Maybe Beckett is packing up Jillian at this moment, getting her back to his “ship.” If he has any sense, that’s exactly what he’s doing. I twist the straps on my pack in my hand. The light from the opposite passage is almost here. They’re coming. And then there’s a noise, and the rope comes streaking down through the hole, the grip embedding itself in the rock at my feet, rope and harness dangling.
Beckett waves his hand from the ceiling, gesturing for me to hurry. I climb into the harness with my pack, threading in my arms and legs. And now there are feet crunching in the gravel, light bobbing along the cavern walls, and I pause, because the illuminated face walking slowly toward me is the last one I expected to see. Reddix Physicianson.
I bend down and run my hands all over the metal grip, hoping to repeat the miracle that happened before. It doesn’t work. The green fire doesn’t extinguish. I do it again, the light vanishes, and the grip releases. I have no idea what just happened and I don’t care.
“Go!” I say to the hole in the ceiling. And I rise. Reddix is still walking toward me, slow and steady, not changing his pace, his head tilting back as I fly. What could he be doing here? Reddix isn’t Council any more than Sonia’s mother. I’m out of reach when he puts his sandals where I was standing, his gaze dark in the shadows. I wish I could read his face as easily as Beckett’s.
“Reddix,” I say, “don’t tell them. Please.”
“I never have, Samara.” He almost smiles. “But they are coming for you.” His eyes move a little past me. “Don’t let them find you with Earth.”
And then I feel hands pulling me up and out of the hole.
There’s somebody down there. Lit by one of those yellow lanterns, watching the rappelling kit pull up Samara. But she’s too high, out of reach. I’ll have her in another four or five seconds. I get a good look at him. Long hair, braided, wearing clothes probably not all that different from Samara’s when hers were newer, eyes black-lined. And he’s calm, weirdly calm. Another mask. He looks right into my eyes when he says, “Don’t let them find you with Earth.” It’s practically a challenge.
I drag Samara up and out of the hole like he might jump up and grab her legs, and my chest is slamming. He knew. He knew exactly who I was. Samara is staring down at the way she came, frozen.
“Look at me.” I spin her around. She’s still tangled in the harness. “What do you remember about Earth?”
“What … ” says Jill. She’s lying on the ground, trying to push up to her elbows. Samara ignores my question, pulls away from my hands, and gets to her feet, stepping out of the rope, going to press a finger against Jill’s neck. Jill tries to push her away, which I think means Jill is going to be okay. Then Samara straightens up to face me. Her Canaan face is on, like the one down in the cavern.
“What does your city remember about Earth?” I ask again.
“Beckett?” Jill asks.
“She Knows, Jill. She’s always Known who we are.” Just like he did, down in the cavern. At first glance. I feel like an idiot. I turn back to Samara. “Haven’t you?” Samara doesn’t answer, but her eyes meet mine, and I feel that look in my chest. “Who was he?”
“Reddix,” she whispers.
“Is he one of your Council?”
“No. He was … He was supposed to be my partner.”
Great. “What does he Know about Earth?” He wasn’t even surprised by the little bit of technology he saw. “Tell me the truth, Samara! What does your city remember about us?”
“That you are the enemy.”
I stare at her eyes and try to process. The enemy. Me. And then I’m thinking back to her abrupt offer to take us to her city, because we had Forgotten. When she Knew we hadn’t Forgotten. When she Knew who we were all along.
“You were going to hand us over, weren’t you? To your Council.” I’m almost shouting now. I see Jill’s eyes narrow. “Weren’t you?”
Samara doesn’t answer again, but she can’t look at me anymore, either. She’s standing there in that jumpsuit, her hair hanging like a silky thunderstorm, looking a lot like someone I could have known in Austin. Only she isn’t, is she? She’s of Canaan, and she played me. Like an expert at the game. When I risked everything to tell her the truth.
“Beckett.” Jill has managed to sit up. She’s not steady. “We need to … break contact. Now. We’re … close.”
She means we have to be close to the city, and that we could give the Commander the coordinates of where we’re standing. I turn around, so neither of them can hear the cussing in my head. The sky is cold, red as fire, and empty, like this flat, bare land I’m standing in. But if I didn’t get the transmit setting turned off in time, it’s not going to be empty for long. I don’t know who to run from. I don’t know who to run to. I don’t know who to trust anymore.
Yes, I do. Dr. Sean Rodriguez. He said not to give the coordinates to Commander Faye. He said not to go back to the base camp. He said to stay with the local, underground, where it’s safe. Or at least I think that’s what he said. But nothing is safe. And it’s a long way back across the plain. Even if Jill was at 100 percent we couldn’t make it on our own. We only packed food for a scant four days—for the emergency that was never, ever going to happen—and the water regenerators will not recharge without the sun. And if or when we get picked up, we’d be going straight to the Commander. I turn back to Samara.
“What would’ve happened, if you gave us to your Council? Would they have killed us?”
“I don’t Know,” she whispers.
That really is just great. “So why didn’t you do it, then, if we’re the enemy?”
She lifts her beautiful eyes to mine. “Plans changed.”
Why? Because she felt guilty? Because I kissed her? I stare back at the sky, at the mountain range stained red, rising up from the plain. I’m so mad right now I can’t see straight. I’ve trusted where I shouldn’t have, and nearly gotten both Jill and myself killed. When Jill tried to tell me. She’s watching us right now, panting just from being upright. I can’t look at her.
“You should go,” Samara says, “back to your … ship.” When did she hear me say that word? “You can’t stay here … ”
“What did your plans change to?”
“Beckett!” This is from Jill.
“Orders,” I tell her. I see Jill’s eyes dart to the sky. I feel bad about this lie. But I didn’t say who the orders were from. She lies back on the rocky ground, exhausted.
“What did your plans change to?” I ask Samara again. She glances over my shoulder, up at the jagged peaks behind me. “Okay. What’s up there?”
“The Outside.”
“Is it safe?”
“No.”
“Is it safer?”
She looks at the hole, then at the mountain, unsure.
“Do they know about Earth?”
“Only stories.”
“But you have a place to go there?”
She looks me in the eye again, and I wish her gaze didn’t do that. “You have to go back,” she whispers. “Please.”