CHAPTER Eight
MY LEGS ARE BURNING AND ACHY, AND I KNOW THE
minute we stop the soles of my bare feet will be gushing blood.
Just when I think we’ll never get out of the woods alive, there’s a small clearing and then pavement. I’ve never been so happy to see civilization before.
Ahead of us is the back side of a gas station, and Dallas shouts with relief after she sees Cas there, bent over and breathing heavily. As we start toward him, a van pulls around the store, and another comes from the other side. The world seems to drop out from under me, and James and I turn back to run into the woods, but it’s too late. Through the leaves we can see the white of the jackets heading in our direction, and I wrap my arms around myself, choking on a cry.
“I’m so sorry, Sloane.” James breathes out. I shut my eyes against the grief, hearing the crunch of brush under heavy boots as the handlers get closer. Hearing Dallas screaming so loudly she begins to lose her voice. I know we have nowhere left to run.
I look up at James and reach to put my palm on his cheek.
Our world is falling apart, and all our dreams of normalcy were just that: Dreams. “I love you madly,” I whisper.
His tears run down over my hand, and I rub them away before he grabs me and pulls me into a fierce hug. “I’ll come for you,” he says into my ear. “I won’t let them erase you. Wait for me, Sloane.” His voice is choked off by his cries, and I see the movement behind him. Slowly, hoping this is all a nightmare, I step out of his arms and see Dallas, a handler twisting her own arms around her like a straitjacket. The doors of a van are open, and three other handlers are walking in our direction, two emerging from the woods. They seem to all be converging on us at once, like a nightmare I would have thought too awful to be real.
The passenger door of the van opens, and I’m so overwhelmed by the situation that it takes me a minute to realize who climbs out: Arthur Pritchard in a sharp navy suit. I have this sudden and crazy hope that this is all a plan to save us. I take a step toward him, ready to beg for our lives, when Roger walks out from the other side of the van. He actually laughs when he sees me, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. When Dallas sees him, she begins screaming—something manic and animalistic—once again.
I can’t believe Roger’s here. I can’t believe this is happening.
I back into James, and across the lot the doctor slides his hands into the pockets of his suit.
“I am sorry for this, Sloane,” he says sadly. His shiny shoes make a tapping noise on the pavement as he moves closer, keeping an eye on James.
James puts his arm in front of me, slowly backing us up, and then to the side as the handlers encircle us. We could try to fight our way out, but there are so many of them. How would that end? I look back to the woods, wondering if Realm is out there somewhere, if he can see us. If he’ll save us.
“I never meant to betray you, Sloane,” the doctor says. “But I had warned you about running. Ultimately, you put your trust in the wrong people.”
I’m too devastated to fully comprehend his words, and I hold tightly to James as he tries to keep us shielded. Dallas is struggling to free herself from her handler, yelling for Cas, but our friend is just standing alone, watching her helplessly.
“They’ve come for The Treatment, Sloane,” Arthur says.
“I’m so sorry.” Hurt crosses his features, and I can see his intention was never to harm us.
“Then why are you helping them?” I ask.
“I didn’t tell them you had The Treatment, ” he says, “even though I knew you did. They’ve been embedded with you this entire time. I told The Program I could help procure your surrender today.” He swallows hard, glancing back at Roger, who is just starting to focus on what the doctor is saying. “But really, I’m here to make sure you do what’s right.” James stills, and I feel my face go cold. “And what’s that, Arthur?” I ask.
“Don’t let them get their hands on The Treatment.” Arthur has barely gotten the words out before his entire body convulses, his yelp cut off by the vibration of the Taser wires shooting volts of electricity through his body. He drops to the ground, flopping like a fish, and I scream, horrified.
James grabs my arm and we start to run, but one of the handlers catches me around the waist and tears me away, lifting me off the ground as he backs me toward a van. There is so much screaming in all directions, and Arthur’s body looks lifeless, lying on the concrete in a heap. Cas is still standing there as two handlers wrestle James in the other direction, tearing us apart.
Before the handler holding me can set me down to properly restrain me, I kick him hard, sending myself headlong into the ground. My forehead ricochets off the cement, and for a moment I see stars. A warm rush of liquid travels down over my eye and I blink through it, wiping the blood away with my hand.
The handler is about to converge on me again. “Wait,” Cas calls out, surprising me. I’m half-dazed as I look up, seeing him slowly approach with his hands up in surrender.
“Run, Cas,” I say in a weak voice as my head spins. Now’s his chance to save himself.
Watching his approach, the handler steps back, giving me space. James is across the parking lot with a handler on each side of him, gaping in concern and terror. As Cas gets closer, he presses his lips together, looking absolutely miserable. “I’m so sorry, Sloane,” he says.
