In the Afterlight (Bonus Content)

by Alexandra Bracken

  “How long?” I demanded.

  “How long have you been having those ‘stress headaches’?” Clancy folded his hands in his lap. “They’re the worst, aren’t they? I’m glad I haven’t been suffering through them alone. But you should know you only have yourself to blame. Every time you enter someone’s mind, you form a connection with them—their memories, thoughts, will become yours. Each time you came into my mind, each time I got you while your defenses were down, you let me reinforce our bond. You’re the reason I was able to do this.”

  “What did the messages say?” I demanded, stepping up to the glass. Nico slumped down against the wall behind me, hiding his face behind his hands. “Who were they sent to?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clancy said. “You’re both clearly too emotional to understand. You’ve been so stressed, Ruby. It’s harder to control your abilities when you’re so…frayed…”

  …Isn’t it?

  I heard the words like they had been spoken inside of my skull and immediately threw down a black wall between the two of us, clipping the connection before it could fully form.

  This was how he’d played me again—he knew the symptoms of anxiety and lack of focus, and even the headaches could be explained away by the stress of our situation.

  Again, and again, and again, I thought. Every time, I walk right into it. We were on different levels, and I needed to stop pretending like we weren’t. My mind hadn’t even been twisted enough to imagine he’d be capable of doing this.

  “That’s better.” Clancy gave me an approving nod. “You understand now. Your role in this is over. The Red is gone. You’ve set this up so well, it’ll be easy to step in and finish it. You can rest now. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “You knew he’d be hurt—killed,” I said, choking on the words.

  “Only because you guaranteed it,” Clancy said, victory making his dark eyes shine. “Who do you think sent a message to the trainers there, warning them to be on the lookout?”

  There was a moment of skull-shattering pain and then I did scream. I screamed and screamed, slamming my hands against the glass until I had nothing left but a miserable, low sob to give. My fault. My fault. My fault.

  “It’s a bit tragic, isn’t it? To give someone the one thing they desperately want, knowing that in the end, it only has the power to destroy them. He wanted so badly to know he wasn’t the only one like him—to fit in with us. It was pathetic.”

  I lurched forward, vision flashing red, black, white, the invisible hands in my mind already driving toward him.

  He couldn’t have this.

  East River, Los Angeles, Jude, the research, Cole—he had taken so much, destroyed every trace of hope just as it solidified into something real in my hands. He can’t have this. We were too close. I was too close to finishing this.

  Nico brought me up short, stepping in front of me brandishing the keys. Hands steady, expression focused, he unlocked each of the three deadbolts on the door.

  “Leave!” he said, throwing the door open. “Disappear again, the way you always do! Get out of here before you ruin everything for us—call off the people you hired to get you out, just…disappear!”

  Clancy stood up from his cot, a strange expression on his face.

  “Don’t you get it?” Nico said. “You haven’t hurt the people who hurt you by doing this—you never will, and you won’t admit it to yourself! You can’t even get close to them. The only thing you’ve ever done is hurt the kids who wanted to help you. We all wanted to help you!”

  “Then you should have stayed out of my way.”

  “Why did you help the League get me out of Leda’s program?” Nico asked, holding his ground as Clancy sauntered toward him. “You gave them the plan to extract me in Philadelphia, didn’t you? But you were the one who left me behind at Thurmond—you left all of us, even after you told us we would get out together, we would be able to live without fear or shame or pain. Clancy…don’t you remember the pain?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Why couldn’t you have just let me die like the others? You told me I had to live, but I wish I had just…I wish I had died, so you couldn’t have used me.”

  Clancy was watching him, an expression on his face I’d never seen before.

  “Why do you have to take every good thing we try to give you and break it into pieces?” Nico said. “You let them turn you into this…”

  “This is who I am,” Clancy snapped. “I won’t let them change me. I won’t let them touch me. Not again.”

