The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,41

injections of the RRB as soon as you enter the solar system’s radiation belt,” Dr. Takumi continues. “Not only will the RRB protect you during spaceflight, but it shields your body from Europa’s extremely hazardous rays—so missing a single dose could be catastrophic. That’s why we must use this time, the last days on Earth for six of you, to gauge your reactions to the experimental serum. If any of your bodies are going to react adversely . . . now is the time to find out.”

He clears his throat. “That said, each of you will receive nightly preemptive shots of the RRB, starting now. We’ve set up a small outpost for the NASA medical officer here on the Hab floor, just down the hall. That’s where you’ll line up every night before dinner to get your shots. Team leaders, please escort your finalists there now.”

“Well, this is interesting,” Asher says as we rise to our feet. He looks almost as uneasy as I feel. It never even occurred to me that some of us might not be able to tolerate the RRB. Please don’t let me be one of them.

We follow Lark and the rest of our fellow finalists out of the cafeteria and down a carpeted corridor, until we reach a pocket-size, sterile white room. A petite woman in a lab coat stands by the door, clipboard in hand.

“All right, who’s ready to go first?” she calls out in greeting.

No one answers, not even the most competitive among us. Instead, most of the Twenty-Four jostle for a spot at the end of the line. It seems I’m not the only one here who’s creeped out by needles. Still, it occurs to me now that volunteering to go first could be a mark in my favor—and I’ll take any slight edge I can get. I raise my hand, and the medic beckons me through the open door.

She motions for me to have a seat before slipping on a pair of latex gloves and filtering a glowing blue liquid into a hypodermic needle. As she preps my arm for the puncture, I look out at the crowd of finalists, watching us warily as they wait their turn. My eyes meet Naomi’s.

It might be that I feel closer to her because of what we experienced together in today’s training sim, or because she’s the only person here who knows my sister’s name. Either way, finding her face in the crowd is like a breath of relief. She smiles at me, and as the nurse plunges the needle into my arm, I hardly feel the sting.

But then Naomi’s gaze shifts, something pulling her attention behind me. It’s the row of blue vials, lining the office wall. I can almost see her mind at work as she studies them, her eyes narrowing, and my curiosity stirs.

What does she know that the rest of us don’t?

Ten

NAOMI

THE SCREAM SLICES THE AIR OF OUR DORM ROOM. I WAKE WITH a jolt as my roommate lets out a second earsplitting shriek, thrashing and kicking against her mattress. My fingers shake as I fumble for the light switch.

“Suki! Wake up!”

But she won’t stir. I jump out of my bed and run to hers. Suki’s face is pale and glassy, her forehead slicked with sweat. I’m startled to find her eyes open, with only the whites showing, and I shrink back, suddenly afraid . . . of what, I don’t know.

“No—don’t go, don’t go!” she wails, tears streaking down her cheeks.

I can’t let her continue like this. I reach for her arm, but she automatically slaps my hand away. She must be fighting something in her dream, and right now I am the stand-in. I’m bound to get hit again if I stay this close, but I have no choice. Her screams are agonizing, like sharp fingernails scratching at a bloody scab, and I use all my strength to shake her back into consciousness.

“Wake up!” I shout in her ear, gripping her shoulders. “Suki, wake up!”

It does the trick. She blinks, dazed and panting as she takes in her surroundings. And then, meeting my eyes, she starts to cry—the kind of unrestrained, racking sobs I never would have expected from someone as calm and collected as Suki.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, placing my hand over hers. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

She shakes her head violently.

“It wasn’t,” she chokes out through her tears. “It was the same nightmare I’m forced to remember every day. Only . . . only