by Dunn, Pintip
“What’s going on?” Callie whispers. “She’s not supposed to react like this.”
“The formula,” Ryder says furiously. “It’s the formula.”
I fall to my knees, my hands outstretched. What are they talking about? How else am I supposed to react? I’m supposed to die. And that’s what I’m doing now: dying.
Panic flashes across both Ryder’s and Callie’s faces, and they rush forward, catching me before I collapse.
I know rather than feel that Ryder’s hands are cradling my head. His mouth opens, an O of horror, and I want to reassure him. I want to tell him that I understand, that I forgive him. My last living act is to forgive him.
I reach out to touch his face…
And then everything goes black.
53
A brilliant light burns the backs of my lids. I crack my eyes open and immediately close them again. So bright, so glaring. It would be so easy to retreat back into the darkness, to retreat back into sleep. But I’ve been sleeping for a long time now. Something calls me from the edge of my consciousness. A thought that wants to get in. I can’t quite comprehend the meaning, but it makes me want to try again.
I flutter my lids. More light, but also more sensation. I’m lying on a cot, the mattress hard and thin. Barely more comfortable than the concrete of my detainment cell. With each blink, I catch glimpses of a wall, one with bends and grooves. Perhaps a partition. The groaning and clanking of a machine fills my ears, along with loud indistinguishable chatter, the kind that a stadium full of people would produce. There’s also a thudding sound, as though a battering ram is being driven against a wall. And I smell…evergreens.
My eyes fly open. “Where am I?” The words rasp from my throat. I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry.
Someone holds a tin cup of water in front of me. Taking the cup, I turn and look straight into the eyes of an angel.
“Ryder,” I breathe. Oh dear Fate, he’s here. He’s here. The sharp edge of his jaw catches the light, and his startling deep eyes pierce into me. His soft lips part—the softest lips I’ve ever seen—and I pick up his hand and press it against my heart. “Are you dead, too?”
“You’re not dead. If you were dead, could you feel this?” In one smooth motion, he slides forward and presses his mouth against mine, at once strong and gentle, sweet and burning. I want to weep. I feel it all in sharp hyper-focus. His lips, rubbing against mine like electric-charged silk. The little flicks of his tongue that make me want to curl into myself. The mint flavor of his toothpaste. This is nothing like the hazy fog-like film that I imagine shrouds the afterlife. Nothing like the imprecise, ungraspable quality of a dream.
This must be real. I must be…alive.
He pulls back, too soon, and tangles his fingers in my hair. “I should’ve done that more,” he says gruffly. “Before. When we had the chance. I should’ve been doing that, every second of every day. I shouldn’t have let you up for air. When I thought we’d lost you…” He brings my hand to his lips like he wants to imprint my skin onto his taste buds, forever.
Above the din, I hear the squeak of a sneaker against the concrete, as though someone’s shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I lift my head and glance around the small, walled-off area. Oh. We’re not alone. Jessa’s here, and so is Callie.
“Oh Olivia. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Jessa kneels by my cot.
More information assaults my brain. Finally, I remember where I’ve heard the groan and clank of the machines before. Still can’t figure out the thudding noise, though.
“We’re in the warehouse,” I say. “Sectioned off in a corner away from the realm machine. And the rumble of the voices outside? Those must be the Superlatives, waiting to walk through the window.”
“Yes,” Jessa says. “The window will open in a few minutes. You woke up just in time.”
Just in time for answers. Just in time for another round of good-byes, when I thought I was done with them, forever.
I swallow the sorrow. At least I’m still alive to feel the sadness. That’s what’s important.
I focus on the girl in front of me. Her eyes are alert, her cheeks flushed with red. Her hair still looks like MK’s, with the ends flipped up like a question mark.
“I never got the chance to ask: why are you wearing your hair like that?”
“Oh.” Jessa touches the ends of her hair self-consciously. “It was Remi. Your ride in the pod made quite the impression on her. She wouldn’t stop babbling about Cam and MK and crying because she couldn’t see them. Me wearing my hair like this was the only thing that could appease her.”
Ah. I see. The laughter tickles against my throat. Such a simple reason for such a long misunderstanding. “It looks good on you,” I say.
She takes the hand that Ryder’s not holding, and her fingers feel…substantial. Nothing like the paper-thin fragility I saw in all the people in the arena earlier.
“You’re so solid,” I say wonderingly. “How are you so solid? Or did you not start fading away like the others?”
“I did. Just as transparent as the rest of them.” She glances at Ryder and her sister, and I realize they’re all more solid, more fixed in this time than before. I can’t see through any of them, but more than that, I just feel their presence more strongly.
“As soon as Ryder injected you with the syringe, we felt this…this jolt,” Jessa says. “Like the universe was shifting in some indescribable way. All of us—even me, although I wasn’t in the room with you.” She ducks, and the lighter hair at her scalp reflects the overhead beams.
“Can you ever forgive me for not coming to see you?” she asks in a low voice. “I wanted to so much. I didn’t want you to think that I had forgotten about you. That I was able to brush aside our friendship so easily. But both Tanner and Callie had more compelling reasons than me to be with you.”
