by Ellery Kane
I could see Elana’s face looking at mine, but it was distorted as if I was seeing her through a fun house mirror.
“Regrettably, I must warn you all that Mr. McAllister is emotionally unstable, and he poses a danger to …”
Though Augustus’ mouth continued to move, the room began to fade. I felt a pull, an insistent tug of a warm, soundless nothing. Then, everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A LITTLE VISIT
I WOKE TO AN UNFAMILIAR voice. It was soft and kind.
“Alexandra? Can you hear me?”
I tried to nod.
“You’re in the infirmary. I’m Maria, your nurse. Would you like some water?”
“Yes,” I croaked.
Maria had strong hands. I could feel them on my back, urging me to sit up.
“What happened to me?” I asked, taking a drink. The water felt ice cold on my lips. It still hurt to open my eyes.
Max’s voice answered, “You hit the floor like a prize fighter, down for the count.”
“Max!” Elana chided him. “You had a panic attack, Lex. You fainted.”
A panic attack—that was a first. Instantly, I saw my mother’s face. There was a time, long before I was born, before she was psychiatrist, that she had panic attacks. She told me the story in bits and pieces, clearly omitting the why. She was in medical school at the time, and it began as nervousness. In the middle of her rounds, she would simply freeze. She started staying home some days. And then, for a while, she couldn’t leave at all. I wondered if this panic had been in me all along, lying dormant, a seed just waiting for the right moment to burst open.
I took a breath and opened my eyes. Everything came rushing back at once: Artos bleeding, Quin expelled, Augustus with a bruise on his face.
“We have to find Quin,” I said, sitting up with a sudden surge of energy.
Upon hearing Quin’s name, Maria walked away hurriedly. Elana and Max exchanged a look.
“We’re under lockdown,” Elana whispered in my ear, “because of Quin.” I could see that she had been crying.
Max added incredulously, “Augustus called him unstable, said that he may even be using Emovere again. Can you believe that?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I replied, shaking my head. “You know that, right?”
They both nodded at me. Elana pressed a small piece of paper into my hand, closing my fingers around it. “It’s from Carrie,” she mouthed.
From behind her, Augustus approached. I slipped the paper underneath me.
“You gave us all quite a scare, Ms. Knightley.” Augustus made his tone sound fatherly. “Mr. Powers, Ms. Hamilton, may I have a word in private with Alexandra?”
I immediately turned to Elana, my eyes silently pleading with her— don’t leave me alone with him. My stomach began to flip-flop. For the first time, I realized that I was afraid of Augustus. Now that his face was close to mine, I could see a purplish discoloration on his cheek. It was definitely a bruise.
Elana looked back at me sympathetically. “We’ll be right outside, Lex,” she said, as they walked away.
Augustus was silent until the door had closed behind them. “Well, Ms. Knightley, you certainly have shaken things up around here.” He looked at me with disgust as if I was a bug he was planning to squash with his shoe.
“You can drop the concerned father act now,” I said, surprised at my own boldness. “Why is your face bruised?”
Augustus didn’t answer, not that I expected him to. He pulled the curtain around my bed shut and sat down on my bedside, inches separating us. I squirmed, feeling like a cornered animal.
“I am concerned, Ms. Knightley. Very concerned. And I need your help. Something very important to me, to both of us, is missing.” He held his hand up to my face, his fingers a few inches apart from each other, indicating that whatever was missing was small. Immediately, I knew: my mother’s flash drive.
Maria returned then, peeking around the curtain. I exhaled, just realizing that I had been holding my breath.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Augustus. Just checking in on our patient.” She looked over at me and gave a tiny wave.
I watched Augustus’ change his face like a mime. He smiled warmly and patted my hand. “We’re just having a little visit. I won’t keep her long.”
When she had left, Augustus’ hand encircled my wrist and squeezed tight. I grimaced. In his eyes, past the coldness, I saw a glint of pleasure.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, gritting my teeth. “What really happened to Quin?” I spit out the question, trying to ignore the pain.
He kept squeezing, tighter and tighter, until I feared that my wrist would break. Then he let go and walked away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE COUNCIL
I SHOOK OUT MY HAND, watching Augustus’ fingerprints slowly fade from my wrist. I felt overwhelmed—my thoughts still jumbled. My mother’s flash drive was missing, and Augustus thought I knew where it was. I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with Quin. I knew he didn’t leave willingly. Right now, he was in the city completely alone. The thought hollowed out my insides. I sat upright, flinging the sheet off my body. I reached beneath me and unfolded Carrie’s note.
It read: You were right. Permanent changes in the frontal lobe and supra. Come by later if you can to discuss.
I left the infirmary without a word to Maria and returned to my room. Artos was sleeping in the bathtub. He whimpered when I rubbed his head. The gash on his nose was covered in a thick scab.
“What would Quin do?” I whispered to Artos. What would my mother do?
I knew the answer already, but it frightened me. I had risked everything—my mother and I both had risked everything—for me to get here. But here, was nothing like we had imagined. Her flash drive was gone, along with whatever she had so desperately wanted the Resistance to have. Augustus was a fraud. I doubted he even believed in the Resistance cause. And Quin, one of the only people that I trusted, was in danger. Still, I knew if I left here, there would be no more safety. I wished I hadn’t surrendered my gun so easily to Quin that first night. The Resistance armory was guarded like a fortress.
