by Kristen Pham
“You protected me. Now I’m free. I can find my mom, and we can be happy. He can’t hurt me anymore.”
Something binding my chest loosens, and I take the first real breath I’ve drawn since I killed the headmaster.
“You forgive me?” I say.
“I forgive you. I love you,” Mav says.
“I love you, too.”
The emotions that flood through me make it difficult to form a coherent thought, but somehow, I know there is a truth in this moment with Mav, a truth that is the answer to how Evolved and Throwbacks live together in peace and equality, even after all of the blood spilled between us.
We are all connected by our shared pain. It’s up to us to transform it into something else.
Chapter 48
Two days later, I’m eating with Harriet, Mav, and the other Lab rats when my phone pings. The message steals my appetite.
All students who are supporters of the rebellion must report to the Chrysalis immediately.
Next to me, Harriet checks her phone, too. Even though we’ve been waiting for a message like this, fear uncurls inside me at the idea of facing the monster who orchestrated the slaughter on Circe Night.
I squeeze Mav’s shoulder. “It’s time for me to go, buddy. You know the plan, right?”
He nods, his eyes far too solemn for a kid his age. “I’ll be okay down here, Joan. I’ll help you make things right.”
“I know you will.”
Harriet and I take the tunnels to the Chrysalis. The entrance is clogged with my classmates and the other rebels I’ve met this summer. Each time my eyes stop on one of them, I wonder, Did you know? Did you all know?
We go inside and gather on the top floor of the Chrysalis. Windows line all of the walls, and the room is lit by the few rays of sun that cut through the overcast Seattle sky.
There is a raised platform in the middle of the room, and white benches form circles around it, like ripples in the water. All of the white decor reminds me of the night that I was sold to Adam. I’m never wearing that color again.
About a hundred people fill the room, but it’s quiet, except for the sounds of shuffling feet as people fill the seats. Crew cuts a path through the group with long strides until he reaches the platform. He flashes a wide, toothy smile as he takes in the crowd around him. Did I ever find that smile endearing? Now I know that it’s a predatory grin. Genghis Khan is a terrifying force of nature that never should have been resurrected.
His presence commands complete silence. “If the Evolved had not committed great atrocities upon us, a punishment like the one carried out on Circe Night would not have been unleashed upon them. Who among you questions the truth of that statement?”
I’m surrounded by people cloned from the best, bravest, and most powerful minds the world has ever known. No one speaks.
Except me.
“We could have accomplished so much more with diplomacy than we did with violence. We would have had public sympathy on our side. Policies might have been changed. Right now, we might be discussing new legislation that should be passed. Instead, we hide, holding our breath, hoping the Evolved police don’t come and retire us all.”
Crew gives me a hard stare. “With your plan, the Evolved might pity us. With mine, they fear us. We will be the monsters hiding in the shadows, killing those who dare to hold us down. We do not want to spend years, perhaps our entire lives, trying to achieve the equality we deserve today. We need a revolution. Only blood will bring true change.”
“It will bring civil war,” Harriet says, standing beside me. “We are few, and the Evolved are many. This road leads to our ruin.”
Crew’s face is still. “You’re wrong. There is no room for doubters among us. Those who do not want to usher in a new era of equality for Throwbacks must leave now and never return.”
Harriet, Marie, and I stand. As we planned, Sun does not rise with us. There is no surprise on Crew’s face at the sight of us standing united, against him. He must have known we’d oppose his plan, or he never would have hidden it from us.
“Will no one else admit this is madness?” I can’t help shouting at the silent faces around me.
Someone sitting in the ring of benches nearest Crew rises. Nic turns and makes his way toward us. Crew’s expression darkens, briefly twisting into a scowl. He didn’t expect Nic to defect.
“Go now,” he says. “Keep away from the fight, and you will be spared. But if you struggle against me, in word or deed, you will be annihilated along with the Evolved who have wronged us.”
