I pulled my mind away from memories and my eyes from the closed door of the room I’d shared with my sisters, focusing on explaining everything I’d discovered. I tried to tell it all in order so it would make sense, but I was hurrying. It was already past midnight and I could feel the countdown to dawn ticking away.
But Sarika couldn’t get past the idea that Taschen was alive. “Then Alejo is right. The disease has changed.”
I hesitated. I didn’t have any real answers for her, but Nik stepped in.
“I think Edison’s infecting people with something mimicking the symptoms of Red Death. Maybe via the food supply? Or the Curadores who come to collect the dead? Whatever this new virus is, it’s shutting down the body with minimal damage . . . sending the person into a coma. It’s even possible that they’re clinically dead for a short while and he’s reviving them. But my guess is that Curadores are the only ones who risk getting close enough to quarantined patients anymore to tell the difference. Once the Citizen appears dead, Edison brings them into the Dome and experiments on them.”
“To what end?” Sarika asked.
“The Indignos were right,” I said. “The Curadores need us more than we need them . . . that’s why the Curadores have been demanding more Finds. They’re trying to repair things faster than they break down.”
Nik jumped in again. “Edison’s trying to create a Curador who can survive outside the Dome. Who’s resistant to all possible strains of disease.”
Sarika was shaken. I was so used to seeing complete calm on her face—her shrewd eyes seeing and understanding all. But now she looked like a hawk unsure where to strike. “What’s your plan, then?”
“Well, if we manage to break into the wards and get our Citizens out, secrecy will not be an option. The ward where I found Tasch isn’t the only one on record . . . we won’t be able to hide a sudden influx of hundreds of people,” I said.
“The Abuelos will never accept them.” Sarika’s certainty was absolute. “A return of the sick? A questioning of the Curadores motives? No, that’d be tantamount to questioning the Abuelos’ authority.” I could see she was weighing things out in her mind, as if she was preparing a new recipe. “So it’ll have to be a simultaneous attack. Yes, that could work.”
“I’ve been training the Kisaengs inside, and the Mothers—the women from Ad Astra—want to fight as well. We’ll need to take control of the Dome at the same time you take control of the Abuelos’ council. But Taschen and the other Citizens are our primary concern. They need to be rescued before any fighting starts so they don’t get trapped down there.” Or so Edison doesn’t try to simply destroy the evidence. “That’s where Lotus and all the Indignos come in. Everyone else is being watched, so they’re the perfect infiltrating force. They can sneak into the wards through the tunnels, same way I got here, and get the Citizens out before anyone knows what happened.”
“I’ll go out to Tierra Muerta tomorrow,” Sarika said.
“Thank you.”
“Our people have cooperated with the Curadores long enough and it’s kept us from finding redemption. It’s time for that to end.”
Then Sarika addressed Nik directly for the first time. “Tell me honestly, even if we get our people out, will they survive? And if they do, will they infect the rest of us?”
“Honestly?” Nik took his time, thinking through his answer. “Many of them won’t make it, but it’s likely some of them will. From what Leica tells me, not everyone appears to be suffering from Red Death. I suspect some are only as sick as Edison has made them. We’ll be as careful as we can with the Citizens we rescue. We’ll put them in quarantine. We’ll treat their symptoms. And we’ll keep a close watch on them.”
“You mean . . .” And Sarika smiled for the first time that night. “We’ll pray.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Nik said, a half smile on his own face.
Then Sarika looked at me across the sand-scrubbed table.
“You know once we put this in motion, it can’t be stopped. The Abuelos will have to fall . . . it’ll tear apart Pleiades. And it won’t easily go back together again. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Taschen’s agonized face haunted me. And sitting here in my old apartment, I could almost see her spinning in her purple dress, grinning. But this was about more than just wanting to see my sister again, wasn’t it?
And I thought of the other Citizens whose lives had already been destroyed—infected by Edison or exiled by the Abuelos. Of the word pending stamped on Oksun’s file. Of Ada’s pregnant belly. And all the Kisaengs lined up that morning after Edison’s attack—ready to fight. A swift anger surged through me, lifting my voice. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Okay, then,” Sarika said. “There’s only question left. When?”
“Dia de los Muertos. The masks will disguise the Indignos if they need to move among you. And the fireworks will cover the sound of any fighting.”
“Yes.” And Sarika smiled again. A real smile this time. “What better day to bring our dead back home?”
• • •
We spent another hour strategizing, before Nik and I headed back out into the darkness. We traveled in silence, each lost in our own thoughts as we retraced our path to the Dome. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to step into my old room. Had Sarika left our things where they were? Or had she gotten rid of them? The closed door loomed in my mind. Asking all the questions I hadn’t dared to.
Despite knowing me my whole life, despite being a second mother to me, some part of Sarika only saw me as a reminder that the Citizens had failed their God. Was it possible that someone could love you and hate you at the same time?
And looking over at Nik, I thought of Jenner. Did any part of him love the pair of boys he had created? Could any part of him see the greatness that he’d wrought? But Jenner did have the grace to leave Nik alone to his forest and his plants . . . maybe that’s the closest thing to love a man like Jenner could manage.
