got me exactly where he wants me, where he’s always wanted me, and I understand then, without understanding why, exactly, that he’s excited. I sense his happiness. I don’t know how I know. I can just tell from the way he stands, the way he stares. He’s feeling joyous.
It terrifies me.
My body makes another effort to move but the action is futile. There’s no point in moving, no point in struggle.
This is over, something tells me.
I have lost.
I’ve lost the battle and the war. I’ve lost the boy. I’ve lost my friends. I’ve lost my will to live, the voice says to me.
And then I understand: Anderson is in my head.
My eyes are not open. My eyes might never again open. Wherever I am is not in my control. I belong to Anderson now. I belong to The Reestablishment, where I’ve always belonged, where you’ve always belonged, he says to me, where you will remain forever. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time, he says to me, and now, finally, there’s nothing you can do about it.
Nothing.
Even then, I don’t understand. Not right away. I don’t understand even as I hear the machines roar to life. I don’t understand even as I see the flash of light behind my eyelids. I hear my own breath, loud and strange and reverberating in my skull. I can feel my hands shaking. I can feel the metal sinking into the soft flesh of my body. I am here, strapped into steel against my will and there is no one to save me.
Emmaline, I cry.
A whisper of heat moves through me in response, a whisper so subtle, so quickly extinguished, I fear I might’ve imagined it.
Emmaline is nearly dead, Anderson says. Once her body is removed from the tank, you will take her place. Until then, this is where you’ll live. Until then, this is where you’ll exist. This is all you were ever meant for, he says to me.
This is all you will ever be.
KENJI
No one comes to the funeral.
It took two days to bury all the bodies. Castle tired his mind nearly to sickness digging up so much dirt. The rest of us used shovels. But there weren’t many of us to do the work then, and there aren’t enough of us to attend a funeral now.
Still, I sit here at dawn, perched atop a boulder, sitting high above the valley where we buried our friends. Teammates. My left arm is in a sling, my head hurts like a bitch, my heart is permanently broken.
I’m okay, otherwise.
Alia comes up behind me, so quiet I hardly even notice her. I hardly ever notice her. But there are too few bodies for her to hide behind now. I scoot over on the rock and she settles down beside me, the two of us staring out at the sea of graves below. She’s holding two dandelions. Offers one to me. I take it.
Together, we drop the flowers, watching them as they float gently into the chasm. Alia sighs.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“No.”
“Yeah.” I nod.
Seconds pass. A gentle breeze pushes the hair out of my face. I stare directly into the newborn sun, daring it to burn my eyes out.
“Kenji?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s Adam?”
I shake my head. Shrug.
“Do you think we’ll find him?” she asks, her voice practically a whisper.
I look up.
There’s a yearning there—something more than general concern in her tone. I turn fully to meet her eyes, but she won’t look at me.
She’s suddenly blushing.
“I don’t know,” I say to her. “I hope so.”
“Me too,” she says softly.
She rests her head on my shoulder. We stare out, into the distance. Let the silence devour our bodies.
“You did an amazing job, by the way.” I nod at the valley below. “This is beautiful.”
Alia really outdid herself. She and Winston.
The monuments they designed are simple and elegant, made from stone sourced from the land itself.
And there are two.
One for the lives lost here, at the Sanctuary, two days ago. The other for the lives lost there, at Omega Point, two months ago. The list of names is long. The injustice of it all roars through me.
Alia takes my hand. Squeezes.
I realize I’m crying.
I turn away, feeling stupid, and Alia lets go, gives me space to pull myself together. I wipe at my eyes with excessive force, angry with myself for falling apart. Angry with myself for being disappointed. Angry with myself for ever allowing hope.
We lost J.
We’re not even sure exactly how it happened.