  “No one is going to force you to have the procedure,” Nico said, his hands up, placating. “You’re free to go. You can disappear. Please…please…just call off the people who are coming. Please, Clance. Please.”

  “I told you to stay out of this,” Clancy said, his voice shaking, even as he eyed the exit, even as I could see him considering it. “Why can’t you ever listen?”

  “Please,” Nico begged.

  “It’s too late,” he said, hands fisted in his sweatpants. “If you weren’t so stupid, you’d have realized that. Can’t you hear it? They’re on the roof. They’re here.”

  “But you could get them to leave. You could make sure they go.”

  He’s working him, I realized, half-amazed. Clancy was actually considering this, weighing Nico’s words. I didn’t move, too afraid I’d break the strange spell that had fallen over the room. My eyes kept darting between the two boys just outside of the cell. The tension in the room was softening, easing naturally.

  “Who’s here?” came a soft voice from the doorway. “Who did you call to get you?”

  And just like that, Clancy hardened again, shoving past Nico. “Hello, Mother. Were you hoping I’d leave without saying good-bye?”

  “Who did you call?” she repeated, her stiff posture perfectly mimicking her son’s.

  “Who do you think?” he said, all sweetness. “I called Dad.”

  “I told you to leave!” I barked at her.

  “No, stay,” Clancy said. “Clearly, last time didn’t take. We’ll have to try again, and this time Ruby won’t be there to help you.”

  There was a beat of silence, and then the whole building rocked, shuddering under the force of some kind of explosion. Clancy looked past her, toward the door, and in that moment I was sure I had never hated him more.

  The light caught the gun—my gun, the one that had been knocked out of my hands in the computer room—as Lillian Gray raised it and aimed at Clancy.

  “I love you,” she said, and fired.

  A SPRAY OF BLOOD BURST FROM HIS SHOULDER, KNOCKING HIM BACK AGAINST THE GLASS WALL. But Lillian wasn’t finished. She took another step forward, ignoring her son’s scream of pain, and aimed lower, this time firing at his leg. The whole time, her face was a cold mask, as if she’d had to shut off some crucial part of herself to see this through.

  Nico and I jumped with each shot. He covered his face and turned away so he wouldn’t have to see it. I watched. I had to make sure he didn’t get away this time.

  The ceiling shook, the sound of heavy footsteps thundering over our heads. We’d have minutes, maybe, before they found us. It would need to happen fast. And wouldn’t you know it? The only thing I could think of as the old, familiar calm came over me was one simple phrase: accept, adapt, act.

  The certainty of it was more comforting than terrifying. That, too, seemed so strange—at some point, after pushing the possibility to the darkest corner of my mind, it had taken root and flourished. The old plan was gone. The new one bloomed in its place.

  The string around his neck holding the flash drive had slipped clear of Nico’s shirt as he stumbled away from Clancy, falling back against the cell’s glass wall. I was in front of him before he could catch his breath, gripping the black piece of plastic and yanking hard enough to snap the string he’d threaded it on. And before he could react, I shoved a shell-shocked Nico back into the empty cell and slammed the door shut.

  “No!�
��

  I had the keys. I barely heard the lock as it clanged into place.

  “No, no, no,” he moaned, “Ruby, you know what they’ll do. They’ll take you back to that place, they’ll kill you—they’ll kill you.”

  Dr. Gray had moved over to her son’s side, dropping to her knees to apply pressure to his wounds. At that, she looked over, startled.

  “I won’t let them hurt me,” I said, knowing what a hollow promise it was. But in that moment, I felt so sure of this plan, wanted so badly to make sure that it wasn’t derailed in the aftermath of all this, that I felt confident I could, maybe, influence enough of the PSFs to keep my life.

  I want to live.

  “It was supposed to be me. It should be me!”

  “Tell the others March first,” I said, pressing my palm against the glass and letting the keys fall to the floor. “March first. Harry knows the plan.”

  “Ruby,” he sobbed, “don’t do this.”