I wipe the blood out of my eye again and slowly sit up. I hitch in a breath as it hits me, and fresh tears start to stream down my cheeks. “No,” I say, when the crushing reality settles over me. “No, Cas.”
“Just give them The Treatment,” he begs quietly, as if he’s the one who’s pained. “Give up The Treatment and they’ll let you go.”
“You son of a bitch!” James yells, renewing the guard of his handers as they wrestle him back a few steps. “I will f*cking kill you!”
Cas’s eyes weaken, but he shakes his head, determined to keep his focus on me. “Give them the pill, Sloane, and this will all be over. We’ll be able to go home again.” Tears mix with the blood on my face; I’m too stunned to speak. “We couldn’t keep running,” he adds in my silence. “My intel showed we had only a few days lead. They would have caught us, but I made a deal.
The Treatment for our freedom.”
My head is spinning, and it’s not just from where I hit it.
Arthur lies unconscious several feet away. Behind him, Roger watches on, a sick smile on his lips. In his expression I can see that he has absolutely no intention of letting us leave here today. I try to get to my feet but stumble to the ground again, skinning my knee and crying out in pain. I hear a scuffle and know James is once again trying to get to me. But they’ll never let him get that close again. I sit back on the pavement and look around once more. When I find Dallas, she looks catatonic.
Her eyes are wide, unfocused; her mouth is hanging open. Her arms are still wrapped around herself as a handler restrains her, but she’s not fighting. She’s just staring at her best friend, absolutely lost in her grief. I cry for her—the only person Dallas had let herself trust again, and this is what he’s done.
Cas reads my expression and slowly, he turns to face Dallas.
He tilts his head, covering his own cry at her appearance. “Let her go!” he yells out in a thick voice. “She’s not part of this. You said you only wanted the pill.”
“I’m sorry, Casanova,” Roger says, stepping over Arthur Pritchard’s unconscious body. “I’m afraid our agreement is void.” Cas swings to face him, his posture hardening. “On closer look, your friends have been deemed infected. We’ll be taking them all into custody at this time.”
“You’re not going anywhere near her, you f*ck!” Cas shouts.
Roger laughs, shaking his head dismissively before another handler puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder, a subtle warning to stay back.
“Oh, come now,” Roger says with a grin. “Dallas and I are old friends, aren’t we, sweetheart?”
Cas and James both start cussing at Roger, and my stomach lurches at the thought that anyone can be as sadistic as he is.
I look at Dallas and freeze. She’s lifted her gaze from Cas to Roger, her lips curling, her eyes narrowing. She’s coming back to life, but as what, I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s herself. I don’t even think she’s sane.
Roger isn’t looking at Dallas, though. He glances around at the handlers, growing impatient at the scene. “Confiscate The Treatment and grab the girls. Put him in the other van.” He motions to James. “Casanova,” he adds, turning to him.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
My head and heart are throbbing. We’ve been betrayed.
Cas gave us over to The Program. How could he trust them, knowing what they’ve done to us in the past? A handler comes over to help me up, and I look across the parking lot at James, finding him already watching me. His face is wet with tears, his body slumped with failure.
We didn’t make it. Once again The Program has won, and we’re about to lose everything. James glances around the parking lot, maybe checking for one last escape, but when his gaze returns to mine, I see the hopelessness in it. His left eye has started to puff up from where he must have been hit, and I can only imagine how my blood-soaked face looks.
When I’m finally to my feet, I know our time is up. We’re not even close enough to touch, close enough to talk. “Where’s the pill?” the handler asks me, patting down my pockets. I’m alarmed by his touch, and then I remember: James has The Treatment. He seems to realize the same thing at that very moment.
We can’t let The Program get their hands on the pill. They can’t have control over the ingredients. If the pill is gone, there’s still the hope that someday another brilliant scientist like Evelyn Valentine will come along and create a better one. James shrugs helplessly, as if asking if he should do it. I smile sadly, thinking it’s bittersweet. If James survives this—he remember me. All of me.
The handler starts upending my pockets, roughly searching for The Treatment, but I block out his existence. There’s just me and James, our eyes locked on each other. I nod.
As the handlers are focused on me, James slips his hand into his pocket, rifling around until he brings the pill out, a flash of orange between his fingers. He pauses one quick second, before placing it on his tongue and swallowing it dry. Once it’s down, he closes his eyes, and begins to cry.
But I stop. James is safe—he’s the strongest person I know.