I looked up, searching the sky. But it held the kind of vastness that only made way for more questions. What had brought the Colonists so far out into that blackness? What had pulled them away from everything they knew? And I thought again of that coded signal—following them out here, reaching across the stars, trying to tell us . . . what?
Nik seemed to pick up on my thoughts. As we climbed down into the pit, he took one last look around the desert. “It’s hard to believe there was ever a city here.”
I gripped the rusty metal scaffolding that served as our route back down into the tunnels and tried to see what he saw. Tried to see the Reclamation Fields, and Tierra Muerta beyond them, with new eyes. “In the Rememberings they say God smashed the Colony with his fist.”
“Do you believe that?” There was no challenge in Nik’s question—the face peering at me from inside the suit only showed an earnest curiosity.
“No.” And then I thought of all the Rememberings—all the stories that still flowed through my veins, whether I wanted them to or not. “And yes.”
Then he gave me a hint of a smile. A crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “What do you think the fist of God even looks like?”
I shook my head. “When I was a kid, all I could think about was how much noise it would’ve made. All that shattering glass. Buildings popping and crunching under the weight.” And I realized, like my Corruption, the idea of God’s fist was something I’d never truly abandoned. “What do you think happened?”
Nik looked around at the empty desert, silver in the moonlight. “All I know is that someone set out to destroy this city. And they succeeded.”
I glanced behind us, “Why save Pleiades and the Dome, then?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” And he dropped into the dark reclamation pit, his long limbs deftly navigating the scaffolding.
We made it back without seeing a single fly—or Curad
or for that matter—arriving at the waterfall in the Gardens as the sky turned grey with dawn. But my thoughts were still out in Pleiades with Sarika. And with Lotus and Alejo and Jaesun in the camp. Almost all the pieces were in play now and nightmare scenarios ran themselves through my mind. “If the Dome is damaged in the attack, the Mothers, the children, you . . . you’ll all be lost.”
“The Dome is already damaged. We are already lost. Your rebellion changes none of that. The Citizens, the Mothers, the Kisaengs, me . . . all of us know the risk. You have to respect us enough to let us take our fates in our own hands.”
“Of course I respect you!”
“Then you have to stop thinking of us as children you have to save. Or you’ll make the same mistake I did. If you trust us, then what happens will not be your responsibility . . . it will be all of ours.”
I expected to see fear in his eyes, but instead there was hope.
I pressed my forehead into his chest. I wanted to hide there. To rest in this moment before everything started. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself.
I wasn’t safe. Not here. Not anywhere in this Dome.
But Nik folded me into his arms anyway, his hair falling down around me like willow branches. And from inside that cadence of breath and blood and breath, I realized that I’d been searching for the wrong thing. No one can keep you safe.
Not my parents, not Suji, not Nik.
But the people who love you can keep you strong. They were like Nik’s tree—roots twining around and between and through each other until they built something new. Until they made a house of light and air.
I didn’t know what would happen to us tomorrow. Or on Dia de los Muertos. Or after. But whatever was coming for us could not change this moment. It could not steal this away.
Standing there in the Gardens, I knew what I wanted this moment to be. I tilted my head up, and when I kissed Nik, I saw my way into the future. Everything I was, everything I dreamed of, everything I dared to hope, was echoed back to me. Like voices in a canyon.
But that was for later. Right now I had one more piece of the plan to take care of. And I made myself say the words.
“I have to go back. I have to go back to Edison.”
Nik took a long breath and let it back out again. Then he rested his forehead against mine, and said, “I know.”
CHAPTER 39
THE SKY BEYOND the Dome brightened as I walked through the forest. The flys were still absent and I silently thanked Ada for the scrap of time I’d stolen with Nik. I placed the quiet, tree-covered moment in my center. It wasn’t much, but it gave me courage to do what I had to do next. And that would have to be enough.
The pale yellow sky became a watered-down blue as I climbed the steps to my house. And up to my room, where I found Riya and Oksun waiting for me.
“Have you been here all night?”
“Did you think we’d be able to sleep?” Riya sat cross-legged on my bed sewing—her fingers a blur of speed as she whipped the needle in and out.
“How’d it go?” Oksun looked up at me from where she sat on the floor, back propped against the bed frame. Spools of thread, thimbles, and bits of fabric were strewn across the floor in front of her. But she didn’t seem to be doing any sewing.
“Good. No one but Sarika saw us.”
“Us?” Riya looked up from her sewing.
“I took Nik with me.”
“Do you think that was wise?” Oksun said.
“It doesn’t matter if it was wise or not. We need all the allies we can get.” I heard the irritation in my voice and realized I was angry that I’d had to leave Nik. Angry that I had to go back to Edison in order for our plan to work. By way of apology and explanation, I said, “I trust him.”
“Then that’s good enough for me,” Oksun said.
“And me,” Riya added, without looking up from her sewing.
I got us all mugs of coffee from the food synthesizer, gulping mine down as I tried to shake off my exhaustion. There would be no sleep today. “Sarika’s traveling out to Tierra Muerta to talk to Lotus and the Indignos. I imagine they’ll be more than happy to liberate the LOTUS wards. And she likes your idea of using fireworks as signals, Oksun.”