We leave, Harriet half pulling me by my elbow so that I don’t start screaming at Crew. We agreed that he’s psychotic, and arguing with him is pointless, but it takes all the inner strength I possess to tamp down my inner debater.
“What now?” Marie asks when we’re safely in a remote part of the Lab, far from the Chrysalis.
“Now we fight back,” I reply.
“We rebuild the Throwback rebellion, the right way,” Harriet adds.
“How do we start?” Nic says.
The light is dim, but his eyes look brown to me, the cast of gold they held a few days ago gone.
I allow him a small smile. “From scratch.”
“You have to see this,” Marie says, her nose inches from the tablet embedded in one of the tables in the Seattle Central Library. We decided to camp out here so that our internet access couldn’t be traced to our personal tablets.
I scoot beside her. She taps the tablet, and a holographic image pops up. It’s Lexi White, dressed in mourning black, addressing a mob of reporters. I adjust my wireless earphones so I can hear what she’s saying.
Lexi nods to a reporter eagerly trying to attract her attention. “Would you support a gradual retirement plan of all Throwbacks?”
I flinch at the violence embedded in the reporter’s question.
Lexi shakes her head firmly. “The Throwbacks who committed this act of terrorism are an aberration. Most Throwbacks are content with their roles. We must not let a minority of disturbed individuals tarnish the image of the millions who comply with the laws of our country and faithfully serve their Evolved superiors.”
“What are you doing to assist the police in their investigation of these terrorists?” another reporter shouts.
“Strand has a team dedicated to tracking down and eliminating them.”
“We’ve all seen the evidence against the Strand executives that was released on Circe Night. How can we trust you, the leader of Strand, when so many of your top executives were corrupt?” the reporter asks.
“As you know, my promotion to Darwin of Strand is recent. Strand’s board of directors knew of the corruption in its highest ranks and chose to replace their Darwin with someone trusted within the government’s Department of Genetic Evolution. Me. I was in the process of having the individuals who were tragically murdered on Circe Night turned over to the justice system. Unfortunately, the terrorists executed them before we could uncover how much truth was in the allegations against them.”
“How soon will you find the culprits?” the persistent reporter shouts.
“Already, the team at Strand, under my direct command, is working with a team of trustworthy Throwbacks and Evolved police officers to track the leads Strand has collected. These Throwbacks are as eager to right the terrible wrongs that occurred on Circe Night as I am.”
“Can you release the names of the Throwbacks and Evolved members of your task force?”
Lexi’s tone changes, and I lean closer to the hologram of her face. Her eyes meet the camera squarely. When she tilts her head, I recognize the hair clip intertwined in her locks. It’s the one she took from me on the night my virginity was auctioned off. Whatever she’s about to say next is a message meant for me.
“I will share one name that will be very familiar to you—Jo Macson, a Throwback who has been assisting Strand and the government in its efforts to eradicate extremist Throwbacks for decades.”
“Jo Macson, the vid star?�
� shouts a reporter.
Lexi gestures behind her, and my eyes widen when a woman comes into view next to her. Jo’s hair is shorn, and her body is skeletal. The resemblance between us is minimal. This is an old woman with eyes that shift from place to place. She mumbles words under her breath. Is this really my genetic twin? The passionate, rambling teacher I’ve watched through hours of vids on her tablet? The shock knocks the breath out of me, but a larger part of me is relieved. Jo is alive. She didn’t pull the trigger.
“The spokesperson you’re proposing is clearly mentally ill. Is this a joke? Do you think the public will find that comforting?” a reporter asks, the disdain in his voice unmistakable.
“Jo is only one source Strand is working with. I agreed to this press interview in order to invite any Throwbacks who have information that can assist in the apprehension of the terrorists responsible for Circe Night to come forward. I will hear you, and your assistance will be richly rewarded. And to Jo’s family, come to Strand at the earliest possibility. I have words for you.”
