In the Afterlight (Bonus Content)

by Alexandra Bracken

  Oh my God.

  They were wearing those thin, papery uniforms, coded by whatever color they’d been classified as. I felt my stomach start to churn. One girl turned, flashing the Psi ID number someone had hastily scrawled across the back of her shirt in permanent marker. These were really kids—nine, ten, eleven, twelve, with only a few clearly older than fourteen. All of them with those hollow cheeks, carved out by hunger. Narrowed by need—if not for food, then for everything else.

  “You made it!” The longer I stared at the boy that pushed his way to the door of Room Three, the harder it was for me to believe that it was Pat. They’d shaved down his dark mass of hair, stripped him down to a blue scratchy cotton T-shirt and shorts. He’d been here less than a week and already he’d let his edges bleed into the darkness of this place.

  All at once, the boys in Tommy’s room gasped and reached for him as he stepped into the hall, pleading him in these small voices to come back.

  At night, you don’t leave the cabin, one of the older girls in Cabin 27 had told me. You don’t leave, even if it’s burning down. They’ll just say you were trying to escape, and that’s the only reason they need to shoot you.

  None of the other kids followed Tommy and Pat out.

  My mind scrambled to come up with something to avoid us having to carry them out.

  “My name is Ruby,” I said, quickly, “and I’m one of you. All of us here are like you, except for the woman with the camera. We’re getting you out of here—taking you to somewhere safe. But we have to move fast. Fast as you can, without hurting yourselves or anyone around you. Follow them—” I pointed to Gonzo and Ollie. “Fast, fast, fast, okay?”

  Dammit—they still weren’t moving. We weren’t moving, and time was ticking down so loudly in my ears, I couldn’t distinguish the seconds from my heartbeat. I opened my mouth, wondering what else I could say to them. What were the words that had convinced me to take the pills Cate had offered? Or had I just realized it was my last chance of ever getting out?

  For them, maybe, it was a matter of shock—we’d come charging in so quickly, they couldn’t wrap their heads around the reality of it.

  “Rosa?” I called. “Rosa Cruz? Is there a Rosa Cruz here?”

  No one spoke or raised their hands, but I saw a small movement out of the corner of my eye—a shifting that was as subtle as someone straightening up. I took a step around Tommy, scanning the ten faces of Room Six. There was a girl at the back—nearly as tall as I was, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She must have had long, glossy curls at one point in her life, but someone had gone to town hacking it all off. I didn’t see a trace of Senator Cruz in her face, aside from the warm olive tone of her skin and her dark eyes. But when she tilted her head and shifted her gaze toward me, defying her fear, just for that second—that was all her mother.

  “Rosa,” I said. “Your mom is waiting for you.”

  She flinched at the sudden attention, but after a deep breath, she stepped out of her pitch-black room like she was tearing away from the last grip of a nightmare. Rosa’s hands clenched at her sides. Her breathing came hard and fast as her eyes darted around.

  “Look at me,” I told her, holding out my hand. “Just at me. This is really happening. I’ll get you out of here. Okay?”

  Okay. Her trembling, cold fingers touched the tips of mine, sliding into place. The tension bunching her shoulders didn’t relax until my grip on her tightened. The other girls in her room flowed out behind her, and it was only then that the other kids lost that last bit of hesitation and followed.

  “Home base,” I said, pressing my earpiece. “Initiating evac.”

  “Two minutes,” Cole said, sounding a hell of a lot more stressed than I felt. This was good. They were coming with us. They trusted us. The gratitude I felt for that small fact made my eyes prick with tears.

  The others followed, lining up one by one and moving quickly. Feet slapped against the tile, smearing out the puddle of wet paint that had drifted from the forgotten can. Some of them stopped to look at the two bound PSFs, but there was no laughter, no smiles, no cheers—of course not. It must have felt like they were moving through a dream.