The Treatment won’t hurt him. And as long as The Program doesn’t kill or lobotomize him, they won’t be able to steal his memories. He can fake erasure. He’s the best liar I know. “I love you,” I say, when he looks at me again. He can’t actually hear me, but he reads my lips and says it back.
“She doesn’t have it,” the handler searching me calls out.
Roger casts an annoyed glance in my direction before turning on Cas. “Where is it?” But Cas is staring at me, and I think he witnessed the entire exchange. He confirms my suspicions.
“It’s gone,” he says. “Thank God it’s gone.” Roger’s confused for a moment, looking around at all of us. Ultimately The Treatment isn’t what brought him out here, no matter what deal Cas made. Roger calls for them to get James in the van, and the handlers grab his arms and start dragging his bucking body. I scream for them to stop, but I know it’s useless. My voice gives out and I can only watch as James is sedated, looking at me one last time before his eyes slide shut.
Roger tosses an amused glance at Cas and starts toward Dallas, knowing how much it would piss him off. It reminds me of how Roger was in The Program, and how he would taunt Realm by harassing me. Realm? I look toward the woods again, wondering if he’s there, watching. I won’t believe he abandoned us. He wouldn’t do that to me.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Roger asks Cas as he comes to stop in front of Dallas. She’s helpless, but she looks at him with an eerie sort of calm. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more terrifying sight.
Cas ignores Roger’s question and tries to get Dallas’s attention. “I’m sorry,” he calls to her. “I had to stop running. I was tired, Dallas. I wanted us—you—to finally have a normal life.
I’ll talk to them.” He looks around. “I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”
Roger sucks on his teeth, looking Dallas up and down and evaluating her. “Oh, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he says to Cas. “She hates that.” He grins, and I think he’s the biggest monster I’ve ever met. But before I can imagine what horrors he has in store, Dallas reacts.
In a sudden movement she kicks out the knee of the handler behind her, spinning out of his grip and freeing her arms. She’s a whirlwind of motion, and I see the glint of the metal of her knife before I realize she’d even grabbed it from her pocket. She growls like a wild animal and slams into Roger, burying the blade to the hilt in his gut.
“I hate you!” She screams a high-pitched squeal that’s barely human. Roger is too stunned, or too hurt, to do more than double over. Dallas yanks out her knife and plunges into his chest with both hands, before another handler tackles her to the pavement with a sick thud. Roger is wailing, rolling on his side as blood pools on the gray concrete.
Before they can take her away, Dallas stares down at Roger.
His blood is halfway up her arms and splashed across her shirt.
And she begins to laugh—not joyous or even maniacal. It’s unhinged. It’s crazy. She starts to pull on her dreads, yelling that she wins, she f*cking wins, even as they start to drag her away.
My body shivers, my teeth chattering even though I can’t feel the cold. Arthur Pritchard is slowly waking up, but they pull me past him before he’s fully conscious. A handler snaps restraints on my wrists, claiming they’re for my protection, although really they’re for his.
A van pulls away before the others do, and I realize James was inside it. He’s gone. Dallas is gone. The handler leans me against the door of the van before taking a moment to call in the incident. Although Cas isn’t in custody, he’s led by with a handler. He pauses, glancing over apologetically. But I don’t care to hear his excuses. There’s a giant hole in my chest, leak-ing out the remainder of my feelings.
“You killed her,” I murmur in his direction, thinking of how broken Dallas is now. “You’ve killed what’s left of her.” Cas sways with sorrow. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he says, pulling his arm from the handler. “They told me she’d be safe. That we all would.”
“Then you’re stupid for believing The Program. You’re stupid for thinking they’d ever let us walk out of here. And what about Realm? What did you do to him?”
Cas furrows his brows, confused. But then my handler is back, opening the door and pushing me onto the seat. He buckles me in place, leaving me helpless with my hands bound.
From outside the van, Cas watches on in horror. “I have no idea where Realm is,” he says before they slam the door shut.
There’s a spike of fear that Realm isn’t waiting in the woods at all. That maybe Roger already found him and did something to him. I’m so overwhelmed. I’m so completely buried in despair, I don’t think I’ll ever find the way out.
Up front two handlers climb onto the seats. The driver reports our location, and over the scanner the operator asks if Roger is dead.
“Not sure,” the handler responds. “Ambulance is in route.”
“If Roger survives,” I call out in a raspy voice, my entire body trembling, “I’ll finish the job. I’ll kill every single one of you.”
The handler turns, his brown eyes wide, as the other guy glances at me in the rearview mirror. They have the balls to actually look concerned. I rest my head against the seat, rocking with the bumps of the road, thinking I’ve come undone. All hope is lost now.
I’m going back to The Program.