In the Afterlight (Bonus Content)

by Alexandra Bracken

  “Did you want to talk to him about something?” I prompted. “Maybe about something you regret?”

  “I only regret losing control of the situation. But…it doesn’t matter. I can figure a way around this, how to deactivate the device she planted there. How to get everything back. I can do it. I’m closer to the right people than ever. I can find my father, wherever he’s hiding. I can do it.”

  And, somehow, I’d known that would be his answer. Because this is who Clancy was at his core: someone who’d always had everything, and still needed more. Still wanted the one thing he’d never, ever be able to achieve.

  But when he looked at me, his dark eyes sunken back into his skull, it told me something else—that maybe what he really wanted, what he couldn’t admit out loud, was the exact same thing his mother had wished for all these years. Pride played a dangerous game in his heart, warring with exhaustion. I felt myself hesitate, fingers curling into fists as I thought of all of the lives he’d played with so callously, the good ones that had been lost, so that he could find ways to survive.

  And there, too, at the back of my mind was the boy on the examination table, scared and alone and boiling with helpless hatred.

  The one with the sweet smile that now lived only in his mother’s memory.

  I knew what he would have done if our situations had been reversed, and I couldn’t deny the small voice telling me to do exactly that—walk away, let the pain and humiliation grow in him like a cancer until they devoured him. And that alone was a reason to reconsider. Because no matter how many times he’d tried, he’d never successfully molded me in his image. And now he never would.

  It wasn’t to free him of his guilt.

  It wasn’t to punish him.

  It wasn’t anything other than an act of mercy.

  There were no barriers between us, no blocks. His life spilled through my mind, whirling in colors and sounds I’d never been allowed to see, I’d never been strong enough to find. I took what I could and replaced it with something better. He had never been tested on, never been an Orange, never at East River, or in California. There were things I saw, secrets so horrible, I’d never wish to inflict them on another person by sharing them. I focused on the brightness. I left him with only that—the simple story that he had been with his mother this entire time, that he had helped her all of these years, that the love he still felt for her was a good, pure thing to hold on to.

  And when I turned to go, releasing his mind for the last time, he looked out the window again at the blackbirds diving and rolling around each other, fluttering across the blue sky, and he smiled.

  I started back down the hall again, eyes down, thoughts a mess. I didn’t see the woman coming out of the ladies’ room until I collided with her, and ended up with a mouthful of her bright red curls.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, untangling myself. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Lucky for me,” the woman said, her voice low and smooth. “I’ve been trying to track you down for days. How’s the leg, kid?”

  At that I looked up, finally realizing who this was. Alice. She’d pulled herself together today, traded the scrubby jeans and coat I’d seen her in at the meeting point for a full suit that didn’t quite fit her. Her hair was a loose, wild mane around her shoulders, held back by a pair of thick-framed glasses and a pen she’d probably stuck there and forgot about.

  “It’s been better,” I said, eyeing her warily.

  Seeing that I didn’t return her smile, she sighed. “Look, kid, if this is about me running your story, I’m not going to apologize. I have a duty to report the facts, the truth…and the truth here is that it’s a hell of a story. There are a few pieces of information you could fill in for me, if you have a second…”

  “I don’t.”

  Alice shifted uncomfortably, as if just remembering what I was and what I could do. She lowered her voice and glanced around to make sure that no one was listening. “I got a tip that Senator Cruz spoke to you and a few others about some kind of program—top-secret stuff. Ballsy of her, considering she just told that whole room that every nation is banned from using you all in any kind of military or clandestine services.”

  I schooled my reaction, keeping it neutral. Not yet. But I didn’t doubt that the conversation was coming.

  I stepped to the side, and she followed me, blocking the way again. If I hadn’t been in the mood for this before, I was even less so now. “I have to warn you. I really don’t respond well to being cornered.”

  Alice held up her hands. “All right, all right.” Her hand disappeared into the purse looped over her arm, fishing around for something—a business card.

  “If you ever want to talk,” she said, “you call me any time. I’m all ears.”

