He tilts his head, considering. For a moment I think he’s going to ignore my question, but then he relents. “We have beds for them in the rooms back here, and we try to keep them comfortable.” He holds up his arm, showing me the POX mark above the square tattoo on his wrist. “I tend to the weak and nurse the survivors back to health. What survivors there are, anyway.”
I nod. “And Ken?”
“This way.” The messenger leads me past several doors until we reach the one he wants. He pushes it open and motions me inside.
Inside is an office, much like Doc’s. The man sitting at the desk looks up at me. He’s Asian and has a heart-shaped mole on his left cheek.
The door snaps shut behind me.
I’m filled with so much joy, I can’t help but grin. My pulse is up so high, I think I’m going to rocket out of the ceiling.
Finally.
“You’re Ken?” My voice is shaking with anticipation.
He taps his pen on his desk. “Yes, and you’re Amy. You desperately needed to see me. What do you want?”
His abruptness throws me off. “I . . . I’m friends with Kay.”
“Friends? Right.” His lip curls meanly. “Because of you, my sister was demoted. I was briefed all about you when you escaped from the Ward last month. You’re paranoid delusional with a disposition toward violent outbursts. You killed an orderly, and somehow my sister was blamed for it all. You are not Kay’s friend.”
I take a deep breath. “I know what they probably told you, but I didn’t kill anyone. The orderly’s death was a lie,” I tell him, making myself speak in short, calm sentences. Losing my cool now would only make matters worse. “I’m not delusional. I was placed in the Ward because I found out about the Floraes, information that you all don’t want New Hope to know. Dr. Reynolds wanted me silenced. He wanted me out of my mother’s thoughts. He wanted me gone. I had to escape. Kay helped me because she cares about me.”
He shakes his head. “Kay doesn’t care about you. Kay cares about one thing, and that’s Kay.”
“Then why has she been contacting me to make sure I’m okay?”
“If that’s true, she’s taking another pointless risk.”
“It’s not pointless. She does care about me. She cares about you, too. She told me not to put you in danger.”
“And you’ve done a fantastic job. Threatening Doc with a knife? After that stunt, he had to tell New Hope that you were here. Dr. Reynolds was very eager to hear that bit of information.”
I take a step back and have to fight an overwhelming urge to run. Will he come for me now that he knows I’m in Fort Black, or is he just glad I’m out of his way?
I hold my ground. I have to see if Ken will help me with Baby or at least tell me about her. “Kay said to tell you, ‘Ted doesn’t need you.’”
Ken looks at me a long time, his face unreadable. Then he stands, places a finger to his lips, and moves around me to the door. He opens it, waves for me to follow, and walks down the corridor. I follow him to another door and into a tiny, closet-sized room packed with a cot and a dresser. On the sparse dresser is a single notebook and a picture of two children, a boy and a girl, about ten years old. Their arms are around each other’s shoulders. The boy has a heart-shaped mole on his cheek.
Ken reaches to his ear, takes out his earpiece, and turns it off. He places it on the dresser next to the photograph. “This room is clean,” he tells me. “It was a broom closet, but I made it my bedroom in case I needed a quiet place . . . with no one listening.”
“Won’t they be worried you turned it off?” I ask.
“If they were listening in at that exact moment, maybe. Or if they try to contact me while we’re talking, but I’m not due for another check-in until tonight. I’ll take the risk.”
He’s still staring at the picture. Gingerly, he touches it, caressing the girl’s face, then looks back at me and produces a single laugh so quiet, I think I might be imagining it. Then he takes the notebook, tapping it absently on the dresser.
“Ted,” he says. “Did she tell you who he is?”
I shake my head.
“Ted’s a bear.” That little, nearly soundless laugh escapes him again when he sees my confusion. “Kay’s older than me, by all of twenty-three minutes. She always thought that meant something, that I had to do what she told me to. When we were little, I had this teddy bear. Ted. I loved that stupid bear so much, but Kay never saw the point of loving an object. She would take Ted, make me beg for him back, you know how children are. I would cry and tell her that Ted needed me, but she’d never budge. She would say, ‘Ted doesn’t need you. You need Ted.’ I’d usually have to do all her chores before she gave him back.