  I guided Rosa into the line, glancing at the wall where the soldiers had been writing out that message. The kids leaned against it and used it to brace themselves as they rounded the corner down into the stairwell, smearing that same red paint, tracking their hands and fingerprints through it. Alice stood frozen in front of it, lifting her camera one last time.

  It was the last clear, still image I had before the night sped up, gliding into a blur that carried us down the stairs, down the main hall, and out the very same door we had come through. The blast of cold air washed away the pounding heat from my blood. I shook the fear off, and I let myself imagine it—how good it would feel when this was Thurmond we were walking out of, when I passed through that gate one last time.

  Cate may have gotten me out, but until that moment, I’m not sure I’d fully recognized that I was still a prisoner of that place. And it wasn’t the cure that would give me the feeling of finally being freed from this horrible reality. It was knowing, with certainty, that I would never be forced to go back.

  Zach helped Liam lift his motorbike onto the back of the truck, and gave Alice the lift she needed to get up into it. I caught his questioning look as he took her hand and nodded. She had to come back with us. She’d seen too much, was a security risk. Gonzo and Ollie were the last to climb into the truck’s trailer, having dragged the PSFs we’d left outside into the interior of the camp, along with the secured truck driver.

  The kids were forced to sit on the plastic-wrapped pallets and boxes, some of them clutching yellow and orange glow sticks and flashlights we’d given them so they wouldn’t feel like they were being locked in total darkness. As I rolled the trailer door down, I saw Liam sitting with his back against the siding, his arms resting over his knees, watching me. I pulled the door firmly into place and secured it with the latch.

  Zach was already up in the front seat, ripping the GPS out of the console. He rolled down the window and tossed it outside. One less way for them to track us when they figured out what was happening. I was the one to run to open the gates; the fence wasn’t electrified, but the PSFs had managed to secure it with a padlock. I turned to look at Zach and shook my head. He waved me back and I climbed into the cab with him.

  “Brace yourself,” he warned, relaying the message to me and the whole team in the back. The truck lurched forward and barreled through the gate, sending pieces flying as if they’d been made of Styrofoam. A section caught on the front hubcap and sparked against the ground, but was knocked away as we veered onto the highway, and we sped away before the sun had the chance to start rising at our backs.

  WE DROVE A FULL FOUR HOURS BEFORE DITCHING THE SEMI-TRAILER TRUCK IN RENO. In an ideal world, we would have taken it straight to Lodi, only stopping once to let the kids relieve their bladders and stretch their legs, but it was marked with military insignias. Someone was bound to notice it if we kept going.

  Senator Cruz had arranged for an old Greyhound bus to be brought down from Oregon and left at Reno’s city limits, warning it was the only time she’d be able to put this particular contact into play as the former state governor, her college classmate, had been careful to never entangle himself too deeply in matters of the Federal Coalition and had been rewarded by Gray with the right to keep his job.

  Zach and I helped each kid down, and I couldn’t stop the small smile on my face at seeing the way they all seemed to want to spin around in the warm sunlight. Rosa was one of the last off, bypassing Zach’s hands for mine.

  “Okay?” I asked her. “How are you doing?”

  She stretched her arms back and forth, swinging them around. I made sure that I kept the smile on my face so she’d know it was okay to let herself believe this would work out. Something I’d learned from Cate.

  I wondered what she’d think of all this as we lifted the boxe
s of food and medical supplies off the truck, putting them in the undercarriage of the Greyhound bus. When I saw her again, I would make sure she knew the full magnitude of what she had done for me. I wanted to believe that if I felt all of these things, if I brought her face to mind and focused on it, she’d somehow be able to tell I was thinking about her—that I hadn’t forgotten her.

  That I was coming for her.

  Liam walked Alice to the bus, ignoring the glances the team shared as they passed by them. After exchanging a few last quiet words with her, he got back on his motorcycle, explaining to Zach he was going to ride behind us.