  I waited until she disappeared back into the ballroom, then ripped the card in two and let the pieces flutter to the floor. I turned back to the ballroom just in time to see Zu and Vida come dashing out, holding hands as they ran toward the elevators. A moment later, Liam and a harried-looking Chubs appeared.

  “Ah!” Chubs started to come toward me, his expression narrow. “You should be resting that leg—”

  Liam released his shoulder and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go, let’s go—”

  “What’s happening?” I asked glancing into the ballroom as we passed it. Someone was up at the podium making a speech, but the room was otherwise exactly as I’d left it.

  “Jail break,” Liam said, his eyes bright as the elevator opened and he drew us inside. “Trust me.”

  Fear released its grip on my throat as we rode the elevator all the way down to the underground garage, Liam bouncing on his heels the entire time. Chubs eyed him warily as we were dragged back out.

  Liam freed a set of keys from his pocket and held the black plastic fob up, listening for the sound of the lock. Vida and Zu appeared from behind one of the rows of cars and ran toward the beeping, flashing, dust-splattered SUV with Arizona plates.

  “You are ridiculous,” Chubs informed him as he walked toward the car, loosening his tie; but he went anyway, the smallest hint of a smile on his face.

  I caught Liam’s arm, hating the way his expression fell when he saw mine. “What’s this about?”

  I knew what denial looked like, and this had shades of it—the stubborn unwillingness to acknowledge that something was wrong. Something had overturned inside of him that could never be fully righted.

  “It’s about…” He ran a hand back through his hair. “It’s about how everything will be different going forward. You’ll go back to Virginia with your family, and I’ll go back to North Carolina with mine. And if we want to see each other, I need permission to take the car. You’ll need to run it by your parents to get their okay. We’ll be living with a set of rules we haven’t had in years, and while there’s something a little wonderful in that, I just want this…I want to forget for a little while. Outrun the hurt. This one last time, I just want to go somewhere no one else can find us.”

  I smiled, taking his arm when he offered it. He walked us slowly, carefully, around the back of the car. He opened the door and helped me up into the front passenger seat, arranging my awkwardly bulky walking cast with care. He leaned in to buckle my seat belt, using it as an excuse to kiss me again.

  “Where are we going?” Chubs shouted at him as Liam ran around the back of the car to the driver’s-side door.

  “Quiet, dear,” Vida said mildly, resting a hand on his leg.

  “Yes, dear,” Chubs grumbled back.

  Next to them, Zu beamed.

  I was still smiling when Liam buckled himself in and turned to address the group. “Okay, team. Where to? I figure we have about an hour before the conference ends and, for once, we’ve got gas to burn.”

  “Is this how you got around before?” Vida wondered aloud. “It is a miracle you dumbasses survived.”

  “Told you,” Chubs mumbled. I reached back and smacked his arm. “Fine. Okay. Where does e
veryone want to go?”

  “Beach, beach, beach, beach,” Zu chanted.

  “Uh, not sure there’s one nearby, so we’ll have to take a rain check on that one. Anyone else?” Liam asked. “Vote?”

  “I don’t care,” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. “Can we just get lost and see where that lands us?”

  “Darlin’, that is the best damn idea I’ve heard in a long time. You’re navigator. Tell me when and where to turn.” He turned the keys in the ignition, letting out a “Yes!” as an Allman Brothers song came pouring out of the speakers. By the time we rolled up the ramp and out of the parking garage, even Chubs’s groans had turned to laughter.

  We drove, winding through the city streets until we found green, tree-lined roads, making our way toward the lazy lines of the river that ran along the curved spine of the city. Liam glanced over at me, taking a break from his off-key crooning. Lit by the warm afternoon sunlight, his fingers entwined with mine over the center console. Zu rocked in time to the music, chattering excitedly about each and every sign we passed. Chubs slid a book out of the backseat pocket in front of him, examining the cover for a moment before flipping it open. His fingers absently tapped the cracked spine to the beat as Vida leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  I brought my window down, letting my free hand drift out to catch the wind.