I pull my hands from both of their grips. I can’t be touching either of them right now, or I’ll come apart at the seams. Instead, I pick up the tin cup and take a swallow of water. I drink half the damn thing before I feel like I can talk again.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I say scratchily. “But I still don’t understand.” I shift my gaze to Ryder. “What happened back in the arena? Why am I still alive?”
He lowers his head. “You have to believe me. I never, ever meant to hurt you. From the moment I volunteered to be your executioner, I had a plan in mind. Not for a second did I contemplate letting poison anywhere near your heart.”
“I thought you hated me,” I say, not looking at him. “For betraying you a third time. You were so angry when I took Remi, and I didn’t have time to consult you like you wanted.”
“I was angry, definitely,” he admits. “But only at first. Once I understood what was going on, I didn’t fault you for a second. My only concern was for your safety.”
I stare. “But you injected me with the poison. I was there, Ryder. You picked up the needle, as clear as water, and you stabbed it into my heart.”
“You mean, a clear syringe like the one you’re holding?” Callie asks, walking forward.
I look at the tin cup in my hands and gasp. Because I’m not holding the cup anymore. Instead, my fingers are wrapped around a needle…with clear formula swimming in its barrel.
I drop the needle, and it lands on my lap. Liquid seeps into the blanket, wetting my legs. Not sticky enough to be a formula, and too much volume to be inside a syringe. I blink, and the syringe on my lap turns back into a cup again.
The dots connect in my head. Oh holy Fate.
“That’s why you were there,” I say to Callie, my voice high-pitched and breathy. “Because of your ability to create illusions, to make people see what you want them to see.”
She nods. “Guilty. We were all being watched, so we couldn’t tell Tanner. We couldn’t even tell Jessa.” She stops, wets her lips. “I’m sorry, Olivia. We made a mistake. As I told you before, my ability is not without limits. We needed
to inject you with an actual object, in order for my illusion to work. Ryder and I thought the smartest thing to do would be to inject you with the amber formula. Everyone walking through the window had an extra dose yesterday. Something about how it will keep our minds attached to our bodies, so that we won’t get lost in time when we travel through the ether.
“You hadn’t received a drop of the formula yet, so we wanted to make sure you were properly prepped.” She moves her shoulders. “Clearly, something went wrong.”
I massage my temples, trying to keep up. “Yeah. I thought I was being scorched from the inside out. Is that how it felt for you?”
They shake their heads. “I felt a little burning,” Jessa says, “but nothing like the pain you’re describing. Everyone else says the injection doesn’t hurt at all.”
I reach into the future. It’s an automatic reaction. Need an answer, search the future. Except this time, the blurred and patchy pathways I’m getting used to don’t flit through my mind. Instead, nothing happens at all.
I try again and hit the same frustratingly blank wall. I’m about to try a third time…
And then I remember. Oh dear Fate, do I remember.
54
This moment had been predicted my entire life. The one thing in all my pathways that’s Fixed. I lose my vision on May Fourth. And lost it I did.
I suck in a breath. “That’s it. This was always the answer.”
“What is?” Ryder asks.
Moisture springs to my eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s joy or relief, sorrow or the deep, long-awaited satisfaction of finally understanding. “I was wrong. I thought I hit the blank wall in my vision because I died. But I’m not dead. Maybe I was never supposed to die. It’s just my precognition that’s gone.”
Something clicks in my mind. It’s as though I’m thinking clearer now without all those future pathways clogging my brain. “The amber formula. That’s what did it. It’s designed to treat Asynchronicity, when the mind and body are not tethered to the same time. But that’s precisely how my precognition exists.
“My mother traveled to a parallel world when I was an embryo in her body,” I continue, working it out in my mind. “Somehow, I gained the ability to detach my mind from this time, to send it flying into different pathways, different futures. The formula must’ve stripped me of that power.” I look at each of them, my excitement growing. “The amber formula blocks my precognition! That’s why I stopped being able to see into my mother’s future ten years ago, when she started receiving a dosage. That’s why my visions have become increasingly blurry, as more and more people started receiving a dosage. And when you injected me with the formula, it ate away at my precognition until there was nothing left.”
“She’s right,” Jessa whispers. “I haven’t been able to see into the future, either, not even a few seconds. And it started the moment I was injected with the formula. I didn’t make the connection until now. I thought it was because our world was so unstable that nothing was fixed anymore. I had no idea my ability was gone altogether.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how you must feel, losing your power. It’s different for me. I’ve blocked my psychic ability half my life. But you…you must feel like you’ve lost one of your senses.”
I try to smile, but my lips won’t curve. She’s right. My precognition was a part of me, so central to my identity that sometimes it felt like the only thing I was good for. It might be months or even years before I feel whole again.
But the issue is moot. The world won’t be around that long.
Boom.
The noise is so loud it shakes me to my bones.
“What in Limbo is that?” I ask.
“The rebellion,” Ryder says shakily. “All the Mediocres who weren’t granted passage through the window. Word got out about the realm machine, and now the whole world’s in a state of panic. They must’ve found out about this location somehow, and now they want in, too.”
