by Amy Tintera
I nodded and took off for the tent used as the school. It was empty except for a Reboot who was probably almost in his forties. He was one of the only older Reboots I’d seen here, and I rarely saw him outside of the school tent. I couldn’t really blame him. It must have been annoying to be the only old person around.
“Do you mind if I have some paper and a pencil?” I asked.
He gestured at a cabinet. “Go ahead. Not too much.”
I took one piece and a pencil and shot him a grateful look. “Thank you.” I jogged back to the tent I shared with Wren and found it empty, so I plopped down on the ground and scribbled out a quick note to Tony. I tried to keep it from sounding terrifying, but maybe two “don’t panic”s would have the opposite effect.
The tent flap opened as I was folding the note and sliding it into my pocket, and I smiled as Wren peered inside.
“Hey,” I said. “I was just going to look for you. We’re leaving for Austin.”
“Now?” She blinked in surprise as she crawled inside and sat down on the mattress.
“Yeah. Thank you for getting me a spot on the shuttle. That was good thinking.”
A small smile crossed her lips. “You’re welcome.”
“Did you tell Riley why?”
“No. He’s knows something’s up, but it seemed kind of risky. Not that he’s totally on team Micah, but still, what we’re doing wouldn’t sit well with a lot of Reboots.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t think so?”
“We’re sort of taking the humans’ side.”
“We are?” I asked. “Are you okay with going to the cities to help them?”
She pressed her lips together, turning to look at the side of the tent. “If you’re going, I guess I’m going.”
Not exactly the enthusiasm I was hoping for. Annoyance flared in my chest, and I took in a deep breath. “You really don’t want to help them at all?” It came out more judgmental than I’d meant it. Or maybe I did mean it that way.
She brought her knees to her chest with a sigh. “You were right about warning Tony and Desmond. They helped us, so we should return the favor. But no. I don’t have a burning desire to go help people who hate me.”
“They don’t all hate us. You don’t give humans enough credit.” My anger started to seep through and I clenched my fingers into fists. She was willing to write off humans, but she defended Micah?
“And you give them too much! It hasn’t even been a week since a bunch of them tried to kill us both. And your parents—” She stopped suddenly, swallowing.
“No need to remind me about my parents,” I said tightly. “I remember just fine.”
“I know you do.” Her eyes were on the ground. “So I don’t understand why you’re so eager to rush back and help them.”
“And I don’t understand how you can turn your back when we have the opportunity to help. Not just humans, but Reboots, too. You saved everyone in the Austin facility with one other Reboot. One, Wren. Can you imagine what you could do with a hundred?”
She frowned at me and didn’t respond.
“They’re all dying in there and you don’t even care?” It was getting harder to keep my voice steady. “Look at what they did to me. To Ever. We can stop that.”
She looked like I’d slapped her, and I wished I hadn’t mentioned Ever’s name. Maybe I’d done it because she’d brought up my parents.
“It is not my responsibility to save everyone.” She glared at me.
“Whose responsibility is it, then?”
“You’re the one who wants to save everyone so badly! You do it.” She spoke barely above a whisper, but her words were furious.
“I want you to help me. I want you to want to help me.”
She paused, staring at me for so long I began to get uncomfortable. Finally she spoke quietly. “I don’t. I don’t want to help.” She shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you need to take a look at who I am, instead of who you wish I were.”
I blinked, taken aback.
“Maybe you don’t like who I actually am.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t really blame you.”
I reached for her arm but she shook me off, leaning out of my reach. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Of course I like who you are.”
“Why?” She met my eyes. “Why are you distraught about killing one human but you don’t mind that I’ve killed dozens? Why are you okay with my lack of guilt about it? About the fact that I followed orders without question at HARC for five years? I did things I haven’t even told you about, yet you put your foot down within weeks of getting there. Why are those things okay for me but not for you?”
“I . . . I don’t . . .” I fumbled for words, but I didn’t have any.
“Just think about it,” she said softly.
I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her of course I liked her and I didn’t care about any of that.
Did I care about any of that?
She ducked out of the tent and I didn’t try to stop her from going. I sat on the ground, blinking as I tried to process everything she’d just said to me.
I knew Wren had killed more people than I wanted to count. She’d killed some of them right in front of me, to save me, and I hadn’t faulted her for it. It was self-defense. She never wanted to kill anyone.
And neither did I. Yet I had. And if I started judging her for something she had to do, shouldn’t I start judging myself?
“Everything is not black and white, Callum.” Her words to me yesterday suddenly made more sense. I didn’t think I saw as much gray as Wren—not even close—but maybe I could see why she’d likened herself to Micah. Why she’d been confused about how the way she killed was different than the way he did.
Or maybe it wasn’t different. Maybe Wren and Micah and I were all the same. We’d all killed. I bet if a human looked at the three of us they wouldn’t see much of a distinction.
I sucked in a breath at that thought as I shakily crawled out of the tent. I tried not to think about how humans saw Reboots, because sometimes I still felt like a human. But I couldn’t help but think, for a moment, that Wren had a point about them not wanting our help.
