“That depends, Terra. How fast do you think you can run?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Twenty minutes,” I say, trudging back through the cold rows of plants toward the main path. My thoughts are flying a kilometer a second. “I’d say we’ve got about twenty minutes before dinner ends. Which means if we’re going to do this, we have to do it now.”
“Um, can we back up a moment?” Romie asks. “You’re planning to just walk into one of the cafeterias and… and expect some kind of riot?”
“No,” I reply, considering a new angle. “No, that’ll be too localized. We want the whole colony in a panic. So, we’ll use the same method as Dosset. The overhead.”
“How will you do that? The Comm Room is inside the Helix, and—”
“—we’ll never get to it, I know. But I’ll bet I can reverse-engineer a broadcast from one of the holographic imagers. Don’t you think?”
Romie is silent, so lost in his calculations that he doesn’t even notice the cabbages he’s trampling. “That could work,” he finally concludes.
“Can we slow down?” Chloe asks, almost jogging to keep up. “We need to think about this, Lizzy. What if someone gets hurt in the riot?”
“Unfortunately, it’s a risk we’ll have to take,” I say grimly. “Dosset hasn’t given us any other options, has he?”
Like most of what I’m saying, I don’t stop to consider my words until they’ve already left my mouth. But I’m right, aren’t I? Dosset is the one who forced us into this position. No one can argue with that. Not even Terra.
“So we’ll use the EMP to bypass the door, is that it? I suppose that would get us inside quietly, without too much trouble,” Romie says.
But I’m already shaking my head as another idea forms. “No, we’ll save it. I think I have a better way to get through the door.”
“You… you do?”
Now I allow myself a full-on grin. “Trust me.”
For the first time in days, it feels like my mind is working. Really working. Maybe at a level it never has before. It’s as if all the thoughts that were once so painful are suddenly lining up, connecting the dots in the darkness, forming shapes and constellations where before there was only empty space.
Not that it isn’t painful. The telltale pulsing has already begun to gouge at the back of my head. But right now I hardly care. We finally have a plan that I think could really work.
We just have to put it into action.
The Workshop is deserted when we arrive, which doesn’t come as a surprise. I head directly for the 3D printers—some of their glass cubes large enough to print an entire table, while others are equipped with crane-like arms no bigger than my fingers.
Beside them, a storage bin contains bottles of printer filament. Everything from syrups to pastes to pigments.
One by one I begin pulling the bottles free, checking labels as I go. I soon find the bottle I need, a tiny one filled with bubbly orange syrup.
“Over here,” I say, leading the others to a nearby work desk.
I push a space clear and then set down Shiffrin’s tablet, tilting its reflective surface back and forth to catch the light. It takes me a few minutes while Romie fidgets beside me, and then I see it—the rippled impression of a fingerprint.
“There,” I murmur, holding it up for him to see. Chloe leans over his shoulder. “A perfect impression left by the oil in her finger. See it?”
“I… think so.” Romie takes off his glasses and squints. “Ah, yes… yes, I see it.”
“Perfect. Now we make dessert.”
He frowns as I hold up the bottle, revealing the label. It strikes me as funny that only a few days ago he would’ve said something mystifying like that to me—and I would’ve been the one confused.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
“Gummy syrup?” Chloe asks in surprise.
“Yep.”
Romie stares at me, and then a flicker of understanding lights his face.
“One might use it to create a template of something,” he says slowly. “Say, the debris on the tablet. It could form a mold around the debris… and, in so doing, create a replica of the original fingerprint.”
“And because the membrane is so thin, it’ll carry my body heat, which should make it read like normal skin,” I add.
“That’s brilliant,” Chloe says blankly.
“It’s all thanks to Romie,” I reply. “I just copied what he did with the defibrillator. I took apart a fingerprint and put it back together in a different way. Now, if we add just a bit of this—” I squeeze a dollop onto the glass and it slowly spreads, like molasses. We wait while it begins to dry, then I hand Romie the bottle. “Now we form a sleeve around my finger.” As I speak, I press my thumb onto the congealed resin. He takes his cue, expelling more syrup around my knuckle. It feels like cold wax.
