, YOU SICK BASTARD!”
“Kenji, no—”
But Kenji’s already gone, darting away so quickly he’s just a speck in the distance now. I know he’s searching the vast space for glimpses of Warner and I need to do something, I need to stop him but I don’t know how—
“Don’t move.”<
br />
Warner’s whispers are at my ear, his hands planted firmly on my shoulders. I try to spin around and he holds me in place. “I said don’t move.”
“What are you d—”
“Shhhh,” he says. “No one can see me.”
“What?” I crane my neck to try and glance behind me, but my head knocks against Warner’s chin. His invisible chin.
“No,” I hear myself gasp. “But you’re not touching him—”
“Look straight ahead,” he whispers. “It won’t do us any good for you to be caught talking to invisible people.”
I turn my face forward. Kenji is no longer in sight. “How?” I ask Warner. “How did you—”
Warner shrugs behind me. “I’ve felt different since we did that experiment with your power. Now that I know exactly what it’s like to take hold of another ability, I’m more easily able to recognize it. Like right now,” he says. “I feel as though I could quite literally reach forward and take hold of your energy. It was just as simple with Kenji,” he says. “He was standing right there. My survival instincts took over.”
And even though this is a terrible moment to dwell on these things, I can’t help but allow myself to panic. That Warner can so easily project his powers. With no training. No practice.
He can tap into my abilities and use them as he pleases.
This can’t possibly be good.
Warner’s hands squeeze my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I’m trying to see if I can pass the power on to you—if I can retransfer it and make us both invisible—but it seems I’m unable. Once I’ve taken the energy from someone else, I can use it, but I can’t seem to share it. After I release the energy, it can only be returned to the owner.”
“How do you know so much already?” I ask, astonished. “You just learned about this a few days ago.”
“I’ve been practicing,” he says.
“But how? With who?” I pause. “Oh.”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s been rather incredible having you stay with me. For so many reasons.” His hands fall from my shoulders. “I was worried I might be able to hurt you with your own power. I wasn’t sure I could absorb it without accidentally using it against you. But we seem to cancel each other out,” he says. “Once I take it from you, I can only ever give it back.”
I’m not breathing.
“Let’s go,” Warner says. “Kenji is moving out of range and I won’t be able to hold on to his energy for much longer. We have to get out of here.”
“I can’t leave,” I tell him. “I can’t just abandon Kenji, not like this—”
“He’s going to try and kill me, love. And while I know I’ve proved otherwise in your case, I can assure you I’m generally incapable of standing by as someone makes an attempt on my life. So unless you want to watch me shoot him first, I suggest we get out of here as soon as possible. I can feel him circling back.”
“No. You can go. You should go. But I’m going to stay here.”
Warner stills behind me. “What?”
“Go,” I tell him. “You have to go to the compounds—you have things to take care of. You should go. But I need to be here. I have to know what’s happened to everyone else, and I have to move forward from there.”
“You’re asking me to leave you here,” he says, not bothering to hide his shock. “Indefinitely.”
“Yes,” I say to him. “I’m not leaving until I get some answers. And you’re right. Kenji will definitely shoot first and ask questions later, so it’s best that you leave. I’ll talk to him, try to tell him what’s happened. Maybe we could all work together—”
“What?”
“It doesn’t just have to be me and you,” I tell him. “You said you wanted to help me kill your father and take down The Reestablishment, right?”
Warner nods slowly against the back of my head.
“Okay. So.” I take a deep breath. “I accept your offer.”
Warner goes rigid. “You accept my offer.”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do this without you.”
I feel the breath rush out of him, his heart beating hard against my back.
“But I need to know who else is still alive,” I insist. “And the group of us can work together. We’ll be stronger that way, and we’ll all be fighting toward the same goal—”
“No.”
“It’s the only way—”
“I have to go,” he says, spinning me around. “Kenji is almost here.” He shoves a hard plastic object into my hand. “Activate this pager,” he says, “whenever you’re ready. Keep it with you and I’ll know where to find you.”
“But—”
“You have four hours,” he says. “If I don’t hear from you before then, I’ll assume you are in some kind of danger, and I will come find you myself.” He’s still holding my hand, the pager still pressed against my palm. It’s the craziest feeling, to be touched by someone you can’t see. “Do you understand?”