TWELVE
WREN
I PROBABLY PICKED THE WRONG MOMENT TO ASK CALLUM THOSE questions. In fact, now, as I sat alone in the tent listening to the sounds of dinner being served, I thought I should have kept those questions to myself forever.
But we would have ended up here eventually, me wondering why he liked me when he seemed to despise so many of the things I’d done. Perhaps it was best for him to consider it now.
I swallowed, terrified of the conclusion he would come to.
The sounds of laughter drifted in from the fire pit, and I reluctantly pulled back the flap of the tent. I wanted to avoid people entirely, but I’d missed lunch and couldn’t ignore the rumbling in my stomach.
As I approached the fire pit, I saw two figures standing not far from the food table, gesturing wildly with their hands.
“Just because I think my own father isn’t a bad guy, doesn’t—” Addie yelled, but Kyle cut her off.
“That kind of human-lover talk is going to get you dropped real quick!”
“What the hell is ‘dropped’?” She made an annoyed sound. “You are all—”
“Whoa.” I grabbed her wrist before she could say something that would get back to Micah. I didn’t know what “dropped” meant, either, but I couldn’t imagine it was good. Reboots around them stared worriedly, and I was reminded of the scared look the girl had given me when I stood up to Micah. He was obviously implementing some pretty serious punishments.
“You need to get your Reboot under control,” Kyle snapped at me, his massive chest heaving up and down.
Anger flared in my chest, mixing with my lingering frustrations with Callum. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Addie was under my control.”
She snorted, quickly covering her mouth
with her hand as Kyle glared at me. The area around us quieted, and he stared at me a beat longer before stomping away.
“That was awesome,” Addie said.
“You’re being a pain in the ass.”
She laughed, following me to the dinner table. “How so?”
“I think you’re supposed to be more discreet in your human-love. Not to mention the fact that I’ve seen Jules watching you since you called her out about the birth-control thing.”
“I can’t help it if the chick’s crazy.”
I gave her an annoyed look and she sighed. “All right, I’m sorry. I’ll be more discreet.” She grinned as I speared a piece of meat and plopped it on my plate. “Look how well you got me under control.”
I almost laughed, but the weight sitting on my chest wouldn’t allow it.
Her eyes flicked over my face, concern in her expression. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I ducked my head and headed for an empty spot on the ground. She sat down next to me, and a few Reboots to our right watched us. Isaac was with them, as well as the new Reboot. Her dark hair was pulled back and she looked like she hadn’t slept in two days. She noticed my gaze and a smile barely tugged at her mouth. She nodded. I returned my attention to my food, unsure what to make of that.
“Can I ask where you stand with helping the humans?” Addie whispered.
“I’d rather not,” I said flatly. “But I do agree with warning Tony and Desmond. Callum is trying, tonight.”
“That’s awesome. I thought he might be.” She glanced at me. “But you’re not angry? My dad risked his life to get us to the reservation. And then it’s run by a crazy guy who wants us to have a bunch of babies and kill everyone. It sucks.”
“You’re really pissed about that baby thing, huh?”
“It’s total crap. I haven’t been having sex at all because I’m worried they snuck in at night and took it out without me knowing.”
Amusement played on the edges of Addie’s lips and I laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”
“They’re all total nut jobs, so I wouldn’t put it past them. Have you checked yours? Did Micah harass you to take it out?”
I shook my head. “No. Not that it matters.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve never . . .”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Never? Not even with Callum?”
“No.” I brushed my fingers over my shirt where my scar was. I’d thought about having sex with Callum, more than once since we’d been at the reservation. I’d been thinking about what he said, about how he wanted to see my scars if we had sex, and how maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. They were just scars, after all.
A lump formed in my throat again when it occurred to me that it might not happen at all now. I quickly pushed the thought away.
“Why not?” Addie asked.
“I’m, you know . . . weird.”
She laughed harder than I would have expected. “You really are.” Her smile faded to a more serious expression. “Is everything okay? With Callum?”
“Fine,” I said, taking a bite of meat and avoiding her eyes.
“He’s crazy about you, you know,” she said softly, like I hadn’t just told her things were fine. “I see other girls looking at him sometimes, and he doesn’t even notice. He only sees you.”
I blinked as tears threatened to spill over, and cleared my throat.
“Sorry,” Addie said. She waved her hand and gave me a sympathetic look. “None of my business.”
I ate a bite of meat and dropped my fork on my plate. Part of me wanted to escape to my tent, but the other part of me liked having someone to talk to again. I hadn’t even realized that was something I liked about Ever until she was gone.
“You and Micah spend a lot of time together,” Addie said quietly.
“I guess.”
“Has he told you his plans?”
“Not really. He doesn’t trust me. He creeps me out and I’m pretty sure he knows it.”
Addie snorted. “Yeah. I don’t think I could keep it together the way you do. I’d go off on him.” She gestured to something behind me. “But he lets you into his tent. And he keeps his plans in there, doesn’t he? Schematics of all the facilities?”