I began packing up the things that remained: my mother’s book of poetry, my clothing, and Quin’s tablet from under my mattress. As I packed, I heard soft and steady thuds outside my door, the sound of boots approaching. Stuffing my backpack under the bed, I went to the window and peered out. One of the armed men from the night of Coit Tower stood outside. He positioned himself facing the door, his eyes briefly connecting with mine. His hardened expression didn’t waver. I should have known—Augustus would never let me leave. Whatever it was he believed I was hiding from him, he wanted it back. But more than that, he wanted to punish me.
I opened the door without a word or glance to the armed man and began walking.
“Hey,” he called out. “Where are you going?” His voice was annoyed.
I didn’t look back. I feigned confidence, keeping my steps brisk and even, my shoulders back, and my eyes pointed ahead. When he caught up to me, he was breathing heavily.
“You’re not allowed to walk around unescorted—Augustus’ orders.”
“Fine,” I said, emotionless. “Escort me to the Map Room. I want to meet with the Council.”
Augustus may have the final word, but he wasn’t the only word around here. Perhaps I could outsmart him in a public forum or, at the least, find an ally. Since the first meeting, I had little interaction with the other Council members. I didn’t know what to expect, but anything was better than facing Augustus alone.
Ten minutes later, I was seated at a table. The five remaining faces of the Council stared back at me. Cason sat to my right, his muscled arms taking up space on either side of him. He wore his usual severe expression. Dr. Shana Bell was on my left. Her layers of make-up aged her beyond her years; her perfume hung in the air, thick and cloying. Hiro Chen sat next to her. His thin face was all angles
, framed with wire glasses. He was doodling on a computer tablet with his finger, looking bored and out of place. Vera sat next to Augustus, looking up at him as eager as a puppy.
“How can we help you, Ms. Knightley?” Augustus began, his voice dripping with false concern.
“I would like to leave,” I said. As soon as I spoke the words, I knew they were momentous. There was no going back. “Am I being held prisoner here?” I glanced toward the door. Outside, two men stood watch.
Dr. Bell shook her head sympathetically. “Of course not, Alexandra. Don’t be silly. We don’t operate that way. Augustus told us you had grown close to Mr. McAllister. This must be a hard time for you. However …” She paused and turned toward her colleagues.
Cason finished her sentence, his voice intense and pounding like a hammer. “We cannot just allow you to walk out.” He looked at me condescendingly. “You would be captured easily and would likely be persuaded to give away our position. Or killed.” He listed the options methodically, as if they were all the same to him.
“Is that the only reason I’m being detained?” I asked.
Augustus turned to me, shooting flares at me with his eyes. I doubted that the Council knew about the existence of the flash drive, much less that it was missing.
No one answered. Augustus’ silence was notable.
“You can’t force me to stay here,” I added. My voice sounded more desperate than I wanted it to.
Looking at Augustus for approval, Vera spoke, “We’d like you to think of this as your new home, at least for a while. We want you to be comfortable here.”
Dr. Bell nodded.
I felt defeated, but I tried not to show it.
“What about you, Hiro? Do you have an opinion?” I asked.
Hiro looked surprised, as if speaking was not in his job description. The other Council members appeared visibly uncomfortable.
“Excuse me, Ms. Knightley, but I will direct questions to the Council.” Augustus’ booming voice leveled the room like a tiny bomb. For a moment, no one spoke.
Without looking up from his computer tablet, Hiro said flatly, “Rule 7.1 should apply here. Members of the Resistance are free to vacate headquarters at any time, but will not be allowed to return.”
There was an uncertain silence. I looked at Augustus. He seemed on the verge of eruption.
Cason countered, “That rule applies only to members of the Resistance. Ms. Knightley is a guest, not a member.”
“Exactly,” Augustus added quickly and firmly, trying to put a period at the end of the argument.
“Well … her mother has spoken out on our behalf,” Dr. Bell offered. “That must be worth something.”
I saw Vera nodding her head.
“You understand that you would not be allowed to return?” Dr. Bell asked. “Even if your life was in danger?”
“I do,” I replied without hesitation, sensing the attitude of the room shifting slightly.
Apparently, Augustus felt it too. He stood, towering over us like an angry giant. “This is absolutely ridiculous. If we allow Ms. Knightley to leave, we will be compromising everything that we’ve worked for. I will not allow it!” He pounded the table with his fist as he spoke.
Hiro jumped in his seat as his tablet bounced from his hands. Vera cowered. Augustus was accustomed to getting his way. I sensed that his tightly wound grip on his perfectly crafted image was loosening.
“Augustus,” Dr. Bell’s voice was tentative as if she was speaking to a wild animal. “You seem upset.”
That was an understatement. Augustus returned to his seat, not speaking. It seemed to require all of his energy to sit quietly.