  I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and said quietly, “I can see it now—the road Jude talked about. It’s so beautiful. The rain’s gone and the clouds are moving out.”

  I want to live.

  I shouldered Dr. Gray aside and reached to take Clancy under the arms, refusing to sag under his dead weight. I dragged him through the doorway, into the short hall.

  “What are you doing?” The woman trailed after me, her hands, shirt, face all stained with her son’s blood. “Where are you taking him?”

  “Shut the door!” I said sharply.

  Nico was still pressed up against the glass, slamming his palms against it, when Dr. Gray shut the door on that last image. I looked down at Clancy’s dark head as I moved, listening to his half-conscious mutterings. The coppery stench of blood filled my nose. I looked down at my hands and thought, even now, he’s staining me.

  They cut the power just as I pulled Clancy through the last door. He slid free of my hands, thumping bonelessly against the tile. I glanced back, making sure Dr. Gray had shut the last door, securing Nico safely inside. I slid the flash drive into my boot and lay down flat on my stomach, stretched out over the cold tile. I was proud of the fact that my hands didn’t shake as I put them behind my head.

  Breathe.

  I went to that place deep inside, the one Zu had asked me about. I retreated as far as I could as the first beam of light slashed through the hallway’s darkness. Fear couldn’t touch me there, not even as I was hauled up by my hair and shoulder, a device flashing in my face. The dark spots in my vision blotted out the soldier’s face, and I couldn’t hear anything over my own steady heartbeat. When the grip on me tightened and something cold and metal pressed against the base of my skull, I knew they’d identified me.

  Clancy was hidden by a circle of men in dark fatigues as Dr. Gray was dragged off to the side, clawing at the soldier who separated her from her son. One of them, a medic, stepped away long enough for me to see them lower a white plastic muzzle down over his face.

  Radios buzzed, a swarm of voices flying over my head, and I heard none of it. Both of my hands were secured, the zip ties unbearable as the soldier holding me yanked them tight and flipped me over onto my back. Something jabbed into the side of my neck and I felt the pressure of the injection being forced into my bloodstream.

  They are going to kill me. I wasn’t even going to make it out of the building, never mind the state, if this didn’t work. I should have practiced. I should have found a way to try it on a group when my life didn’t rely on someone’s trigger finger.

  The drug they’d given me turned my limbs to powder. I felt light enough to be blown away, but it couldn’t touch my mind, not yet. I fought against the drag of my eyelids, the weight that settled over them. I had one…I had one more thing to do…

  I’d spent months carefully winding my gift into a tight spool, only letting it out by inches, and only when I needed it. The strain of keeping it bound up had been a steady, constant reminder that I had to work to keep the life I’d built for myself out here. It was a muscle I’d carefully toned to withstand nearly any pressure.

  Letting it all go felt like shaking a bottle of soda and ripping off the cap. It fizzed and flooded and swept out of me, searching for the connections waiting to be made. I didn’t guide it, and I didn’t stop it—I don’t know if I could have if I tried. I was the burning center of a galaxy of faces, memories, loves, heartbreaks, disappointments, and dreams. It was like living dozens of different lives. I was lifted and shattered by it, how strangely beautiful it was to feel their minds linked with my own.

  The spinning inside my head slowed with the movement around me. I felt time hovering nearby, waiting to resume its usual tempo. The darkness slid into the edges of my vision, seeping through my mind like a drop of ink in water. But I was in control of the moment, and there was one last thing that I needed to say to them, one last idea to imprint in their minds.

  “I’m Green.”

  I woke to cold water and a woman’s soft voice.

  The smell of bleach.

  The aftertaste of vomit.

  Dry throat.

  Cracked, tight lips.

  The metallic banging and clattering of an old radiator in the instant before it let out a warm breath of air.

  “—need to run the test while subject is conscious—”

  Wake up, I commanded myself, wake up, Ruby, wake up—

  “Good. There cannot be any confusion on this, do you understand?”