“Should we try it out on the tablet?” he asks as it begins to bond.
“Can’t. Your EMP killed it.”
“Oh.” Suddenly he looks alarmed. “What about the Stitch?”
“It seems okay. I’m not sure how the batteries work, but the design seems to avoid any coiled wire components, which would have prevented an EMP from—”
“—increasing the voltage to a point of damage,” Romie finishes. “I was just going to say the same thing.”
He snaps the lid onto the bottle.
“So, now what?” Chloe asks hesitantly. “Terra needs a surgical mask, so she can pass as your double?”
I nod as I carefully slide the gummy sleeve off my thumb. “Right. We might as well just print a new one rather than risk a trip back to the Xeri pods.”
“Delightful,” Terra says, arms folded. I hadn’t noticed, but she’s standing across the aisle from us, leaning against a battery reserve. “But just so we’re clear, I haven’t agreed to be your double.” She pushes off the cylinder, glaring. “You realize this is suicide for me, right? If I pretend to be you, they’ll catch me within minutes.”
My temper spikes and, as usual, my instinct is to lash out at her. We don’t have time for another argument. So rather than argue, I decide to apply my newer method—to ask myself what she wants and use that knowledge against her. “Only if you let them,” I say aloud.
She stares at me.
“Let them what?”
“Catch you. I’ve been running for days, and they haven’t yet.”
“That was different. At least you had somewhere to run. Now, you’re basically going to scream ‘come get me,’ and then let me take the fall.”
“They had me cornered earlier today, and I managed to get away. I don’t see why you can’t do the same.”
“Maybe I could, if I had Noah to protect me.”
The room gets quiet. Chloe has gone as white as her jumpsuit. I clench my fists, my calm evaporating in the fire beneath my skin.
“But I don’t, do I?” she purrs, sensing she’s hit a nerve. “Because you already got him caught. And now you need someone else to sacrifice.”
“Stop it,” Chloe whispers. “That isn’t what’s happening.”
“I think it is.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” I say, somehow managing to redirect my anger into my curled fists. My fingernails sting as they bite my palms. “By now they’ve read Noah’s mind. Which means if we don’t do something fast, they’re going to catch us. All of us. Probably within the next hour. If you want to stand around picking fights, go for it. But this is the best plan we’ve got, and I think you know it. Don’t you?”
They’re the same words she threw in my face, back when we were first planning to enter the Helix. And they’re as true now as they were then.
“You all think this is the right thing to do?” she says, turning to the others. “Romie. Look me in the eye and tell me you still trust her after the glade.”
His ashen skin pales a little.
“I’ll be honest, it… sounds risky. But I actually think it has the potential to work. And really, i
t’s the only option we have, isn’t it?”
Chloe nods.
“What other choice do we have?” she says to no one in particular.
“It won’t work,” says Terra defiantly. “We’re wasting our last chance on her when she’s already wasted all the others!”
“What’s your plan then, Terra?” I ask. “Tell me what you would do.”
She shakes her head in disgust.
“I would’ve raised a rebellion. But you already made sure that isn’t going to happen.”
“There’s no use arguing about what already happened,” I say shortly. “We have a very short window to pull this off. Either you’re with us or you’re against us.”
A long moment passes, and I realize that I don’t know how she’s going to respond. I’ve wondered so many times what compels her to keep helping me. I wonder if, right now, she’ll decide she’s had enough.
“So I just need to dress up as you?” she finally asks.
“That’s right. And—”
“Just look like you and act like you and do whatever you say? I guess if I really want to get into character, I need to be sure I save myself. But if I’m going to do that, I should probably rethink this whole plan of yours. It only works for one.”