I remember learning from Crew that Jo’s parents are dead, and she had no siblings. Lexi’s words are directed at me, and the knowledge is a punch in the gut.
Part of me knew when I saw her at the headmaster’s funeral, but now I’m sure. The Darwin of Strand wants me to do something for her. For weeks, I thought I’d managed to stay off her radar, escape her notice. Now, I understand that she has been allowing me this freedom. And it will have a price.
The reporters shout over each other with more questions, but Lexi holds up her hand to signal that she’s said all she’s going to.
I remove my headphones. I’m about to ask Marie for her impression of the interview when I see Justus standing a few yards away. We’ve had no way to contact each other since Harriet and I decided to replace our phones with ancient models that are registered to users in California, so that we won’t be tracked via our cell signals by Crew or Strand. Harriet told Mason how to contact us, and he must have finally told Justus.
I eagerly wave him over, excited to tell him about Jo’s appearance and see what he thinks. As he approaches, I see how pale he is. His usually lively, expressive eyes are flat, dead. Something is horribly wrong. In the back of my mind, I know there’s something I’m forgetting, something important, but I can’t quite remember what it is until Justus runs his fingers through his hair, and I see his exposed wrist. It’s unmarked.
“Your Status meeting . . .” I say, cocking my head to the side.
“Was yesterday,” he replies. His eyes are sunken, like he hasn’t slept in a long time. “Come with me.”
I let Justus pull me deeper into the library, toward the collection of physical books that are preserved behind glass.
“You skipped your meeting?” I ask him. “That’s a good move. A nonviolent protest against being tagged and labeled like cattle—”
“I didn’t skip my meeting,” Justus interrupts me.
My mind works slowly, like it does after I’ve been hit by a headache.
“I’m Evolved,” he says, his voice dull.
“No,” I whisper.
“I didn’t know. My parents didn’t know,” Justus says, his voice cracking.
I step toward him, and my face collides with his chest. This is a story for low-budget vids, not real life. My tears soak his shirt. I can feel the tense hesitation in his body, before he relaxes and puts his arms around me, carefully, as if I’m made of glass.
“What if I exposed you to the virus that is activated in Throwbacks through bodily fluids?” Justus asks. “Or exposed my family? Mom has wiped my tears. Dad has nursed me while I’m sick. My siblings and I shared drinks. God, Joan, what if I’ve killed you all?”
I tilt my head back, and I read the anguish in every line of his face.
“You didn’t know. You couldn’t. No one is sick yet. It takes prolonged exposure for the virus to be activated. We’ll all be okay.”
His breathing becomes ragged. “I had a little sister who died suddenly when she was only a few months old. I used to cuddle and kiss her all the time. I as good as murdered her.”
“You don’t know that’s why—”
“It doesn’t matter! Don’t you see? Even if all of you are safe for now, everything I’ve hoped for is over.”
“You’ve got it wrong, Justus. As an Evolved, you have choices. You can have any life you dream up.”
“My biggest dream was taken from me as soon as the results from that blood test came through,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. “I can never be with you, the person I love most in the world.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper to him.
Hearing him say he loves me sends a rush of pure joy through me, even though I can never have him, and he can never have me. Nic was right. Loving someone this much, and having him love me back just as much, is the most intense, perfect thing I’ve ever known. I’d rather experience this feeling, even if it tortures me to let him go, than to never know so much beauty existed.
I swallow down the tears that clog my throat and thread my fingers through Justus’s. I breathe him in. He presses his forehead to the top of my head. For a long time, we stand there, holding each other. We both know it’s for the last time, so we don’t want it to end. But it does.
Chapter 49
Saying goodbye to a friend is never easy, even if that friend is made of metal and plastic instead of flesh and blood. For the last time, I slip my motorcycle into manual controls and hit the open road. The smell of asphalt, warm in the sun, burns my nostrils as I merge onto the highway. For once, my mind is blank, one with the sky and the wind and the road crunching beneath my tires.