  I dragged myself up and out of a haze of pain and grogginess. My eyes were crusted with sleep. I tried lifting a hand up to wipe it away, to ease the tingling at the tips of my fingers. The Velcro restraint jerked but held firm, cutting into my bare wrists with a vicious bite as I tried to rise up off the freezing metal examination table.

  The cold water hadn’t been water at all, but sweat. It dripped down into the white plastic muzzle trapping each labored, heated breath. The black spots floating in my vision cleared, adjusting to the room’s harsh artificial light. The pieces began to make sense. The poster on the wall, the one with the color chart outlining each of the abilities, Red to Green—Psi Classification System, my lips formed the words on top.

  High up in the corner of the room, a lidless camera eye was blinking like a heartbeat.

  Calm down, Ruby. The rational part of my brain was still firing, at least. Calm down. You’re alive. Calm down.…

  It was sheer will and nothing else that finally brought my pulse back down. I breathed in my through my nose, out between my teeth. This was Thurmond—the Infirmary. I recognized the lemon-scented terror of it and the sounds of kids crying nearby, the rattling of carts, heavy booted footsteps, and still some part of it felt unreal to me, even as the last moments at the Ranch slammed back into me. The flash drive—my boots were still on, they hadn’t taken them, thank God. I tried twisting my foot around the restraints, but I couldn’t feel it against my ankle bone. I flexed and then pointed my toes, nearly crying in relief when I felt the sharp plastic corners under my heel. It must have slipped down.

  You came here for a reason, I reminded myself. The others need you to finish this. You have to finish this.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images that poured in from the darkest corner of my imagination. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they were just going to kill you. I saw the image of Ashley’s pale, gray face. The way her stiff hand had fallen onto the ground, dangling into the ditch they would lower her into. Maybe this was about having an official record of where my body was buried.

  And suddenly, it didn’t matter what I was and what I had been through. I was ten years old all over again, waiting in terrible silence for someone to wake me back up from the nightmare I’d let myself get caught in. Help me, I thought, someone help me—

  Gem.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the familiar voice whispering in my ear, choked again, this time by grief. Don’t let me screw it up, please, help me, I thought. I was alone here, I kne
w I would be, and somehow I had misjudged how terrifying it would be. I reached for the image of Cole’s face and held it at the forefront of my mind. He wouldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t leave me.

  You have to walk out of here. I felt the words settle in my mind. Not just for them, but for yourself. You have to walk out of here on your own two feet.

  The door cracked open, and the sounds from the rest of the building came flooding in. An old man’s face appeared there, gray hair ringing his head like a cluster of old dust. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses, but I didn’t recognize him, not until he stepped inside and I sucked in a lungful of his terrible scent—alcohol and lemon soap. Dr. Freemont, still haunting the halls of this place.

  The man let out a noise of surprise. “She’s awake.”

  Another face appeared directly behind his, a woman in gray scrubs, who was quickly pushed aside to allow two PSFs in the room. Their black uniforms were pristine, from their polished boots to the stitched red Ψ on their chests. I saw their faces and it was like living inside of a memory. The moment took on an unreal quality.

  Focus.

  One last person entered the room. He was middle-aged, with sandy hair that turned silver under the lights. His uniform was different than that of the soldiers, a black button-down with matching slacks. I knew this uniform, but I’d only seen it once up close. Camp controller. One of the men and women who worked in the Control Tower, monitoring the cameras, keeping the day’s schedule.

  “Ah, there you are,” Dr. Freemont began. “I was just about to begin the test.”

  The man—his shirt was embroidered with the name O’Ryan—stepped up, sweeping a hand forward, a clear go ahead.

  I set my jaw, fingers curling into fists. I knew better than to ask what was happening, but I read the situation quickly enough to put together a guess. The old man pulled a small, handheld White Noise machine out of his pocket and adjusted a dial on it.