I nodded slowly. “That’s what he told me.”
“Maybe you could grab them one day? Like when we’re about to leave? I think it would be helpful.”
I gripped my fork and started moving the remains of my meat around the plate. “Maybe,” I said softly. I didn’t want to talk about Micah’s plans to kill the humans, or my role in stopping it. It made me think about Callum.
Addie sighed like she was disappointed. I felt like telling her to join the club.
A figure blocked the heat of the fire and I looked up to see Isaac standing in front of us. He was rubbing his fingers over one arm like he was nervous, and he cleared his throat before kneeling in front me.
“It occurred to us”—Isaac tilted his head to the group of Reboots he’d been sitting with—“that there will be a bunch of new Reboots after we kill all the humans.”
I blinked at him, not sure what to make of that statement.
“They’ll wake up just like we did, with their families gone and a bunch of crazy-ass people wanting to be their best friends,” he whispered.
I almost laughed, but Isaac’s expression was serious. Addie and I exchanged a look, her face full of hope.
Isaac leaned a little closer to me. “So if the Austin Reboots are going to do something to stop it, we’re with you.”
THIRTEEN
CALLUM
THE SHUTTLE BEGAN TO DESCEND AS WE NEARED AUSTIN, AND Micah turned off the lights so we wouldn’t be spotted. I sat in the back next to Riley, and Micah and Jules talked quietly in the pilot’s section.
I leaned my head back against the metal wall and closed my eyes.
Why are you distraught about killing one human but you don’t mind that I’ve killed dozens?
Wren’s words kept circling my brain, demanding my attention.
Why are you okay with my lack of guilt about it?
I’d always thought deep down she did feel guilty. I just thought she didn’t show it. Maybe she did feel guilty, and she didn’t even realize it?
Maybe you should take a look at who I am, instead of who you wish I were.
I ran my fingers through my hair. It was true that I liked Wren the way she was, but it was also true that I thought she’d change the longer we were away from HARC. I thought she’d have more interest in other people. I thought she’d be excited to use the skills HARC taught her to help, instead of to kill.
I glanced at Riley next to me, and it occurred to me for the first time that he might know Wren better than I did. He’d known her for years, since she was a newbie.
He noticed me staring at him and gave me a weird look.
“What was Wren like as a newbie?” I asked quietly.
“Tiny. Quiet.” He paused, thinking. “Terrified.”
“Terrified?” I repeated skeptically.
“Definitely,” he said with a laugh. “Everyone was making a big deal about her number and she was so young. And she was so freaking traumatized by how she died that every loud noise made her this huge, shaky mess. She was always trying to hide in corners and under tables.”
My chest twisted around until it was hard to breathe. I couldn’t imagine her like that. Even at twelve, I couldn’t see her ducking under tables, terrified.
“I almost didn’t pick her,” Riley continued. “I wanted the highest number, but I was worried I couldn’t be hard enough on her. I felt too bad for her.”
“I can’t really imagine,” I said quietly, dropping my eyes.
“Sure you can,” Riley said. “You were there.”
“Yeah, but I was seventeen. And I didn’t have to train anyone. I just did everything Wren said.”
I still did everything Wren said. I realized a big part of me was waiting for her to jump on
board with saving the humans, and tell me exactly how to do it.
But she was right. I was the one who wanted to save them, who needed to save them, so I had to be the one to take charge. If I didn’t step up, we were all going to end up following Micah to the cities to kill everyone. That wouldn’t be on Wren, it would be on me.
I returned my attention to Riley, a frown crossing my face. “If she was so terrified, why did you shoot her all the time?”
A flash of irritation crossed his features. “Because she was so terrified. Man, she would have been dead in six months if I hadn’t gotten rid of her fear of guns. HARC wasn’t giving her a free pass because she was twelve. I couldn’t, either.” He shrugged. “Would you really want to be the one who did such a crappy job training the twelve-year-old that she ended up dead? I couldn’t . . .” Riley shook his head and cleared his throat. “I couldn’t handle that.”
I leaned back in my seat with a sigh. Now I felt like an ass. When he explained it like that it sounded like I should be thanking him, not be angry with him.
“She’s entirely different from when I left,” he continued. “The Wren I knew never would have escaped.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No. She liked it there. Not just accepted it, but liked it.” He shook his head. “From what I gathered, her human life was pretty bad. HARC actually looked good in comparison.”
Wren had never told me much about her human life. I’d pried a few details out of her, but I’d come to the same conclusion as Riley. It hadn’t been that great.
He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “She must have really liked something about you to leave.” He opened one eye. “I don’t see it.”
I laughed softly. I forgot sometimes that Wren considered HARC her home, and I realized suddenly that she hadn’t used that against me yet. It would have been easy for her to remind me that she’d saved me—more than once—and maybe I owed her. I did owe her.
I ran my hand over my face as the shuttle touched down on the ground. Micah killed the engine and I unbuckled my seat belt and got to my feet. I had a gun strapped to either hip, but I was the only one who didn’t pull it out as we got off the shuttle.