I nod, once. I have no idea where to look.
And then I freeze, every inch of me hot and cold all at once because he presses his lips to the back of my fingers in one soft, tender moment and when he pulls away I’m reeling, heady, unsteady.
Just as I’m regaining my footing, I hear the familiar sound of an electric thrum, and realize Warner has already begun to drive away.
And I’m left to wonder what on earth I’ve just agreed to.
FIFTEEN
Kenji is stomping toward me, his eyes blazing.
“Where the hell did he go? Did you see where he went?”
I shake my head as I reach forward, grabbing his arms in an attempt to focus his eyes. “Talk to me, Kenji. Tell me what happened—where is everyone—?”
“There is no everyone!” he snaps, breaking away. “Omega Point is gone—everything gone—everything—” He drops to his knees, heaving as he falls forward, his forehead digging into the snow. “I thought you were dead, too—I thought—”
“No,” I gasp. “No, Kenji—they can’t all have died—not everyone—”
Not Adam.
Not Adam.
Please please please not Adam
I’d been too optimistic about today.
I’d been lying to myself.
I didn’t really believe Warner. I didn’t believe it could be this bad. But now, to see the truth, and to hear Kenji’s agony—the reality of all that happened is hitting me so hard I feel like I’m falling backward into my own grave.
My knees have hit the ground.
“Please,” I’m saying, “please tell me there are others—Adam has to be alive—”
“I grew up here,” Kenji is saying. He’s not listening to me and I don’t recognize his raw, aching voice. I want the old Kenji, the one who knew how to take charge, to take control. And this isn’t him.
This Kenji is terrifying me.
“This was my whole life,” he says, looking toward the crater that used to be Omega Point. “The only place—all those people—” He chokes. “They were my family. My only family—”
“Kenji, please . . .” I try to shake him. I need him to snap out of his grief before I succumb to it, too. We need to move out of plain sight and I’m only now beginning to realize that Kenji doesn’t care. He wants to put himself in danger. He wants to fight. He wants to die.
I can’t let that happen.
Someone needs to take control of this situation right now and right now I might be the only one capable.
“Get up,” I snap, my voice harsher than I intended. “You need to get up, and you need to stop acting reckless. You know we’re not safe out here, and we have to move. Where are you staying?” I grab his arm and pull, but he won’t budge. “Get up!” I shout again. “Get—”
And then, just like that, I remember I’m a whole hell of a lot stron
ger than Kenji will ever be. It almost makes me smile.
I close my eyes and focus, trying to remember everything Kenji taught me, everything I’ve learned about how to control my strength, how to tap into it when I need to. I spent so many years bottling everything up and locking it away that it still takes some time to remember it’s there, waiting for me to harness it. But the moment I welcome it, I feel it rush into me. It’s a raw power so potent it makes me feel invincible.
And then, just like that, I yank Kenji up off the ground and toss him over my shoulder.
Me.
I do that.
Kenji, of course, unleashes a string of the foulest expletives I’ve ever heard. He’s kicking at me but I can hardly feel it; my arms are wrapped loosely around him, my strength carefully reined in so as not to crush him. He’s angry, but at least he’s swearing again. This is something I recognize.
I cut him off midexpletive. “Tell me where you’re staying,” I say to him, “and pull yourself together. You can’t fall apart on me now.”
Kenji is silent a moment.
“Hey, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a friend of mine,” he says. “Have you seen her? She’s a tiny little thing, cries a lot, spends too much time with her feelings—”
“Shut up, Kenji.”
“Oh wait!” he says. “It is you.”
“Where are we going?”
“When are you going to put me down?” he counters, no longer amused. “I mean, I’ve got an excellent view of your ass from here, but if you don’t mind me staring—”
I drop him without thinking.
“Goddammit, Juliette—what the hell—”
“How’s the view from down there?” I stand over his splayed body, arms crossed over my chest.
“I hate you.”
“Get up, please.”
“When did you learn to do that?” he grumbles, stumbling to his feet and rubbing his back.
I roll my eyes. Squint into the distance. Nothing and no one in sight, so far. “I didn’t.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Because that makes sense. Because tossing a grown-ass man over your shoulders is just so freaking easy. That shit just comes naturally to you.”