  I held a hand out to Rosa, who took it gratefully. Zach jumped into the driver’s seat and craned his neck back, counting to make sure that everyone was on. The kids squeezed into the seats and onto the floor; after a moment of petrified uncertainty, the older kids began to play with the vents, fiddling with the lights.

  “Pull your curtains all the way closed,” I told them. “It’s going to be another three or four hours to where we’re going.”

  “Where is that?” one of the kids asked.

  “Cali-for-nia!” Gav sang out, pounding his meaty hands down on the seat in front of him. “Let’s go, already!”

  “Seat belts,” Zach called as he started the bus. Then, realizing there was a speaker system, repeated the order through that. “Seat belts. Welcome to Psi Bus Services. I’m Zach and I’ll be your driver on this epic quest to freedom. If you look out your windows—but, obviously, don’t, because Ruby just told you not to—you can give Nevada the finger as we pull away.”

  That, at least, made a few of them crack a smile. I gave Zach a thumbs-up and he returned it. The bus lurched forward and we were off again, really cruising. I smiled despite myself, winging along on my own cloud of happiness. I didn’t come down, not for a second, until I glanced at Rosa.

  She had taken the window seat, drawn her legs up to her chest to tuck under her shirt, and pressed her face into her knees.

  “Rosa,” I said, putting a hand on her back. The number on her shirt pocket, 9229, had been her whole identity in that place. I wanted her to hear her name. To feel human.

  “You shouldn’t have come, we’re not ready yet. We’re still broken.”

  “No,” I said quickly, “no, you’re not. You’re different, that’s all.”

  “They said the good ones were the ones that died,” she said, and I noticed a faint scar running down her left cheek, a narrow, spiraling pink line. What could have left a mark like that, other than someone intentionally scratching it into her skin? “That we were all wrong and we’d—we’d never get out. But they never did anything to help us. I want—I want to be fixed, we all did, we did everything they asked, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “If they made you feel that way, then they were the ones who were wrong,” I said. It took me a moment to realize why the words came so easily. Clancy. How was this any different from what he kept trying to tell me? I shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of Cate instead, how she had talked me down after I escaped Thurmond. “The most important thing you ever did was learn how to survive. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you shouldn’t have, or that you deserved to be in that camp.”

  “You were in one, too?” Rosa asked. “You got out and things got better?”

  “They’re getting there,” I told her. “Your mom is helping us.”

  There. One small, trembling smile. “Has she been wearing her red suit?”

  “Red suit?” I repeated.

  Rosa nodded, finally sitting back against the seat. “Mom had this dark red suit she always wore when she had to go in for a big vote or debate. She said it scared the old white dudes who kept trying to shut her up or make her sit down.”

  “No,” I said, “but you know what? I don’t think she really needs it anymore.”

  The girl spread her fingers over her blue uniform shorts. “And you’re totally…you’re sure she wants to…I mean, I would understand if she didn’t want to see me. I was with my Gran when they came. Mom never saw me after I got damaged—changed, I mean.”

  “She wants you,” I said, the words spilling out from some place I hadn’t dared to touch since I’d left Thurmond. “More than anything. It doesn’t matter what you can do, or what any of the people at that camp told you. She’s there and she’s waiting for you.”

  They were the right words. I knew it by the pain that came with wrenching them up from where I’d buried them.

  I knew it, because they were the exact words I’d fantasized about someone saying to me, just before Grams would arrive to rescue me.

  She turned toward me. “Thank you for coming to get us.”

  I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice, but I said, “You’re very welcome.”

  “You’re going to get more kids out, right?” she asked. “Not just us?”

  “Everyone,” I reassured her, leaning my head back against the seat and closing my eyes. It was the only way I knew of to keep from crying. It was more than just a possibility. We had done this. We could do it again at Thurmond. We could make this moment everyone’s reality. Every single kid.