“When we got older, the few times she really wanted me to do something for her, she would always say, ‘Ted doesn’t need you, but I do.’ She hardly ever needs me now, though. Or if she does she doesn’t ask.” He looks at me narrowly then shrugs. “She’s asking now. She wants me to help you.” He puts down the notebook he was fiddling with and faces me. “If Kay trusts you that much, then I do too. What is it that you need, Amy?”
A wave of relief washes over me. “I need to know about Baby. She was taken by Dr. Reynolds,” I tell him. “They think she was bitten by a Florae and didn’t change.”
“You mean Hannah O’Brian?” he asks. I nod at Baby’s true first name, though this is the first time I’ve heard her last name. “She’s all any of the researchers are talking about. I have a sample of her blood in the lab.”
“Kay thinks you might be able to help me save her.”
Ken gives me a sharp look. “Kay must not understand. Hannah was part of the original experimentation process that produced the bacteria that created the Floraes. She was in the group that tested the vaccine. She’s the only human that we know of to be bitten by a Florae and not turn into one. I’ve made a new batch of vaccine based on her blood sample.”
Something comes to me then, something Amber told me after she arrived in New Hope, after I saw her for the first time and nearly strangled her for what she did to Baby and me. I’d put her in the hospital. A flash of anger is dissipated by the memory of her in the Ward, her lobotomy scar across the side of her head.
“Someone told me there are children in Fort Black with the same mark Baby has, the triangle on the back of her neck.” It marked her as a test subject. It marked Rice as well, but Dr. Reynolds must see more value in him as a researcher than as a lab rat. Or is it possible that Dr. Reynolds doesn’t know Rice was injected with the original vaccine?
Ken shakes his head. “We had a facility near this prison. Not the same one that Baby was in, but we were performing similar tests there. When the infection broke out, we evacuated the children from that facility to Fort Black. The walls offered better protection. That was years ago though. We hadn’t anticipated the chaos that Fort Black was in. We lost track of those children. . . . Not one of them made it to New Hope. That’s why Hannah is so important. Of all those children, all those locations, she’s the only survivor we know about.”
My jaw tightens. So they don’t know about Rice. How did he get the scar on the back of his neck? How has he kept a secret? I don’t dare say this to Ken. Instead I ask, “And how did Dr. Reynolds regain contact with Fort Black?”
“He never lost it. Like I said, after the infection, there was absolute chaos, but Reynolds already had the Warden on the payroll. Hutsen-Prime was doing some testing on the prisoners here before the outbreak. The Warden was more than accommodating. He just saw dollar signs. When we lost all our test subjects, that’s when Reynolds decided to use Fort Black as his readymade petri dish.”
“And now? There’s no money anymore. But he’s still allowing all the people of Fort Black to be experimented on without their knowledge. What does he get now?”
“Food, gasoline, power. He lets us conduct our research, and we help him remain king of his crumbling castle.”
It makes sense. It makes it hard for me t
o breathe, but it makes sense. Ken may be Kay’s brother, but the offhand way he delivers this awful information makes me want to . . . I don’t want to think about what it makes me want to do to him. I know that they’re trying to save the human race, but can’t they see that they’ve lost their humanity in the process?
I breathe and try to focus. “I understand that your research is important,” I say, “but they’re hurting Baby . . . Hannah. Your vaccines aren’t working. You have to try something else.”
“The replication isn’t working because the bacteria has mutated from its original strain.”
“My mother told me that. She said it went airborne then changed again.”
“To a pathogenic bacterium . . . which can only be spread with an exchange of bodily fluids, such as saliva or blood.”
“Right, so if the bacteria itself has changed, what good is Hannah? You have the original vaccine; you can modify it without her.”