“Can’t we let them in?” I ask.
Jessa’s eyes widen. “Do you know how many of them are out there? Hundreds. Probably even thousands. They can’t access the window because they don’t have a bracelet.” She holds up her wrist, and I see a metal band imprinted with an intricate design, just like the one Mikey showed me a little over a week ago. “But if we open the doors, they’ll overrun the place. The machine will be destroyed before it’s even activated, and everything we’ve worked for will be lost.”
As if on cue, a loud whirring fills the warehouse, and a robotic voice blares over the commotion. “Window open in T minus two minutes. Window open in T minus two minutes.”
“We have to go.” Ryder jumps to his feet. “Come on. You’re walking through that window with us.”
All of a sudden, I realize that he’s wearing a metal band, too, and so is Callie.
“I can’t,” I say helplessly, vocalizing what should be obvious to all of them. “I don’t have a bracelet.”
“I’m going to carry you,” Ryder says. “Like a child. The same way Angela is going to carry Remi. Remi has her own bracelet, but the tunnel has been programmed to allow one set of footsteps through with each metal band. I’m so big that it might actually work. The sensor might actually think we’re one person. Albeit an awfully lumpy and misshapen one.”
“You really think we can fool it?” I ask doubtfully.
“I hope so. It’s the best idea we have.” His eyes pierce me. “Believe me, I would do anything to get you through that window with me.”
It’s brilliant, really. And it might actually work. I could be with all of them again. With my newfound brother. With my friends, Jessa and Callie. With this large, broad-shouldered boy, the one who is strong enough to carry me through the tunnel, the one who means more to me than I ever thought possible. I could have what I’ve always wanted. A family.
And yet…I was okay with Ryder getting through the window at all costs. I’m not sure how I feel about me.
“This is cheating,” I say. “It’s just as bad as using a manufactured memory to gain passage. There are a lot of people who want to walk through that window, and they won’t get to. It’s not fair.”
“That’s awfully noble of you,” Jessa says. “And maybe a few days ago, I might’ve even agreed with you. But the window is now. There’s no way we’re opening those doors, so you’re not taking a spot away from anyone. So I suggest you put your morality aside. Besides…” She takes a deep breath. “I’m not walking through that window without you.”
“Me either,” Callie pipes up.
“At the risk of sounding like an imitation bot,” Ryder says in a rumbly voice, “neither will I.”
“Window open in T minus five, four, three, two, one second…” the robotic voice intones.
“No more arguments.” Ryder bends over and scoops me up, pulling me close to his chest.
“I can walk,” I protest.
“I’ll be carrying you soon enough, anyway. And if you’re not sure, we’re not taking any chances.” He strides out from behind the partition, Callie and Jessa at his heels.
And then, he stops short, almost dropping me.
“Are you—” I start to say.
The words die in my throat.
My mother stands outside the sectioned wall, her hands on her hips, as though she’s been listening for a long time.
“Clever plan you’ve got there,” she says. “But I’m afraid it’s not going to work.”
55
We freeze. Me. Jessa, Callie, Ryder, their faces locked in an expression of horror and despair. My mom’s been the enemy all their lives, and once again, she’s proving just how evil she can be.
I climb out of Ryder’s arms and plant my feet on the floor. But just as I open my mouth to confront my mother, I catch sight of the scene behind her.
Huge metal arches still stretch across the length of the warehouse, and an electric fence surrounds the entire structure. But above the fence,
I can see that the realm machine’s been activated. The open space underneath the arches has been replaced by a filmy gauze of energy. The air seems to shimmer, and although I can barely detect this wall of power, I know with every cell in my being that it’s there. The window into another world.
Guards line either side of the tunnel, wearing neon-yellow vests and waving neon-yellow lights, trying—and utterly failing—to direct traffic. People rush around, chaotic and disorganized. There’s no longer a line in front of the tunnel, if there ever was. Panic has set in, and Superlatives mob the front of the entrance, pushing and shoving to gain access.
I swallow hard. A sense of awe starts in my belly and radiates outward. This is…incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this field of energy, in all the pathways I’ve seen in all the people’s lives. And yet, this window is real. Travel to a parallel world is actually happening.
And then, two things happen at once. The loudest thud yet rattles the warehouse, and the gauze of energy wavers, shrinking by ten percent.
“Potts,” Ryder bursts out. “His hold on the window is slipping. The rebellion is distracting him. We need to move now.”
Jessa steps forward and faces the chairwoman. “What are you going to do to stop us?”
“I’m not the one stopping you,” my mother says calmly. Behind her, the double doors buckle, as the battering ram hits it once again. Dear Fate. The rebellion’s going to get through. It’s only a matter of time. “Your plan’s not going to work. It’s not just a scanner you’re trying to fool. The intricate code on the bracelet is more than just a pretty design; it also contains technology that will help you get through the window intact. Just as the amber formula makes your mind sticky, so that it wants to stay with your body, the bracelet sucks in energy from the ether that wants to rip your body from your mind.” She takes a breath. “You could attempt the ether without a bracelet. But the chances of you surviving intact are very slim.”