  Zach brought the bus into the garage as Cole had instructed. The kids who’d stayed behind were there, opening the large, rolling door we’d kept shut and locked the whole time we’d used the space. Senator Cruz and Cole stood a way inside; the woman had her hands folded in front of her, and while she seemed otherwise serene, even from a distance, I could see the white-knuckled hold she had on herself. I pulled back the curtain and leaned away, so Rosa could see her as well. The senator must have spotted her at that exact moment, because she lost the fight she’d been waging to control herself and ran for the bus’s doors, just as I stood to let Rosa pass. The girl launched herself at her mother from the top step, and nearly took them both to the ground.

  The other kids looked away. We’d explained, on the drive back to California, what had happened in Los Angeles. And knowing that many of their parents had been involved in the Federal Coalition, or had simply lived in the area, hadn’t sugarcoated the harsh reality.

  “But we’ll help you find them,” I’d promised. “If Senator Cruz doesn’t know for certain where they are, we’ll try searching the different networks for clues.”

  Cole had remained where he was, nodding to the team members who came down from the bus, slapping their backs and proudly congratulating them as they spilled out and formed a cluster around him. There was a backpack at his feet, but he didn’t reach for it. I knew what was about to happen, but frankly, I was too damn pissed off myself to try to prevent it.

  He signaled to Senator Cruz. With Rosa still pressed against her side, she said calmly, “All right, everyone, follow me. We’ll get you a nice warm shower, some new clothes, and a good meal. How does that sound?”

  Liam and the Amplify reporter had their path toward us cut off as the Oasis kids streamed by, forming a line that followed the senator to the tunnel down, passing Zu, Hina, Mike, and Kylie, who’d come running to meet us. They joined the group of kids who had been left behind here, standing on the white crescent moon painted onto the cement.

  The moment he was within range, Cole stooped to pick up the backpack and tossed it to Liam, who sagged under its weight as he caught it.

  “I took the liberty,” Cole began, his voice edged with ice, “of packing your things. You’re finished here. Get on your little bike and go home.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Liam’s expression hardened as he shoved the bag back at his brother. “And I’m just getting started. You can’t make me go.”

  Cole let out a derisive laugh, but I was the one to answer. The words sprang into my mind, filled my mouth like bile. “No, but I could.”

  I saw Zu jerk her gaze from Liam to me, her lips parting in shock. It was nothing compared to the pain of seeing Liam set his jaw and blanch, his eyes burning with a terrible, silent disappointment. How dare he act like this was the real betrayal here? He’d gone behind m
y back for all of this. I’d sensed he was keeping some kind of secret, but nothing of this magnitude. Nothing that risked the safety and lives of every kid here.

  And why? Because he was mad Cole dismissed his idea? He didn’t understand how these things worked. He’d left the League, run away. He’d checked out of training too early to understand that you fought fire with fire.

  “You went behind my back,” Cole said, heat pouring off the words, “and somehow contacted Amplify when I specifically told you not to. You were stupid enough to email confidential files, risking Gray’s Internet crawlers picking them up and tracing them back to us. You clearly lied about going to meet that other group of kids and met with Amplify instead, wasting our gas and our time. You interrupted an Op in play and endangered every single kid participating in it, including yourself and the ones we rescued. And to top it off, Liam, you brought a civilian into play. I really hope it was worth it to you, because while you’re getting the hell out of here, she is staying where we can keep her secured and locked up until this is all over.”

  “Excuse me?” Alice stepped up, brown eyes flashing. To Liam she muttered, “You said he’d be pissed, but this is…”

  “Reality,” Cole finished, holding out his hand. “Give me your camera.”

  She leaned away, pressing her hand against the device, which was now stowed away safely in her bag. “Listen to me when I say this,” she said, “because I mean it literally—over my dead body. You think I’m scared of you? I survived the D.C. bombing and covered eight major city riots, including the one in Atlanta that killed my camera guy and my fiancé. So go ahead and try it, asshole.”

  “Okay, sweetheart,” Cole said, “you can keep your camera. May the tender, glowing light from the digital screen keep you company when we lock you in your new room and throw away the key.”