“Hannah is a medical miracle, one that researchers are trying to duplicate. We’ve given the vaccine to test subjects, but they still aren’t immune. They change when we introduce the bacterium, just like everyone else. There is an answer, though, and it’s somewhere in Hannah’s blood. If we can figure this out, no one else will change. I can assure you that Hannah is well cared for. She’s very valuable.”
I swallow. How many people have they changed trying to test a useless vaccine? “Kay thinks she’s in danger.”
“Kay doesn’t have all the information. She doesn’t have the clearance.”
“Kay knows more than you think.” But I don’t tell him how I know this. I can’t put Rice in danger. I change tactics. “Maybe you could request that Baby be sent here. Then you can have full access to her. It will only benefit your research.”
“I have her blood. That’s all I need.”
“Kay said you’d want her for yourself.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” he asks, his voice getting louder with frustration. “Kay knows only a fraction of what she thinks she knows. I have Hannah’s blood. I don’t physically need her here with me.”
Despite myself, my eyes well with tears.
“But . . . you have to help me.” My heart has dropped into my stomach. He’s been no use at all, after trying so hard to find him. I wanted so badly for Kay to be right, for Ken to be the answer. What other choice did I have but to find him? And now I have nothing. All this wasted time and energy for a dead end.
“Look, I know you care about Hannah deeply, but she’s just one child. What is one child for the future of humanity?”
“I’m not willing to sacrifice Baby for the good of humanity. I don’t care how selfish that is. She doesn’t deserve to be tortured so others can live.” I look at him, into his eyes. “What if it were Kay?”
He stares back at me for a moment then looks down with a sigh. “I’ll try to find out more for you, but that’s all I can promise.”
“Thank you.” I can’t help it. Despite the fact that I’d just been fantasizing about breaking him in two, I step forward to hug him. He tenses, so instead I hold out my hand for him to shake. Kay isn’t comfortable with hugs either.
Ken picks up his earpiece off the dresser, turns it back on, and places it in his ear. He pauses, staring at the notebook resting next to the picture of him and his sister. Without looking at me, he puts one finger on the notebook and pushes it toward me, giving it one last tap. I nod my thanks and grab the notebook and quickly shove it into the pocket of my sweatpants. But I wonder why Ken wants me to have it?
He opens the door and walks me down the corridor, talking now for his earpiece’s benefit. “ . . . so you see, Amy, I have absolutely no information to give you. I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave now.” He opens the door that leads back into the prison, mouthing, Be careful.
I nod and step out of the wall and into the prison, back into the sunlight.
The door closes behind me, and I take about five steps before I’m suddenly grabbed from behind. A massive arm clamps my waist and arms, and another encircles my neck. I was careless. Stupidly careless. The riot must have picked back up again. Someone—some huge, reeking man—is taking advantage of finding a girl alone and unarmed. But I’m not unarmed. If I can just get free for a second, I can reach my gun.
I stomp down hard on my attacker’s foot, but he doesn’t even flinch. I feel hot breath on my ear and even before he speaks, I realize with an icy spike of terror that I know only one creature on Earth who produces this unmistakable stink.
“Not this time, cupcake,” Tank says. “Got steel-toed boots on.”
Panic floods my body as I struggle against his bulk, but he’s so much stronger than me. I’m powerless.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he tells me, hefting me up. With my feet dangling, he carries me toward the wall. I don’t make it easy for him and I kick against his shins. He bends down so my feet touch the ground and tightens his hold on my chest, making me gasp for breath. I fight desperately, but Tank’s grip is ironclad. I try to think of a way out but have nothing. A cold, terrifying realization comes to me: I might not win this fight. But I know I can’t give up.
Because if I do, Tank is dragging me to my death.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tank is impossibly strong.
And the more I thrash around to break free, the clearer it becomes that my struggle against him is useless; his hold becomes that much tighter. I twist my head to bite his arm, but I can’t get the angle right. I barely pinch him with my teeth. All I’m left with is the rank taste of his salty sweat in my mouth.