In that moment, I hit my limit. All my general fear and frustration suddenly comes to a point like a needle, all of it directed at her.
“You know what, Terra? It’s kind of funny how your whole big problem with me is that I remind you of your mother, when really, looking back through your memories, it is so painfully clear that you’re the one who’s like her. Just as cutting and self-absorbed and cruel. No one liked her, and no one likes you. They just put up with you because they have to. Because when they try to ignore you, all you do is make everyone miserable. They fear what you’ll do to them. None of them would miss you for a second if you vanished. They’d forget about you and move on—and they’d be happier.”
All the color bleeds from her face. I know I’ve gone too far. Her hatred for her mother is the very thing that brought her to Mars in the first place.
It takes her a second to find her voice.
“You’re right, Lizzy,” she says hoarsely, stepping backward. “You’re exactly right. Why am I not jumping at the chance to be perfect for a little while? Because obviously you don’t have any problems. None that anyone knows about. And even when you make a mistake, it seems like everyone is happy to blame it on someone else.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t know what to say. In this war between us, it’s clear I’ve had a victory—a terrible, bloody victory.
She turns away, not quite concealing the trembling of her lip. With her back turned, I just barely hear her.
“Oh, and for the record? They won’t miss you either.”
And then she’s gone.
Time seems frozen in her absence, as if the world is caught in some kind of transition. At length, Chloe speaks and breaks the spell.
“Lizzy,” she says.
A single astonished word.
I stare into blank space, not daring to look at her. I don’t have the courage. I know what I’ve done. And with that, I recognize that I’ve crossed a kind of boundary. Used my knowledge, my intimate knowledge, to tear her down. I’ve treated her as Dosset does—as a subject to be manipulated.
Now I’m no better than he is.
Anger flares white hot, stoked by shame and denial. I catch my breath as it burns me.
“Oh, well,” I mutter, shoving the gummy into my pocket. “We didn’t need her anyway. I can cause a riot without a decoy. I’ll just have to be faster.”
“Elizabeth, that… you shouldn’t have…”
Romie can’t find the words either. His confused disappointment is like helium in my lungs, fueling the fire of my guilt. I roll it into anger, clenching my teeth as I glower at them.
“She forced it,” I snap. “Okay? She pushed me and she pushed me, and what was I supposed to do? Just let her say whatever the hell she wanted?”
They glance at each other, then stare at the floor. It feels as if I’m watching from across the room, unable to stop myself.
“Forget it,” I growl. “I’m going to finish this. After my announcement, they’ll be looking for me in the theaters. I’ll sneak back here to meet up with you, and then we’ll head into the Helix together. Got it?”
“Sure,” Romie mutters.
“Good.”
I hurry out into the halls without stopping, trying to outpace my humiliation.
Focus, I tell myself. Just focus. Dinner should be ending at any minute. I don’t have time for this.
As I enter the Clover theater and make my way down to the holographic imager, the lens is black and lifeless. It doesn’t take long to recalibrate the feed. Then my finger hovers above the button. And again it hits me that this is it. Our one last chance. I take a final deep breath, which does nothing to calm my frazzled nerves.
I press the button down.
Blue light shines from the lens like an aurora, cascading over my face and shoulders. Above, I hear the telltale ding-dong of the overheads clicking on. Then, only quiet. I clear my throat and the sound echoes around me. Time seems to stop again.
What happens if they don’t believe me? What if, as in the glade, the colony sees through the act and disregards my words?
I feel my chest growing tight as arguments shift inside my head, each rehearsed thought as flimsy as the last. The pressure of how much rests on these moments, of deciding whether or not I see Noah again, has me shaking.
But before I was asking them to trust me. To take a stand for something I thought they wanted. This time I’ll be using their fear against them.
And, as I’m beginning to realize, fear is a powerful weapon.
“Hello,” I say, my voice cracking. In spite of myself, I reach deep into my memories and pull up every last shred of confidence from Terra that I can. “Hello,” I repeat with greater force. “This is Elizabeth Engram. And I have something to tell you.”