The buyer lives in Shoreline, a quiet suburb north of Seattle, and the ride is over before I’m ready. I pull off the highway into a small neighborhood with neat white houses. I’m glad it isn’t some rich douchebag who will be owning my baby. My eyes scan house numbers, and I stop at a freshly paved driveway.
Sitting on the stoop of a white house with blue shutters is a girl with caramel skin and long black hair that brushes her lower back. Her dark eyes widen when I skid to a stop in her driveway.
“It looks exactly like the picture,” she breathes.
She doesn’t spare me a glance as her eyes greedily devour the sight of my bike.
“You’re Riley?” I ask as I dismount. She nods. “What are you, ten?”
Riley’s eyes flash when they meet mine. “Thirteen! Old enough to ride in an autonomous car on my own. Not that it’s your business!”
I like her.
“This bike deserves to be driven manually,” I counter. “You probably can’t even mount her without help.”
Without a word, Riley straddles my bike, and her fingers graze the dials and nobs. “I can’t drive her in manual yet. But I will. I swear.”
“You better take care of her,” I say, and the sternness in my voice isn’t faked.
“I will,” she promises.
I pull out my phone, and Riley taps it with her own high-end holographic cell to transfer the payment to me. When I check the total, I see that she’s given me 10 percent more than we agreed on over the phone. Her parents must be richer than this house suggests.
“At least you’ll be able to afford any repairs,” I mutter, and her expressive eyes meet mine again.
“My grandma left me everything when she died. She said I was the only one who would know how to spend it the way she wanted it spent.”
“And you’re sure she’d want you to buy a vehicle that could get you killed someday?” I ask gruffly, trying to hide how much I’m enjoying Riley’s attitude.
“I’m sure,” she says, her voice soft for the first time. “She wanted me to have a life full of adventures, and this is the first one.”
I give my old buddy a last pat and wipe off a smudge of dirt from the headlight. I’ll leave it here, but I’ll take the memories—my dad wheeling it toward me with a big red bow, speeding on it over the open road, and J
ustus sliding on behind me as we skid away from danger—with me.
Riley’s still testing out the features of her new motorcycle when I begin jogging toward the bus stop a couple of miles away. As my feet pound the pavement, I wait for my heart to squeeze at the realization that my bike is gone for good, along with all the independence and freedom that went with it.
But it doesn’t.
Instead, I consider the plain, autonomous van that I’ll buy with the money Riley gave me for my bike. Justus, Harriet, Nic, Marie, Sun, and I will all fit in it together with room to spare. I envision some epic road trips for us on our quest to fix the world.
I pace the perimeter of one of the rooms that are now the home base for our rebellion within a rebellion. It’s tucked away in a corner of the Lab that isn’t often traveled.
Harriet nicknamed the space “the Bunker,” and somehow, the name has stuck. Nic has tricked it out with some impressive technology that he got his hands on from various “contacts” that he’s vague about. I suspect that he might have stolen money from Crew to fund our project, but that’s a conversation for another day.
State-of-the-art holographic tablets are scattered on the tables, and a bunch of physical books, all banned by the Evolved for reading by Throwbacks, are shelved neatly on the far wall.
We’ve reinforced seven rooms that are connected to the main room as well. For now, they are stark, with concrete walls and metal beams, but every day, we fill the spaces with furniture and technology that we scavenge from wherever we can. It gives our base a ragtag, patchy look, but Harriet insists that it will be charming. Maybe we can recruit the Martha Stewart clone in Nic’s class, and she’ll make the place a little nicer.
The entrance to our base is the most impressive part. Nic, Justus, and Mason hauled a reinforced steel door down here and installed it, with some help from Justus’s dad. Entry requires a pass phrase that is coded to the voice of the individuals permitted into the room.
“What if Sun shows up alone? Maybe there was no one to recruit,” I comment for the hundredth time to Nic, Justus, Harriet, and Marie, who are all waiting with me.