“Go ahead and open the damn door, Pete,” Tank says, grunting. Out of the corner of my eye I see his crony scuffling past us, helping Tank snatch me away. They’re dragging me from the back wall toward an entrance in the side wall. It’s too much to hope that anyone will stop them. Not with the riot still raging and Florae-panic still clouding everyone’s minds. And anyway, who would care about a guard having a little fun with the new girl?
So it’s up to me.
I go slack as if I’ve given up. It takes a few seconds that feel like an eternity, but when I feel him relax just the tiniest bit, I land a forceful kick to Tank’s knee. He doesn’t drop me, but he has to adjust his hold, hoisting me up in his arms to get a better grip, his hot, labored breaths blowing down the back of my neck. I duck my head down as far as I can, then whip it back, hard. My skull makes contact with Tank’s face, and I hear his nose rebreak with an ugly, satisfying crack. Then he lets out a wounded howl.
For a split second my heart freezes in my chest—he’s not letting go. Then I feel hot liquid spill down my back; he drops me to stanch the flow of blood from his nose.
I fall to a sitting position, the force sending shockwaves up my spine, but I recover and quickly roll away. Tank, one hand on his crimson, swollen face, lunges after me screaming, “You little bitch!”
I skitter away just in time, but then someone else is on me—someone small and light. Pete. I feel a sharp pressure in my chest, like a punch but more precise. He has a knife. He brings it down again and again. The blade rips through my shirt but glances off my synth-suit underneath.
In another second Tank will be on me again. I grab the blade of Pete’s knife and shove it off to the side, my synth-suit protecting my hand, then drive my other fist into his neck. As he clutches at his throat, gasping, I snatch the knife from him and kick the side of one of his knees, toppling him to the ground.
Then Tank is in front of me again, his face and hands covered in blood. He looks like an oversized Florae covered in gore. I hold on to the image, as it occurs to me that if Tank were a Florae, I would have already killed him. It’ll be easier to get the job done if I think of him as something less than human.
My gun is out, and I hold Pete’s knife in my other
hand, but still Tank takes a step forward. He’s going to make me kill him.
“No!” Pete screams hoarsely. He’s dragged himself to his feet and is holding up his hand. “No,” he croaks between desperate gulps for oxygen. “Lay off.”
Tank turns to glare at Pete, and I don’t wait to see if he’s going to take his advice. I sprint back to the exercise yard, cutting in and out of the thinning crowd and ducking into the first door I find, to Cellblock C. Then I lean against the wall, my heart pounding out of my chest.
“You okay, honey?” a man asks, his Texan accent thick. I can barely see him in the dark, moving toward me out of his cell. “Y’all get caught in that mess out there?” I don’t even have to answer him. He sees the gun and knife and backs away, retreating to his cell.
Once I can breathe normally again, I check my chest for damage. Pete stabbed me maybe a half dozen times, and my shirt is shredded, but the synth-suit held. I’ll be bruised, but there’s no real injury. Amazingly, Ken’s notebook is still in the pocket of my sweatpants.
I discard my ruined shirt and am wondering what to do with Pete’s knife—I already have my Guardian knives in their sheaths on my thighs—when the man’s voice comes out of the dark again. “You sure you don’t need nothin’, honey?”
I sigh and glare into the dark at him.
“A shirt, mebbe? You can’t walk around like that, I wouldn’t think. I got a shirt, if . . .”
I take a breath, letting down my guard slightly. He just wants to barter. And he’s right: I still have to get back to Cellblock B, where Jacks’s cell is, and I have no idea where Tank and Pete have gone. It would be good to get something that covers my arms and head. Something that would make me less recognizable.
“If what?” I ask him.
He takes a step into the muddy light of the entryway. He’s a little man, tucked inside a hoodie. He nods at the knife. “That looks like a mighty fine blade.”
I look at the weapon still in my hand, then back at the man again. “I’ll trade for that sweatshirt,” I tell him.
In the End Page 14