Dr. Bell glanced at him cautiously before speaking. “We should vote.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A MUFFIN
THE VOTE WAS 2-3. I lost. Just before Vera cast the deciding vote, Augustus leaned over to her and whispered in her ear. Though she maintained a thin, nervous smile, the rest of her face contorted in fear. Immediately after it was settled, I watched Augustus’ charm return, as easily as if he had shed one skin for another.
“Looks like we’ll have the pleasure of your company a bit longer, Ms. Knightley,” he said, before he slithered away.
As I was being escorted back to my room, I saw Elana peering at me from behind a wall. Worry had paled her face. Our eyes connected, and I mustered a tiny smile.
Later, she and Max came to my room. I heard them asking the guard if they could visit with me. I peered out the window in time to see Elana sweep her auburn hair from her shoulder and smile at the guard. He was transfixed.
“I just wanted to take her a muffin.” Elana shrugged, her voice unassuming. “She hasn’t eaten all day.” She held up a bag for him to inspect.
“Five minutes,” the guard answered, his voice hard and flat.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Elana embraced me.
“Lex, what happened? Where did you go?”
“I want to leave,” I said. The finality of the words cut like a knife.
“I have to find Quin.” I lowered my voice. “Augustus is lying about what happened to him.” I hoped they would believe me.
Max and Elana looked at each other, both of their faces a mixture of emotions.
Max started to speak. “Lex, we—”
“Please don’t say that Augustus doesn’t lie,” I interrupted.
Max leaned in close to me. He whispered, “We believe you. Elana told me about Artos. Quin would never leave him behind willingly.”
“Time’s up,” the guard’s cold voice sliced through the room.
I rolled my eyes. “That was a fast five minutes.”
The guard responded with a dismissive grunt.
Before they left, Elana opened the bag and handed me a muffin. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said, her eyes conveying more than her words.
I took a bite of the muffin, peeling back the paper as I ate. Written on the wrapper were four words: We’re coming with you.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
STEP ONE
I LAY ON MY BED, my eyes fixed on the white ceiling. There were exactly 112 tiles. I had counted them again and again. Time seemed to crawl, each second announcing itself with a loud tock from the clock on the wall. With each tick, I thought of Quin. I had a plan. Now I just had to wait.
At 5 p.m., I asked the guard to escort me to the laboratory. Carrie sat inside, her head down, her focus intense. She jumped when the guard banged on the door.
“You asked to see me,” I said casually, hoping that Carrie would catch on.
She blinked a few times before answering. “I did,” she said. Her voice tilted up at the end, almost a question. “Of course, I did.” She repeated, speaking more confidently this time.
The guard positioned himself on one of the laboratory stools near us. He already seemed bored, tapping his fingers on the counter and examining an empty beaker.
“This way.” Carrie gestured me over to the computer.
She opened a file entitled Brain Images. On the screen were pictures of at least 50 brains, each labeled with a name.
“We’ve been able to dissect and compare the brains of long-time Guardian Force officers and new recruits,” Carrie explained.
She pulled up a dual screen with two brains opposite each other. One was labeled Elliot Barnes—I couldn’t seem to escape him. The other belonged to a Brady Johnston.
Carrie pointed to Elliot’s brain, a tight graying mass of coils. I felt a deep pang of regret. It was because of me that Elliot had been laid on a table, cut open, and studied like a lab rat.
“Elliot was a member of the Guardian Force for over three years. As I mentioned last time, his blood contained near-toxic levels of Emovere. His brain showed marked changes that appear to have been permanent, including a shrinking of the frontal lobe and supramarginal gyrus.”
She pointed to the other brain, belonging to Brady Johnston. “Compare that to this brain. Brady was a new
recruit. His brain has all the characteristics of a healthy eighteen-year-old. We’ve seen similar patterns in our other subjects, and we’re fairly confident that we can attribute these changes to high levels of Emovere and Substance X.”
I felt nauseous. “Do you know when the effects become permanent?” I asked, thinking of Quin. I wasn’t sure if he had received Substance X, but he had taken Emovere for at least two years.
Carrie shook her head. “We’re not certain. It appears that some brains are less vulnerable to the long-term effects. One might call them resilient.”
“My mother always said that some patients had a resistance to Emovere.”
Carrie beamed with pride. “Yes, I read your mother’s article— brilliant work.”
I saw Carrie cast a surreptitious glance toward the guard. He was spinning side to side on the laboratory stool, his mind elsewhere.
“There’s one more thing,” Carrie said quietly. She reached over and turned on a large projector, casting the dual images of the brains onto a screen. The projector’s motor hummed loudly, its drone completely covering our voices.
Carrie leaned in closer to me and continued. “The night you arrived here, Augustus asked me to perform an analysis on the bullet taken from Elliot’s body. I was able to determine that it came from a weapon outside of our armory. I think he knew all along that Quin was lying—that you had shot Elliot. I thought you should know.”
She flipped off the projector as the guard approached. “Time to go,” he said.
As we walked toward the door, I knew it was now or never. Casually, I bumped the laboratory table with my hip, sending two large beakers filled with liquid tumbling to the floor. They broke on impact, glass scattering at our feet.
Carrie’s mouth hung open for a moment.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to her. “I’m still feeling a bit woozy from this morning.”