  And the open road rolled out in front of us.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It is a wonderful, bittersweet moment to arrive at this page and realize I’ve reached the end of a series that has been responsible for so many amazing memories—and for bringing some truly incredible people into my life.

  I would again like to start by thanking the editorial geniuses I’ve been lucky enough to have in my corner: my editor, Emily Meehan, for seeing the potential in a story about superpowered teens roaming Virginia in a beat-up minivan, for her incredible eye for teasing out the heart of each book, and for not drop-kicking me out a window every time I turned in a 600-page draft (seriously); Laura Schreiber, for reading the story first, loving the characters in all the right ways, and working so hard on each draft from the very beginning; and Jess Harriton for the masterful behind-the-scenes work that kept us all on the same page.

  To all of the heroes, fairy godmothers, wise guides, and wizards alike who make the magic happen at Hyperion every single day: working with you has brought this journey to a true happily-ever-after. Thanks much to Suzanne Murphy, Stephanie Lurie, Dina Sherman, Simon Tasker, Joann Hill, Marci Senders, Elke Villa, Seale Ballenger, Jamie Baker, Andrew Sansone—everyone!

  This series would still be nothing more than a document on my computer if not for the guidance, encouragement, and care given to me by my amazing agent, Merrilee Heifetz. I’m also incredibly grateful to Sarah Nagel and Chelsey Heller for their support and savviness over the years. Thank you, Team Writers House!

  Heaps of love to my critique partners and their smart, beautiful minds: Anna Jarzab, who has always seemed to know the story and characters better than I do, and has been both an invaluable sounding board and a champion, and Sarah Maas, who inspires me to be braver and dig deeper with each draft and for getting it—all of it!

  I owe everything to my family—to my mom, queen of perseverance and unwavering love, for inspiring me to take risks; to Daniel for reading all those early drafts and giving me awesome feedback; and to Steph for never steering me wrong with her PR advice.

  And to you, dear reader, for following Ruby and her friends to the end. I hope that when you have the chance to crack your world open wide with new possibilities, to meet new people, and to take a turn down an unexpected, new road, you do just one thing: carpe the hell out of that diem.

  TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT THE HAUNTING COLLECTION OF NOVELLAS SET IN THE WORLD OF THE DARKEST MINDS SERIES.

  I DON’T FORGET FACES.

  I don’t forget anything my eyes have landed on—not the smallest detail of the white flowering wallpaper in our neighbors’ house, not the cursive letters written on my classroom’s whiteboard, not the numbers that flashed on the screen as the man in the white coat adjusted my position under the machine’s metal halo, the signs on the towering fence as our bus pulled in for the first time. DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, NOT A LOADING ZONE, STAY ALERT.

  Its smells and sounds have gone hazy; I think, sometimes, that I can remember what it was like to lay out in the freshly mown grass in our backyard. I think it smelled sweet. I think I can just about remember how silky Scout, our golden retriever, was, lying in a patch of sunshine. There was laughter, too, from the Orfeo kids trying to climb over the wall between our houses, half tumbling into the bushes. What I remember most is the cloudless powder-blue sky. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I haven’t seen one like it since.

  This place has reduced my world to gray, black, brown.

  Everything gets filed away inside my head, neat and tidy, until I need it. Somehow, without trying, I pull the right card out of the deck each time. I test myself all the time; that same white coat, the one who’d been all freezing fingers and sneered words, told me not to—that using my freak catchall of a memory would somehow overload it, and I’d be as dead and stiff as the kids already buried. They tried that lie on all of us, I’m sure.

  For the first two years, I’d catch myself doing it, drawing out those memories, and close my eyes, throat swelling with thick panic. Stop it, you’ll die, you’ll die, Sam—

  For the next three, it was like a dare. Each success was a small pop of bright exhilaration to pepper forever sunless days. Every time I did it and nothing happened, I’d get that same feeling I had each time I snuck over to the Orfeos’ house on the Fourth of July, and they’d secretly save me one of their sparklers to run around with before my parents could even realize I was gone. I’d think of Dad preaching from Job, Yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.

