“Okay,” I said. “Macey, you’re with me.”
And away we went, carefully moving down the branching corridor while Bex and Zach went the other way.
Most of the cells were empty.
In one I saw a sleeping man who weighed at least three hundred pounds.
In another I saw a woman with red hair. She watched me, silent, as if my presence in her window were completely routine.
“Here!” Macey said. She was reaching for the door, saying, “Preston!” But the door didn’t budge.
“Lizzie,” I said through the comms unit. “It’s cell seventeen.”
In a moment, I heard Liz say, “Accessing prison system and…”
“Any minute now,” Macey prompted.
“Open!” Liz yelled, proud of herself.
The door popped open, and Macey rushed inside.
“Preston, are you okay?” she asked, but Preston just stared at us as if he wasn’t quite sure whether or not he was losing his mind.
“Are you here to rescue me, or is this some freaky mind experiment?”
“Rescue,” I said with a nod.
Preston smiled. “Then let’s go.”
Macey took his hand and dragged him out of the cell. As soon as we stepped into the hall, a guard rounded the corner and Macey dropped to the ground, knocking the man’s feet out from beneath him. Another guard followed so closely behind that they became tangled together, falling. And I had the Napotine patches out and ready. Neither rose again.
Macey reached for Preston’s hand. “This way.” She started down the darkened corridor, but Preston held back.
“Is my dad down there?” he asked. Hope shone through his eyes, and I was certain he didn’t have a clue about his father’s fate. I knew because it was the same look I had been seeing in the mirror for years.
“We’ve got to go, Preston,” I told him and put my hand on his back.
“Is he meeting us outside?”
“Yeah,” I said, but Macey just looked at me. Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head, confused. She didn’t understand what I knew. That he might not be able to stand—much less run—if we told him the truth. He might lose the ability to think, much less follow orders. There were things we needed out of Preston still, and that meant Preston needed a lie.
“Come on,” I told him. “The others are waiting for us.” Then I pushed him out the door.
Chapter Twenty-five
QUESTIONS I REALLY COULDN’T STOP ASKING MYSELF (EVEN THOUGH I REALLY, REALLY WANTED TO):
(A list by Cameron Morgan)
Exactly how many highly trained government operatives were in that building (and about to be chasing us)?
How were we supposed to tell Preston his father wasn’t waiting for us safely outside—that he wasn’t going to see his dad in a few minutes? That he was never going to see his dad ever again?
When had I become someone who could tell a lie like that?
Did I really want to go back to being someone who couldn’t?
We were only inside for fifteen minutes. Not a second more. And yet there, at the top of the world in the middle of winter, that was long enough for the sky to descend into black.