I pause, letting my words register.
“Doctor Dosset is a liar. He’s told you I have a virus that could kill you. But I don’t. And now I’m going to prove it to you.” I clear my throat again, trying to still my trembling nerves. “Over the past few days, I haven’t been in quarantine. I’ve been walking the same halls as you, touching the same handles and keypads. And now, using tools from the Laboratory, I’ve added a pint of my own blood to the humidifiers. Which means the air you’re breathing is now laden with my supposed virus.” Again I pause, but this time the silence has a jagged quality to it. Brittle, like glass about to shatter. “So if I’m sick, you’re sick. Go ask your ‘doctors’ for a cure.”
Quickly I cut the feed, my breathing shallow. There’s another ding-dong, and then again, silence. A cold, pervasive calm settles over me. Though I feel almost certain that throughout the rest of the colony, there is anything but calm or silence.
I glance up and notice that a camera has a clear shot of my face. Even if the software doesn’t know my features, all it takes is a manual sweep for a doctor to find me standing here. It’s time to start running.
Looping the mask over my ears, I bolt to the top of the stairs and throw open the door.
The halls are empty, but only for a second. I’ve hardly cleared the first corridor when the shouting begins. Then the flood comes, cadets surging from a hall to my left where I know the cafeteria is located.
It’s a human stampede. Cries fill my ears. Screams of distress. No one is thinking about me or anyone else as they stumble over each other’s bodies.
Each one is only trying to save themselves.
But from what? It’s the very air that they fear. I shrink into an alcove as Caleb breaks free from the group and barrels past me into a biome. Others are going that way too. They probably think the plants will shield them from my contagion.
The doctors haven’t mobilized yet, so I use the mob to my advantage, du
cking down as I edge back the way I came, jostled, shoved, struck with careless limbs. By some miracle, I reach the giant arch of the Workshop. As I scuttle inside, the white coats appear, whipping past me as they shout orders, doses of Verced clutched in their fists.
I catch my breath in the shadow of a shelving unit. Belatedly I look around and see no sign of Romie or Chloe. An iron fear grips my throat, fear that they too have abandoned me.
“Hello?” I say as loudly as I dare. “Romie? Chloe?”
Eyes peek out from behind a wall of boxes, and then Romie’s face appears. “Were you successful?” he asks. Chloe tiptoes out behind him.
“If you mean ‘Is the colony in the midst of a meltdown?’ then the answer is yes,” I say, almost shaky with relief. “We… we should get going.”
“Sure,” Chloe says in a small voice. “Romie?”
“This way.”
I reenter the halls between Romie and Chloe, this time moving with the crowd as we’re funneled back toward the Wheel.
I’m jittery. Not only because I thought I’d again been des-erted, but for the thousands of ways this could all go wrong.
And yet I also feel a kind of resignation. This is the end. In the next hour, whether we succeed or not, the struggle will be over. Either Dosset wins or we do. And if we win, we’ll have answers. About how we can reach our families and why the doctors began their experiments in the first place. Or confirmation that Earth is really gone and they’ve simply been hiding the truth.
After that, well, I guess it’s up to us. To decide what to do next, how to get back home—or how to preserve the human race. And, ultimately, what to do with our freedom.
We shrug off a group of Clovers as we step into the Wheel, more doctors pouring out like wasps from an angry nest. The alarms begin as we make our way around to the silver door.
Half a dozen cameras observe our approach. Though I’m sure Dosset’s attention is diverted elsewhere at the moment, I can’t help feeling a dire sense of exposure as I slip the gummy-print onto my thumb and press it atop the reader.
Two beeps and green lights.
It works.
We push the door open, and then we’re stepping through, one by one, and gathering in the curved passageway. Behind us, the door takes a moment to seal. When it’s finished, Romie puts his finger to the scanner on the other side. It flashes red.
Biome Page 20