  Now…I just don’t care. A few months turned into years and now those years are morphing into forever, and there’s no getting out. It used to be enough to live inside the gray, to accept the things I couldn’t change even if that meant everything. They’ve been holding these warnings about a possible second wave of deaths, like an axe over our heads, as long as I’ve been here. Using our abilities will trigger it. Acting out will trigger it. Speaking or reading or thinking too hard about anything will trigger it. Only, they’ve done such a good job of making this place hell that I wouldn’t be surprised if the real one turned out to be a much nicer place.

  Salvation will be found in obedience. Dad’s parting piece of advice when he walked me to the school bus that morning. I’ve dismantled the phrase a thousand times in my head and tried to reassemble it into something I read in the Bible. He spoke in parables and proverbs, and when he realized what I was, he barely spoke at all. Some part of me still thinks he would have loved me more if I’d died, because it’d mean I was saved.

  Mom only wanted whatever Dad wanted.

  I thought that was what I wanted, too, until I saw my bunkmate actually die in front of me. In this cabin, almost a year ago, as hard as it is to believe now. And it was nothing like those men in suits with the dead-eyed smiles promised—that it’d be as simple as going to sleep and never waking up. But that night, I’d stood over her and watched death come and electrify her from the inside out—I remember thinking, stupid and stunned and exhausted, This can’t be right, because IAAN wasn’t supposed to make your body thrash, wasn’t supposed to make you scream loud enough that not even clenched teeth could contain the sound. I thought it would be quiet, and authoritative—like a steady, warm hand reaching through the darkness to lift you out of this world.

  Dad always spoke of God with more fear than reverence—always conscious of how angry He was with us, always disappointed as we fell short of His plan. In Sunday school, every lesson and teaching had been softened for us. He wasn’t an angry God, but a loving God. He was there for us when no one else was. We could lean o
n Him for strength.

  Now I think that Dad was right all along. There’s no mercy, not in life, not even in death.

  I’m already awake when the morning alarm starts clanging through the speaker in the far corner of the room. I stay on my back a moment longer, rubbing my hands over my face, before sitting up and sliding over the side of the bunk bed. My bare toes land on the edge of the wooden frame beneath me, and I use it to stretch over my mattress and straighten out my sheets. My shoes and sweatshirt are under the bottom bunk, but the space next to them is empty and has been since they took Ruby away.

  No one is talking this morning, but the cabin is filled with small sounds of life. The old bunks creak and groan as the girls sleeping up top jump to the ground. Yawns stretch tired faces wide open. Joints crack as stiffness is worked out. I slip my shoes on, running my fingers along the fading number scrawled there in black permanent marker, 3284, to brush the dirt away. I can’t bring myself to look at the empty bed again, the bare mattress where she used to sleep.

  I need to stop obsessing over this, but I can’t help it. Climbing up, climbing down, I can’t avoid the empty space; it sucks the air out of my chest, makes my head ache. I don’t understand how someone I barely knew can bring tears to the surface faster than thinking about my parents, my cousins, the other girls I’ve lived with for the last seven years. It’s like sitting in front of a nearly complete puzzle that’s missing only one piece—but that piece, the one that completes the image, is just…gone. Not in the box.

  Somehow, I lost it.

  I know I must have, because Vanessa, Ashley, all of them gave me these looks when the dark-haired girl first showed up a few years ago.

  “Whatever you fought about, it’s not worth it,” Ashley had whispered to me. The older girls were braver about talking in the morning. “I hate to see you guys like this. She doesn’t even talk now.”

  This swell of hurt and fear and something that felt too close to panic had tackled me from behind. The air was coming in and out of me in sharp bursts. There was no explanation for it, other than I was…something was wrong with me. My head. I didn’t forget faces. I didn’t forget anything. And yet everyone was acting like she’d been with us from the beginning. They were making me dizzy with these looks of confusion and pity and curiosity. I broke into a cold sweat at Ashley’s words. The pieces of me that were already barely holding together after the punishment I’d taken a few days before began to drift apart.