Dylan fell to the ground. There was no sound, no struggle. He just collapsed.

Blood spilled out of his ears.

Becky let out a small, “No,” but her voice was drowned out by dozens of others. Some fell to the ground crying; others shrieked. Iceman ignored them all. He picked up Dylan’s body and strode out of view.

A moment later, the truck’s engine roared to life.

CHAPTER FIVE

Becky was sleeping calmly when I left the Basement. I didn’t know whether the powder Jane had sprinkled in the wound was an antibiotic or a painkiller, but it definitely seemed to be helping.

“Where are you going?”

Birdman was standing a few doors down from Carrie’s room talking with Harvard. Mouse sat on a wooden bench beside them, both of her eyes now black and swollen.

I stammered to answer, too focused on Mouse’s face to think.

“Do you see why you shouldn’t have come?” Birdman snapped.

“We’ll leave as soon as Becky is healthy.”

“No, you won’t,” Mouse said, her voice muted and pained. “You will get us the hell out of here.”

Birdman touched her shoulder. He turned to Harvard. “When do you want to check out the perimeter?”

“It’ll have to be tomorrow morning,” he answered, “or late tonight. I don’t want to go until this storm clears. And I want to take him by the Greens first.”

“The Greens?” I asked.

Harvard smiled. “The kids in the other buildings. You were a Variant, right? Think of this fort like the Variants. Anyone who wants to live here can, but if you’re here you fight. Greens don’t want to.”

Mouse seemed disgusted by Harvard’s comparison of the fort to the V’s, but she didn’t say anything.

I nodded and turned away.

“Where you going?” Birdman asked again.

“I want to find Jane.”

“Fifth door on the right,” Harvard said. “And plan on tonight.”

“Whatever.”

I headed slowly toward Jane’s room, trying to fight against the panic rising up in my throat.

“What’s your problem?”

I turned to see Birdman following me, Mouse a few steps behind.

“I don’t have a problem,” I said, and kept walking.

He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back, hard.

“You answer me when I ask you a question.”

He was right in my face, maybe an inch or two taller than me. I could have taken him a month ago, maybe even yesterday, but I felt like I could hardly stand now.

The whites of Mouse’s eyes were completely red, making her bruised and blackened face look almost demonic.

I forced myself to ease my fingers out of a fist—they seemed to be clenching all by themselves.

I took a deep breath and then exhaled, long and slow. “What was the question again?”

Birdman’s voice was ice-cold. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what happened at that school last night?” I asked. “People died.”

“Don’t you think we realize that?” Mouse snapped. She pointed at her head. “We were there; a lot of us died. I died there, damn it. So don’t pretend like you’re some victim. You’re the lucky one.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I said, throwing my hands up and turning away.

Birdman grabbed my shoulder again, and I spun and threw a punch. In one swift motion he deflected my fist and crashed his into the side of my head. I collapsed off the walkway and into the snow.

“Don’t turn your back on me,” Birdman growled.

“You’re as bad as them,” I said. “As bad as Iceman.”

He grabbed Mouse by the arm and shoved her toward me. “Look at her face, kid. This is your fault, just for showing up.” He towered in front of me, looking down menacingly. “I’m going to get everyone out of here, whether you help or not. But if you’re not helping, then get the hell out of my town. We have enough problems without you and your sick girlfriend.”

My head ached and my legs wobbled as I stood up. “You think you’re doing everyone a favor,” I said. “But you’re just getting them killed. Their blood’s going to be on your hands if you lead them to die. Just like … Just like …” I didn’t finish. But I could see the faces of everyone I’d killed, as I talked them into an ambush. We couldn’t fight this place, not when they could do the things Iceman did.

I noticed Harvard down the walkway, watching me.

I wished I’d never brought Becky here, wished I’d never taken her out of the school. Wished that I’d never even found out Jane was an android.

I headed for her room.

Jane’s room was the same size as Carrie’s, but looked much more lived-in. Her table was covered with knickknacks—figures carved out of wood or soap, pinwheels made from tin cans, clay sculptures. The walls were painted in bright colors, murals of skyscrapers and bridges and trees. In one corner were stacked boxes that looked like the entire town’s stash of medical supplies.

I leaned back against the adobe. It felt cool, even through my sweatshirt.

Jane was absently massaging her wrist, looking down.

“Is this Baltimore?” I asked, gesturing to the walls.

The corners of her mouth lifted. “You remembered.”

I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. I had come here for a reason. “Yeah. Why did they kill Dylan?”

Her grin faded slowly. “It’s this thing in our heads,” she said. She looked back down and picked lint balls off her quilt. “It screws you up.”

I watched her as she fiddled with the blanket, her fingers red from cold. She didn’t want to talk about Dylan, but I needed to know.

“But why do they care if he’s screwed up?” I asked. “You’re all prisoners—I bet everybody’s screwed up.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s different. Are you hungry?”

I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand, taking it in mine. She was cold, her fingers rough from years of exposure and work.

Her eyes met mine just before she fell apart, sobbing.

I scooted across the bed and sat beside her. I wrapped my good arm around her shoulders and she fell into me, shuddering as she cried.

She wasn’t the Jane I knew, but right then I wanted to hold her forever. I bent my face into her hair, breathing her in and remembering.

“The Jane at school,” I said. “How much of her was you?”

She gasped a halting breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Her fingers curled into my sweatshirt.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t see everything. I didn’t control her.”

“How does it work?”

She leaned back slightly, her head still on my shoulder, but more relaxed.

“The dupes have some kind of artificial intelligence that controls everything the dupe does.”

“Then how are you connected?”

“Emotions,” she said, and squeezed my hand. “Some memories and personality, but the main thing is emotions. And you have to remember—we’re guessing on a lot of this. Maxfield never explained it.”