“Good. I’ve been going over the plan all night, and I think it’s a good one. As soon as it gets dark on Dia de los Muertos, the Indignos will cross the Reclamation Fields and come down through the tunnels to evacuate Taschen and the others.” Oksun moved a blue spool of thread near her left knee that’d been sitting on a fat pin cushion—so it marched its way toward a larger red spool.
And suddenly, I saw it. This was not simply remnants from sewing, this was a map. From left to right, the pin cushion was the Reclamation Fields. The thimbles represented Pleiades. And the large circle of thread was clearly the Dome. Inside it, clusters of purple, yellow, and white spools sat in seemingly strategic positions.
“The night before the evacuation, bombs will be planted along the magfly lines, here, here, and here.” She pointed to spots along a circled measuring tape running through the “Dome.”
“By the time the Indignos infiltrate the tunnels, the Kisaengs will be distracting Edison and the Curadores inside the Sanctum.” Oksun moved the yellow “Curador” spools into place along with the bright purple “Kisaeng” ones. Then she added a pair of tiny dagger-sharp scissors which I presumed were Edison.
Oksun then turned to the semicircle of thimbles that was Pleiades. “When the fireworks start, Sarika and her sympathizers will use the noise and distraction to grab the Abuelos and disarm their guards. Once she and her sympathizers have control of the Abuelos and Pleiades, they’ll set off . . .” Oksun looked at me.
“Sarika said they’d use red.”
“They’ll set off red fireworks so we’ll know Pleiades is secure and we can work on getting the Dome’s magfly tunnel open in case we need backup.”
Oksun shifted her attention back to the Dome. “Once the Indignos have rescued all the Citizens and the wards are clear”—she marched the blue and red spools back out toward Pleiades—“the Indignos will blow up the whole LOTUS facility and the Mothers and Kisaengs will know that it’s time to begin our own coup in earnest.
“Kisaengs will trap Edison and most of the Curadores in the Sanctum. While the Mothers”—she gestured to the white spools—“take out the magfly lines to slow down anyone else. Hopefully, that’ll give Ada enough time to take control of the main computer.”
With a flourish, Oksun triumphantly placed the largest white spool in the center of the Dome. “And then . . .”
“Then happily ever after!” I finished glibly.
Oksun was right, it was a good and detailed plan. What was less clear was what the aftermath looked like. What would happen once the Mothers and the Kisaengs had control of the Dome? All I could do was trust that we would make it work.
I didn’t like the nebulousness, but there was something even less pleasant still missing from the plan.
“There’s one more factor to account for: Edison.” My stomach twisted at the idea of crawling back to the man who attacked me.
“We’ve been talking about that.” Riya looked at Oksun, a little nervous. And Oksun nodded her encouragement. “And we think . . . I think . . . what you need is a really phenomenal dress.”
She stood up on the bed, showing off what she’d been working on—a cascade of shimmering gilt fabric unfurled all the way to the floor.
“Try it on!” said Riya, practically dancing with impatience. “So you can get the full effect.”
I slipped off my dusty clothes and pulled the dress over my head. The almost-transparent fabric shivered down my body.
It was phenomenal. The long, sleeveless dress was a warm, gleaming gold with a hint of rose—almost the same shade as my skin. The neckline was steep, inching down between my breasts. And the back of the gown
draped low as well. The whole thing gave the effect of wearing nothing, but being intensely elegant while doing so.
“Don’t forget the gloves,” Riya said, handing me a swath of gossamer fabric.
But gloves weren’t quite the right description. The thing was all one piece—like a wrap with sheer, lustrous sleeves and with gloves that finished in golden rings instead of fingers. Riya helped me thread my fingers through the six rings attached to the end of each glove—the sleeve stretching up one arm, across the back of my shoulders, and down the other arm.
The best effect of the wrap-gloves was something I could only glimpse in the wall of mirrors behind me—it also had a hood that draped gracefully down my back. I marveled at Riya’s genius. “Like the one on my first dress.”
“Yep . . . a nod to your first night together.”
“Thank you.” I hugged Riya. “For this and for everything.”
I looked at myself in the mirrors. The dress was a triumph. In one outfit, Riya had laid me bare, yet kept me hidden. I marveled at the beauty of it. “I can’t believe you managed all this in one night. It’s incredible!”
“Oksun helped too . . . no surprise that she’s impeccable at detail work.” Riya leaned down and kissed Oksun’s cheek.
Oksun shrugged off the compliment, but was clearly pleased. “We wanted you to have to grovel as little as possible.”
If you’d asked me a month ago if a dress could be a weapon, I’d have said no. But this one was. It was a subservient apology perfectly mixed with seduction. And wearing it, I felt ready to face Edison.
• • •
That night, I showed up late to dinner. There was a buzzy, relaxed atmosphere by the time I walked into the tent and everyone already had drinks in their hands.
Riya noticed me first, switching to a dreamy, a cappella ballad to match my entrance. She tapped her hand against the guitar—an intricate cadence playing counterpoint to my heartbeat. Her naked voice soared, its eerie high notes stretching thin across the air.
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